#why does the tagging system only work on asks. the hell?

[i3utterflyeffect]

OHhh that's fascinating I hadn't seen it like that! And Dark having the mission statement... I could imagine it could cause conflicts. You said Dark could make error sounds, right? What if they didn't really know they could access those until those codes were... conflicting? Until they were FEELING those errors building up. Though that's up to you knvxbmcbv

OHG YEAH!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THAT

it's probably insanely stressful to feel their code conflicting, especially since the mission prevention code is hard-coded into the virabots so the mission code can't really shove it out of the way-- it isn't really visible from the outside other than the fact that they start acting weird once it starts to get bad.

initially i think it'd just be like the hiccups though. mostly just annoying and uncomfortable

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Authority ||

Shane Walsh x female reader

Tags/warnings: dirty, sweaty, horny, Shane sex cos that's what I want.

Shane can't help chuckling at your stormy expression and demeanour as you pound an angered path towards the garage store where he's working.

“What's grinding your gears this time darlin’?” He asks, but you only shoot him a fierce scowl in answer.

“Aw nah, you been fightin’ with Rick again?” he guesses. You always had something to say about him almost every other day.

You clench your teeth before answering. “He won't let me lead a group to go check out that boarded up farm we passed a week or so ago. I know there must be some good stuff in there, maybe even fuel and tools!” You kick at the door frame in annoyance. “He says he doesn't think it's worth it, that it's too dangerous and that the others wouldn't listen to me or respect my authority on a trip out there anyway. Fuck him!”

Shane watches you winding yourself up in a rage, your fists bunching till your knuckles are showing through your skin.

“He thinks I'm green but I've got skills! I can help! Why does he have to be such a knowitall asshole lording it over all the rest of us? It ain't fair.”

He catches your wrist before you start punching the wall. “Hey, hey now. You gonna calm down before you break somethin’, like your goddamn fingers?”

You scrunch up your face in annoyance. “Depends. You gonna take his side and tell me I'm just a little girl who should shut up cos she doesn't know anything?”

He looks you straight in the eyes. “Nah, I know you're capable. You just gotta give Rick some time to trust you with it, that's all. Hell, I know he's a grouchy sonofabitch but the system's worked alright so far, huh?”

You growl in defeat.

He's got a point you guess, but it still rubs you up the wrong way how Rick seems to see you as nothing more than a nagging pain in his ass. “Would you follow orders from me, Shane?” you challenge.

He gives you that signature self-assured cocky smile of his. “You bet. I trust your judgement, sweetheart.”

You scoff, actually semi surprised by his seemingly honest response.

“Yeah, sure you would. Whatever.”

You watch him in silence as he moves crates of supplies, some full up with cans and other heavy items, stacking them up against the wall. His vest is damp with sweat, beads of moisture roll down his neck to his broad, glistening chest and you can't help licking your lips.

“Doesn't help that it's so fucking hot today,” you muse, tugging your own shirt away from your sticky skin. Then you settle on an idea.

“I'm going down to the lake. Come with me.”

Shane pauses, glances up. “I gotta finish up this shit…”

You plant your hands on your hips. “Come with me. That's an order, Shane.” You smirk and he catches on, putting the crate down and straightening up.

“S’that so?” He responds with an interested look and you nod.

“Y’said you'd follow my lead, so follow.” you quip, walking out into the blazing heat of the yard towards the gate.

“Might be walkers down there.” He says, grabbing his pistol and knife from the shelf and tucking them into the back of his pants.

You wave your hand carelessly back in his direction as you keep walking. You've got your own weapon on you. “I'm capable, remember?”

Shane rolls his eyes as he catches you up. He's not sure what he's letting himself in for but it's not a good idea to let you go off alone, especially if he expects you've got something to prove.

The lake was a godsend. A welcome actual oasis in this rabid and lethal world that you'd all found yourselves trying to survive. A perk of living in the camp and bearing Rick's questionable leadership. It was small, a now undammed creek running in to fill an old quarry, but it was fairly safe and utterly perfect for dip on a day like this.

The side you came in on had a grassy bank and a large tree growing near, giving some much needed shade before the ground turned to gravel and slate near the water. You scoped out the rim and the shimmering, inviting water for any signs of walkers and once satisfied it was clear, you turned to Shane, planting your palm firmly on his damp chest.

“You, stay.” You command, gesturing at him to sit down.

“What the hell? How come I don't get to cool off?” He complains as he reluctantly sits on the baking hot grass. You cross your arms at the hem of your shirt and tug it up over your head.

“You said you'd follow my orders, didn't you? Don't you trust me?” You grin, slinging your top over a low branch of the tree and then starting to unbutton your pants.

Shane watches unashamedly as you undress in front of him. You had brought him here after all, wanted him here for whatever reason, and he sure as hell wasn't about to complain about the current view he's got. His gaze roams over the curves of your near-naked body as you strip to your well-worn underwear. He's never seen this much of you before, and he likes it.

You make your way to the water's edge, shrieking and then humming with relief as the sudden cold hits your heated skin.

“So what the hell am I s’posed to do? It's as hot as all hell, even in the shade!” Shane calls out.

“Watch for walkers, idiot!” You yell back with a laugh, and wade in deeper into the lake until you can swim. It was such a treat to have this space relatively close to the camp, but it wasn't the only thing you had in mind…

Shane watches you enjoying yourself as he sweats under the tree. You had your own watchful eye on him, near salivating as he eventually pulled his vest off to reveal the rest of that deliciously toned torso.

When you're done you walk slowly out of the lake, shaking off your hair and stalking towards where Shane was lying on the bank. He pushes himself up on his hands, surprised as you straddle his hips, grunting as cool droplets of water fall from your body onto his.

“What are ya doin’?” He asks as you push him back down to lie flat on his back.

“Cooling you off.” You reply matter of factly as you rock your hips down on his crotch, feeling his cock beginning to harden rapidly through your wet panties.

“Yeah?” His voice is husky, his hands finally landing at your waist as you lean in close, grinding yourself against his cock again, feeling him twitch.

“When I first came here, Rick told me to stay away from you, y'know? Said you were dangerous…”

“Fuck…” Shane curses, his fingers gripping at your damp skin and eyes flicking between the sight of your hardened nipples poking through your bra and your wiggling hips on his. “You doin’ this to get back at him or somethin’?” He asks with a slight strain in his voice.

“No...”

Your own fingers start to explore and trail over his chest, scratching briefly at his nipples and on down those washboard abs to hook under the waistband of his pants. You can't help yourself, leaning down, your tongue sliding out between your lips to lick up the layer of sweat from between his pecs. You close your eyes as the satisfying taste of his salty musk hits your taste buds and both you and Shane moan. You lick and kiss your way up to the side of his neck and nip at his earlobe, purring out your desire.

“I just wanted you to fuck me.”

His eyes gleam a dark amber in the sun as he looks up at you. “Yeah? Is that an order too?”

“Do you want it to be?”

You teased the question but he wastes no time, scrabbling quickly to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, pulling his thick cock out of his underwear as you shimmy out of your panties. You'd need to be fast, this was all the foreplay you needed. You couldn't risk any of the others from the camp wandering down here and finding you both.

He was just as big as you had imagined. You weren't at all surprised with the way he would nearly always stride dick first through the camp. When you could, you'd sometimes pass any quiet moments watching him work, whether it was swinging an axe to cut firewood, or patrolling up on the wall. Even if he could be smarmy and bullish he was prime eye candy for sure, and you wanted a taste.

“God… damn.” Shane hisses as you sink down on him, your bodies now as one, feeling your tight, wet heat gripping around his throbbing length. Air leaves your lungs in a gasp as you start to move up and down, and Shane moves his hips upwards in quick, powerful thrusts to meet yours. “Shit… god-fucking-damn!”

“Fuck, Walsh!” You moan as he's stimulating the deepest parts of you, his hands firm on your hips, fingers pressing in harder..

“S'at good?” He grits out, captivated by the feel and look of you moving above him with abandon.

“So good-” you whine. He shifts forward, ducking his head to mouth at the softness of your breasts spilling over your bralet.

“Oh you like that, huh?” he snarls, “yeah, jus’ like that?” He leans back again so he can pound into you even harder, gritting his teeth, beads of sweat rolling down his face and neck to pool at his collarbones with the effort. He snatches the cups of your bra down, letting your tits bounce around, squeezing them hard before he drops one hand down to where your bodies meet, his thumb desperately rubbing sloppy circles over your slick, swollen pearl.

The dry grass presses into your knees as you fuck, your pussy starting to flutter as the tightness at the core of you builds so quickly. You haven't had any form of intimacy for so long that everything you're feeling now is intense, sharp, and needed.

“Don't you dare stop!” You threaten, riding his cock even faster as you near your edge.

Shane is panting, hips bucking wildly.

“Shit-shit-shit baby I'm gonna cum, aw fuck I'm gonna-”

You lift up off of him and rapidly switch to frantically rubbing your pussy and clit along the length of his cock, seconds later his mouth is forming a silent ‘o’ and his pulsing dick is shooting stripes of creamy white over his stomach and chest between you as you topple over with him. Shane hooks his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you down and smashing your hot mouths together as you both shudder through your orgasms with a deep shared moan.

You push off of him, laying on your back to his side, both of you panting ragged breaths with the heat and exertion.

“Fuck… oh christ.”

Your satisfied hum turns to laughter when you hear Shane's curses yet again.

“So, do you like a woman that knows what she wants an’ orders you around, Walsh?”

He grumbles, gingerly sitting up and wincing at the sweaty, messy state he's in. “Mm, I guess only when it's me that she wants.”

He gets up and strips off his boots and pants, and you watch as he takes his gorgeous ass into the lake to wash, dunking his entire body and scrubbing his hands over his face and closely shaved head. You soon follow and when you're done you put your now-dry clothes back on in a silence only disturbed by birdsong and the sound of the bubbling creek.

“We should get back.” You say redundantly, breaking the sudden tension that had formed.

“Yeah.” Shane agrees, not meeting your eyes.

You awkwardly part ways back at the gate, and when you're on shift up on the wall later that night you can't help wondering if you miscalculated, made a mistake.

“Hey.”

You almost jump out of your skin as Shane sneaks up behind you.

You calm your racing heart as you move the barrel of the gun away from him. “Jesus christ, don't do that, I could have killed you!”

He just smirks, holding his hands up in surrender. “Well now I wasn't lookin' for that.” He drawls, and you soften.

“So what were you looking for?”

"You had any more run-ins with Rick today?"

"Uh... no? Why?" You reply, slightly confused.

He shrugs, eyes flitting between the gun you're holding and you. “Just been wonderin’, if maybe you wanna order me around some more?”

[hellfirenacht]

Plus One Chapter 1

Summary: Once upon a time, you made a deal with the school freak that if he ever got famous then he'd invite you to be his plus one at a red carpet event. Now a decade later an invite shows up at your house asking you to be the +1 to Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin.

Tags: modern!au, Eddie and Reader are in their late 20's/early 30's after the deal is made. Rockstar!Eddie. Friends to strangers to friends to lovers, references to Flight of Icarus characters eventually

The squeak of desks being pushed across linoleum flooring made you wince as everyone adjusted the classroom for partner work. It was too early for this, you hadn’t slept the night before and had almost been late to this class, taking your seat at the last second just as the bell rang. 

First period science wasn’t your hardest class, but it wasn’t exactly your best subject either. You’d been floating along with a solid C and that was as good as you were hoping to get. As long as you graduated by this point, you’d be happy. It was near the end of your senior year, and senioritis was hitting you hard. It was your hope that you could just coast these last few weeks, pass your finals and get the hell out of the public school system. 

There would be no coasting this morning though as you were all assigned partners. No one was thrilled about this development aside from a few peers who had been partnered with their friends. You weren’t exactly unpopular but you didn’t have anyone in this class that you would consider a friend or even an acquaintance. You’d borrowed a pencil once from Randy who sat in front of you, but other than that you kept to yourself first thing in the morning. 

Which is why when the name ‘Munson’ was called out along with your own surname you’d barely registered who that was. A few people snickered and you caught one girl giving you a pitying look as you tried to connect the name to a face. It took your partner sitting down across from you for you to realize who you’d been paired with. 

Munson. Eddie Munson. Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson. 

Ah. That Munson. 

“Uh, hi.” he said, with a wave and you desperately tried to reconnect the tired wires in your brain to say hi back. 

“Mornin’” you managed to spit out. He sat in the back of the class on the opposite side of the room. You rarely even saw him in class because you were usually here before him, and he was the first to get out the door when class ended. You never said a word to him the whole semester, but again, you didn’t talk to anyone in this class. 

Worksheets were passed around and you stared at the different questions and equations. You might as well be sitting in Latin class with as much as this made sense to you. 

“I know this is a higher level than what you all are used to, but this is what is going to be expected of you in college next year.” Your teacher explained, followed by a chorus of groans which included yours as well as Eddie’s. 

The two of you stared at the worksheet for a moment before making eye contact. You felt a little nervous under his gaze; you’d seen him around school and had heard the rumors about the leader of the Dungeons and Dragons club. He’d been seen pushing around freshmen wearing the same shirt as him, and was often regarded as a loudmouth and a danger to everyone in school. 

It didn’t help his case that he looked older than you. His broad shoulders were only accentuated by the heavy leather jacket and denim vest giving him the appearance of someone who absolutely should not be in high school. How old was he anyway? 

“Eddie.” 

You blinked, surprised he was the first to speak. You offered your name as well with a nod, neither of you going for the handshake. 

“So... does any of this make sense to you?” he asked, looking back down at the worksheet. 

You glanced down with a small laugh. “Not even a little.” 

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

He looked up at you with a sheepish grin, and you swear it took at least five years off his appearance. You found yourself relaxing just a bit, if he was as dangerous as everyone made him out to be, at least he wouldn’t do something stupid in the middle of class. Hopefully. 

You grabbed your textbook and opened it up and Eddie leaned over the desk to read with you. 

“Sorry, forgot mine.” He said and you adjusted the book so it sat between the two of you. 

The next half hour was a testament of will as the two of you tried your best to work out the formulas put in front of you. The ancient calculators that the teacher had provided only caused more confusion between the two of you and you tried to figure out buttons that you had never had to press before. 

“I’m sure someone, somewhere is using this on a daily basis.” you said as you jotted down a string of numbers that you were positive were wildly incorrect. “I understand that this is important to someone, but outside of a trivia game there’s no way I’m ever going to even think about this ever again.” 

You were mostly talking to yourself, not expecting a response from your partner. He was looking at the calculator, and your string of numbers with equal confusion. 

“Music is as advanced as my math skills go.” Eddie said. He’d removed his jacket at some point where you were staring at your textbook with a blank expression trying to understand how to apply the formulas. You couldn’t stop your eyes from occasionally flicking towards the tattoos that covered his right arm. So he was at least old enough to get tattoos... or to have a parent or guardian agree to let him get tattoos. 

You weren’t sure why you were so hung up on his age. Maybe it was easier to focus on that mystery than the jumble of letters and numbers that was making your brain more numb than it already felt. 

“What kind of music?” The question was out of your mouth without thinking. You didn’t think you’d seen him hang out with the band or orchestra kids before. 

“Metal and rock music mostly.” Eddie said, erasing one of the numbers. His pencil was a cheap one, and only managed to make a huge smudge on his paper rather than clear his answer. You handed over your own pencil on instinct and he took it with a thanks. 

“Do you play an instrument or something?” you asked, already checked out of the worksheet. Fuck it. It’s not like it was going to count for much anyway. 

“Yeah I, uh, I’ve been playing guitar since I was a kid.” There was a light in his eyes that made you wonder why anyone would ever think he was dangerous or scary. In the half hour that the two of you had been struggling with this busy work the two of you had been making small talk that you’d found way more engaging. 

“Electric or guitar?” you asked, and it was when Eddie let out a laugh that you realized what you had asked. You pressed your hands to your face with an embarrassed chuckle. “I didn’t sleep last night.” 

“I play electric and guitar.” came the teasing response. “But I lean more towards electric unless my uncle is home or I need to keep it down.”

“Are you any good?” 

“Good enough to have a steady gig at the Hideout.” he shrugged. “It’s not much, but it’s a stage. Sort of.” 

Eddie had also given up on the worksheet and was using your pencil to absently doodle in the margins of the paper. 

“I have no idea where that is.” 

“Shady dive bar in the warehouse district. My band and I play on Tuesdays, you should come see us sometime. It’s a shithole, but it’s safe.” The last part was added hastily as he saw your weary expression. 

A shady dive bar on a school night? Not a great chance of that. 

“What’s your band called?” 

“Corroded Coffin.” he dug around his pockets in his jeans and jacket before he pulled out a bent cut out piece of flashcard and handed it to you. It had the band’s name scribbled on it in sharpie and a list of socials on the back. It screamed home made and there was a charm to it that made you smile. 

“I’ll check you out.” you said, tucking it into the book you had been reading for the past week knowing damn well that you were probably going to forget about it the second it was out of sight. 

“Don’t worry about the worksheet being perfect.” the teacher piped up from their desk. “Just do your best, and it’s only being counted as pass/fail. I’m just trying to see that you’re all able to use your critical thinking skills to look up information.”

“I’m about to use my critical thinking skills to bullshit the rest of the worksheet.” Eddie muttered and you laughed. 

You grabbed his worksheet and scribbled down a formula and some numbers and handed it back. “Long as there’s something written down she doesn’t care.” 

That was good enough for the both of you as you set the papers aside. There was still a good fifteen minutes left in class, and you expected that the two of you would just sit awkwardly in your grouped desk facing each other until the bell rang. You almost laid your head down on the desk and try and get a power nap in, but curiosity was getting the better of you. 

“So, you wanna do music for a living?” you asked, looking at him again. 

“Ideally.” Eddie said, fidgeting with your pencil still. You decided that it was his pencil now, you had others in your bag. “I know it’s a long shot and most of my band is still gonna be in school when I graduate this year but we’ve got a few songs that we’ve been working on.”

“So you’re gonna be famous one day?” It wasn’t a sarcastic question, but a genuine one. Maybe this guy could be famous one day, you didn’t know. Maybe he didn’t even want to be famous. 

Eddie shook his head and laughed. “I’ll be lucky to keep the lights on with my music, but I’m gonna try.”

“You’re going to be famous.” you told him with a firm nod. The lack of sleep was catching up to you. It’s not like anything in this class was going to matter in the future anyway. “I’ve decided it.”

“You decided that I’m going to be famous?” he asked slowly, as if trying to decide if you were fucking with him or not. 

“Yeah, why not?” You replied. 

He stared at you and his gaze turned intense as he sat up straighter. Eddie’s gaze swept over your face, looking for any sign that you were speaking with ill intent, when he found none, he gave you a smile. 

“I’ll hold you to it then.” he said. “If I don’t get famous I’m holding you personally responsible.” 

“Alright, but there’s a catch.” your smile widened. 

“A catch? You won’t let me get famous on my charm and talent alone?” He tilted his head with a grin. 

“Nope. I need payment. Deciding things isn’t cheap, you know.” you were delusional from lack of sleep, and you probably sounded crazy to him.

“Alright, what’s your fee?” Eddie leaned back in his chair, looking as if he were trying to start a business deal. His demeanor change starkly contrasted the long dark hair, band t shirt, and heavy metal rings he wore and you had to stop yourself from laughing. 

You thought about it for a moment. “I want to be your plus one to at least one of your red carpet events.” you said. “I think that’s payment enough.”

He rubbed his chin in thought, as if carefully considering your offer. “And if I don’t.”

“If you forget to come back for Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.” you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing now at how ridiculous you sounded. 

“Holes? Really?” Eddie snorted. “Alright, I know how that story ends. You have a deal.” 

He offered you his hand and you two shook on it. 

And because you two had at least ten minutes to kill, Eddie took out a beat up notebook and started drawing up a contract to make it official. The two of you debated on the wording, and how it should be drawn out. In the end, it was decided that Eddie would have at least five years after his first red carpet to invite you to an event (your idea) or else he’d be cursed and he’d end up on TMZ in a scandal involving a goat and a runaway parade float (his idea).

You each signed the fake contract, dated it, and had the teacher notarize it. 

“Did you two even try to do the worksheet?” they asked, signing and stamping the notebook with a ‘GOOD JOB!’ stamp.

“We tried.” Eddie smiled at the teacher, taking the notebook back and trading it for the worksheets.

The bell rang and you two shook hands one last time. The last few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of spring break, prom season, and graduation. You barely talked to Eddie after that class, occasionally saying hi to him in the hallway, or the odd small chat during class. You’d managed to get him to sign your yearbook, but he hadn’t asked you to sign his. You felt a little sad about it, looking back. He’d been nice to talk to, and his reputation hadn’t lived up to that hour that you’d been forced to spend with him. 

Graduation was the last time you’d seen him, when he’d run across the stage, flipped off Principal Higgins and ran off like a bat out of hell. You had looked for him passively in the chaos and sea of graduates and their families taking photos and congratulating each other. Okay, maybe you’d looked for him a bit more deliberately than you’d let on. 

Maybe you had developed a small crush on Eddie in that hour that you’d spent working on that stupid worksheet. Maybe you had hoped that when you gave him your email in that contract he’d reach out to you to say hi. Maybe, yes, you did eventually remember the handmade business card for Corroded Coffin and had looked up their information a month into summer to find them as dead and dry as the Sahara desert, with only a muffled .mp3 of one of their songs to go off of. 

There were a lot of maybe’s that came with being in high school. 

But life moves on. You forget about the man with the long dark hair and boyish smile. Your yearbook gets tucked away in a box, out of site and out of mind. The homemade business card gets lost under the bed and eventually tossed in a deep clean as you get ready to move to college and move out. The muffled .mp3 sits in your computer for years until you get a smartphone and stuff a ton of your old music on it, shuffling it into your streaming playlists. 

The song gets skipped over more often than you’d ever admit. 

And now there you were in your new apartment a year after graduating college, living on your own for the first time. No dorm, no family, no roommates, no partner. 

It was the middle of your work week, and you were outside checking the mail. You flipped through the envelopes of junk and bills for anything that would have been worth the walk from your apartment to the community mailbox. 

A thick envelope with your name and address was in the middle of the pile. Your name was hand lettered in fancy script and you glanced at where the return address should be. 

WR RECORDS 

Who?

You pulled the envelope out and glanced at the rest of the mail to make sure there was nothing important there before tossing it into your neighbors recycling bin. You ripped open the envelope. 

Inside was a thick black card, and your name was once again written in beautiful red ink that reflected off the dark card stock. 

WR Records would like to invite you to be the +1 to Mr. Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin to this year's annual Hellfire Awards.

And below that in chicken scratch handwriting that wildly contrasted the careful lettering of the rest of the card: 

A deal’s a deal.

You stared at the words and read them over and over and over again, trying to make sense of them and only one question passed your mind. 

“Who the fuck is Eddie Munson?” 

---

Please comment and reblog <3

Tag List: @hellfiredarling @crocwork-clockodile @hitoshislut @kurdtbean @kennedy-brooke @daisyridleyyyy

[halfbakedspuds]

Thanks to @illarian-rambling for the tag!

OC assumption tag

Share one of your characters' name and a quote from them with zero context and let your followers (or other people who stumble upon your post) make assumptions about said character. You can post about more than one character but only one quote for each one for things to stay out of context.

I'll do this for the little unnamed WIP I've been writing scenes for that probably won't turn into anything.

Adam

"See this? This is a master directive disc. Simply put, I slot it into the master computer, flick the switch, et vóila: every Vellassian positronic matrix from here to Nordren gets updated instantly.

Now, you buggers have been a real big thorn in my side for longer than I realistically should've allowed, so I say we do something about that by pushing the following new directives: violence against thy neighbours; violence against thyself; violence against the very gods, art and nature!

Heark! The choir, and let. there. be. war!"

Wayn Vakasa

"Oh it's absolutely your fault, captain 'We cannot stop to hunt while on the run, Wayn'.

Oh look at me! I'm the big, scary man from Earth gods-know-what and I know better than the Kachatanu wild-woman who's survived off the land for seventeen years.

...Yeah, I've had my fun. You were saying?"

James Holden

"Hey. Hey! Look at me! This right here? This is full fucking tilt. If I push 'er any harder then our next stop will be five layers deep into hell, so why don't you take that little rifle of yours and make yourself useful while I focus on stopping the engine from turning into a pile of slag at whatever unholy speed we've achieved.

Come now, chop-chop,"

Mari Demouchet

"Right. Other worlds. Magic. I'm pretty goddamn sure I just saw a robot catcalling a toaster but I could be wrong.

Fuck man, I... I-I need to get some fresh air, 'cause this is either a drug induced psychosis and I'm actually lying in some dingey-ass storage container where some... thing is getting ready to root around in my noggin for whatever makes me different, or this is actually real and at this point I genuinely don't know which is scarier,"

Tagir Aslan

"Just breathe, moy drug, breathe. Crossing over is a massive system shock, I know, but you're not doing yourself or us any favours by working yourself up.

I am serious: adrenaline entering your bloodstream at this moment could actually make your heart explode.

Relax, it is a joke. No seriously, relax, I wasn't joking about stress still being incredibly dangerous to you at this moment."

Cerberus

"Get dressed. Do not step in front of me, and avoid mirrors so that you're not in my line of sight. Do not under any circumstances allow me to see you. You may speak, and ask questions. Do I make myself abundantly clear, child?"

Adair Holden

"Oh, and Eleven? If you see the boy, would you kindly kill him for me? Redundancy must serve a purpose, and he no longer does.

It's a shame though, his mind showed so much promise... but, Kazra deals all hands, and unfortunately he was dealt no spine for what is required of him,"

No pressure tag for @honeybewrites, @thatoneterrariaplayer, @oh-no-another-idea, @orion-lacroix and anyone else who wants in.

[dominimoonbeam]

To The Edge - 17

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: scifi romance, hijinks in space, rogues learning to trust, violence, blood, guns, death, explicit language, so much kidnapping,

Works organized and easily found over on the patreon. <3

TO THE EDGE - CHAPTER 17.

Stardust sat in the captain’s chair, finger hovering over the command to repeat the message. They hit it…again.

Genesis didn’t speak right away, letting the recording hold the hum of engines and space and the patient drag of his breath. The nothing in those seconds spoke volumes. He could wait. He had time and resources. He was a hunter. Cosmic might not know that, but Stardust did.

When he spoke it was even, his voice deep and unshakeable.

“Fairvell.”

He called them by their last name—by the name that was not shared or charged with all the might of the Solar Court’s worst. It had been their great-grandfather’s name. He had kept it even after he married Galileo and passed it down with Solinoh to each generation that followed. It set them apart and marked them as the traitors they were.

“I am going to kill this bounty hunter when I catch up to you, and I will catch up. Whatever vessel he’s flying won’t be able to outrun me. You will never be able to outrun me. I will take him apart and you will beg me to stop because you’re weak. It’s not your fault. You’re the rotting branch on our family tree, cousin. I’m coming for you and I am going to kill you when I’m done…but it’s going to be a hell of a ride until then.”

They sniffled and scrubbed at their face before any tears could actually spill. It didn’t count if they didn’t fall. It didn’t count.

They’d programmed the ship to filter messages from Genesis and save them. Cosmic hadn’t heard it yet and he never would. They tapped a few more keys and deleted it.

Would knowing change anything?

Would their cosmic bounty hunter be afraid if he heard it? Would he finally do the smart thing and jettison Stardust? Were they more scared that he would or that he wouldn’t?

The stars streamed by the curved window of the ship. They were on course.

Genesis wouldn’t give up, but that didn’t mean he’d be able to catch up. He didn’t even know where to go. Only Stardust knew that.

They leaned back in the seat, one arm crossing their chest to dig fingers into the back of their shoulder. They couldn’t feel the tattoo but they knew it was there. Cosmic checked it now and then, adjusting their course as they neared and the map zoomed in.

The door to the bridge slid open and Rory marched across the threshold, pausing only when he noticed Stardust. They caught the curl of his lip.

“Out of my chair, Stardust.”

They held back a smile and swiveled around to face him. “Again?” they whined.

“Yeah, again. Why do you always do that? There’s a co-pilot seat right there!” He shooed them with both hands.

Stardust rolled to their feet and stepped aside, relinquishing the best seat on the ship. “Does that mean you’ll finally turn on the secondary commands?” they asked, sliding into the other, lower, seat on the deck.

He laughed once for emphasis. “No, sitting there does not mean I’ll turn on the co-pilot controls.”

He didn’t know that they’d gotten back into the system days ago. They tapped at the console in front of their new seat, even though nothing lit up in response.

“Just, stop touching the controls!”

They still hadn’t figured out if he was easy to rile or if he was just giving them the reaction they wanted. “What if you get blown up or have a heart attack or—”

“Well, I guess if something happens to me then you’re out of luck.” Cosmic shrugged, checking their flight charts.

“You should give me the codes just in case,” they pressed. If they stopped nagging him about the controls to the ship, he might realize they already had them. “For emergencies.”

“No, I am not giving you the codes to access the ship in an emergency,” he said very clearly.

“Why not?”

Cosmic leveled them with a stare, not wholly unamused. “Because you stole the ship. Once you steal the ship, you no longer get to drive it. Those are the rules, Stardust.”

They sputtered, swiveling again. This chair did not swivel as well as the other one. “Who wrote those rules?”

“Hm?” He tapped something out on the control panel and then lifted his head, meeting their gaze. “No one wrote the rules. Everyone just knows them.”

“That’s stupid. I gave the ship back. We’re friends now. That’s definitely not a real rule.”

He shrugged, smiling again. “You can ask around next time we stop someplace.”

Stardust’s heart squeezed. They were out of stops and all loaded with supplies for the long haul to Cepheus. “If only we had another.”

His smile faltered, that crease between his brow when he realized what they meant. “Oh. No, you’re right. We don’t need to stop anywhere else before we reach the nebula. We’re only a couple days away and then it can’t be more than a week or two depending on where the loot is.”

The loot. At least he hadn’t called it treasure this time. They’d split whatever wasn’t blackmail material and then they’d split. Would Genesis keep looking for the cosmic bounty hunter even after they went their separate ways? Hopefully not. Stardust would have to give him something to chase…

“Give me another look at the map?”

They blinked at him, taking a second to realize what he meant.

He huffed a laugh.

Stardust rolled their eyes and hopped up from the chair, doing a little twirl to turn their back on him. They dragged their shirt up to their shoulders and tried not to overthink the way their skin felt raw under his attention.

“Yeah. We’re still on course. It’s definitely getting closer. We’ll see when we get there, I guess.”

Stardust let go of the thin synthetic cotton and did another turn to face him again. The ship hummed. Sometimes that constant sound drove them nuts but other times, like when they were staring at Cosmic, they were grateful for something other than silence and the pounding of their heart.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do after?”

“What?”

“After we get the loot. After you get whatever blackmail material your parents had on your grandma. After.”

Run, they thought but didn’t say. “Burn it? Launch it into a star maybe?”

Cosmic laughed, leaning back in his seat and staring up at them. “Destroy it? You’re joking, right?” He waited but they shrugged and his smile fell away. “Stardust… You could do just about anything with something like that. If your parents were able to make your grandma leave them alone…”

Stardust shook their head, shoving their hands into their pockets to hide they way they clenched. “That was when it was a secret. At least four of the cousins know it exists now.”

“I guess you’re right, your cousins wouldn’t just let you walk away with it.”

They huffed a dark laugh. No, they definitely wouldn’t. “And there’s no knowing if Galileo would honor any deal anymore. It was made a long time ago and… and things have changed in the family. It isn’t the way it used to be. There’s a good chance she’ll kill anyone who tries to use it just for reminding her of it…whatever the hell it is.”

Cosmic nodded, his thumb tapping at the side of the armrest the way it did when he was working something out. “But they might not believe that you got rid of it just because you say so.”

Stardust considered that. He was right. “I guess I’ll film it and send the recording around.”

He laughed. “You would do something like that… I’m not sure they’ll take watching you burn the blackmail material well...”

They shrugged again. “Can’t please everyone.”

He stared at them, as if waiting for something more. What did he expect them to say? What could they do? The bounty hunter sighed and looked past them to the stars outside. “As long as you don’t burn the treasure too.”

They tsked at his use of that word but took a step closer. “You don’t want half of the blackmail?” they teased.

“Oh no, I don’t want any cut of the blackmail. That mess is all yours, Stardust.” He looked up at them, his knee almost bumping theirs when he turned his seat in their direction. The ghost of something serious shadowed his features. Was that worry? “But maybe consider holding onto it? I mean, your grandma probably thinks your parents handed it down to you. You said yourself, you’ve never had to partake in any family business, and I wasn’t exaggerating when I said your bloodline doesn’t come out here. They don’t usually go anywhere that isn’t on family business. I’ve never heard of any of them getting away…”

He wasn’t wrong. This adventure was full of abnormal Solinoh behavior. Stardust had fled the Solar Court. Even their mother hadn’t done that—she had gone into hiding, locking herself in a bunker somewhere in the prime. Their father had left, but he wasn’t a Solinoh by blood and it could be ignored. It might not be. There was a chance someone would go to collect him… or to kill him. Even then, it wouldn’t be a Solinoh. They would hire someone else to do that task. Just like they had tried hiring others to bring Stardust back.

Genesis should not have left the SC, not even to hunt down Stardust.

Was there any chance he was bluffing? Could he still be sitting at the edge waiting for one of his thugs to bring them back to him?

No.

Stardust was a lot of things, but that lucky was definitely not one of them.

They forced a smile and cocked their head to the side. “Are you worried about me, Cosmic?”

He raspberried their words out of the air. “I didn’t say I was worried about you…”

They raised their eyebrows suggestively.

“I’m not.”

Stardust grinned for real now.

“I’m just…trying to give you the benefit of my incredible bank of knowledge.”

They came closer, grabbing the shoulder of his chair and rocking him side to side a little. “What if I want to stay here after our adventure?”

He stared. “What?”

[vodika-vibes]

Hello there Vod'ika

Just a quick warning I am dyslexia so I hope I type this right.

So just imagine Alpha 17 or Jango (or any of the hot clones that you can choose) "Take it off or I'll make you sweetheart". just if you're taking ask right now. If not I love your work.

Only Girl In his World

Summary: Life on Kamino is horrifically dull. Oh sure, you’re more than happy to share an apartment with Jango, but right now you don’t have anything to do since his son hasn’t been born yet. So you have to make your own fun.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 1245

Warnings: Spicy ish. Reader is a brat, intentionally

Prompt: "Take it off or I'll make you, sweetheart."

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: You gave me the choice of writing Jango and I couldn't not do it, lol. I love him so much. Anyway, I hope you like it! Also, I have a fever of 102, so I'm so sorry if it doesn't make sense in some places.

Bored.

You are so very bored.

You twist on your bed and kick your bare feet up against the window. It’s cool to the touch, which tracks with the rain pouring from the sky on the other side.

Kamino sucks.

It does.

There’s no nightlife, which means you can’t go dancing unless you want to dance on your own, and it means no drinking because you are incapable of drinking the bitter swill that Jango calls alcohol.

There’s no entertainment at all in Tipoca City. No movie theaters. No cafes. No libraries. 

You heave out a heavy sigh and allow your head to fall off the bed, your hair brushing the floor and you look out the bedroom door and into the main part of the apartment that you share with Jango.

He’s not here now.

Oh. He’s on Kamino, but he’s not home now.

He has to go and get some testing done before the Kaminoans start gathering his genetic material to start the cloning process. A fact that he bitched about while you made breakfast for the pair of you this morning.

He hadn’t been very impressed when you pointed out that he was the one who agreed to a ten-year contract. Still, aside from a scowl and a tug of your hair, he wasn’t overly upset with you.

You still don’t have any regrets about agreeing to come with him.

Jango is Jango, after all. And you’d follow him into hell without question.

You try not to think about how you probably are before this whole thing is over.

You stay on your bed for a moment longer, before you heave out an explosive sigh and roll so that you topple on the floor. There has to be something here for you to do.

Some video games, some movies, something.

You poke around the living room for half an hour, and, upon finding nothing that will help you banish your boredom, you sit on the floor with an unhappy huff. 

“I should make Jango order me a game system.” You grouse to the empty room as you hit the button that will open the closet door, hoping against all hope that there might be something in there for you to do.

The only thing inside the closet, aside from towels and other linens, is Jango’s armor. 

He couldn’t wear it to the testing, after all.

“Honestly, would it kill him to put his armor in his room? What if I needed a towel?” You stand and lightly grab his helmet, absently turning it in your hands. 

It’s heavier than it looks. Jango always acts like it weighs almost nothing.

You lightly trail your fingers over the paint around the visor, easily finding scoring on the metal that wasn’t noticeable from a distance. You knew, logically, that Bounty Hunting was a dangerous profession.

And Jango is one of the best bounty hunters.

Somehow those two facts didn’t connect until just now, when you’re looking at the old damage to his armor.

Is that why Jango hired you for this role? So that his son will still have a guardian even if something happens to him?

How…depressing.

You jump when the apartment door slides open, and turn to look at Jango as he steps into the apartment.

Somehow he looks more annoyed now than he did when he left.

“I’m back.” Jango greets you and then pauses when he sees you holding his helmet, “What are you doing?”

You glance at his helmet and then at him, “I was looking for something to do.”

“And you grabbed my armor?” He asks amused.

You huff, and turn to place the helmet back on the stand, “I was hoping there would be something to keep me entertained in the closet, your armor nearly gave me a heart attack.” You say as you round back on him.

“That right?”

You set your hands on your hips, acid on the tip of your tongue, but you let the vitriol die when you see the look on his face, “How was the testing?” You ask instead, “You look exhausted.”

He makes a face, “I feel like a prized bull.”

“Well—”

“Do not.” Jango warns.

You shrug, “Look, we both know you’re here as their stud, Jango.”

He groans, “You went there. Of course you did.” He walks over to you and drops his forehead on your shoulder.

Absently, you card your fingers through his curls, “They can’t want that many more tests before they start gathering specimens for the cloning,” You offer in a, hopefully, soothing voice.

“At least two more months of testing.” He corrects as he shifts slightly so you can feel his warm breath against your neck.

“You poor thing.”

He pulls away and flashes a small smirk at you, “Distract me.”

“What? You want, like, stand-up comedy or something?”

You start when you feel his warm hands against the bare skin of your waist, one of his hands sliding up under your thin shirt. “I had something a little more entertaining in mind.”

“You know, at this point I might as well just move into your bedroom,” Your breath hitches as his thumb brushes the underside of your breast.

“Mm, sounds like a plan, we can get you moved after.”

You squeak as he crowds you back to the couch, bumping you against the back, “You’re going to be too exhausted to move me after,”

He growls against your neck, actually growls, and you release a shaky, and highly aroused, breath. Jango tugs on the hem of your shirt, “Take this off or I’ll make you, sweetheart.”

You should obey him. Jango likes it when you obey him. He gets all hot and bothered and gives you exactly what you want. Which is generally his mouth pressed against your pussy…but you don’t want to obey him today.

Today you’re feeling a little contrary.

You giggle and press your lips against a spot just under his ear, and you suck a mark onto his skin. Jango groans at your actions and pulls his face back away from your neck.

You lean in so your lips are just over his and a broad smile crosses your face, “Make me.” You whisper.

His gaze snaps to yours, and something predatory slides through his eyes, “If we weren’t on Kamino, ad’ika,” He almost purrs, “I would put you outside and tell you to run while I hunt you down.”

You feel a thrill of desire at the thought and are disappointed, once again, that you’re on Kamino.

“Don’t be so disappointed, brat,” Jango warns as he smoothly pulls your shirt off and tosses it to the side. He bites down on your shoulder, pulling a startled yelp from you, “You’re still going to be punished for being so disobedient.”

You giggle, “Oh no~”

There’s a spark of amusement on his handsome face, and his hand lands, heavily, on your ass, making you squeak. “Bedroom, ad’ika. I need to find my binders so I can punish you properly.” He roughly grabs your chin, “And you’d better be naked when I get in there.”

“Or what?” You ask cheekily.

He chuckles, a low noise that makes you shiver, “Well if you want to find out, continue disobeying me.”

He really isn’t making you want to obey him today. But a broad grin crosses your face as you turn and flounce into Jango’s bedroom, this is definitely a cure for your boredom.

[ahyesmygoodomenssideblog]

Hey, I wanted to thank you for writing those metas, I love reading them !

I watched good omens only recently and when I initially went through the good omens meta tag I felt kind of frustrated, since there is a lot of the "Crowley really has to learn to stop running away at the slightest problem" and stuff like that going around.

There was also a lot of "why are there so many people hating on aziraphale" but honestly I have trouble even finding a little criticism of him, so I don't understand why people are defending him, since there isn't even a threat? Or is there a tag for Aziraphale criticism I don't know of? ^^'

I'm a bit of tired of treating him, as if he isn't part of the oldest beings in the universe and didn't have time to challenge his thought process or learn how to, especially on earth with Crowley trying to help with that. When I was watching, Aziraphales well meaning behaviour hurt and his ignorance stung. He really is kind of delusional and I don't even know where I am going with these thoughts.

I hope dumping this wall of text in your askbox was okay. Are there any more metas planned? Thank you again, I hope you have a nice week!

Hi anon, thank you so much for the message! Sorry for the late reply. I 100% agree with you. Pretty much all I've seen on Tumblr is people defending Aziraphale or trying to reframe it so that Crowley and Aziraphale are equally at fault. I did see people talking about hate Aziraphale was getting on Twitter, but I don't use Twitter so I don't know what anyone might be saying over there.

Aziraphale is definitely woobified by the fandom, and it gets incredibly frustrating. Like, yes, Aziraphale has a lot of religious trauma. But so does Crowley. The opening scene of season 2 establishes that they've had this fundamental difference in views from the start, even before the fall, so I don't get why Aziraphale still gets so much leeway after refusing to change or grow for 6000+ years. He knows the complexities of humanity better than any other angel, but he keeps doubling down on his flawed belief system.

And season 2 really emphasized that Aziraphale's well-meaning ignorance is legitimately harmful. Like he got Morag killed by applying his overly simplistic worldview to a morally gray situation. And then there's the ball scene? The way Aziraphale dragged others into his rose-colored fantasy world was disturbing, especially with how freaked-out Nina was by it. Then Crowley shows up terrified and asking for help, and Aziraphale dismisses his concerns out of hand. He refuses to let Crowley’s worries put a damper on this Jane Austen ball nobody signed up for.

And Crowley was right. Like he was trying to raise the alarm about the very real danger that everyone was in. I’ve seen it framed a lot like Aziraphale is just an optimist and Crowley is a pessimist, but it goes farther than that. Crowley consistently has a more realistic view of Heaven, Hell, and humanity than Aziraphale does. Aziraphale's inability to engage with reality causes actual harm to both humans and to Crowley. It contributed to the world almost ending in season 1, because Aziraphale wasted a lot of time trying to reach the "right people" in Heaven instead of accepting that Heaven is as bad as Hell and trusting the one person that’s been trying to save the world with him for years.

And it's like, yes, Aziraphale is sympathetic. He’ll be very conflicted, and distressed about how conflicted he is, and then he’ll come around and do the right thing in the end. But it's frustrating to watch Aziraphale seeming to grow and then immediately backsliding. Like, he was ready to fall to protect Job's kids. But he didn't, and he went right back to his beliefs. He didn't lose his faith in Heaven despite the Flood, and Job, and Jesus, and the apocalypse.

He also has this superiority complex, where he's the nice one while Crowley is stuck doing the dirty work. "I am a great deal holier-than-thou" and all that. Aziraphale's belief system makes him "good" by definition. He dismisses and overrides Crowley's opinions instead of changing his own because, on some level or another, he thinks he's better than Crowley by design.

So it’s at the point where Aziraphale needs to do some serious self-reflection. He needs to be the one to make the choice to change fundamental beliefs he’s clung onto since the beginning of time. I think he's capable of changing, and I’m looking forward to how it plays out in s3, but I don’t think we’ll be getting a lot of good fix-its from the fandom any time soon. Most of what I've seen is still fans insisting that since they're both flawed they are both at fault, and their relationship can be fixed by just having them both apologize to each other. If people are looking at it beyond that, I don't know where they're discussing it.

[thomasshelbydrabbles]

Everything’s a Negotiation (7/?)

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x OC, Modern!Alfie Solomons x OC

Warnings: series typical violence, language, sexual situations, possessive behavior, consensual public sexual situations

Summary: Mac and Sydney meet for drinks, but their evening is interrupted by an uninvited guest.

Word Count: 2604

A/N: I have no idea where I’m going with this, but I’m writing while I still have the inspiration gods on my side. I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you want added to the tag list.

“How many have you had?” Sydney asked as she slid into the high-top chair across from Mac.

Mac rolled her eyes and looked down at the remnants of her pint glass. “I didn’t get ahead of you. It’s just my face.” 

Sydney squinted her eyes, leaned in close to Mac’s face. “Just your face? The hell happened today?” 

“I might need a new career. Or identity. Or maybe I just need to find a random guy and have sex to get it out of my system.”

“Is that why we’re meeting in SoHo? So you can find a bloke for the night?” 

 Mac cradled her face in her hands. “I don’t know.” 

“Alright, love, how ‘bout you start from the beginning. Tell me about your day.” 

“Tommy slept against the door to my bedroom last night. He was gone before I got up, but he left me some lovely flowers, the bastard. I was late to the office, only to have a meeting with a man who works with Tommy, sometimes. Other times, they try to kill each other as a normal course of conducting business. So this man comes into my office after I’d already told him his company was too large for my firm, and he tries to convince me to work for him. Flirts a lot. Offers me diamonds, fucking Febregè Eggs, like who does that? Then, and this really is the best bit, says we can just have a fling, just a friends-with-benefits thing because I’m not Jewish, and somehow that’s meant to make me feel better about it?”

“Do you have any clients who come into your office without a criminal background?” 

Mac laughed. “I used to. Now, apparently, I’m a gangster magnet.” 

Sydney snorted into her drink. “Maybe you should find a less appealing line of work.”

“Not sure that would work either. Tommy seems determined. Alfie thinks Tommy’s determined, too. It’s been, what, a week, maybe two weeks? The fuck do either of them know about me?” 

Mac took a deep breath. “Right. I’m going over to that bar and I’m ordering myself another drink.” 

Sydney nodded. “When you come back, you’re going to explain all of that to me again because I think I’m too sober to keep up with you tonight.” 

She doubted it would make any sense no matter how she explained it. Her life had become infinitely more complicated, and that was without thinking about what nefarious plots Hank devised for her. It was best she didn’t know anything about Rodney, but the not knowing was a low-grade annoyance, like a fly in the room that was just always out of reach. Bracing her elbows against the bar, she allowed her head to roll forward, feeling the slight stretch in her neck that felt nice, but did nothing to ease the tension in her body. 

The lips pressed against the back of her neck caused a whole sort of new tension to flare through her body, even as she leaned back against the warm body trapping her against the bar. 

“I don’t know that I’ve forgiven you yet,” Mac whispered as she tilted her neck to the side. “And, if you send any more of your associates into my office, I might never forgive you.” 

She felt Tommy smile against the skin of her neck as he pressed another kiss just below her ear. He didn’t say anything. Mac smiled at the bartender who slid another pint of cider to her. Ignoring the slight tremble of her hand, she brought the cold beverage to her lips, enjoying the tart bite of it as the liquid slid down her throat. Against her back, Tommy let out a pained groan as he pushed his hips more firmly against her ass. He was hard, and the knowledge sent a powerful wave of desire through her. Tommy leaned forward a bit more, moving his hand around her hip towards her thighs. Feather-light, he teased his fingers along the material of her skirt, subtly bunching it up higher, exposing more of her thighs to his fingers. 

Gulping around a dry throat, Mac brought the cider back to her lips as a distraction. She didn't know what to say. As she’d told Alfie earlier, this wasn’t a romance novel, and yet here she was getting felt up in a pub in SoHo like some undergrad out for fresher’s week. Still, she didn’t push him away, didn’t tell him to stop. As his fingers moved closer to her pussy she fought back a moan. 

“This is insane,” she whispered.

“Tell me to stop, love, if that’s what you want.” 

As he spoke, his fingers brushed against her panty-covered clit. 

“Fuck.” 

Tommy’s dark chuckle had goosebumps erupting on her skin. He repeated the motion. Mac squirmed in his arms, working hard to be subtle, to avoid drawing attention to their activities because if he stopped, she might have to hit him over the head with the pint glass clenched between her fingers. As though he could read her mind, his fingers pushed aside her panties, and delved between her folds. He groaned against her ear as his fingers pushed her wetness around her clit. 

“Fuckin’ soaked for me.” 

So slowly she knew he was doing it just to drive her mad, he slid a finger into her. God his fingers felt so large, so warm and perfect inside her. She bit down on her lip, eyes squeezed shut as he began to move, to thrust his finger in and out of her soaking hole. 

“Barely touched you, and you’re this wet for me. Desperate for my touch, eh, love? Want to come? Want me to make you fucking come on my fingers?” 

He breathed the words into her ear. To the world around them, it would appear as though they were having an intimate conversation. No one the wiser. No one to suspect that he’d added a second finger. That his thumb constantly teased against her clit as he lazily thrust his fingers in and out, in and out. She needed him to increase the pace. Harder. Faster. More. His teeth bit her earlobe before soothing it with a flick of his tongue.      

“Know I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, yeah? The only one who gets to touch you like this, feel you fall apart in their arms?”

A shudder from the top of her head to the tips of her toes raced down her spine at his words. How long had they been at the bar? He pinched her clit, effectively chasing the thoughts from her head as she bit down hard on her lip to muffle the sound of her cry. Damn he was fucking amazing at this. She wanted to turn around, to see his blue eyes stare into hers while he fucked her with his fingers, with his tongue, with his cock. Wanted to see him lose control as he thrust into her body. 

“Tommy.” 

“Say you’re mine,” he growled. 

“Tommy - ”

“Be a good girl, fuckin’ say you’re mine.” 

She opened her mouth to answer him, to tell him what he wanted to hear, if only to push her over the edge because she knew the orgasm would be mind blowing. Just as she knew sex with this man would destroy her. 

Anything you want, pet. 

It was like being doused with cold water. She could still feel the scrape of his cropped beard against her skin. The same skin Tommy’s lips caressed now. 

Sensing the change in her, Tommy stopped his movements, slowly removed his fingers from her body, and placed a hand on her back.

“Mackenzie?”

She hated the concern in his voice. Like he was afraid he’d done something, crossed some line she’d established. 

“It’s fine, Tommy.” 

Gently, he turned her to face him. Tilted her face up so that he could look into her eyes. She tried to turn away, but he held firm. 

“Doesn’t look like nothing, love.” 

Feeling a bit frantic, her eyes darted around the bar. Of all the times for Sydney to leave her to her own devices, now was hardly the time. Honestly, how long did the girl think it took to get a drink from a not-terribly-busy bar? Why hadn’t Sydney come looking for her yet?

His fingers brushed some hair behind her ear, fingers lingering on her neck. 

“What is it you want Tommy?” Mac asked, the conversation with Alfie forefront in her mind now. 

It hadn’t been the question she’d intended to ask. In fact, Mac hadn’t meant to open her mouth at all. They barely knew each other. She hardly knew what she wanted from him, so asking him the same question was unfair. But, it was there now, in the space between them. 

“You burst into my office demanding I work for you because of my idiot cousin and his fucking poor life choices, then when that doesn’t work, you have your cousin show up to ask me the same thing, but with better words, only to take me out on probably the most spectacular date in the history of dates - then you send one of your associates, who at least for the moment you’re working with instead of against to my office. He works his charms, and seriously? Is it just a thing for you London gangster types? Hm? Do they train you for it somehow? Between learning how to beat a man and shoot a 9mm, do they pause and go, oh by the way this is how you woo a woman?” 

Based on the way Tommy looked at her, she probably sounded completely mad. She felt it, so that tracked. Nothing from the last couple of weeks felt normal. Everything had just been moment after moment of crazy without any time to process it all. Why didn’t they allow dogs in pubs? Zeus would go a long way towards calming her, and anytime she was around Thomas Shelby, Mac needed all the calm she could get. 

“I didn’t send anyone to your office today.” 

Her eyes snapped up to his. His gaze was dark, as though he were concerned about someone showing up unannounced at her place of work. 

“Alfie seemed to know you fairly well.” 

His jaw tightened. “Alfie came to see you today, eh?”

Mac nodded. 

“He work his charms on you? Hm?”

She narrowed her eyes at his tone. “He wanted to buy me a drink, run to be specific. He also spouted nonsense about Febregè Eggs and diamonds, but Alfie seems to be someone with a flair for dramatics, so I mostly figured he meant the drink.” She paused, shook her head. “Still not sure what I’d do with a fucking Febregè Egg.” 

Tommy nodded his head, eyes dark. “Gonna buy you a fuckin’ drink is he?”

“Tommy - ”

“And you’re just going to let him, eh? One gangster not enough for you?” 

“Fuck you,” Mac spat. “I didn’t ask for any of this. And now you know why I don’t want to get into business with you or Alfie. I can fucking see it in your eyes already. You’re pissed as hell at him, and maybe you have a right to be, but what would this do for business? If I had info on him and info on you and you two go back to being angry at each other? I’m fucking caught in the middle because you two can’t control your dicks.”

“He shouldn’t have fucking touched you.” 

“I’m not yours. We’ve been on one, maybe two if you count that first night, dates. It’s been a couple of weeks max since you barreled into my life. I don’t owe you anything.”

“I’ll kill ‘im for this. He crossed the line.” 

Mac shook her head. “Do you hear yourself? Fucking hell, Tommy.” 

She looked down at the pint glass. Half of it was gone. She didn’t remember drinking that much of it, but she’d been more than a little distracted. Pulling cash from her pocket, she set five quid down on the bar before pushing away from it. 

“Where the hell are you going, Mac?” 

She glared at Tommy, glared down at the hand he had wrapped around her arm. “I’m going back to my table. Sydney has been waiting for a long time. You’re not going to follow me.” 

He released her arm and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. Just as he lit it, Mac snatched it from his hand. She tossed it on the ground and snubbed it out with her shoe, making sure to tear it apart completely. 

“There’s no smoking in here.” 

Tommy’s lips twitched as she spun on her heel and stomped back over to the table. She noticed the wide-eyed look on Sydney’s face and once again wondered how much her friend had seen. 

“I went to the loo,” Sydney said before Mac had a chance to sit down. “By the time I got back, you looked quite involved in a conversation with Mister Shelby over at the bar, so I stayed my ass right here.” 

Mac nodded absently. She brought the pint to her lips and gulped down the last half of her cider. 

“Is there a rule somewhere? Like, is it just something people know and because I don’t know anything apparently, I totally missed it? I mean, it’s been less than two weeks, right, and we went on one official date. The first night at the bar doesn’t really count. He was so sweet that night, too.” 

“Hon,” Sydney placed her hand on Mac’s, drawing her attention. “What’s going on?” 

“Tommy seems to think that one date makes me his, like I’m property, or like this is some old-time movie. Then Alfie in my office today said he just wanted a fling. Couldn’t commit. As though I’d asked. So, I need to know. Is there a rule? One date and you fucking belong to the man? Because if that’s the case, I’m totally going to change my identity and move to a secluded island somewhere.” 

“Don’t hate me, but I think it might just be a Tommy thing,” Sydney began. “Hear me out, okay? I saw the way he looked at you when he was leaving the bar. A man that looks at a woman like that…he’s got it in his head that it’s something. Might not be what you signed up for, but maybe one date is all it took for him. Now, I also think he’s a man accustomed to getting what he wants because he’s a fucking gangster, isn’t he? Then he meets you, and you don’t go easy. You aren’t impressed or intimidated - ”

“I am intimidated. Tommy’s fucking overwhelming when he’s on his best behavior.” 

“Not intimidated enough to just give in.”

“That’s because I’m an idiot, clearly.” 

Sydney laughed. “Look, this has all been…a lot.” 

“Queen of the understatement you are.” 

“Fuck off. My point is…take a few days. Go up north and clear your head. Get out of the city for a bit.” 

“I have a business to run.”

Sydney raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with Mac’s excuse. 

Mac threw her hands up in surrender. “Fine, I can run the business from anywhere, but do you really think I’ll be able to get out of the city without one or both of those idiots knowing?”

“Probably not, but you’re resourceful. I mean, you do own a security firm, right? Surely you have assets at your disposal. Might not keep them from knowing, but it would make them at least have to put in some fucking effort.”

Part 8

Master List

Tag List: @allie131313​  @highgardenrosexx​  @stevie75​  @polishcrazyone​

[dragonmuse]

Was rereading the series (again) and got to wondering: did Stede and Eddy ever talk to Pearl the engineering student Stede met at the strip club about a new trap door?

(hello June 2022! I hope you still care at least a little about this answer, if not I hope it still serves for a spot of amusement for everyone else. This takes place roughly a month after Eddy and Stede's wedding.)

“Are you sure you don’t need another flash light?” Stede was asking the hole in the stage. 

“No, I’m good!” A voice trailed up. “In fact, I think...” 

There was a heavy ‘bang’. 

“Are you all right?” Stede wrung his hands. 

“Yep! That was just everything falling into place. Hold on, let me tag your mattress here back over...” 

“Do we have a ghost?” Eddy laughed, posting up against the stage. She had been reconciling receipts in Stede’s...well their office now. This sounded far more fun. 

“I’ll introduce you momentarily, dear girl,” Stede was peering down worriedly despite assurances. 

A head popped up out of the hole. She was a striking woman, very pointed chin and high cheekbones. Her hair was cropped short, bleached blond, a pretty contrast to skin the same shade as Eddy’s.  

“It’s locked in place. Do you have a sandbag or something we can test it with?” 

“We have a bag of rice around somewhere,” Eddy put in. “From Roach’s risotto class. One of those real big ones.” 

“That should do it.” A hand with a meticulous manicure and a grease stain reached out to her. “I’m Augusta. You must be Eddy.” 

“I am,” she leaned forward to shake her hand. “You’re the performer that Stede connected with at his bachelor party?” 

“I’ll say,” she laughed. “I was doing some of my best work and he was all ‘I own a club just like this, do you like working here?’  One of the chattiest clients I’ve ever had. Then he showed me a photo of you like three times.” 

“Did he?” Eddy laughed, glancing at Stede, who didn’t look the slightest bit embarrassed. 

“You were on my mind,” he just said blandly. “In any case, should we test her work?” 

“Sure, I’ll get the rice.” 

It was fun to watch the bag disappear into the darkness and the door no longer made a horrible noise when it swung open, so really it was a win all the way around.  

“Good workmanship,” Eddy decreed.  “What do you know about pulley systems?” 

“Enough to get by,” she grinned. 

The fix to the stubborn left curtain only took a few minutes and she did it on the spot. Stede went into the back to write a check for her and Eddy got her a glass of water. 

“Thanks,” Augusta took it with a sly smile. “So that’s going well? You and him?” 

“Has been,” Eddy agreed. “Did you think it wasn’t?” 

“He was really cute, that’s all,” she took a sip of water. “But you know, sometimes that kind of thing is kind of one sided. You see all sorts of things sometimes.” 

“It’s not,” Eddy shrugged. “I love the hell out of that man. No idea why they even took him to a strip club, not really his scene, but he seemed to have a good time.” 

“Well he was until he fell asleep under Zeus. He was pissed,” she giggled. 

“...who is Zeus and why have I not heard this before?” 

Augusta left a few minutes later, check in hand, business card left behind for potential future work. 

Eddy turned on her husband with bright eyes. 

“What?” Stede asked warily. 

“I heard the funniest thing just now. About a god and a man who does not seem to respect them.” 

“Oh no,” Stede groaned. “I thought when you didn’t see the Instagram picture, I’d been spared.” 

“There’s a photo?” Eddy lit up even more, delighted by the prospect. 

“Oluwande took it. It apparently got a number of likes and comments,” Stede flushed. “I’d had a lot to drink, dear girl, and it had been a long night.” 

“Show me,” Eddy demanded. “Right now, I need proof.” 

“You’re a monster,” Stede scolded, but he was already taking out his phone. 

The photo was priceless, Stede’s head back, totally knocked out while a very annoyed looking stripper stared down at him incredulously.  

“You’re amazing,” Eddy wheezed. “Oh fuck, I love you so much. You were almost murdered, weren’t you?” 

“I did tip him,” Stede snorted. “Once I roused.” 

“I think the problem is that you weren ‘roused, golden boy.” 

“Well it’s not my fault he wasn’t very good at his job!” 

Eddy’s laughter rang out to the rooftop and eventually Stede even joined her. Later, at home, she found the post again and left a like and a comment. 

‘Great wedding gift. 10/10.’

[mintytrifecta]

Okay. Okay. So. I’ve seen you tag so many posts with code name:Lenore and for the longest time I thought it was a piece of media I just happened to not have heard of, but somewhat recently I remembering you saying it was your original project and jfjddkdkdk okay pls do not feel pressured to answer if you don’t feel like it or anything but if you would like to share I’m asking, I’m asking SO LOUDLY about it cuz the little context clues I think I have picked up the vibes make it sound SO NEAT so yeah if you would like to share anything about it I would love to hear :3

DUUUUUDE I'D LOVE TO TALK ABOUT IT HELL FRICKIN YEAH!!!!

SO Codename: Lenore is a hypothetical novel I'm developing!!! Right now I'm just in like the plot development and worldbuilding stage so the story isn't fully concrete ^^; HOWEVER I DO HAVE SOME LORE >:DDD AND ITS GOING UNDER THE READ MORE CAUSE I HAVE. A LOT. SSNSGHND

Lenore is a robot built of embossed brass that's long been oxidized who wakes up in an unknown era in an unknown, tiny spaceship with only one universal truth present in her head.

She has a mission to find and record every folktale she can, before time runs out.

She doesn't know why, or how, or where this idea came from, nor does she know why time is running, but she knows she has to do it.

It's lonely, at first. Every planet she visits locally in her crumbling ship seems... empty. Devoid of any life. She spends who knows how long going to whatever area of a planet seems the least in ruins and tries to grab whatever she can but there's not much. There's barely one full legend anywhere and everything she finds she has to fill the blanks in. Although, a lot of them do seem to have the running theme of light in them. Light and grief and storms and anguish and so much pain with no real explanation.

It's only after she finds this pattern that Lenore notices the space around her is just as desolate as the planets she visits. Barely any starlight around and what little does show up is red and flicker. Finding this out, Lenore goes to a nearby star to investigate, one that barely has any shine to it.

As soon as she gets close enough it explodes and sends her unconscious and flying back who knows how far.

Next thing she knows Lenore wakes up on an unfamiliar ship with three people staring at her waiting for her to wake up.

Lenore is, understandably wigged out.

But they smile at her anyway and introduce themselves as the Lightspeeds!! A group of Star Hunters and Speedship racers who've been tracking the stars in this piece of space.

The "leader" of their group is the speedship racing pilot herself and head of navigation is Mairin!! Hothead, spirited and quick to make friends but prone to impulse. She welcomes Lenore to their ship with open arms, exclaiming how relieved she is Lenore is alright.

The engineer and head Mairin's partner lurking off to the corner is Khyun. He's closed off and cool but not neccesarily snappy. He's the one who got Lenore back up and running, claiming that they're lucky he likes history as much as he does, or else he wouldn't have recognized any of how Lenore's systems work.

Lastly, the botanist and head of oxygen and survival resources is Elise. She smiles, claiming she's the one who found Lenore's ship careening out at insane speeds and got everyone to help rescue her.

They explain that as Star Hunters, their mission is to find, record and track live stars and ghosts in the universe so that anyone else who's ship-born knows where's safe to stay for a while and what volatile spaces to avoid.

Speedship racers are a bit of a niche sport/subculture for Star Hunters. They compete in laps around stars of different sizes to see who has the fastest and smoothest ship and he winner gets to claim the biggest star found for their Star Hunter team and put it on the map under their name. To enter a speedship race you have to fill a certain quota of living stars found around a specific area and chart them under the name of your team. In this case, the Lightspeeds.

After a bit of talking they strike a deal with her. Lenore gets to help them find stars and work during their races and in return they help her search for folklore on any system-stars they come across.

A while passes and Lenore's officially a member of the Lightspeeds and she's building up a considerable portfolio of folklore. They haven't stopped though, with the theme of grief and stars, which is kind of suspicous to Lenore. They've traveled pretty far from where she was originally at and she gets that similair themes can occur in different cultures, but this is way too often to be mere coincidence.

Then it hits.

The stars are dying. They're dissapearing faster and faster than they can keep track of. The universe is collapsing in on itself with barely any time to preserve everything that's still here.

Lenore and the rest of the Lightspeeds have their work cut out for them.

That's the synopsis and a little bit of the plot I guess gshsnsn I've got more but if I kept going this would be too long so uuuh I'll leave it at this:

In the story there's a lot of themes and allegories to ghosts. Pretty much everyone in the story is haunting or is haunted in one way or another, narratively or not. With all the stars dying, their light still remains, all the planets are gone but stories they've made get to live on, Lenore is a robot, built and decorated with a story so personal to a society long, long gone. Isn't that a ghost?

Well yeah there's metaphorical ghosts but there are also literal ones >:))

See, sometimes when a dying star sends out a solar flare or explodes in a supernova, it'll reach people living on nearby planets. Caught in that light, they die, but their bodies last second absorb that light and essentially become it. Living afterimages of the people they were made out of pure light. They keep "living" for ages after, holding onto themselves as much as possible, but it doesn't always last.

If you're made of light, it's easy to forget what it was like when you were more then that. It's easy to lose memory. Lose shape.

As time goes on it's harder and harder to keep a solid form and idea of who you are. As this happens, as you slowly fade, your light... shifts. Less solid, blue glows become yellow. Slightly transparent and with some strange shifts of appearance, sure, but you're still fine. The real danger starts when you begin to shift red.

Closer to red means closer to dead. You begin to become transparent, unable to be seen under harsh colored lights. Your memory isn't what it used to be and now that you can barely see yourself its hard to hold shape.

Thank goodness none of our cast is that right :)) Thank goodness nobody in the Lightspeeds is hiding this in any kind of shift from yellow to red right :)))))) We certaintly wouldn't want our resident botanist to be hiding something like that from their friends right :))))))) Wouldn't want our resident folklorist android being an amnesiac of one, her creator, stuck in a metal shell with no way of knowing what she really looked like and who she was before she was :))))))))) Wouldn't want a group hellbent on desperate survival and worship of gravity and black holes to force people into becoming those to praise the gravity of a singularity and turn into light as a way to live as one with a decaying universe :)))))))))))))))

[catgriffin]

Just saw your post in the tag about the Vees being "irredeemable" and I'm curious as to why you feel that way. It's a pretty common sentiment so you have company, I just personally struggle to see the justification for it especially in a show where the main theme is that anyone can be redeemed/deserves a second chance (or at least that is Charlie's goal).

We know that 1.) Charlie wanted to spare Adam, an angel that had been committing a devastating genocide against her people for decades, 2.) Charlie tries to see the good in Alastor even though he's a psychopathic cannibal that she recognizes isn't completely on board with her goals (and actively participates in the oppressive soul ownership system) and 3.) Charlie forgave Vaggie who actively participated in the genocide against her people. I'd argue Angel Dust and Pentious are far more sympathetic characters (to both us, the audience, and Charlie herself) since we are told virtually nothing about their crimes that landed them in Hell and we meet them when they're both at their lowest.

While I understand everyone has their favorites and the show likely isn't interested in exploring its central theme too deeply, I do think it would be such a missed opportunity not to have Charlie confronted with the hypocrisy of offering salvation to some but not all - to stumble in her beliefs and be forced to claim some people are "irredeemable". What does that arbitrary determination criteria look like to her? How is she equipped to make those decisions?

And, if the criteria to get into Heaven, isn't to actually confront your past and current life but rather sacrifice yourself for others (based on Pentious and his ascension) then that's absolutely (in my opinion) something the Vees would be capable of. If Charlie can look past the crimes of Adam and Alastor and offer them grace then she should be capable of doing that for characters like Vox, Velvette, and even Valentino.

I personally think it would add a lot to Charlie's character if she had to actually stand firmly in her convictions that every sinner has the capacity to change OR for her to grapple with the fact she is biased and her ideology is inherently flawed.

But those are just my thoughts. Like I said, I see "the Vees are irredeemable" get echoed quite a bit but am always curious where it stems from. I think there are a lot of good arguments to be made, but the setting/core theme of the show really challenges them (for me anyway). I think a bigger issue you'd run into is certain characters not wanting redemption at all, but with some plot adjustment I think you could make it work since so many of the characters are still blank slates this early on. And I hope it goes without saying but I'm not excusing the actions of any of these characters, simply challenging the idea of who is really "irredeemable" in a show where every single person is bad and they are already in "Hell" facing judgment for their transgressions.

Always an interesting topic and hope you don't see it as an attack or anything.

I appreciate that you asked this in a nice way, people often get very upset over it. Vox is actually one of my favorite characters. And if any of the vees were to get redeemed I think it'd be him. He is desperate to love, he loved alastor and now chases Valentino. And if sacrifice truly is the way to get to heaven, I can't really see Valentino being the one to sacrifice himself. At least, not how he currently is. I don't know enough about velvette to make a correct assumption. And to be fair we don't truly know how vox feels about angel. He may have called him a wh*re because he was trying to relate and calm down Valentino in that moment.

The only reason I feel they can't be redeemed is because they have the same mindset alastor currently does:

1) redemption isn't possible

2) I dont want to go to heaven if it was

[allthebeautifulsouls]

CW: mention of theoretical rape/non-con, discussion of mental health, mention of smut

I’d like to try to start writing fic—I’m pretty sure I’ve exhausted all AO3 has tagged with Helmut Zemo. Perhaps let’s start there. Why on earth have I latched onto this middle aged man with such a ludicrous degree of self-projection?

This is a terrorist. He is referred to as a war criminal—you don’t get that designation from a single bomb attack. What does one actually do on a Sokovian death squad, much less the commander? I should take him and his crimes seriously. My brain always conveniently slides over this part. I suppose on some level I desperately want him to be redeemable, which I feel is fairly inconsistent with war crimes. What do I consider unforgivable? Rape. Dehumanization. Genuine non-sexual sadism—relish in the suffering of innocent others.

I can’t envision a version of Zemo that willingly rapes another human being that I can empathize with, and this seems to elicit almost a gut-reaction. I’ll enjoy some of Hydra Steve or Evil Bucky, but as soon as it gets to Zemo I balk. Some might argue that sadism is a hallmark of his personality. There’s this one brilliant writer whose work I adore who has one fic discussing the possibility of Zemo’s actual war crimes, and I’ve never actually finished it, each time I feel almost nauseated. Why is this so?

While he’s likely been my strongest obsession, he wasn’t the first. For a few years there were Bucky recovery fics (pre-TFATWS). For a time in college, when I went through my depressive episode and all that came after, I genuinely felt that I had no idea how to be a human being and that I had to establish it from first principles. To have this character literally try to figure out how to be a human being and not a machine, I think it calmed something inside me to see my internal struggle made so explicitly external and magnified. How do you build from nothing? Or, worse than nothing, a ragged slate of pain and numbness and despair and fear? Of course, my issues weren’t anywhere near the magnitude of those depicted on screen and in fic. To be honest, they’re fairly typical of figuring out how to be a young adult. Still, this kind of fic deeply resonated with me for reasons I couldn’t understand. Throw in my figuring out my sexuality and interests over that same period, my exploration of kink, and there were a whole bunch of interesting things—still are.

And now, a slightly different time in my life, a different character. In truth, I think what it always is, as with all comfort characters, is projecting my deepest insecurities and dearest hopes onto them. Wanting to find a better story for myself. I’m a sucker for a redemption arc—I started figuring this out with Zemo, but it really crystallized after I read a few excellent Draco/Harry fics. I want to see someone who has genuinely been bad put in the work to genuinely become good. I want to believe that I, too, can be redeemed, even if I can’t figure out yet how to ask from what.

I’ve had a bit of trouble with some slight scrupulosity, and so it’s this version of Zemo as an exhausted, world-weary, suicidal, scrupulously moral (to his own code) master strategist that has me by the heartstrings.

He has experienced so much pain and loss, and he is so tired, and his is so driven by this one overwhelming goal, and everything must be precisely the way it should be—come hell or high water he’ll finish his mission. He’s a master strategist, he looks at the world and sees interlocking systems, identifies the many interwoven strings and twings only the precisely correct one to accomplish his goal. He is precise and methodical and tired and hurt, still hurting, still working. I want to see him rewarded for his efforts, see him acknowledged as good, redeemed, a protagonist suffering instead of a villain wallowing. Painting him as a tragic figure allows me to feel better somehow in my small challenges—not necessarily a positive all the time. I can and have, after all, thrown myself into reading fanfic to hide from my fear, shirk my responsibilities. It hasn’t always had a positive impact on my life. And yet in other ways it has been deeply comforting and inspiring. And just fun.

With that all being said, the majority of this blog will be unrepentant smut XD

[redjadethewriter]

The "Queen of Strategy": How to speak stealthily about inappropriate things?

My game tag is RedJade_Queen, and I don't take that title lightly. Some assume I'm a princess and ask why I don't use Princess instead. I even use Korpse Queen as another title.

Peeps, I'm no princess by any means. I'm no King, either. A King is nothing without its Queen, and I'm not putting that lightly. A queen is tactful in persuasion, using charm and social skills, understanding specific actions, words, and behaviors, and utilizing them to melt the masses. But I'm not referring to the royalness of it, but what it requires to win, survive or thrive. I use strategy in games since I lack skills. The better term, I'm dyslexic with a controller. I even have the motto of being a "Runner, not a fighter," and I do stick to brand. I am the coward who eventually wins by setting aside my ego and arrogance and surviving to fight another day tactic. I have no upstanding pride, and I'm shameless as a demon from the darkest pits of hell when I need to be. There's also a reason why I'm called a Strawberry Thigd Demon by some people, in the best way possible. I use that title for other things as well.

But back to my title as the "Queen of Strategy."

I let my curse of a mind, meaning my racing thoughts, work to my benefit. Within seconds, I can think of several scenarios, and if I can't figure it out, I'll dream of it at night. Eventually, a solution will arise. The curse is that I lose sleep over almost anything I'm determined to figure out and resolve. Basically, I never stop thinking.

How does that translate to my life?

Oh my gosh, I'm a stealth troublemaker.

I will share the best example of how I got my coworkers and me to safely discuss our illicit escapades without getting caught by management. Since a lot of us shared an interest in women, I'll just mention it again, I'm an out and proud Lesbian, and we wanted to be able to discuss our pussy-escapades without anyone noticing that's what we were talking about. If we spoke in hush-hush, it would cause suspicion, so we had to be able to speak in a normal tone even with customers around. So, I devised code words that correlated to what we wanted to discuss. Therefore, for those of us who liked pussy, the word for that was vegetables. And the rating, whether it was good or not, and if it was excellent, they would say," I had some grade-A vegetables." And if it wasn't good, " Damn, them vegetables I had last night... was expired as hell."

For those who like "dick," there were code words for that as well. "I had me some grade-A sausage last night." or "Limp Hot Dog." Get what I'm saying. We devised a stealth system to discuss inappropriate things while on the clock.

Because many of us enjoyed "vegetables," management thought we were all trying to get healthy since we passionately discussed it. Some even thought we were turning vegetarian. I would say to myself, "More like a vagitarian."

Believe me, it was hilarious because it was only the department I worked in that got away with being sexual deviants. But eventually, friends in the other departments caught on, and soon enough, many of us would talk about vegetables.

This became a trend for a while, and it worked.

I'm going to be honest. The younger generation is so adorable in how open they are in expressing their interests in someone. I want to continue to contribute to creating a more accepting environment for individuals to be themselves. To be able to express freely who they like. Even though I created a way to discuss things we enjoy, I wanted to make sure whoever spoke to me felt safe enough to express what they liked. That's how I learned there are so many women out there who are not upfront about their sexuality and are still oppressed by society.

However, I have faith that things will improve as the world stops thinking rigidly and when the system finally breaks. Then, people won't have to hide. Until then, you can use code words like I did with my coworkers, but in society if you want to avoid strangers understanding what you're talking about publicly.

I'm gonna say it again... I'm a shameless demon, but I'm a tactful one.

[strangepathshikingclub]

🌲Hello and welcome!🌲

This is the sideblog of the Strange Paths Hiking Club for all our system stuff. (We used to be known as Team Mesa, if that rings a bell for anyone)

Generally Useful Info:

We are bodily 21

We’re white and Canadian, and we live in Mi’kma’ki

Sometimes we’re one person, sometimes not. It’s weird.

In the case that we are one person, you can refer to that person as Niamh or Sunrise. They use they/them pronouns, they’re a nonbinary lesbian, and they love a good ghost story.

Due to the inconsistency in how many people there are in the SPHC, it’s hard to say how big the system is at any given moment. At the time of writing this, our numbers are ambiguous and rapidly-shifting because of stress in our current lives.

We may be traumagenic but we do not conform well to medical ideas of plurality. We technically meet the criteria for P-DID? But only barely. It’s a weird situation out here.

On a similar note, we don’t really bother with role labels. We respect people who do, of course— they just don’t work well for us.

Use they/them pronouns for us as a whole. Some of us use different pronouns individually though

We’re studying for a bachelors’ degree in history!!

We practice witchcraft, mostly of the green variety.

We’re autistic and have ADHD. If we struggle to figure out your tone over text, that’s why. Sorry

Okay but who the hell are any of you

Niamh: they/them, described above, also sort of exists whenever we’re out of singlet mode (but is like. different??? in a weird way. they get simplified, for lack of a better word)

Glitch: he/it, does a lot of behind-the-scenes work, sort of technically a demon but it’s chill

Melody: she/they, possibly our first ever fronter, tends to be younger than body age (she is 16 at the time of writing)

Thistle: they/wisp, has some difficulties with speaking and focusing, likes the colour grey. Probably the most obvious one of us when fronting, due to wisps higher voice and unusual behaviour. They’re cool though

Velvet: she/her, a cool woman who gets angry on our behalf. Perhaps a little too angry sometimes. Used to be a persecutor but has since sorted that shit out

James: he/him, helps us do unpleasant social tasks (emails, asking for help, etc.). Very matter-of-fact, sometimes irritable but not externally

Kallie: she/they, alt girl, recovering from normalcy and making myself strange again. I’m writing my own bio now btw hello

Gio: he/him, jjba fictive with minimal similarities to his source, (still very interested in nature, though), inexplicably here for emotional support.

Nix: he/they, teenage vocaloid fan, kind of edgy (self-described)

Various others who aren’t interested in this blog!

Rules and regulations:

If you’re a bigot of any variety, find somewhere else to go. We can’t stop you but rest assured you are not wanted here.

Related to the above point: this system supports freedom for Palestine. If that bothers you, consider leaving us alone (and also consider reassessing your opinions, values, and current level of knowledge. and, if that doesn’t fix the problem, consider getting a fucking heart.)

No exclusionists either!! Specifically in regards to queerness and plurality.

None of us even want to touch the transid discourse but y’all can also leave, thanks. “But that contradicts the last point—“ no it doesn’t. When your ideas start to cause harm, that is when you have violated the social contract and are thus exempt from its benefits

This is a drama free zone. Please do not drag us into The Nonsense

We used to have a tagging system, but it has since fallen apart. We’ll try to tag anything triggering though, feel free to ask if you need us to tag something specific

Enjoy your travels, and stay safe!

[17020s]

i have so many thoughts on sae but hear me out

coffeeshop au sae.

he just works there because it’s an easy job and his friend recommended it to him. he’s a fine ass barista and you only come to the coffeeshop because of him. little does he know he absolutely SUCKS at making fancy coffee. every regular always asks for someone else to make their coffee so sae’s always doomed to register duty. but you show up when they’re understaffed one day and are immediately in love with sae, he makes your coffee, it tastes like shit, you are chewing on grounds, but you thank him with a smile and leave him a tip. next time you come back and there are more people working you specifically ask for him to make your coffee. sae doesn’t know why he’s trying so hard to make it perfect but he can’t help the flush that comes to his cheeks when you smile at the first sip and thank him. next time he leaves his number on the receipt and puts a heart on the cup next to your name.

COFFEE GROUNDS.

Sae Itoshi is a barista, and his coffee sucks ass. You don't mind, though. 0.8k words, fluff.

SAE ITOSHI was desperate for a job. He didn't have enough money to pay for his student loans, and his friend from college recommended him to work in a coffee shop. It's an easy job, just mix coffee and water, and let the customer pick how much sugar or stevia they want him to put inside their cup. Right?

Wrong, because somehow, Sae Itoshi manages to fuck up every coffee he makes. He blames it on the coffee machine, because how are there whole coffee beans in the coffee he makes? Even if customers asked for something other than coffee, he still found ways to make those drinks taste like hell. So, he was assigned to register duty.

It hurt his ego, but he quickly got over it. Customers were always asking for other baristas to make their drinks. He then realized, register duty was not bad. All he had to do was take orders, take the person's name and misspell it if he felt like it, and give the orders to someone else. Easy money.

Or so he thought, until one afternoon, the coffee shop was understaffed. His two other coworkers had break, and they left without him. Because he did not leave the best impression on them. If he had been nicer, he wouldn't have been in this position, and the coffee shop would have closed for lunch time and reopened once everyone had returned from their break.

That's when you came in. You saw there was only one employee, and he looked like he came straight out of a magazine. Cupid had hit you with his arrow, and you were falling in love. You approached the register and had asked him for a coffee. He didn't feel the need to ask for your name, as you were the only one in the coffee shop. You did get his name, though, as his apron had his own name tag. As he served you your coffee, he noticed how attractive you were. You had caught his attention.

Sae felt bad as he watched you drink your coffee from the register, because he knew you were doomed. You took a sip of the coffee he made, and you almost spit it out. It was horrible. The sugar didn't dissolve well, and you could feel the coffee grounds—it was too sweet and too bitter at the same time. Still, you remained calm as you chugged down the monstrosity that Sae Itoshi called coffee.

Once you were done, you smiled at him, thanking him for the coffee and saying your goodbye. Just then, Sae realized how much of an angel you were. He regretted not asking for your name, and he hoped that you would return, even if it was one time. He needed to know who you were.

He thought he was dreaming when he saw you return two days later. Sae was in disbelief when he heard you wanted him to make your coffee. He wondered if you had issues with your taste buds, or even your digestive system, because how could you enjoy his coffee? He asked for your name, writing it in a cup. Yn? It suits them, he thinks.

Truth was, you hated his coffee. It was absolute shit. But Sae was cute, so you let it slide. Besides, the confused look on his face as you drank his coffee was satisfying. If drinking a coffee that felt like muddy water meant that you would get to see Sae, then you'd spend your savings on that damn coffee shop.

Sae began to prepare your coffee, and he found himself putting in so much effort. He wants you to like it, or at least think it's decent. He was careful with the coffee grounds, he made sure the coffee was hot enough to add sugar to, so that everything melts together beautifully. His palms even began to sweat as he poured the cream into the cardboard cup, trying to make a simple design—a heart. Which ended up looking like a manta ray.

It's now or never, he thinks. He has a chance, and it's now. He will not make the same mistake he did last time. He takes a look at your name written on the cup, and decided that something is missing. Grabbing a pen, he draws a small heart next to your name. He kept the receipt, as you told him you didn't need it. He silently thanked you for that, as he scribbled down his number in the receipt.

Your coffee was ready, and when you took the coffee from his hands, he insisted you take the receipt with you. You smiled, thanking him and walking out. Noticing the number in the receipt, you registered the number on your phone.

His phone dinged, and he noticed it was from an unknown number. It was a picture of a coffee, and it was sent along with other messages.

(xxx) - xxx - xxxx Thanks for the coffee :) Tone it down on the sugar, though, you're sweet enough ♡

[vodika-vibes]

Coruscant is Space Hell pt 4

Summary: Fox and Kanna have a conversation with Cody, Wolffe, and Bly after their actions nearly got Kanna killed. Thire, Dusk, and 80 do paperwork and then go to back-up Stone.

Pairing: Commander Fox x Original Female OC (Kanna Rae)

Word Count: 2243

Warnings: Supernatural stuff

Tagging: @tazmbc1 @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: It took me forever to get this one out, since it's kind of filler stuff before the next big thing happens. Which I only half have an idea for, lol.

“Why aren’t they waking up?” 80 asked as he looked from the slumbering Commanders and then over to Checkmate, the Head Medic of the Corries.

“Why aren’t they-” Checkmate blinked at 80 and then pinched the bridge of his nose, “You do realize that it’s not normal for people to get used to having a hand shoved in their central nervous system, right?”

“Stone’s fine!”

“Stone is invulnerable. He doesn’t get hurt.” Checkmate reminded with a sigh, “And before you begin, all of the vod’e in the guard are a little more hardy than the vod’e out on the front lines. Surely you know that?”

“Er…well, yeah. Obviously.”

“You forgot.”

“No! Well, maybe.” 80 admitted, “they’re going to be alright? Fox is going to be incandescent if they die before he’s able to wring their necks.”

Checkmate rolled his eyes, “The Commander is not going to kill his batchmates.”

“You didn’t see how angry he was-”

“Because Kanna is going to be fine. I had her patched up in under 15 minutes.” Checkmate continued as if 80 hadn’t spoken, “So Fox will not be killing his batchmates because if he does then those responsibilities fall on his shoulders.”

“...That’s true.” 80 paused, “So they’re going to be alright?”

“Get out of my medbay!”

“Getting!” 80 called as he hurried out of the medbay and into the hall, where he immediately bumped into Thire.

Thire flashed a smile full of razor sharp teeth, “So, how are the commanders?”

“Sleeping.” 80 replied primly.

“Yeah? You overdid it, didn’t you?”

80 scowled, “It’s not my fault that they’re fragile!”

Thire barks out a sharp laugh, “I’ll pay you money to hear you say that to the commanders.”

“I don’t have a death wish, Commander.” 80 replied drily, “Anyway, is there something you need?”

“Yup,” Thire grinned at him, “Paperwork. The bane of all hard working Vod’e.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Nope. We do the paperwork, so Fox can make it Jedi and vod’e palatable. That’s the rule, and you’re on paperwork duty with me and Dusk.”

“I hate paperwork duty! Why can’t Stone do it!”

“He has another case he’s investigating. Do you want his job?”

“...honestly, I kind of want to sleep.” 80 admitted.

“Same, vod. Same. We’ll do the paperwork, and then we can sleep. How’s that sound?”

“Amazing,”

“Great, come on.”

80 rolled his eyes, but chased after his Commander, “Checkmate says that Kanna’s fine.”

“Of course she is. We do have the best medic in the entire GAR.” Thire grabbed 80’s arm and propelled him forward, “Keep up, baby brother.”

“Not everyone can be as fast as you, Commander.” 80 snarked.

“Then run. I want to get this paperwork over with so I can go and get drunk.” Thire said bluntly, “If we finish fast enough, you can come too.”

“Deal.” 

“I’m fine.”

“You have five holes in your shoulder, cyare. Forgive me if I’m not convinced,” Fox replied grimly, his red eyes locked on the bandages wrapped around Kanna’s shoulder.

Kanna sighed and rolled her shoulder, a silent gasp of pain slipping from her lips as it pulled painfully. 

She wasn’t quiet enough, as Fox was on his feet and kneeling in front of her before she even recognized that he was moving. “Do you need to go back to the infirmary?” He asked, his fingers ghosting, feather light, against the bandages.

“I’m fine. I just need to rest. Really.”

“My brothers almost got you killed.” Fox mumbled as he pulled Kanna’s forehead down to meet his.

“Not intentionally,” Kanna soothed as she lifted her good arm and pressed her hand against his cheek, “It was an accident.”

His scowl deepened. 

“It’s not their fault, Fox. You cannot blame them.”

“Sure I can. I told them to stay away. To stay off the lower level until later. They could have gotten you killed. They could have gotten all of you killed.”

“But they didn’t.”

“Barely.”

Kanna sighed and shifted on the couch, before she leaned in and pressed light kisses just under his eyes, “You’re tired, Fox. You need to rest.”

“I am tired. But I have so much stuff to do.” He leaned into her touch and a small smile crossed his lips as he felt her lips on his skin.

“Maybe just a short nap?” Kanna offered.

Fox opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when the intercom on his desk rang. He reluctantly released Kanna and walked over to his desk to answer the call, “This is Fox.”

“Commander,” Checkmate’s voice was mild, “Commanders Cody, Wolffe, and Bly are awake and heading your way.”

“Thanks Checkmate,” Fox replied before he closed the connection.

“What are you going to tell them?” Kanna asked.

“The truth.” Fox replied tiredly. “Will you stay?”

“Of course. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

“Fox owes us some answers,” Wolffe grumbled as he stalked through the halls of the Corrie Barracks. In spite of his ire, none of the Corries seemed all that intimidated by him. 

In fact, some of them even looked amused.

“I’m sure Fox will explain if we ask the right questions.” Bly said easily as he followed behind his older brother.

“Yeah. Let’s start with ‘how the fuck did one of your LTs stick his arm through my body?’ and then we can follow up with, ‘what the actual fuck was that thing?’ for good measure.” Cody said as he moved out of the way to let a group of vod’e pass.

“Have there always been so many Corries?” Bly asked, momentarily distracted as they turned a corner and walked past the Corrie Mess Hall, which was filled with men.

“Well, it is the largest battalion,” Cody replied as he eyed a man who’s armor looked to be missing several pieces. He shook his head and hurried back down the hall, walking the twisting hallways until he stopped in front of Fox’s office door.

Wolffe knocked twice and then pushed the door open. “Fox!”

“Wolffe,” Fox didn’t bother to look up from his datapad, “It took you three hours to wake up from 80’s jolt.”

“Yeah, we have questions about that,” Cody interjected.

Fox finally looked up, “I bet.”

“All things considered, they’re handling this pretty well.” Kanna noted as she buried herself in Fox’s couch and pulled a blanket up high around her neck. “I mean, 80 freaked out the first time-”

“Shush you.” Fox chided, though there’s an amused smile on his lips, and this his gaze drifted to his brothers, “I should rip you a new one, or make you spar with Stone for the extra work you gave me, but I’m not because Kanna is an amazing person and she argued on your behalf. Say ‘thank you Kanna’ because I was this close,” He pressed his fingers together, “To just doing it anyway.”

“No he wasn’t.” Kanna chirped, “He’s upset because you scared him.”

“And I’m about to send you back to the infirmary,” Fox said in turn as he pinned Kanna with a severe look, which she blithely ignored. “Ask your questions.”

“First. What the actual fuck, Fox?” Cody blurted.

Kanna muffled her laughter with a cough, and Fox leaned back in his chair, “Can you be more specific, vod?”

“Yes, actually, I can.” Cody snapped, “Your LT put his hand through my chest. And that creature was unlike anything I’ve seen on Coruscant-”

“You don’t spend any time on Coruscant or you would have-” Fox muttered.

“And since when do you have red eyes!?” Wolffe interrupted.

Fox sighed, and looked at Kanna, “Are you sure that we can’t just wipe their memories?”

“Do you wanna bother Master Nu just for a mind wiping session? Because I’m not gonna do it.”

Fox sighed, “No. She’s busy. Fine.” He pushed his hand through his hair, and then got to his feet and crossed the room to settle on the couch next to Kanna, who immediately tucked herself against his side. “Make yourselves comfortable, this is going to be a long story.”

Dusk groaned as he sank into his seat at his desk. 

“Are we done yet?” 80 asked, from where his head is laid on his desk, “Can we go get drunk now?”

“No drinking,” Thire chided.

80 released a heartbroken, and totally faked, sob, “You promised me alcohol!”

“I know. But we have to roll out.” Thire said apologetically, “Stone sent a message calling for backup and we’re the only ones available.”

80 sighed and slowly pushed to his feet.

“What’s he hunting?” Dusk asked with a frown, “It’s not like Stone to need backup. He normally is the backup.”

“No idea,” Thire replied with a frown as he glanced down at the message on his comm again, “All it says is backup needed. I know he was hunting something big.” Thire clapped his hands, “Come on, vod’e! Let’s go! Up and at ‘em! On your feet!”

Dusk groaned and slowly pushed to his feet, “Commander, I’d like to request a transfer to literally anywhere else-”

“Denied.” Thire replied cheerfully, “Let’s move it vod’e!”

“Shouldn’t we tell the Commander?” 80 asked tiredly, “I mean…the other Commander.” He added as he glanced at Thire.

“I sent Fox a message. And he and Kanna are still playing host to the other commanders.”

“They’re awake? Er…I mean…yay! They’re awake!” He said sheepishly.

Dusk choked out a laugh, and shook his head, “Where are we headed, Commander.”

“The Works.”

“You might as well just drop us in the sewers while you’re at it,” 80 grumbled as he jerked his helmet on and strapped his blade to his thigh, “It’d be cleaner.”

“You’re being dramatic. The Works are perfectly…clean.” Thire sniffs.

“Sure. Aside from all of the droids, and rotting bodies.” Dusk added, “Oh, and the actual demons that scrabble up the walls like some kind of deranged spiders. Those are my favorite.”

“That only happened once.” Thire grumbled.

“And I still have nightmares about it.” Dusk countered.

“Oh, the spider demons. Those are easy to deal with though. I struggle with the shadow people. They’re the worst-” 80 added, only to stop mid-sentence when Thire whacked him over the helmet, “What’s that for?”

“We don’t talk about the Shadow People. It’s rude.” Thire chided just before he pulled his helmet on, “Alright. Is this everyone?”

“Yeah. Everyone else was smart and decided to do their paperwork later.” Dusk replied. “Lucky them.”

“Great.” Thire said as he ignored his younger brother’s complaint, “Everyone in the speeder. I’m driving.”

One fifteen minute drive later, the three Guardsmen clamber out of the speeder and step into the lift that will bring them down to the Works. Stone met them at the lift, for some reason, his helmet is missing and his armor looks cracked in some places.

“Stone,” Thire walked over to him, “Where are the rest of your men.”

“We’re making a barricade just down there,” He said, sounding deeply exhausted, “Luckily I didn’t lose anyone today, but-” Stone shook his head.

“What are you hunting anyway?” Dusk asked as he followed the two commanders through the narrow passage, “Commander Thire wasn’t able to tell us.”

Stone sighed, “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve never seen anything like this, and it’s not in any book that Master Nu gave us. I’d ask Kanna to take a look, but she’s injured.”

“Yeah. Fox isn’t letting her out of his sight,” Thire confirmed, “Have you seen the thing you’re hunting?”

“Yeah. It looks like a man, only…” Stone shook his head, “You know how some of our vod’e say that standing too close to us makes them uneasy? It’s like that, only far worse.”

“So Master Nu was right,” 80 said, “It is getting worse.”

“She said that there was a change happening to Coruscant,” Dusk clarified, “Which, once of the symptoms is stuff like this getting worse.” He glanced to the side, where a younger vod flicks a rock at a spider demon with the same results as he would have had with a blaster.

“At this point, it’s six one way, half a dozen the other.” Stone admitted as he folded his arms over his chest, “We need to hold the line here, but someone needs to go in to figure out what we’re dealing with. Ideally I’d go in with Thire, but-”

“But it’s not feasible right now.” Thire agreed with a nod, “So we will go and investigate, and then come back as soon as we learn something. Weapons hot, vod’e.”

Thire took the lead, stepping through the pale blue barrier first, followed closely by 80 and with Dusk taking up the rear.

Sitting in Fox’s office, several kilometers away, Kanna sat up right from where she was cuddled against Fox. The blanket hiding her bandages from the men in the room fell around her waist, and then to her feet, as she stumbled towards the window.

“Kan-?”

She shook her head, her lips parted, “I have to go.” She whispered, taking a step back towards the door. “I have to go now.”

“Kanna?” Fox stood, but she had already tugged her robe on and was out the door.

At the exact same time, Jedi Master Jocasta Nu abandoned a council meeting. She was seen running down the halls of the temple as fast as she could.

The last thing she said to the council before she left was, “I have to go. I have to go now.”