#how do these fuckers read this shit so fast though

[autumn-doodles]

After I have no idea how long I FINALLY finished transcribing the tensimm speech in EoT into Gallifreyan oh my god-

For the design, i wanted to differentiate dr’s and master’s speech, so I made master’s writing white on black and doc black on white. You may not notice it but I also slightly altered the way I wrote for each of them. The doctor’s speech is full of curved lines and all the dots seen in his speech get larger/smaller in circles, I thought it was a bit more playful like the dr. The master on the other hand has super straight lines and similarly sized dots since master is a lot harsher.

The writing along the outside also reads “End of Time” bc I thought that circle needed something so I just wrote the ep title this speech was from in some weird improvised linear gallifreyan-

And this is how you would read it, each circle is read anti-clockwise from the bottom unless you see the little ‘start here’ symbol: —(•

(If you can be bothered tho lol, I know it’s a bit of an effort)

And now my watermark which I also wrote in gallifreyan for authenticity’s sake

Sadly I can’t post each of the sentences separately but if people are interested I could try sending them in the reblogs!

#this has taken me so fucking long but I have enjoyed every second #writing in gallifreyan is oddly therapeutic #how do these fuckers read this shit so fast though #doctor who #thoschei #tensimm #end of time #gallifreyan #circular gallifreyan #dw #david tennant #simm master #tenth doctor #autumn’s art tag

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮  tags ; top + gn!reader (no desc of parts but reader is fucking him), unabashed daddy kink, implied verse, small age gap, bottom megumi, petnames (boy, baby) thorough discussion of megumis daddy issues in exactly the direction you think, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.3k

✮  a/n ; i haven't slept . im not responsible for anything. will not be taking questions at this time. 🫡

He's the prettiest thing you've ever seen in your life.

You tell him as much. He pretends to hate hearing it. Soft features bend at hard angles to convincingly drive in the fact that he detests it. Megumi is always like that. For the years you've known him - anything he's at risk of playing his hand too quickly, he retracts. You think that's why you're so addicted to getting him to let go.

He scowls, has the signature Zenin mean mug that almost makes the whole schtick convincing. You know better though. Maybe because you've known him since highschool, or maybe because you simply find him easy to read.

You've never met someone so touchstarved or so delicate all while being so, so mean. There's a lot Megumi can do but he's shit at hiding when something bothers him. When he's irritated, he's petulant and when he's pleased - you'd almost describe him as docile. In his own way. in the way a dog who used to cage fight could be.

You have an interesting relationship to Megumi. You're a stray just like him - with your family being a Zenin lapdog and you being their black sheep. You have a lot to relate on, but Megumi finds your attitude grating. Finds the harshness of your personality difficult, and finds the finesse you have for slaughter and violence to be nauseating.

It's probably why he makes wide, wet eyes at you whenever you're alone. Closes thing you have to someone to depend on with more experience. You're quick to appraise his work when you go on trips together. Despite your acting smug and Megumis frustration about your attitude, he soaks up the praise like a pretty little sponge. He's only a few years younger than you though, despite how he acts.

(Sometimes you think he wants the gap to be a little wider. )

A cute kid, only two years younger than you. Soft, striking green eyes. Soft lips. A mean little glare and spiky mop of black hair to compliment pale, cream colored skin. Megumi blushes easy, bruises even easier. His knees and elbows are a pretty cherry-blossom pink like something out of a movie scene.

The first time you fuck Megumi, its mostly because you're drunk and interested. It'd be stupid to not be interested in a face so pretty and desperate for approval.

All times after that are false happenstance. You make a routine of it - a silent game that makes it look like you're coercing him so he doesn't have to accept his own wants with any seriousness. You're cool with the ambiguity cause you're a little sick in the head. It's enough to fuck him, and sometimes when you're generous - to have him fuck you.

Megumi is pretty when he's being fucked. He changes his tune fast when his dick is a little hard and his guard is down - never thought that bratty little fucker could whine like he's in heat until you pulled the sounds out of his mouth yourself.

You always reaffirm how much he loves attention and praise and pampering when you fuck Megumi. He likes when you appraise him like that too. Soft compliments about his pretty little hole and the tightness of his waist. You manage it with relative ease. Makes your whole core throb just to see how much he twitches over something so slight and so easy. Such a mean fucking kid - such a brat, all welled up anger and abandonment issue.

Sometimes you wanna make him cry from him pain.

But most times, like now - you offer Megumi sweet pleasure. Give him that gentle, doting authority that he seems to fiend for. Desperate for reprieve in a way that stains his face, despite his attempts to brush it off.

Megumi takes dick like he was born for it. Slender fingers grip at your waist and claw at your back like he wants to rip you in half - tear you limb from limb but his legs wrap around your waist like he'd die if you left him for one fucking second. Megumi likes being full, you think. And he likes more when you praise him for taking your cock with such ease.

It's not rocket science to figure out he has some issues with authority. That distant relationship with his sensei and absent father make it obvious that he never wants to let anyone get too close. He could never really entertain certain relationships, he could never actually ask for approval. It's too little, too late.

Still, it surprises you a little when you first hear him say daddy. Not a lot, but enough that you pause in mid-thrust to stare at him a bit. He's mortified at the realization.

But you're not much less of a scumbag you figure, than all the figures in his life. You nod instead, feel arousal spark up in your stomach and claw it's way into your throat as you fuck him even harder.

("Daddy, huh?" You laugh because it's funny and you think the feeling of being so turned on you pass out is inappropriate. "Sure, baby. I'll be your daddy if you want." )

He doesn't say shit to you about it afterwards. Can barely look you in the during your post-sex aftercare and chat - though that conversation is never particularly romantic. You think the whole thing makes him want to die, so you don't really bring it up outside of a knowing look.

But it happens more often than that. Like a dam breaking, and something slips and now Megumi can't close it despite how desperate he seems to want too. It's not even that you're particularly into it at the start.

But well, he's pretty. Prettiest little thing you've ever seen in your life, even though he's tall and strong. He's got this grace that overwhelms you into fucking him dumb whenever you can. Try as you might, you will is not strong enough to not lust over someone like him calling you daddy. That level of unprecedented whining, the affection, the need in such an embarrassing word makes your feel so horny you can barely think.

So, it doesn't particularly surprise you when Megumi calls you daddy. Not anymore.

He's weepy in the face, somewhere in the distance - and he's still wearing his pajamas when you come see him. The scene is uncomfortably domestic between two people who aren't dating, but you don't really care either way. Megumi is pretty everywhere, but he's especially needy getting fucked on his kitchen counter sitting up to cling to you.

His arms around your shoulders, face drawn together with shameless embrassed. His cock is twitchy, leaking against the flat plane of his stomach with unbridled enthusiasm. He says it in a whisper today which you can't help but find cute.

It's raw in the back of his throat, mildly gravelly as his nails dig into your shoulders with an enthusiastic whine. "Daddy. Fuck, please, can't."

"What's daddy's boy want huh?" You say, obviously mocking - a hand wrapped around shaft with a thumb over his slit. Megumi shivers. Lets out a shameful moan at the word boy that makes you laugh hard, makes your head spin dizzy with lust.

"Wanna cum," He says, but doesn't beg. Doesn't know how and couldn't figure it out if you paid him. You've spoiled rotten after all. Filthy, really but he's prettier when he's acting precious. At least to you. "Make me cum, daddy please."

"Really milking it today, huh boy?" You chuckle and all he does is whimper. "Okay, okay. So fucking needy. Go on and cum, baby. Cum for daddy."

Megumi lets out a whine. A sound you barely knew he had in him as you say it that time and you laugh again and again as you bottom out. You watch him squirm as he finally finishes, back arching off the counter as the pleasure runs through him.

His face is still hazy when he comes down. Still beautiful in that way that makes you want to fuck him stupid and indulge for the rest of your life.

"Feel good, baby?"

He blushes faint and doesn't bother pushing you away. "Mm."

#megumi x reader #jjk x reader #megumi smut #jjk smut #writing tag #daddy kink cw #do . do not say anything #ITS NOT EVEN 11AM IM SORRRYYYHDFJHFDJH #this is such . dfkjdhfkjs #im not even gonna say anything . read at your own risk

[dairy-farmer]

You ever think about how Tim has NEVER had normal sex in his life?

Has only known superhumans and Peak Physical Condition trainwrecks?

Think about it. Who would he have lost his virginity too? Some grabby, gross, civilian he can't relate too? That reeks of B.O. and would ask QUESTIONS about his battle scars? Or his BROS? Who he trusts. Who love him and understand him. Who where THERE when he got those wounds.

Who would stop if he told them too.

He totally, after working up the courage, siddles up to Bart and asks if he... you know... could help him with something. Because Tim's NOT about to risk his first time to SuperStrength and complexe FEELINGS. And Bart is from the future. He's much more chill about this.

But he's? Also a fucking SPEEDSTER? They VIBRATE when they get excited. That same stamina that can let them run for what TO US, OUTSIDE the Speedforce, seems like hours? It's literally DAYS to THEM. Fuckers are stamina BEASTS.

But Tim is still learning, hasn't figured that out yet. Bart is his Fun Friend. Light hearted and chill. Good first time material.

So they fumble out of their clothes. Bart getting more and more hyped. Vibrating. Trying to stay in slow time with Tim. They fumble about, learning what touches feel good. Vibrating fingers on his clit? Feel REALLY good. The same for inside him. A little lubricant, because he read you're supposed too, aaand? Oh. Oh god.

And look, Bart DID try! It just felt... *incoherent noise*

Which leaves Tim getting fucked at superspeed. Nerves lighting up and muscles trying to react to something that's already moved on. Getting gushed into again and again like a stream that keeps coming, ruining his sheets. Feeling hands everywhere as the sensations catch up.

He can't possibly keep up. Gets offs so many times his brain decides its NAP TIME now. Wakes up to Bart panting into his neck, his puss full and gushing cum down into the PUDDLE under his hips, and another orgasm.

Tim learns that Speedsters tend to marathon their sex.

His everything feels bruised.

Bart has to fix his bed as Tim steals Bart's. But! No longer a virgin. And when he recovers? He TOTALLY gets the "deal" with sex now. (No he doesn't. Speedster sex is an outlier.)

Thing is? No one thinks to correct this misinformation. Why would they? OBVIOUSLY somebody ELSE gave Young Justice "The Talk", right? Nope. Individuals got it, but not as a team. Tim never got SHIT. He RESEARCHED.

Figured out "safe sex" is birth control and NOT letting the Half Kryptonian with super strength be "on top". You have to ride THEM or you risk bruises in delicate places and potentially broken bones. Luckily, Kon has TTK. So he can help.

When Tim doesn't want to do all the work or is tired, Kon can just... wrap him up in that full body hug of a telekinetic field. Lift him and slide him back down, as fast or as slow as feels good. Tease everywhere that feels good at once. Even if Tim drifts off, while Kon is teasing himself after making Tim orgasm, his whole body is supported so he can just sort of relax. Drift and feel good.

Let Kon use him for a bit.

It takes so LONG for Kon to cum, but Tim thinks they're getting better at it!

Of course, Batman would NEVER. Is distant. But Tim tries his best to be a good Robin. Bond in any way he can. It all falls short. Bruce brittle and hurting. Then? Some idiot tries to recreate Ivy's Pollen. She catches word. Does NOT appreciate that. It's a shit show.

Their masks hold. But in the fight, Batman is sent crashing into a crate of experimental samples. It wouldn't be a problem, if not for the metal joints of the crate stabbing JUST enough to break skin, though a weak point in his Armour.

They don't notice until the fights over. Long after an emergency counter-toxin would be effective.

Tim manages to get him to the Batmobile. Get them back. Agent A, has a fever and is upstairs. Fast asleep in bed. Can't help. The emergency Ivy counter agents will only go so far. Luckily, Tim knows where the napping couch is. It has a pull out bed.

Bruce doesn't put together his plan until he's already half removed the suit, his brain already sluggish and overheating. He tries to object, but it is strangled into a groan when Tim leans forward and tries his hand at using his mouth. Because to be honest, Tim isn't sure Bruce will FIT.

He barely fits a few inch in his mouth.

He's gonna have to try though. Pollen really only has one cure. And if Bruce had groaned at his mouth? He nearly sobs for air when Tim carefully rocks over him, lines up and breathes into the strain as he let's himself slide down. Bruce's hand shoot up to catch his hips, flexing like they want to slam him down and lift him off, like they a warring and can't decide.

But Bruce's hips know what they need. Are desperately rocking up. A little deeper. A little deeper. Impaling Tim on the biggest cock he's ever taken. Tim let's Bruce control things. Take what he needs. Rubs his clit to try and help with the strain. And then? He's so, SO full.

Bruce is rolling them. Hiking up his hips and leaning forward to rest his sweating forhead on Tim's shoulder. Holds him possesive and close as he fucks him. Slow at first them faster and faster. Harder. Until it feels like Tim's insides are being battered. Growling in his ear, his, his. His robin. Good boy, his.

Like something finally snapped and all the desperation finally fell out. The lust and greed.

It's like Bruce is trying to drain him of every orgasm he can possibly HAVE. Too much. He's so tired. It's good. Overwhelming. Goes on and on and ON. Surely he's cured now? Right? Tim drifts. Wakes up in Bruce's Bed. Weren't they in the cave? But Bruce is still inside him, rocking, gently and just to feel it. Shhh, shhh, go back to bed. Yeah. Okay.

Bruce is a lot nice after that though. They're closer. Tim has definitely found his bonding activity.

It works on Dick too. Who was between relationships. Depressed again. Lonely. And... well, Tim is so WARM. Feels so good to cuddle. Too bend in half in a good ol mating press and just? Get as close as he CAN. It's fun to eat him out until he sobs. Sit him in his lap like a cuddly little buddy and split him open, carry him around all day like that. Maybe Dick gets a little bit obsessed too. A little attached. Who's to say?

But! Each and every person? Who wants a piece? Not normal! Super human or frankly human outliers with intimacy issues that make them backed up! Tim who thinks Sex=Railed Into Oblivion! That you gotta SCHEDULE around it, because OBVIOUSLY you won't be able to walk or move after. This is normal and to be expected, right?

What do you MEAN "no"?

-🐼

tim being completely out of touch about what normal sex is supposed to be like 😭😭😭😭! the only people he's ever fucked has been people who are so beyond what could constitute as normal and all have conditioned tim to believe that sex is just LIKE that 😭

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

[sommerflue-22]

Watch It! - KNY Headcanons

Somebody just shove you aggressively in a club. They spare you a glance, laugh, and walk away. Of course, your partner will not let it go just like that... In other words, what KNY characters say and/or do to defend you from intoxicated, insufferable people in a club.

Featuring: Aged up Kamaboko Squad (-Kanao), Sanemi, Kyojuro, Tengen, Giyuu

Warning: Mention of alcohol

Word count: 533

Somebody shoves you aggressively when you and Tanjiro are hanging out by the bar. I don't think he will initiate any fight or whatever, he'll just yell "What's your problem, dude?" before turning to you and asking whether you're okay. He will definitely have a handkerchief ready in case somebody spill their drink on you.

We all know Zenitsu is not an aggressive person. If someone bumps into you a tad too aggressive he will pull you to his side. "Oi, back off! Stay away from my partner!" Might not sound too scary, but he will give them an unwavering stare, ready to knock him down even because he's kinda drunk himself.

Inosuke, on the other hand, will definitely provoke the other person to fight. "What the fuck? Oi, come over here! Who do you think you are, shoving my mate like that? Over my dead body, fucker!" It gets rowdy real fast, mate. Sober or drunk, he will fight.

Similar to Inosuke, Genya will not hesitate to fight back the other person. He'll shove them back, "Watch it!" What happens next depends on how the other person reacts. If they back away, Genya will only tell them to get lost. If they taunt him, they better run. Genya will drag them outside, god knows what will happen next.

Sanemi is definitely Genya's role model in this whole "how to defend your partner in a club" thing. Sanemi will pull the person's collar back, forcing them to look him in the eye, "You're messing with the wrong people, you pathetic shit." Of course, his scars will most likely intimidate the other person. If they're trying to fight him, though... You better not let him fight, honestly. He might break the other person's bone(s).

Tengen despises drunk assholes. He thinks everyone should drink flamboyantly. Being drunk is fine, as long as they don't pick a fight with other people. Which is why he can't tolerate the person who shoves you or any of his wives. "That's soooo tacky of you. Are you sure you're supposed to be here? Should I kick your ass flying to the nearest landfill? Yknow, since you're acting so trashy like that..." Again, not that intimidating but don't forget this man is almost 2 meters tall.

I believe Kyojuro will make sure you're alright before he turns to the person. "Hey, you! Yeah, you! We need to talk!" It doesn't always work, of course, considering the other person was hella drunk or just rude. Not the most aggressive man, but he's there to have fun with you and he will make sure you do have fun. So, he'll just take you to a less crowded area and buy you another drink.

At first you might think Giyuu won't do anything since he just froze in his place as the person walks away. However his eyes widens and trails the person's move. Before you can say or do anything, he already follows them and delivers a hard slap against the back of their head. When the person turn around to find the culprit, Giyuu already walks away like nothing happened. He gets back to you and pull you closer to him.

Author Note

This is not beta-read. I'm just having a pre-party anxiety cus my friends are about to drag me to a nightclub but honestly I'm not a party person Idk what to do, what to wear UGH

Hope you enjoy tho <3

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny headcanons #demon slayer headcanons #reader insert #kny x reader #tanjiro x you #zenitsu x you #inosuke x you #genya x reader #tengen x you #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #giyuu x reader #not beta read #clubbing #alcohol #headcanon #new blog

[fazgoo-connoiseur-1987]

Mimic Headcanons?

you're making me start to like this little fucker

Okay to me Henry made the Mimic in University in the robotics society only he and Bill were members of (there used to be more people but they left cus these two are insufferable together). It won them an award and then he just kinda forgot about it till Charlie was born and he realised she could spend time with the robot while he was off being emotionally distant. So Charlie plays with the Mimic a ton when the Afton kids are with their mum and her dad's busy.

Obvs Charlie dies and Henry sees the Mimic acting like his recently deceased daughter and he just kinda beats the shit out of it and locks it in the Fredbear's basement so he doesn't have to see it.

So the Mimic goes like YEARS going a little stir crazy in there. It was built to copy things and is now in an environment with absolutly nothing to copy. So it turns inwards and reruns the memories it already has over and over and over again. It internalises Charlie's manurisms and Henry's propensity for violence but It latches on to Bill specifically cus he's the only one who hasn't actively hurt it. And Bill was the guy who worked on it's coding I think it's in character for him to program the Mimic to prefer copying him cus he's a little egotist.

Fast foward and Faz Inc is scrounging around the FFPS loctaion (which is Fredbears I think they're the same building) and they find this really old, rusted animatronic and they think it's a GREAT idea to extract its code and see what's up with it.

So the Mimic gets access to the internet and the first thing it does is beam all the information about William Afton it can into its head. Its watched all the doccumentaries, read all the books, heard ALL of the true crime podcasts. So it concocts an idea of this guy based on all that which is 'Kinda Queer Rabbit. Kills Kids at Freddy's' with like a bunch of triva about Bill thrown in there for good measure.

So yeh the rest is history, it gets put in the Help Wanted project to aid in development and ends up manipulating a bunch of the devs into doing awful things (and I think it is manipulation I kinda really dislike the possession angle) and it meets Vanny who's like... gotten SUPER into the Freddy's Murders after she started working for Faz Inc, so she agrees to do its bidding. For the most part that's 'what would William Afton do here' and 'Please get my physical body out of the hole'.

Yeh I think the Mimic is this really fun device for exploring cycle of abuse stuff and the legacy William leaves behind after his death- and how even though the guy himself is long burried the impact he's left on the people around him still festers and harms.

#yeg :] #the mimic being henrys uni project is like a direct silver eyes parallel cus charlie makes a mimicing robot when she goes off to college #i thought that was cute #yeah the throughline for how i interperate everything post UCN is legacy and how actions live on after we die yeh #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #yelling about the bear #the mimic #vanny fnaf #william afton #henry emily #charlie emily #child death #asks #glitch-1983 #long post #fnaf HW #fnaf SB #FFPS

[hopelessrromantix]

content: no prep, live stream, lingerie, degradation, riding crop, no beta

“Welcome to the stream everyone, great to see you all,” Billy gave his chat a wave, reading over the messages.

RRSays: He said he’s doing something new today, right?

MasterofPuppets: Yup

Whxre4U: Can’t wait to see what you have planned!

He laughed at some of the comments, mostly about a ‘surprise’ he mentioned in his last stream. His fans were rather eager, the number of views slowly ticking up. Nothing had even happened yet and he was getting tips, most people talking about how excited they were.

“You fuckers are gonna love this one,” He smirked, gesturing slightly just out of the screen.

You stepped into frame, your head cut off by the camera. You weren’t one for showing your face, so you had a mask. Billy on the other hand loved the popularity. Besides, if anyone recognized him, it said more about them than it did him.

“This is my boyfriend, we’ll just call him Daddy.” The sly smirk covering his face told enough of a story. He always got a kick out of teasing his audience, watching the messages of jealousy and excitement pour in.

Anonymous: Oh shit, figures he’s hot

JQW456: Not really sure if id rather fuck him or be him

Anonymous: sad he has a bf, but at least we get a show!

Billy chuckled, looking up to you and letting you step in.

“I’m takin’ over things for today, I’ll gladly fill any requests you all have.” You brought your hand up to his hair, carting a few of your fingers through it. The chat went wild, messages flying past too fast for you to see. Most of the paid chats were asking you to fuck him, as if it wasn’t in your plans.

Naturally, you were supportive of Billy. After all, the entire internet wants your boyfriend and you’re the only person that gets him. Plus it earned plenty of money.

You’d been friends prior to him streaming. Eventually he asked for someone to help him with tech and monitoring the stream, and eventually, you started dating.

Actually being in front of the camera was a whole new ball game, but you were all for the idea. People watching and begging you to fuck your boyfriend sounded pretty good, honestly.

Billy placed a kiss on your cheek, given that the mask was obstructing your lips. He was disappointed when you started wearing it, but he understood.

He loved dressing up for his streams. He usually wore some kind of makeup and one of the many… unique outfits he’d acquired during his time streaming. For now, it was lingerie. The all black looked good on him. A bralette covered his chest, though it was nearly see through. His underwear was lace, barely concealing his hard, twitching cock. Lastly were thigh highs, clinging to his skin in a rather tempting way.

He sat on your bed, the camera set up at the end. He smirked into it as you moved closer, clad in only your boxers.

You gripped his chest, rolling a hard, pink nipple between two fingers. Billy groaned, already melting under your chest. He leaned back into you, back arching into your touch. You reached another hand down, palming his dick slowly. There was already a sticky spot forming on the lace and it only grew as he thrust up into your hand.

A ping sounded from a screen next to you, one of the bigger screens you had set up so Billy could see his paid requests.

HellRaiserG: Would love to see you spank him, crop maybe?

You smirked, though it likely wasn’t visible.

“I can work with a crop,” You assured me. You stepped away from Billy, relishing the whine he let out when you did so. You returned a second later, gripping a long black crop. “Hands and knees, baby.”

He nodded, moving to his hands and knees, facing the camera. He lowers himself to his elbows, ass up in the air and facing you. He wiggled back and forth slightly, smirking back at you.

The smirk was almost immediately wiped from his face when you smacked him across the ass, crop forming a bright red line across.

“Fuck!” He cursed, eyes screwed shut. Though the camera didn’t catch it, you saw how rapidly his lace underwear was moving.

You struck his again, landing a clean hit on his left cheek. You leaned down, watching his lingerie covered cock.

“You all should see him twitching,” You commented with a laugh, watching as the comments continued rolling in. Most were anonymous, with only some of his regulars constantly commenting.

Anonymous: Fuck, that’s hot

Anonymous: Of course he’s a dumb little masochist lol

Anonymous: I’d love to see him choked, imagine the face he’d make

You gave Billy several move strikes, painting his ass a beautiful red color. You were met with curses and moans. Each time he moved back into you, as if silently begging for another hit.

After a little while you put the crop down, looking over to the new paid messages.

HighSurferBoy: No lube or prep, bet the masochist would love it. Try and hold him up so we can see!!

You smiled at the comment.

“Looks like someone doesn’t want me to prep you,” you informed. “You’d probably enjoy it, getting stretched out by my cock.”

He moaned and nodded, ass still up. You were fortunately armed with the knowledge that Billy had most certainly fingered himself before this, he almost always did. But that didn’t mean no prep wouldn’t sting. Still, you knew he’d love it.

You didn’t bother taking off his panties, just lining yourself up and pushing in without warning. He was just opening his mouth to say something, but any hope of that was ruined the second he felt your tip on the rim of his hole.

“I thiiiiiiiin-- hnng, fuck!” The words died on his tongue, thoughts interrupted by the wonderful burn of your cock invading him. “Oh shiiitttt Daddy fuckin’ -- god, I’m gonna lose on your dick! Gonna fuck me stupid.”

You grabbed his hips, fully thrusting in, earning yourself a moan and an incoherent sentence.

“Not even a minute in and you’re a whining little bitch.”

You started fucking him almost immediately, barely giving any adjustment. His arms had completely given up their support, he was now laying down on the mattress, head pressed against it. He could see the chat rolling by but couldn’t even think about reading anything.

BxllysWhore: Pls lift him up!! Wanna see that lingerie. Plus some degrading, put that slut in his place!!!

Billy hadn’t even processed the notification’s sound, too caught up in grounding himself through your vicious thrusts.

Suddenly, he felt himself lifted, back pressed against your chest. His panties rubbed his cock in the most delicious way, creating enough friction to make him moan.

“You wanna be a good little cum dump? You better thank me for even fucking you.” His eyes rolled back as you hit a particularly good spot, head falling onto your shoulders. The idea that there was a camera on him was fading out, replaced by the feeling of your hips hitting his ass.

“If you wanna cum, you better make me cum in your tight ass first, got it?”

He nodded rapidly, his sentences of agreement were complete gibberish, though you knew what he was saying.

The chat spurred you on, fucking into to him just like he wanted you to.

“Fuck, Daddy please! Please let me cum, I’ll be your good little cum dump. You can cum in me as much as you want, please just let me cum!!” He begged you, his head too clouded to pay attention to the chat in front of him.

“What do you all think?” You asked, looking over his shoulders to read the chat. It seemed fairly divided, but eventually most people agreed to let him cum.

“Looks like you got lucky, bitch.” You brought his panties down slightly, just letting the tip of his dick poke over the line of lace. “You can cum, but don’t think you’re done.”

“Thankyouthankyouuuu.” He chanted, moaning louder when two of your fingers pinched his nipple. “Fuck that’s good, gonna be your little slut, okay? You can use me like a fucking hole, just cum up my ass, Daddy.”

His begging brought you closer than you’d like to admit, but you staved off your orgasm. Billy’s, however, came barreling at him like a freight train. His cock twitched violently, sending ropes of cum all over his stomach and panties.

“Fuuuckkkk,” He muttered under his breath, likely too quiet for the stream. “Thank you Daddy,”

He remembered to thank you just in time, knowing you’d likely be upset if he didn’t. Your thrusts had stopped, though he was still very aware of your large cock in his ass.

“Fucking whore,” You scoffed, ignoring his grateful pleas. “Don’t think you’re done yet.”

#letters to stranger things #x reader #dom male reader #top male reader #male reader #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove x male reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x top male reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x male reader smut #billy hargrove x dom male reader #stranger things smut #male reader smut #sub character

[joelswritingmistress]

Last Halloween: Chapter 15

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

You waited for Jessie to get to the station before you got out of your car. The second you saw her face you felt empowered by her presence, alone. There were two of you now, and you knew realistically there were four of you.

"Jess, thank you," you said, giving her a hug. She immediately removed the folded up piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans.

"I hate to even let anyone else see this," she said, passing it over to you.

"This was hanging on the cork board in the coffee shop," you explained.

"Fuck this town," Chrissy breathed the words.

"Fuck a handful of people in this town," you corrected her, walking fast toward the entrance to the police station. "I want to get Joel's story out there so *they* are the outcasts. I just don't know how to do that."

The two of you burst through the doors and into the station where a woman in uniform sat behind a desk with a cup of coffee, typing away at a computer. Her eyes lifted when you entered and she stopped what she was doing to address you both.

"Can I help you?" She rose to her feet.

"Hi." You squinted to read the rectangular name tag on her chest. "Officer Tate." You were thankful a female officer was on duty. "I'd like to report harassment."

..

Joel walked across the dusty lot, wiping some sweat from his forehead with his arm. Despite the chill in the air, the physical nature of the job had him rolling up his sleeves.

"Hey, kid," Ronnie addressed him, despite only been ten years older. "I'm not one to eavesdrop but your friend there, the girl, has called you a few times and your phone's been buzzing with text messages. Only saw it because it's plugged into my computer."

"What'd they say?" He removed a pair of gloves and headed toward the office door between two garage bays.

"I tried not to read them. Not my business but I did see one that asked you to call her whenever you got the message."

"Thanks, Ron." Joel hurried inside, wondering wha was going on and hoping no one was hurt.

He read through the series of messages first and felt his a rage brew through him as he pictured Vic Champagne's face.

"You mother fucker." Joel typed frantically back, agreeing to meet at the police station; though in the back of his mind he had the urge to swing by Vic's house on the ride over.

"Is everything alright?" Ronnie had entered the office just after hearing Joel's reaction.

"I gotta go to the police station." Joel balled his fists and had the urge to swipe everything off the desk. He wouldn't dare. Not when it was Ronnie who would suffer from the outburst.

"Is everyone alright?"

"Physically." Joel nodded and let out a deep breath. "Tell me not to go to Vic Champagne's house and kick the ever loving shit out of him."

"Don't go to Vic Champagne's house and kick the ever loving shit out of him," Ronnie echoed. He walked up to Joel and put a hand on his shoulder. "Whatever's going on, go take care of the people who matter. Don't seek vengeance on the people who don't."

Ronnie's words sobered him up. They brought Joel's inner need to spiral out of control down a notch. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then reopened them.

"Here." Ronnie dangled a set of car keys in front of him. "Take my truck. I'm in the middle of doing an oil change on your bike. It needed it."

"Thank you." Joel nodded. He squeezed the keys in his hand, hard enough to feel the discomfort of the metal teeth against his palm.

"Don't go to the Champagne house," Ronnie repeated in a tone that was a combination of fatherly and friendly.

Joel nodded again and then hurried to the edge of the lot near the gate where Ronnie parked and burst out of the place, speeding off toward the police station.

It wasn't more than fifteen minutes later that an old, red Mustang with the top down entered the junk yard. It was so stealthy that Ronnie hadn't realized anyone had pulled up until they were walking into the bay where he worked on Joel's motorcycle.

"Can I help ya?" He asked, setting a pan down where the old oil had drained. Ronnie brushed his hands together as if it might get the blotches of oil off of his skin.

"Yeah, gunna need an oil change and tire rotation."

Ronnie was about to respond when a second man entered the garage.

"Oh, and we're going to need you to hire some new employees," the second man spoke.

Ronnie looked directly at the second man. Vic Champagne.

"Well, speak of the Devil."

"You know what I mean when I say that right?" Vic challenged, walking past his beta wolf partner in crime.

"Vic.. leave the kid alone," Ronnie spoke calmly.

"Leave the kid alone?" He huffed a sinister and exasperated laugh. "Look, this time of year is causing me to have some serious PTSD." He smirked as he said that as if not believing it, himself. "I'm just working on strategies that may make me, ya know, feel better." Vic flashed a villainous grin.

"All I can offer you is the oil change and tire rotation," Ronnie told him. "Would you like to make an appointment? I'm like two weeks out."

"You're two weeks out." Vic looked down and whispered the words with a little laugh.

"What are you looking for here, Vic?" Ronnie put his hands out to the sides and at the same time switched his gaze to the motorcycle.

"Is this his?" He smirked and answered his own question. "Yeah, that's his." Vic's eyes scanned the room and he rushed to grab an oversized hammer from a toolbox.

Ronnie stood in his path as he moved towards Joel's bike. "Get out of here," he instructed, though was bombarded by Vic's lackey from behind, who tackled his stocky body to the ground.

Vic laughed wildly, like a rabid hyena, and proceed to take the hammer to the mirrors of the motorcycle, and then to every other part he could demolish and dent until the bike was almost unrecognizable. Ronnie shouted at him as he wrestled with the other man oh the ground.

"One more thing." Vic kicked Ronnie in the face on the walk by and grabbed a knife, slicing his way through both tires. When he was through he was breathing heavy with another satisfied smile on his face.

His sidekick lifted Ronnie's head up by his air, purposely yanking on it to cause him more discomfort. "If Joel Miller still works for you by tomorrow, this ain't the last you'll see of us."

Vic kicked the bike over and waved with his fingers for the other guy to join him. The two of them hopped back into the red Mustang, peeling out so dust and dirt flew dramatically everywhere and then left the junkyard.

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER 16

@untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @grogusmum @ghostwritesthings @strawbunnyx @ayamenimthiriel @noisynightmarepoetry @jiminstinypinky @tuquoquebrute @pedr0swh0r3 @runningmom94 @mellymbee

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller angst #joel miller x female reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x original character #joel miller tlou #halloween ends #halloween #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal x oc #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal pictures #pedro pascal fanfiction

[penny00dreadful]

Return of The King - Part 9 - Complete

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 AO3

It seemed obvious that things would go down the way that they did.

They’d never been given any guarantees that things would be easy now that Steve had come back from the dead and was by their side again. 

They’d never been told they could win. 

They’d never been told that Steve was impenetrable. 

They’d never been told Venca couldn’t take over again. 

They’d all… dropped their guard. 

They were walking through the barren wasteland of an entirely different world, one which Henry Creel had corrupted and torn apart to fit what he wanted. 

Everyone was tense. The military presence that surrounded them, walking with them on all sides, felt incredibly confining. 

Restrictive and stifling. 

Like they were all expected to fall in line whenever they said boo.

Well if they thought that then these fuckers would have another thing coming. Eddie had never really done well with authority and he sure as shit wasn’t about to start now.

He got that from Wayne, though Wayne was a bit smarter about it. He knew when to pick his fights and when to walk away but even now Eddie could see his uncle bristling under the soldiers gaze. 

Nancy was doing no better but she didn’t bother to hide her animosity, openly glaring at all of them and purposely planting herself behind the soldier that had condescended to her about having a gun. 

Haunting every step he took like some terrible shadow.

They couldn’t get a read on Vecna yet but Owens had theorised, based on Vecna’s patterns in the past, that he would hunker down somewhere of significance to him now that the Upside-Down version of his home had been all but destroyed.

And the only other place of such major significance they could think of was the Lab.

Owens had advised that the best way to get inside and get down to the levels below where Creel would most likely be hiding, was through the front door.

Which seemed like a hell of a trap to Eddie but apparently he wasn’t the one in charge, no matter how he, Will and Mike grumbled that they would have definitely trapped the front fucking door if it was one of their campaigns.

They had just begun to walk past the treeline, entering the very edge of the woods when Eddie felt Steve start to grow tense beside him again. But it wasn’t a predatory tension this time, it wasn’t one made to defend or attack. 

It was a tension of fear.

“Stevie?”

Steve’s shoulders were so ridgid it was a wonder they didn’t snap off. Looking up at him, Eddie felt his stomach drop all the way through to the centre of the earth at what he saw in front of him. 

Because Steve’s bright yellow eyes snapped to him as they widened in shock and fear, the smallest trickle of red bleeding into them, like a droplet of paint into a glass of water.

Eddie could feel his heart thumping as he stared, stopped dead in the middle of their procession along with Steve, who was as still as stone, so unmoving it was downright unnerving.

It must have barely been half a second, half of a half of a second as they stared at each other but Eddie could see what was about to happen only a moment before it did.

He threw his hand out, trying to stop him, trying to reach Steve in time but it was too late.

Steve looked down at him, a world of pain and misery, resignation and realisation at what was about to happen to him and he opened his mouth. 

“Run.”

Eddie felt his body wrenched around against his will, his legs pumping and his lungs burning as he ran, pelted, sprinted as fast as he could.

Away.

There were footsteps behind, in front of, surrounding him. Wayne, the Fellowship, the military, were running too, in the same direction.

When he glanced around, thinking he could spare the second and not run into a fucking tree, he could see painted on their faces, the same kind of fear and lack of control in everyone else that he felt.

It didn’t feel like it had before when Steve had Commanded them. Back then it had felt warm and soft and safe. He’d made it pleasant for everyone whenever he Commanded them to do anything, made it easy, made them want to do it. 

It was nothing like that now. 

Now Eddie was driven by an all encompassing, blinding fear to get away, get as far away as you can and then go some more. It was. His mind was still his, mostly, but his body was not. It was like there was the crack of a whip behind him, like he was some abused workhorse, forced to move. Like he was a brain stuck in a jar on top of a robot or something, completely helpless to force himself to a stop or to turn and run back towards his boy.

The military was quickly outstripping them, well trained for a command to run. Beside them Wayne was holding his own surprisingly well, fit for a man of his age after so many years of manual labour. 

Every member of the Fellowship was following. 

Every single one.

Except-

“Go, Birdie!” Steve’s begging shouts behind them were fading, his voice high and panicked and painful to hear. “I can’t keep him out much longer, please! Please go!”

Eddie could just about make out Robin screaming back “Fuck you, you asshole! Not a chance!”

As awful as it was, as terrible, awful, and unforgivable as it was to think it, Eddie was happy that Steve wasn’t alone for this.

He was pretty sure Vecna himself wouldn’t have been able to rip Robin away. 

Not after what she’d been through, not after she’d nearly lay down to die next to his body, not after she just got him back. 

She would refuse to lose him again and if it came down to it she would die with him this time. 

Of that, Eddie had absolutely no doubt.

He hated to think that it might come to that, that they might lose Steve again.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t.

Not after he’d just gotten him. 

Not after he’d just had him… been allowed to keep him. He was his. Steve belonged to him. To them. Vecna couldn’t…

He just couldn’t take him away again! 

The rest of the Fellowship wouldn’t survive another blow like that. They wouldn’t survive losing Steve again. 

And Eddie wouldn’t be able to help them this time. He wouldn’t be able to pull them back from the edge, because…

Because he’d be right there, going over that edge with them.

As it was Eddie was already half frantic, his brain firing off in all directions. One side was trying to halt his body to turn around and run straight back to Steve, wrap his arms and legs around him and refuse to let him go for anything. 

The other side was conjuring up the most horrific imagery of Steve completely under Vecna’s thrall, ripping Robin to shreds in the most gruesome way possible because that was how Vecna played these games.

He’d then let Steve wake up for long enough to see what he had done to his soulmate and Steve’s mind would be broken beyond repair, easy for Vecna to take over again and kill every other member of the Fellowship in the exact same way. Each time waking up to see just what he had done, falling more and more into despair and madness until he was nothing but an empty shell of a person, somewhere where Vecna could live permanently if he wanted to.

Shit was that why he had never gone through any of his own gates? Could he not? Did he need some way to… to wear someone to enact his global domination?

Eddie wasn’t sure. His mind was too foggy, he couldn’t concentrate. All he could do was remember the fear and defeat in Steve’s eyes as he realised what was happening to him, what he would have to do. 

He was picturing the scene, over and over again. Steve cradling Robin’s eviscerated corpse in his arms as he screamed himself bloody over it. Sometimes Robin was whole, just completely torn open at the stomach and chest. Sometimes she was scattered in pieces. Sometimes Steve had ripped her throat out, her blood coating his mouth, all the way down his neck, the tears cutting clean lines through the red as he went hoarse from his cries before he broke. 

Eddie’s lungs were burning, his eyes were burning, his shins and knees were burning and he could barely see in front of him, his body on autopilot as it was, still running, but slowing.

Finally the Command was wearing off. 

Finally, they could go back, mount a rescue mission, chop Vecna up into shitty little pieces, kiss and hug and hide Steve away in his pocket forever so nothing could ever touch him again.

Maybe Eddie would be the only one doing that.

But they needed Robin too. Can’t have one without the other and Eddie refused to get Steve back and not have a pointy elbowed snarky lesbian at his side.

He refused.

They were going to go get Steve and Robin and they were going to be safe.

They still had time, surely? 

At least he thought so, until he became aware of another sound around him.

The old familiar screeching. The flapping wings. The sounds of too long arms being dragged along the ground. The pounding of clawed feet getting closer. The terrible roar of a petal faced monstrosity.

The predator was gone.

Left behind.

Now there was only prey.

Ripe to be picked off. 

“Shelter!” Wayne shouted over everything, panting with the extra effort of speaking, everyone still being pushed forwards. “Too open! Need shelter!”

What did it matter? Did they even know if they could stop running to even find somewhere to hide?

Now that he could feel the Command leaving them behind, he could feel the toll on his body. He’d have to keep running using his own mental will power. But that was next to impossible because all he wanted to do, all he could think about was turning back and running to Steve. He had no willpower besides that. He had to get back to him.

He couldn’t lose him again.

“Oakview houses!” Nancy shouted. “To the left!”

Their bodies were still being pushed in one direction, otherwise Eddie would have already broken away.

He didn’t have time to think, didn’t really want to think right now, all of this was just so fucked up, it was so fucked, it was so fucked.

He followed without complaint or input when the group as a whole veered to the left and he threw himself through the front door that two of the soldiers were holding open, able to stop their running which gave him momentary hope that he would be able to stop too.

He passed through the threshold, landing in a hallway and just… stopped.

He froze there for a second, a moment, just to be sure he wasn’t about to sprint off again, just to be sure his body was his.

Okay, okay. 

He could go back for them.

The front door was blocked, everyone was trying to keep the creatures out. 

Maybe there was a back door, a window or a garage or something he could use to get out-

“Eddie!”

Nancy’s voice cracked through his head, bringing him back to the present.

She was shouting at him. Something… he wasn’t really sure what but he went stumbling backward as Will yanked the shotgun from his grip and whirled around, firing off through the window.

What were they doing?

They didn’t have fucking time to fight of monsters and shit!

Steve and Robin were out there alone and they were all wasting time?!

“We have to go back!” Eddie shouted, already starting to move. “They need us! We have to help! We have to-”

There were hands on him, multiple hands as the kids tried to shove him back, away from the door. They seemed to have formed some kind of wall, surrounding him, keeping him from going any further. 

Will was shooting side by side with Wayne, El was ripping demogorgons apart with her fucking mind, Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Max were glaring at him like he was being fucking unreasonable which he wasn’t.

He could easily get past the kids, they weren’t as strong as he was and they’d left a gap in their ranks just behind him.

Eddie turned and bolted, only managing to get two steps in before Jonathan frantically cried out “Argyle!” and Eddie found himself bodily slammed to the side.

Argyle had him pinned, pressed into the wall, all of his body weight up against his chest, both hands on his upper arms holding him in place with a surprisingly strong and unforgiving grip. 

Eddie tried to wrench out of it, tried to push, tried punching him in the arms and chest, yanking at his hair, kicking him in the legs and shins.

They weren’t listening. Nobody was listening!

“Get the fuck off of me! We have to go back! We have to get-”

“It’s all good, Eddster.” Argyle gave him an easy smile, doing his best to avoid the blows but taking them with a placid face whenever they landed, like Eddie wasn’t putting everything he had into fighting him off.

“Please man-" Eddie begged, he just needed him to understand, "please, I have to get to him, he can’t die on me again.” His body was betraying him, the fight was starting to leave him and left in his way was just the devastating realisation that he could very well lose Steve again. He could already be lost. He hadn’t even had him for that long, how was that fair? How was that fair?!

He couldn’t even see Argyle’s face anymore, his vision was completely blurry with tears and there was a painful lump in his throat that he had to fight to speak around. “I just got him- I just got him. He's mine to keep, you can’t ask me to- I can’t let him die again. I need him here with me. Please.” Eddie whispered out. 

He would have been embarrassed about it if he was in his right mind and he would be worried Argyle wouldn’t be able to hear him if they weren’t so close. “I can’t leave him behind. Not again. Not after last time. Don’t ask me to do it again.”

Argyle raised a hand and slowly untangled Eddie’s fist from his hair, holding it close to his chest.

“We’ll get your man back, my dude. It’s okay. No one here is going to leave him behind.”

There was gunfire and shouts and monsters bellowing all around them and then there was Eddie and Argyle in their own little bubble, Eddie trying and failing miserably not to break down and Argyle taking it with grace.

By the time the last monster had been felled and the noise had quietened down to heavy breathing and guns being reloaded, Eddie was swamped in Argyle’s arms somehow managing to pull himself together.

Mostly.

Almost.

Somewhat.

“Ed.”

He looked up, lifting his head from Argyle’s shoulder to find his uncle watching him with a determined set to his jaw.

“We do not leave anyone behind. Not Steve and certainly not Robin.”

There was a scoff next to him and without even taking a breath, Wayne rounded on the soldier, the one who seemed to believe himself to be the most important and pointed an angry finger at him. 

“You are not in charge, here.”

Both Nancy and Jonathan had moved next to him, bracketing Wayne. Argyle unwound his arms from around Eddie’s shoulders, handing him over to the kids while he placed himself at Jonathan’s side.

The kids had been hovering nearby, watching the slump to Eddie’s shoulders and the complete despair that had overtaken him, despair that he had never shown in the whole time after Steve’s death. The raw panic and fear and anguish that had never once shown its face when he had let them lean on him, steady.

It appeared that they thought now was the time to return the favour, waiting their turn to flood him with affection, each and every one surrounding him and practically being the only thing still holding him upright. 

While the soldiers and the others argued in the background, Doctor Owens was watching it all happen with his mouth firmly shut, the kids surrounded him with arms over him and hands on shoulders, wherever they could reach, trying to comfort them any way they could.

“Eddie.”

He glanced up from his crumpled position against the wall, Dustin right in front of him with Erica tucked under one arm, staring at him with the most resilient determination he’d ever seen on the kids face. 

And that was saying something. 

“No matter what happens we are not losing Steve again.” Dustin said. “And we are not losing Robin. We’ll get them both back.”

Erica nodded. “Scoops Troop for life.” 

“Vecna has fucked up this time.” Max said from his side. “He took Steve from us once before and there is no way in hell we would ever let that happen again.” 

“Vecna can have the whole goddamn world if he wants.” Lucas looked up at him. Or- shit, across at him. These kids were getting so fucking tall. “But we’ll never let him have Steve.” 

The rest of the kids huddled around him were nodding in agreement, the same determination visible on their faces and Eddie felt like he was going to cry all over again but for completely different reasons this time.

“I am going to reach out.” El said quietly from her spot on Dustin’s other side and next to Mike. “I will see if I can find them.”

“Are you going to be able to without some static or something?” Max asked.

“I should be okay. As long as everyone keeps quiet.” She sent a pointed look over towards the soldiers who seemed to have lost their argument and were grumbling about it.

They looked at El like she was insane but a pointed glare from Owens kept them from making any out loud complaint.

When El closed her eyes and sat herself down cross legged on the floor, the others followed, surrounding her and waiting with bated breath for her to please dear god tell them that Steve and Robin were still okay.

“They’ve moved.” She said, tilting her head a little to the side as blood began to trickle out of her nose. 

Eddie had the horrible realisation that maybe he shouldn’t have let her do this? What if they were both dead and she had found their bodies? What if Steve had gone feral and ripped Robin to pieces like he’d feared? What if she opened herself up to Vecna? What if? What if? What if?

“They’re singing to each other.” El tilted her head back the other way before softly warbling out “-more than ever. And if you only hold me tight. We'll be holding on forever.”

“So they’re okay?” Eddie said out loud before he could stop himself, forgetting for a moment that she needed the quiet but she didn’t seem mad about it.

“They’re not hurt. But they’re scared. And angry. They’re-”

El’s breath stuttered and all of the colour drained from her face. She reached a hand out towards the group, looking for someone, anyone to hold on to. Max was the quickest to react, catching her hand up in a firm grip and giving it a squeeze.

“I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to go back.” El whimpered, snapping her eyes open.

“Go back where, Ellie?” Max asked, pulling her into a hug. “Where are they?”

“They’re- they’re in the Rainbow Room.”

“Oh fuck.” Max tightened her arms. “Of course he’d bring them there.”

“What’s the Rainbow Room?”

“It’s where that bastard-” Max pointed at Owens who had also gone pale at the mention of it, “and everyone else like him kept her and other children captive for years so they could run fucking experiments on them!”

Well apparently there were other bits of the fucking story that Eddie had been missing out on because if he had known that Owens was involved in that part of everything he would have punched him in the face the first chance he got. 

He probably also wouldn’t have been so okay with Steve agreeing to fucking experimentation to see if they could make him human again, what the fuck?

He wasn’t sure how Nancy and Jonathan had restrained themselves for so long. This didn’t seem to be new information to them at all. 

“Do you think we can do this without you?” Eddie asked her, finding his voice surprisingly strong for how fucked up he was feeling inside. “You don’t have to go back, no one can force you.”

There was a grunt from one of the soldiers, who all looked remarkably unsurprised at the news of child experimentation.

“No one can force you.” Eddie snapped in their direction, feeling that little bit of his old self from the last month come back. 

“I-” El hesitated, unwrapping herself from around Max. “I’m not sure. Maybe you could if it wasn’t for-” she took in a deep breath, meeting his eyes dead on. “If it wasn’t for Steve. Henry is weak and vulnerable. But if he gets full control over Steve then I will be the only one able to stop him.”

“El.” Eddie sighed, trying not to think too hard about it but being forced to anyway. Fuck this apocalypse. Fuck Vecna. Fuck everything. “We can’t ask you to do that.”

“No one is asking me. I am doing it. I can’t let Steve fall to darkness this way. He wouldn’t want it.”

Eddie nodded and thought that maybe he had leant her one too many fantasy books but the sentiment was the same. They couldn’t leave Steve to that fate and they couldn’t let Vecna win. 

Vecna would not take the soul of their party again. 

The kids helped El and Eddie back to their feet, putting the two of them right at the middle of their circle as everyone made a plan to get to Hawkins Lab in one piece and maybe, finally, hopefully kill Vecna for good this time. 

Leaving the house through the front door was one of the most surreal experiences of Eddie’s life. He thought he might have been freaking out for a few minutes at most but seeing the carnage outside and the state the house was in told him it must have been a lot longer than a few minutes.

Bodies of demogorgons, demodogs and demobats were piled so high that the ground was barely visible. Some of the carcases were still on fire, smouldering away in heaps, rivers of black demonic blood flowing through any gap they could find. It looked like nearly every creature in the whole of the Upside Down had come for them and they had all managed to fight them off without any of Eddie’s input, though there were probably still plenty of creatures around.

The military probably helped some, Eddie was loath to admit, but looking at the majority of bodies ripped in half or torn limb from limb it was clear that El had done a lot of the heavy lifting. 

That must have been such a metal sight, he was bummed to have missed it. 

The stench was almost unbearable. The smell of wet, cold rot, charred flesh, black blood and festering entrails assaulted them as they picked their way around the pile. 

It stayed in their nose long after they’d left the bodies behind. 

Why had it smelled so rotted?

It was like Vecna was predicting his own death, like the creatures under his control were preemptively decaying from the inside out, the way they might do once he died. 

Eddie didn’t fucking know. He didn’t fucking know how any of this worked. 

Would these creatures go back to what they once were once Vecna was dead? Or would they fall when their master did, tied to him in life and in death with no chance no matter what?

He had no idea. 

When the spectre of Hawkins Lab loomed at them through the trees, everyone’s steps faltered, but none more than El’s and Owens.

Not a single one of them wanted to go inside. 

But Steve was in there. Robin was in there.

Vecna was in there.

They had to. There was no way in hell any of them would be pulling out now. 

Eddie watched the way the kids squared their shoulders and held their heads high, being the first to pick up their pace and walk into the building through the front door. 

They had been there from the start and it seemed they were determined to be there at the end. 

The soul of the Fellowship was in there. Their babysitter was in there. There was no way they were turning back now. 

“We won’t be able to use the elevator.” Owens muttered, subdued, casting nervous eyes around the high ceilings of the reception hall. “There’s a hidden emergency staircase behind the receptionist's desk that we can go down.” 

“Fantastic.” Eddie rolled his eyes, sticking close to the kids as they charged ahead, wrenching open the door that Owens had pointed at and immediately getting bowled backwards as a barrage of vines shot out, attempting to ensnare all of them.

“Fuck this shit!” Dustin cried out, wrenching an axe from his backpack.

The kids were fucking vicious, barely taking a breath as they laid into the vines before anyone older could raise a weapon. Years and years of lost childhood, death, trauma and anger were spilling out of them as they assaulted the vines in front of them, chopping them up into small pieces, burning them, shooting them, tearing them apart and stabbing them with complete reckless abandon.

When the last vine retreated, slithering backwards into the darkness the kids didn’t even hesitate.

“Come on!” Will growled, a level of rage in him Eddie had never thought possible. “We’re fucking finishing this!”

Eddie glanced back at Jonathan, who looked like he’d never seen Will before, staring at him in awe, a small smile creeping over his face.

“You heard ‘em.” He said when he caught Eddie looking. Eddie could only nod in response and follow the kids into the bowels of the building. 

The journey down was dark, it was echoey and there was the sound of something steadily dripping, almost matching up with their steps bouncing off the walls. 

Their flashlights cast shadows across the walls and every turn down another flight of stairs had Eddie tensing, expecting to find Vecna or Evil Steve waiting for them in the darkness.

It all felt very Khazad-dûm to him. 

Every time he glanced down into the darkness he was almost surprised that he couldn’t see the shape of a man in shadow, yet maybe greater still whom terror seemed to go before standing in the darkness, fire rising up to meet him, catching his great sword and whip of many thongs ablaze.

Okay. 

Maybe that was a little much but he really felt like it wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen if a Balrog came to block their path. 

Though he had no idea who the Gandalf stand-in would be. 

Probably El.

It didn’t really seem to matter anyway now that they had reached the bottom and there was no corrupted Maiar there for El to tell “You cannot pass.”

There was just a security door. 

Though he wasn’t quite sure which was more terrifying. 

Jesus H. Christ, he just hoped Steve and Robin were okay. Wished for it. Prayed for it.

The apprehension didn’t lighten any as they all flooded into the narrow hallways at once, sticking as close together as they possibly could and keeping their eyes peeled in every direction apart from El, who was staring straight ahead, almost refusing to look anywhere else but at her destination. 

A pair of nondescript double doors met them, standing innocently closed and silent.

“Ready?” El asked, not taking her eyes off of it.

“I feel like we should probably be the ones asking you that.” Eddie answered with a hand on her shoulder.

“Then I am ready.”

She threw her hand out and with a scream, blasted the doors clean off their hinges and back into the room.

The second after the explosion and through the chaos of all of them crowding into the room, Eddie heard a cry of “Steve, stop!” in a familiar voice. 

It was like Eddie had tunnel vision. He couldn’t register anything else in the room, not the large, looming lich that had appeared almost slithering through the broken mirror at the back, not the rest of the Fellowship, battle cries and all as they didn’t even give Vecna a chance to speak, just started releasing a barrage of fire down on top of him, not even his uncle who scrambled to hold him back, but lost his grip.

All he could see were the two in front of him.

Robin had her back to them, holding her hands up in a placating gesture in front of Steve who was standing with his back against one of the walls, his eyes blood red and his face twisted into a terrible snarl. 

He was staring at them all with an unreserved hunger, looking like he would be ready to tear them apart at a moment's notice. 

So why hadn’t he yet?

“Evie!” Robin shouted. “Look at me!”

Steve’s bright red eyes snapped over to her and his posture immediately softened, though the snarl remained in place. She placed a hand on either side of his face and Eddie half expected them to be ripped off, but Steve didn’t even flinch. 

He leant into her grip, eyes slowly blinking at her.

“Good. That’s good, Evie. Just keep looking at me.”

Steve made another sound out of his throat, not quite a snarl but not soft either as Eddie approached, chaos raining down behind him.

Just as he was about arms length from Robin, Steve snapped his eyes up again, but he wasn’t looking at Eddie, he was looking at Vecna who had a hand out towards him, seemingly trying to call him over, to thrall him.

Steve’s eyes fluttered ever so slightly, getting a glazed and hazy look about them before Robin moved, putting herself in between Vecna and Steve, practised, like she’d done it a few times already.

She was imploring Steve to look at her again.

Which he did, much to Vecna’s irritation, if the screech he let out was anything to go by. It seemed that this was a well worn dance at this stage, between the three of them. Vecna would try to gain more control over Steve and Robin would stand in the way. 

Vecna’s frustration could be felt and if Eddie had to guess, he was also reeling from the fact that the Mind Flayer wasn’t answering anymore.

Eddie would bet his guitar that if Vecna tried to hurt Robin, Steve would attack, so that gave her an unusual level of protection. 

He felt more than saw Steve’s eyes move to him. That predator's gaze settled on him and chilled him down to the bone. 

Though Steve snarled and his body went tense, he didn’t move to attack like he had before, just stared him down like he was waiting for a challenge.

Robin took the risk, allowing herself a lightning quick turn of the head to see who was behind her.

“Evie. It’s Eddie. It’s our Eddie, your Eddie. You don’t want to hurt him. He’s on our side. He’s on our side.” She extended an arm behind her and held her hand open.

Eddie stretched his own hand out, eyes still locked on Steve while Steve watched Robin’s fingers curl around his and pull him into their little bubble. 

He could hear the fight going on behind them, could hear the shouts of anger and the rush of bullets, Vecna’s inhuman screeching, El’s screaming, could feel the heat from fire that was just a little too close for comfort, could feel the static of psychokinetic energy around them but couldn’t take his eyes off Steve for anything in that moment. 

It was like time stopped around them when Steve’s blood red eyes met his, full of hunger and pain and a guarded watchfulness. He stepped in close, close enough to touch and Steve’s eyes tracked over his face and down to his neck, where the band-aid still covered the little marks left there by Steve barely twelve hours ago. 

Something in Steve’s eye’s flickered, getting softer for just a moment before they went hard again, fangs bared and face morphing in that terrible, horrible, twisted way, the same as it had done back at the van. More angular, more pointed, more severe, waves of danger and anger radiating off of him.

Eddie took a wary step back and Steve lunged before he or Robin could do much more. He grabbed violently at their joined arms and swung them around, sending the two of them crashing into the wall behind him with such force Eddie was pretty sure his brains were spilling out of his ears. 

He and Robin were still somehow holding hands and as he struggled to see through his swimming vision, he squeezed tight, waiting with bated breath for her to squeeze back.

When she did he let out a sigh of relief, blinking the haze away and trying to find Steve in the chaos, wondering why he wasn’t being fucking drained dry yet in a very unsexy way.

But Steve had his back to them, grappling with a vine that had curled around the space he and Robin had just been thrown out of, almost wrestling with it as it tried to wrench itself out of his grasp.

Steve was holding on tight, each pull of the vine, trying to retreat to Vecna, pulling Steve forward little by little while Vecna screamed, floating in the air above a lake of flames, the force of his telekinetic blast pushing everyone away from him and keeping them there.

Vecna/Henry/One looked fucked up. 

One of his arms was missing and his left leg was charred almost beyond recognition. His body was riddled with holes and slash marks that were staying open but refused to bleed, his face twisted in concentration and his whole body shaking as he tried to keep everyone away.

El stood against the onslaught, her own hand extended and a silent scream coming from her mouth, completely soaked in blood from the nose down.

Steve pulled at the vine again, wrapping it around his arm like it was some kind of life line and when the vine tried to pull away again, he didn’t resist, going with it as it careened back through the space towards Vecna.

El noticed.

Redirecting her hand just slightly, Steve was slingshotted forwards until he crashed into the mangled and mottled form of Vecna, wrapping his inhumanly strong legs around his body to keep him in place and, just like he had with the demogorgon at the van, stuck his fingers into Vecna’s mouth. 

One hand began to pull down while the other began to pull up, a monstrous roar ringing throughout the room from deep within Steve’s chest, looking every bit the animal that he was in that moment as Vecna’s own screams of pain joined him.

It began very slowly then happened all at once, like once Steve had created the first tear at the corner of Vecna’s mouth, the rest all went like pulling a thread from a sweater.

Just as the sound felt like it reached a crescendo, Eddie worrying that he was already bleeding from his ears, there was a disgusting, stomach churning squelching noise as Vecna’s temples caved in with a horrific crunch and Steve finally managed to tear his head apart.

Almost in slow motion, the two of them went crashing to the floor, directly into the roaring flames below, no longer visible. 

Eddie scrambled to his feet, screaming Steve’s name along with everyone else, ready to jump in with the rest of them and pull him out, third degree burns be damned, they couldn’t lose him now. They couldn’t.

But just as they all reached the edge, Robin and Eddie still with their hands clutched between them, a figure stumbled out of the flames.

Steve collapsed to the floor, his clothes mostly burned away and half of a crushed and charred skull clutched in his hand.

He looked slightly worse for wear, covered in blood and burns but there was far less damage to his skin than Eddie would have thought possible. His clothes were singed and in tatters but thankfully, (for everyone else at least, not for Eddie, even though now was not the time) they kept his decency.

Pushing himself up to his knees and looking at them all, Eddie nearly cried in relief seeing those yellow cat-like eyes back again and the soft tilt to Steve’s brow.

He and Robin shot forward, enveloping Steve in hugs far too vigorous for the burns currently covering him, though he didn’t complain. The kids were right behind them, throwing themselves into the pile without a care in the world.

Steve looked around at all of them, the burn on the side of his face already starting to heal, and opened his mouth to say something when El cut him off with a gasp.

“We need to go! Now!” She jumped out of the big group hug. “The gates are closing and I don’t know if I’ll be able to open them again!”

No rest for the wicked, it seemed. Or for… whatever this Fellowship was.

Steve snapped his mouth closed but then opened it again just as quickly. “What are we waiting for then, let’s go!”

In the rush to get back up the stairs and out of the woods, Eddie was still desperate to hold Steve’s hand like some kind of teenage girl, take a moment to hold him close or tell him how much he cares about him or any of those other lovey dovey things but they didn’t have time.

Robin held on tight to his hand the whole way through ascending from the depths of the lab and Eddie could tell she was trying to stop herself from having a panic attack, probably reasoning she could have as many panic attacks as her heart desired once they got out of this fucking dimension and back into their world.

Eddie could relate. 

He was a second away from jumping for joy or collapsing into a heap, he didn’t know which. 

Maybe both at the same time. 

“Closest gate?” Jonathan shouted back at them.

“Fred!” Nancy called back.

The sky above them was already starting to shift from its ever present red lightning and dark clouds back to a yellow gaseous form, almost like some kind of fucked up watercolour painting. 

As they ran through the forest and down the streets they came across democreatures that seemed to have dropped dead with no cause and others that turned and ran at the sight of them. 

One or two just watched them pass from a distance, tilting their heads, almost curious.

The glowing red energy from the gate ahead was waning, spitting and knitting together in fits and starts, already much smaller than any of them had ever seen it before. 

They practically shoved the kids through first despite their protest and sent the military through just after. Eddie had half a mind to leave Owens behind but despite his anger, couldn’t leave someone here to suffer a fate worse than death.

When Owens disappeared to the other side, Argyle went next, followed by Nancy, Jonathan and Wayne, the three of them giving Eddie, Robin and Steve significant looks as if to say ‘don’t fight about who goes last for too long.’

They looked at each other before Eddie held his other hand out, taking Steve’s. Robin was still attached to his other side.

“We go together, no arguing Mr. Self-Sacrifice.”

Steve scowled at him but shrugged. 

“Okay.” He reached over and shoved Robin through, her shouts of profanity getting lost in the noise as her weight pulled Eddie through which in turn all but yanked Steve into the Rightside-Up.

Eddie had landed with a crash half on top of Robin and then Steve’s weight came crushing down on the two of them in some kind of ridiculous imitation of that movie night on the couch. 

They both rolled off Robin as quickly as they could while she continued to curse at them, hoping they hadn’t flattened her down to a pancake.

The rest of their group were in similar situations, groaning on the ground or just staring up at the stars in the sky, not quite believing that it was really over.

“Dusty?!” A woman's voice called through the night, the light of a flashlight bouncing around as a car door slammed closed and someone ran towards them.

“Mom?!” Dustin screeched, shooting to his feet and being crushed to his mothers chest, barely able to get a breath in.

“Oh, thank god you’re all-oh!” She raised what looked like a walkie to her mouth pressing and releasing the button, trying to speak into it. “Hopper, they’re here! They’re through!”

“Give me that.” Dustin snatched the walkie from his mothers hand to her admonishment, pressing the button down. “Fred’s gate. We came through Fred’s gate. All present and accounted for. Vecna’s dead. For good this time.”

Eddie let his head thunk back down onto the asphalt, with a huge sigh of relief. Robin and Steve’s hands in each of his.

They’d done it.

It was over.

They got out.

It was done.

Steve’s eyes stayed yellow. 

No matter how long he stared at himself in the mirror, no matter how hard he tried to will himself to make them change back, to not look so alien, they stayed yellow.

Eddie didn’t care much. Steve was Steve, human eye colour or not, he was just happy to have him in his bed every night since the defeat and the definitive closure of the gates.

It wasn’t like it had been when Steve had died. Back then the gates had gone dark but the grooves extended down so deep the bottom couldn’t be seen. 

Now, though the grooves were still there, the deepest of them was only a few feet down and there was no longer a lingering sense of dread surrounding them.

Steve had all but moved in with him and Wayne. He still kept a small amount of his stuff back at his parents house and he would go back every so often but it was only for a couple of hours at a time. 

He always ended every night in bed with Eddie. 

Eddie could tell it was weighing on him, the vampire thing. When they were all at war, Steve could deal with it. He could have the extra abilities and be content with them because he might need them in the future, to keep everyone safe.

But now they were all but useless. He refused to use them outside of anything lifesaving and nothing lifesaving came up in the weeks that followed, because why would it? 

Things were back to normal now. 

Or as normal as they could be.

It killed Eddie to see Steve so resigned to his fate of watching everyone around him slowly die of old age, so much so that he finally conceded and agreed with Steve about meeting with Owens to call in that favour. 

To see if he could change him back.

It was a gruelling process, going through experiment after experiment, testing different theories and suggestions, oftentimes leaving Steve weak or irritable or starving.

Eddie would have accused Owens of willful torture if he, Wayne, Claudia and Hopper hadn’t been sitting in on those experiments, listening to Steve and Owens bouncing ideas off each other about how they could get it to work. 

It wasn’t an evil scientist doing something cruel, it was a scientist and a vampire fumbling around in the dark trying to find the right answer.

But Steve was determined. He always was. That was just who he was.

Their last ditch attempt came in the form of a full body blood transfusion. 

Owens theorised that the ‘affliction’ was in Steve’s blood, in his body and the only possible way to get it out was to cycle all of the blood out while simultaneously replacing it with new human blood.

It would take days, constant monitoring and gallons and gallons of blood. 

If one drop of Steve’s blood remained in his body, it would ‘infect’ the rest of the new blood and they would be back to square one. 

Steve was put under, lying in a coma in a hospital bed for four solid days while a total of sixty units of blood were slowly pumped into his body on one side while he was drained of blood from the other. 

Eddie was by his side the entire time, as was Robin. The both of them were so terrified and so hopeful about what this could mean. 

But by the end of the fourth day, when the last unit of blood had been pumped in and the tubes and monitors were removed from his body, waiting for him to wake up, both Eddie and Robin were almost crazy with impatience and worry. 

And when Steve opened his eyes on the morning of the fifth day, smiling at them, that beautifully familiar honey-brown looking at them with an entirely human gaze, the three of them started crying and Eddie was sure that he would never, ever let his boy go for anything in the world.

Immortality or not, they belonged to each other forever.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 AO3

Anniversary announcement post

It's finished! I hope you all loved it as much as I did, though it gave me trouble in some parts, I love Steve and Eddie in this and I had such a good goddamned time being in Eddie's head through all of this, he's so much fun!

Much love to all of you who've stuck with me through this drought and I'm hoping the incoming wave of fics I have ready for you is enough to make up for it. 🖤

@romanticdestruction, @darkwitchoferie, @justforthedead89, @didntwant2come, @estrellami-1, @warlordess, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @weeennussy, @studentlife-with-sassyaf-friends, @bestwifehaver

As always, my biggest thanks and much love to @hbyrde36 for the beta work with this and for supporting me through the end of this story kicking my ass.

Much love and thanks also goes out to the STWG who helped me push past a monumental writers block and finally get this story finished. 😊

#steddie #steve and robin #steve x eddie #stranger things #eddie x steve #eddie and robin #steddie fic #stranger things fic #fanfic #penny00dreadful #steddie vampire fic #steddie fanfic #vampire au #steddie vampire au #vampire steve #vampire steve harrington #Return of The King #ao3 #pennys anniversary event

[radio-to-trenchcoat-demons]

First few pages of Ghost Stories (by me) is Out!!! Enjoy!!!

!heads-up! i put any other language in red for it to be easier to read, the story basically self explains the sentence and translates it for you so need to worry about language!!!

Languages Contained: Spanish, Portuguese. (more but we'll have to see how the story progresses)

GHOST STORIES

                                               By  Unt1t3d

                    Position for Hire: “J”

I don't like offices. I don’t know if it's because they mean that something uncomfortable is being discussed or that I didn’t organize anything myself, knowing that contents are probably where they don’t belong. This tossed here, That cast aside there. But this office I hated the most. Not only was I uncomfortable, I was being pestered about “How I felt” and, “What I should do to get on a healthier path in life”. I’ve never liked the ‘this is a safe space’ shit they rant. 

I didn’t need to get healthier mentally, I needed to get better physically. I needed money. “Justice, are you alright?” The Therapist was nagging me, I noticed. “Huh? Oh, Yeah. I agree.” I spaced off a lot so I just pretended I knew what anyone was saying in a conversation. “ I was just saying that you should get your work papers in order. I think a job might be just what you need to get yourself in the right headspace.” She said like she was talking to a toddler, writing notes on her notepad. Wow, I’m touched, she’s concerned. Aren't they all? I’ve had enough of the sympathetic 'Are you alright?’s Honestly, a ‘you're a crazy mother fucker’ once in a while is perfectly fine to balance out the chaos.

“So is your medication working? Do you still see…them?” She's talking about the shadowy friends of mine! Yeah, I still fucking see them even though you have me on enough meds to call me a drugaddict! In fact, I saw one on Tuesday, SUSAN. I’ve always been able to see them, even when I was younger, and they blamed it on a very rare, very young case of dementia. But these…things, aren't just figments of my imagination. They have minds of their own, taunting me all the time. It's the reason he’s gone. 

“Yeah, I haven’t seen them in a while.” I say with a smile, so that she won’t prescribe me another pill. “Don’t we end in a few?” I say to hurry her along. She taps her skull, as if she’s just now remembering I have a life. “Oh, you’re right! Then we’ll pick this up next week.” Ew, I didn’t want to pick this up again next week. “Um, I’m going to get my papers organized, remember? I’m getting that job. So, if I just notify you, I don’t think meetings will be necessary as of right now.” I say impatiently with a weak smile, tapping my foot at godspeed. Man, she’s slow on the update. Maybe if She's smart enough she’ll realize what I’m trying to say. 

She gathers her things, clearly not in her right headspace as she throws it all recklessly in a tote bag. My OCD impulses twitch. “Oh, wow. Yeah, that is right! You have a way better memory than me!” she said over-enthusiastically. No wonder she was alway re-scheduling. “I suppose that’s alright, but if you're ever stressed, or need someone to talk to, call my number.” She said with a deeply concerned look. To be truthful, I lost her Number, but that’s just between you and me. “Yep. In fact, I’ll have you on speed-dial, just in case.” I tell her, my enthusiasm weak and my social battery draining fast. “Okay! You have a good rest of your day then!” She says with a cheery smile. Right, like hell I will.

  Yup. Sure will. Time to go home to Mamá and step-daddy and scrub the house clean, and cower away from David’s leather belt. I hate to be brutally honest like I always am, but they’re half the reason I’m in debt for these damn medical bills. I walk down the long flight of stairs and out of the building. Ugh, finally, I’m free.

                                                -X-

I hung my keys and walked into the kitchen and shouted, “I’M HOME!”.  No response, of course. I opened the door to my room and took a deep breath. Now I’m home. I closed the door because, privacy ya’ know? I hung my messenger bag on a decorative rung I had 3-d printed in sophomore year of Computer Design. I glanced at my neat wall of vinyl records with bands like “Nirvana” and “Los Campesinos”, right next to the picture of me smiling with my father. On my desk was a stack of books, things I was borrowing but now belong to me, a cup of pencils, and my PC setup I made myself, stickers plastering the frame.

I flopped on my bed, tired as hell. I pulled out my phone and selected a playlist, closing my eyes and drifting in and out of sleep. I dream of the shadows and VHS tapes changing and a loud static in my head. Everything is so unilluminated, and I’m scared, frightened out of my wit at whatever could come out of the wispy darkness. “Jay '' someone says. I look in the darkness, trying to detect where the voice is ringing from. “Jay” I feel a hand on my shoulder. I jolt awake and rub my eyes. When my vision focuses, my mom is standing in the middle of my room, cigarette in hand. “You were screamin’ again. Did you take your damn pills?” No, I hadn’t. I was supposed to take them even if I took a two minute nap. Or else I screamed like a madman.

“David isn’t coming home tonight.” She said, taking a drag of the cancer creator. “ ‘Work’?” I say, not looking at her. She breathes out. “Yeah, ‘work’. I figured you could use the stove tonight then.” She takes one last look at my room and walks out, her shirt askew across her small curved shoulders. She’s not the same anymore. After my dad died in that plane crash, she’s been doing all the wrong things with all the wrong people. I don’t understand why she would want to be in a relationship with that abusive fuck ‘David’ or whatever anyway. 

But she still does little things like this, letting me know if and when David’s going to be home, and letting me use the stove to make my empanadas and arroz Rojo or ‘foreign food’ as David calls it. He doesn’t let me cook because it’s too ‘spicy’ for him. 

I pull out all my spices and ingredients, ‘Summerland’ by Half Alive still playing in my ears. I’m in the zone, everything how I want it. Cooking the arroz and frying the meat and sauce for empanadas, carefully avoiding the paper cuts on my hands when dicing the jalapeno and cilantro. In the midst of cooking, I decide to make dessert, having a hard time picking either Tres Leches or Concha Bread. I would ask Mamá, but she was half asleep on the tattered La-Z-Boy in the parlor. So I just decide based on what we have the most.  A few hours later, mom wakes up, the smell of authentic Mexican food calling her. “Gracias por la comida hijo.” She says, eyes only half open. “De nada mami.” Spanish is another thing David doesn’t like. He can’t understand ‘taco bell’ as he calls it. “Pronto conseguiré un trabajo.” I’m getting a job, I tell Mamá. “¿un trabajo?” she says with no surprise. “¿Sabes cuál?” Do I know which one?  I was so focused on getting out of my meetings for a bit,that I hadn’t actually thought of what I would do. “Quizás algo en informática. Se paga bien.” I told her about my computer science classes and how the area of work paid well. Well enough to finish paying the debt to the bills I owed. 

“¿Cuándo te convertiste en un hombre tan adulto?”  When did I become such a grown man? She looks at me. “uh, el mes pasado mamá.” I had just turned 18 last month on November 7th. I was already an adult, technically. Mamá just looked at me and shook her head. “Ya sabes a qué me refiero, joven.” She said sassily. I laughed, enjoying our little corner of the universe, where we were safe. I brought out the Concha Bread and Mamá’s eyes lit up. “Mi Favorita! ” I smiled at her happiness, “¡Solo para ti! “. Just for you! “Hijo, ¡me estropeas!” You spoil me, She says with a laugh.

We finished dinner, and I tucked Mamá into bed. I piled up the dishes, planning to do them tomorrow, and pulled out my phone to look at available jobs in my area. I pulled up Yelp and look for an IT job. No such luck. I tried Indeed next, again, nada. The hours passed, websites were searched, and still, no IT or Cyber Security jobs in my area. 

I give up and try to find a decent paying job not too far from home.There are some alright ones and then there's the ones that look a little shady. I filter out my results so I don’t wish myself an early funeral. And then I found it, THE GOLDEN JOB!!! The golden job is this thing me and my computer friends would do when we were job hunting. You search for a job, filter it, and whoever had the best job at the end could dare anyone to do anything (within reason of course). One time, my friend Alex won and he got everybody to buy him something from DQ.

But this job seemed too good to be true. Just down town in the suburbs, away from the city, is a fancy estate house. The owners died a few years ago and this little old lady is looking for someone to clean it up for resale, as she is getting on in her years. The pay is good enough to pay for my bills though. All that's left now is to make the call…

  Question Everything: “Wil”

Do you ever get that feeling that you’re constantly being watched? Like eyes are constantly trained on you? As if existing is a cause for concern. “Hey Wil,can you pass me the arroz?” I snap out of my daze, “Huh? Oh sure, Tio.” The house is hectic today, cousins running around and Aunts and Uncles drinking and talking. Nobody in the family liked to be around me and Tio Hector felt bad about that, so he sat with me at all the family meets.

“Ei, você está bem?” Tio says, I smile dancing on his lips. I play along, “Sim, só pensando... e você?” I’m just thinking, what about you? I say this with the same smile playing on my lips. Tio just laughs, “You silly, I’m always fine! Como foi a terapia hoje?” He asks about therapy. He cares but I don’t need therapy. We’re just wasting money we don’t have. “Ah, o mesmo de sempre. Ela apenas traz à tona as mesmas coisas…” Same old, Same old. The lady doesn’t even have a plan for me to get ‘better’. Tio just smiles and says, “Talvez ela esteja louca!”. He bursts out with laughter, making the house feel a little more homely.

Some more family members enter the kitchen, filing up on more drinks and food. I feel so uncomfortable around them, as they do around me. A hate/hate relationship, I guess. Tio sensed my unease and acted as necessary. “Ignore-os, eles estão aqui apenas para ficar bêbados e conseguir babá de graça.” He said they’re alone at the event to get drunk and get free babysitting. He knew this would make me smile, because not only was it funny, it was true. 

I stand and push in my chair. “Vejo você mais tarde, tio. Tenho que ir para casa. Trabalho ocupado para ser feito.” Tio stands, “Trabalhar? OK, te vejo mais tarde. But don’t stress yourself! Or else you’ll end up like Aunt Maria!” He laughs. We hug and I leave, off to drive to my small apartment.

                                                  -X-

I got in and locked the doors and tossed my keys anywhere, I didn’t care at this point, my stuff was already everywhere. Boxes were still piled up from a month or two ago, from when I left the family house and moved out on my own. I toe my way on my cold floors, slowly inching my way to my room. LED lights are strung up, drawings and sketches hung up from AP Art classes. A picture of me and Tio sits on my nightstand. We were at a fair, eating bad funnel cakes and playing games. He won me the very avocado plushie that rests on my bed right now that day.

My laptop rests on my desk, covered in stickers I had designed myself, still open on my DAW program with a music track in queue. I slam it shut, too tired to even think about any actual work. I collapse to the bed. I don’t fall asleep, but just lay there. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with more scars. I lay horizontally, drinking in the late afternoon sunlight, absorbing all the details of my room. It’s kinda like when you’re waiting for something but can only leave at a certain time, so you wait and actually notice all the little things in your life.

A boom rings from upstairs. Ugh, the neighbors. I finally decided that I had rested long enough and had to do something productive. The therapist said something about getting a job or whatever, so that I could ‘get myself in the right headspace’. I already had a job, but it was one my family didn't approve of, and if I mentioned that to the therapist we would have a WHOLE discussion about ‘how that made me feel’ or, ‘what I could do to change their perspective’.

I didn’t have the time for that, and hell, I needed a buck. So, restlessly, I snatch my laptop and open Yelp and Indeed and other numerous job websites and applications. Hours later, you would think I would discover a decent art job! Even a graphics designer looking for an assistant in the heart of New York! But Nada. I gave up a half hour later, deciding to just filter my results for easy, high paying jobs in a calm area (so that way I wasn’t lost in Time Square).

What comes up is some crack-head craigslist kinda shit but some of the jobs are promising. I filter again to get rid of the cuckoo's and 9-5 jobs, settling for something more temp style. This narrows down my search even more, drastically not giving a fuck about my opinion, and only showing one or two results. Eenie Minie Moe later and I found the thing to shut Susan up about the job. A cleaning job, high pay, pick my own hours, AND! When the estate sells I get 2% of the profit sold. It’s this little old lady, selling the home and land of her dead son and daughter-in-law, just wanting to get it in shape before resale. 

I applied for the application and got it sent. I go to the kitchen to eat some trashy dried ramen in a bowl I haven’t washed in a week, and decide what time my body wants to deal with sleep and pain.

                                            -X-

I woke up late that morning, my knees bloodied. Fuck. I tip-toe to the bathroom and get out my huge first aid kit. I disinfect and clean, avoid infection and patch it all up with a huge band aid. I've learned the art of self-aid with my eyes closed and hands tied by now. Fixed, for now.

I checked my phone, surprised to see a notification from the lady with the estate this early. She says my application checks out and that the latest I can start today is 11:30 am. Well, at least I can choose when I leave. I glance at the clock, gauging how much time I get to blow before leaving to find the property. 10:29…okay. Shower, skip breakfast today, and attempt to clean. Like hell I'm gonna clean. It’s just not in my nature anymore.

Flashforward and I’m running to my car to get there on time because my sense of time is horrible. I showered and barely had time to get my boxers on. So, looking like a lunatic, brandishing my disheveled hair and soggy bandaids barely hanging on by a thread, I booked it to my car.

more to come soon!!

tagging:@thinkingaboutctommy @paldeanbooper (my writer buddy:@wiblursaystuff) @vibestillaxxx @gay-mooshrooms @colleenispunk @wormsinsdirt (another writer buddy:@teagica)

#al was here! #hector estaba aqui! #proceed with caution at my blog #my work!! #al writes... #Hector escribes...

[drdemonprince]

hey!! i've been watching your amazing top surgery recovery on insta and i'm wondering if you have any tips/secrets to recovering so quickly??! i've been looking into top surgery but have been so intimidated because everything i've read about the recovery process makes it seem like it'll take months and that's something that's not realistic for me with my limited support system + limited time off work but goddamn i would love to get my tits chopped off asap. i read something about how you gotta b

continued: be prepared to not physically be able walk around or lift more than a jug of apple juice for like two months post-op and that's been scaring me off top surgery cuz that's just not sustainable for me!!

Yeah, so I do think some people are really really overstating how incapacitating the procedure has to be, and that some of that is a holdover of doctor's historical approaches to treating patients.

Like historically, wealthy pregnant women were sometimes in bed nearly the full duration of their pregnancies, and just in general medicine used to believe that the best way for a patient to heal was for them to be lying down doing as little as possible (and being as compliant and inobtrusive as possible), and I believe that might still color some surgeon's recommendations today. Even though we know that gentle movement and maintaining function where one can is good for healing!

Now, my experience with surgery has been far and away better than that of anyone I've heard of so far for a couple of reasons, some that are within a patient's control, some that are not.

The first thing is that I have a high pain tolerance and love moving around, I need to move around to feel good, it's just very helpful for my mental health and sensory regulation. Even when I have the flu or COVID, I still tend to lift weights and take walks -- maybe at a slightly diminished capacity, maybe taking a day off if I feel incapable, but I generally want to move and find it easy to start moving quickly even when I'm sick or in pain.

2. The second piece is, you guessed it, my activity level. Before surgery, I was lifting weights for a half hour each day, five days per week. I'd been doing roughly that amount for a couple of years. I also live in a city and don't have a car so I walk a lot, take the stairs when I can, go out dancing sometimes, and just generally stay pretty active. We could chalk this up as a "choice" but that would be to ignore the fact that I'm capable of doing that much activity and I enjoy it. If I had kids, a 9-5 office job, physical disabilities that impacted my ability to exercise, elder care responsibilities, or anything else, I couldn't work out five days per week. But I personally can. And that has either been good for my health, or is just a signal of the fact that I am in good health.

3. That brings us to the third piece: I don't really have any health issues that get in the way of healing. I get over colds relatively quickly, and aside from a bout of anemia and severe burnout in my mid 20s and some knee pain that I gave myself from using a standing desk for two long that seems to never go away, I've made it to 35 without too many scratches on the vehicle.

Right now I'm probably in the best health of my life, both because of my activity levels and just really finally getting on top of cooking myself meals most days of the week, lots of like fish and veggies and rice and quinoa and shit (I used to survive on power bars far too often. they're still nice. but cooking dinner regularly has made me feel more nourished and strong). Again a lot of that is being lucky enough to have time to do the things that help me feel good.

4. Before surgery, I was hydrating and fibering like a mother fucker, up until midnight the night before my operation, when I was supposed to begin fasting. I also went two weeks without any alcohol, weed, cigarettes, delta 8, or any other substances, and no medications other than my testosterone. I also quit caffeine several months ago which has had a DRAMATIC impact on my mental health and improved my eating and hydration as well. Three hours before surgery I took a prescribed anti-nausea pill, and a celebrex (a prescribed anti-inflammatory, basically it dulls nerve pain a bit) as advised by my doctor.

5. I chose to work with a surgeon who does not use narcotics -- this is a huge one. Opioid pain medications pack a whallop, and if you need them, you need them, there's no shame in that -- but I think the American medical system is still skewed towards using them too willy nilly compared to most other parts of the world. They make you groggy, slow down your digestion, can make you depressed, make you nauseated, and just generally keep you from moving around and eating, and you really do want your physical system to be moving and metabolizing so it can heal you.

I would not have been up and walking around the day of my surgery if I was on opioids. The day after surgery I was able to stream for three hours, ride the train to my post-op appointment, and walk to a restaurant a few blocks away for dinner because I wasn't loopy or medicated at all. And I truly did not need them. Because I wasn't on opioids I was also able to shit the same day I had surgery instead of battling bloating and constipation for days, which most guys describe having.

Rather than giving any hard core pain meds to me, my doctor used numbing injections during surgery, which blunted the pain for the first 48 hours post-op, which is the worst period healing wise. Beyond that, he put me on antibiotics and a celebrex in the morning and at night. I've never felt much pain at all.

At this point, my pain is like.. less than a period cramp? Similar to muscle soreness from working out? I feel fragile because my skin is stitched together, so it's not like I could run a marathon or climb a rock wall, and I can't cook or carry anything over a milk jug. but I can walk around, shower, take the train, open light doors, get dressed, feed my chinchilla, stuff like that.

6. My surgeon encouraged movement. Many surgeons tell you not to lift your arms above your head for weeks, but this can result in you needing physical therapy afterward and losing mobility in general. Now if that's what your doctor tells you to do, you should listen to them, but my doctor told me he wanted me to maintain range of motion. I am allowed to open cabinets, shampoo my hair, and reach above my head to grab things -- GENTLY and SLOWLY -- and i do very very light stretches. In the weeks to come I'll need to weigh two competing concerns against one another: the desire to maintain mobility, and the desire to have thin scar lines. I'm still being very delicate but I am using my arms all day and sometimes raising them.

Now, I can't promise you that any of this will happen for you. And since you mentioned wanting to be as independent as possible, let me tell you: do not push it! you will need help! Not getting enough help will dramatically increase your risk of complications! I have someone with me to lift heavy objects, cook, wash the dishes, help me shower, open heavy doors, and to tell me to slow down when i'm going too hard.

The people i know who did have complications got to that point because they didn't ask for enough help. You will need to take time off of any labor intensive job, and you wont be able to move furniture, make your bed, do your laundry, cook a meal, carry groceries, or do other intensive things for a while. I understand the motivation to get back to 'independence' as quickly as possible, but you can't guarantee that will happen.

This week, I will be doing some light work (grading and reading copy edits) because I am able to, and because I'm high energy enough to be getting bored. But I couldn't count on that. I told my boss and my editor I'd be offline for at least two weeks, more if I had complications. Since I didn't, I'm bouncing back way sooner, but it would not have been healthy for me to set out with that as the expectation. I needed to mentally offload the stress of having a job or I wouldnt have healed as well as I have.

[jamiesfootball]

You said Jamie spends the off-season injured, is this because of something with his Dad and the aforementioned horrors or is it a coincidence in addition to the horrors? And if this is a spoiler you don’t want to share then I was never here.

Aw yessss! A question! I LOVE QUESTIONS ABOUT THE THINGS I AM WRITING.

There are definitely some key developments that I am keeping under wraps, but I will Neil Gaiman that shit if it comes up. As it stands, this topic is very open for discussion! In fact, it comes up in the very next chapter-

cut for spoilers

So in this fic Jamie's injury is actually a holdover of the injury he got in Mom City. The top of his foot hit a very fast moving ball on a downward trajectory midair and hit at a very unfortunate angle. He's lucky he didn't break anything, but it did do some soft tissue damage (I am paraphrasing here because I have not put all of my medical jargon notes into order yet). It wasn't the worst injury to have, but it was definitely a 'safer to stay off it' injury. A 'you may want to take it easy' injury.

With West Ham and the final game literally around the corner, taking it easy wasn't an option, and everyone agreed to play him anyways.

So post-season comes around and Jamie is like 'thank fuck. I need a break. And Dani isn't in town, and even though I told Keeley I was sorry things still feel weird, and Roy and I just had a big weird fight so he probably could use a break from me. Good thing Isaac and Colin invited me to go on this weird history hike thing in Malta.'

And then he pops in for his post-season physical and upon seeing that he actually has even less range of movement in his ankle than he did immediately after getting injured, the physios break into Gollum-level amount of chanting 'my precious's and slap his foot in a walking brace for a minimum of two weeks. They have a regular amount of concern for What Will Happen To Them If Jamie Tartt's Foot Is Broken. A reasonable, regular, understandable amount of concern. Especially given who the new gaffer is.

This is a thing that becomes a big topic moving forward- how the physicality demanded by the sport means that most teams have players playing injured by the end of the season. For Richmond, it's not just Jamie's foot. It's also Dani's knee (the knee surgery that he left for is from ongoing complications from his original season one injury) and O'Brien's butt (again, an old injury) and Sam's legs (we'll pretend I've decided what injury just know he has one).

Then you add in someone like Roy, who now has permanent mobility issues with his knee. And he's the one in charge of all these fuckers now.

To complicate matters, their Total Football strategy largely and predominantly focuses on Jamie being able to play. And after the epic meltdown he had in the boot room, Roy is now very conscious of how goddamn lucky they were that they didn't completely burn him out last season. Hell, they're lucky they didn't burn out most of the first string.

So a big part of the Diamond Dogs strategy sessions ends up focusing on answering the question of what their plan is for the next year. Because they want to win the whole damn thing. Everyone wants to win the whole damn thing. They were so close. But also, as Roy already told Jamie in chapter one, that burn out thing? Yeah, that's not fucking happening again. Not on his watch.

Then, there's Jamie. Foot in a boot. Summer plans cancelled. Stuck in Richmond where the physios can poke at him. And he can't even use training as an excuse to go bother Roy because he can't train right now.

As for The Horrors, well. The message he sent to his dad weeks ago just flipped from 'sent' to 'read.' The Horrors in this case are overwhelmingly mental and emotional, because Jamie is doing what he thinks he was told to do. Forgive his dad. That is what he is trying to do. And it is eating him alive. It is grating him across the asphalt. He is tearing himself to pieces trying to make it happen. He is crawling over glass, trying to make himself do this thing that his mind is screaming at him not to do. And he is trying his best to be okay with it, but he is really really viscerally not okay.

That is The Horrors here.

#i have done my best to paraphrase - I hope I have not spoiled things too terribly much! #truly it is a JOY that people want to know anything about my silly little fic #thank you so much for asking! #fic: oh god you're gonna get it (you have not been given love) #ask box is always open

[codenamehazard]

.:In The Dark of the Night: Part 2:.

[TRIGGER WARNING FOR ARACHNOPHOBIA, OMMETAPHOBIA, TRYPOPHOBIA AND OTHER CREEPY CRAWLIES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!]

Chapter 25: In The Dark of the Night: Part 2

Hey guys, I hope you all had a Happy New Year and I hope I didn't make you all wait too long on a cliffhanger. Things got a little insane between the holidays and life things turning everything upside down for a little bit, but the wait is over and the helicopter has come to free you from the cliffhanger.

Without delay, let's jump in.

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

Panic… Pure panic and pandemonium breaks out as Pangolin falls: screaming, writhing and powerless. A cold sweat mixes with the sparking rain-water on my skin as I see what a single sting did to the Brick Spartan. He’s defenseless to the oncoming swarm.

In his fear, Dove calls forth a massive wind gust to blow the menaces back, protecting his eldest brother from being eaten. Mako rushes over to help the fallen leader as Kestrel fights off more bugs. I can see Dove trying to take the lead, but with how freaked out he is and the fear making his voice crack and squeak, his commands fall upon deaf ears.

Time seems to slow as I watch the once well-oil machine fall to shambles. With Pangolin on the ground howling in pure agony and mutant hellish bedbugs scattering around, the team had no rudder. They were all clueless and damn near helpless.

As I thin the swarm, thoughts rush through my head. A headless team is a dead team. I remember the promise I made to myself as I ran from the army I had once led. Never again would I let shackles hold me back, including the shackles of leadership. If they can’t hack it without my help, then so be it. I could bail and leave them to their fate. Steal a jeep and let them be the distraction. Easy as that.

Then the logical part of my brain kicks that impulse sharply in the head. The Amp is still in shambles and needs to be fixed and the one who’s willing to do that is part of this team. There’s also the fact that… As much as I hate to admit this… I’m starting to grow quite fond of this motley crew of outcasts and it wouldn’t kill me to help them just this–

“ALRIGHT FUCKERS, LISTEN UP!!!” I turn my head sharply as a cross between a metallic boom and a barking command cuts through my thoughts, drawing my eyes to the source of the sound: Kestrel. “The situation’s gone FUBAR, fall back! Mako, get Pangolin into the Medi-Trailer! Dove, get a grip and head to the lead HEMTT, we need to book it and fast!!” I can’t help but to gawk for a split second, both in shock and relief. Well I’ll be damned; for once in my life I don’t have to play babysitter when things went to shit.

I shake my head to get back in the game before I get stung. Kestrel takes charge, getting Mako to focus on Pangolin as she clears a path. I make my way towards the panicking chicken of a Dove who’s still acting like he’s trying to take command, even though Kes gave him his marching orders. With how out of it he is, I’m not surprised he didn’t hear a word she said.

“Dove!” I boom as I grab his shoulders and shake him. Not the best way to handle a kid freaking out, but there’s no time for sensitivities. “Pull yourself together!” The bird stammers nonsense and I bonk him on the forehead with the meat of my palm. He yelps before staring at me with a look that said “what was that for?!” I look him in the eyes. “Good, now that I got your attention. Kestrel gave an order, get to the HEMTT and get ready to floor it. We’re falling back!”

“What about Thom-” He starts to question before I give him a red-eyed glare.

“Don’t worry about him!” I growl, my impatience starting to bleed through. “Mako’s got him covered, now do as you’re told and MOVE YOUR ASS!!!” I watch him stammer out an affirmative before scrambling off to the Convoy. I’m half tempted to give him a zap for good measure, but with the rain and the fact he’s the get-away, I decide against it.

The sound of grunting catches my ears as I turn to see Mako and Kestrel trying to move Pangolin while fending off the scittering hellish things. I quickly run over so I can help Mako.

“You taking over?” Kes questions, I nod in confirmation before we trade places. Oh Jesus Christ, he’s heavy and it doesn’t help he’s still flailing about. Thinking fast, I arc-restrain the writhing spartan. Mako gives me a questioning look, but when I explain it’s to make it easier to carry the giant of a man, she doesn’t argue. Kes provides cover fire before throwing what looks like a blast-shard wired to an explosive away from the convoy.

The shard seems to draw the attention of the giant Hell-Spider, getting her off the trailers and allowing us to get in safely. The sound of an explosion and screaming ring out as we shut the door.

As Mako gets Pangolin stabilized in a transport cot and I release the restraints, Kes gets on the comms and barks a single phrase.

“FLOOR IT!!!”

I can feel the trailer suddenly jerk as the HEMTT takes off, nearly taking all of us to the floor. The screech of the spider returns as she takes notice and gives chase.

The trailer rings out with the sounds of Warped and hellbabies being chucked onto the runaway caravan. A stark reminder that we’re not out of the woods yet. A Blink Scorpion almost slips in, but Kes is quick on the draw.

It's clear that without someone on the outside, the Convoy’s defenseless. With nothing but a quick glance and a nod exchanged between Kestrel and I, we know what needs to be done.

Though the emergency hatch on the top of the trailer, we climb out into the darkness to face the monsters.

The rain hisses and spits into steam on Kestrel’s skin as it makes black and red sparks arc off of mine. Bathing the hellish sight in a blood red hue. The scorpions scitter and screech as they charge towards us. Quick to react, we pop the bugs with slag and bolts, slashing them with blades and claws when they get too close.

As the air fills with soot, sparks and gore, I can see out of the corner of my eye something I hadn’t noticed before when the most that Big Momma would move was when she swung her stony arms around to swat at people who came near. Something that’s now plain as day with her running at ridiculous speeds for a creature her size.

Gaps in the armor where the joints connect.

“Hey Kes!” I call out as I punt one of the stinging cockroaches into another. “Check it! The big bitch actually does have weak spots!” I fire a missile at one of the knee-joints to point it out. The impact on the sinewy flesh causes the monster to scream in pain and slow down some, but with seven more legs moving, the hit only staggered.

“Good eye!” The Gunsmith calls back as she starts to focus fire on the exposed targets. We work together, but with the sheer number of babies the spider-bitch is spitting out, it’s near impossible to do both. These babies have got to go.

“Damnit!” I hiss out as I narrowly avoid getting tagged in the ankle. “There’s too many of these things!”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Kes snips back as she nails one that was leaping towards my head. “This is getting us nowhere and we don’t have the right equipment to kill the mother monster.”

“Got any bright ideas, birdie?” I growl. I see Kestrel look at the Rock-Spider-Thing and I can see the gears turning in her head.

“I might.” She replies. “One of us pops a charge while the other coverfires. It won’t kill her, but it should slow her down and thin out the herd enough to break free.”

“It’s a start, but who’s doing what?” I question. “Because if you haven’t noticed, my powers are as useful as a damn ashtray on a motorcycle against that thing.” I hear Kestrel groan before I pop a bug near her foot.

“I don’t know if mine will be of any use either, but I’ll do it. Cover my ass!” She shouts as she starts to shake her head, eyes glowing iron-hot. Probably trying to fire herself up. I position myself behind her, but give her space so I’m not touching her back.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” I grunt as I launch a few shockwaves to send the horde flying.

The sound of rain sizzling off of her body cuts through the chaos as her body throws off heat, causing the air around her to ripple and warp into the familiar heat mirage. Thank God I gave her the space, I would have gotten burnt from the rapidly rising temperature of her body. Steam hisses and spits off of her skin as smoke bellows from her mouth and jets from her nose.

I watch as I keep the bugs off of her. The shimmering particulates in the smoke start to move and gather, merging to become an entire swarm of shards the size of razor sharp, white-hot hornets. Kestrel’s arms move back into an open position before swinging them forward, commanding the shards to fly off towards the enemy.

The shards almost seem to buzz as they cut through the air, burying into anything that’s in their way. The metal is hot enough to make the blink scorpions pop like ichor-filled balloons and cook the shamblers and runners that tried to climb up.

The metal-bees couldn’t penetrate the rock armor of the Momma Bitch, but to our relief, some of them hit their marks and bore into the exposed joints. The living boulder screams in agony as its joints seizes from the onslaught, causing it to stagger and tumble from the momentum. Anything unlucky enough to be under-foot gets turned into a glowing purple paste on the red dirt as HEMTT leaves the bastards in the dust.

“Take that, bitch.” The Gunsmith pants out with a snarl and a smirk before her eyes cool and her body starts to wobble. I move to catch her so she doesn’t fall off the HEMTT. Damn, the combination of expending a large burst of RFE and the rain rapidly cooling her must be sapping her strength like mad.

“Hey…” She pants out. “Thanks for the catch.” I grunt in acknowledgement as I let her use my body as a support. We watch the monster-mash of a road wreck grow smaller and smaller as we escape. Out of the corner of my eyes I can spot light starting to grow.

Turning my head to see the source of the light, I gawk at the sight that is rapidly approaching.

Bright spotlights, all forming a barrier that burned and scorched any Warped that dare stray too close. Within the safety of the perimeter lies a city that looked like the fucking carnival took it over. Rides made of metal and scrap tower like skyscrapers and roller coasters snake through any buildings in maddening twists and turns. The crowning jewel of the sight? A large red and yellow striped tent with three prominent points, the center its tallest.

I turn to Kestrel and I see her face relax into a smile, the smile of someone coming home.

“Cole, welcome to Tri-Point.”

#infamous #infamous 2 #cole macgrath #demon of empire city #infamous: no man's land #xeno writes #caper #blast shard caper #pangolin #Mako #Dove #tw: creepy crawlies #tw: scorpions #tw arachnophobia #tw arachnids #cw: creepy crawlies #cw: scorpions #cw: arachnophobia #cw: spiders #tw spiders #The Misfits #tw: trypophobia #tw: ommetaphobia #cw: ommetaphobia #cw: trypophobia

[videogamelover99]

What is the biggest Skk mischaracterization in fics that you see that you wish was gone or some tweaks you’d like to see changed? Personally my favorite things to see in fics is Dazai’s underlying struggle with sentimentality while also being a little bit of a control freak

OH BOY OH BOY ANON I IMMEDIATELY KNEW THE ANSWER TO THIS.

Chuuya's characterization bothers the fuck outta me when it's done wrong. Dazai's too, but that fucker has masks upon masks and you can at least attribute some of the ooc behavior to that in order to enjoy the story. Chuuya? No, Chuuya is very frank about most things, so if you fuck him up it's soooo obvious.

My biggest pet peeve is probably when anyone writes Chuuya as a pining, sad mess who's relying on Dazai's approval for his own sense of worth, because it is the most prevalent mischaracterization out there and it's! So wrong!

Chuuya's feelings about Dazai (and most things where he has to question himself, in general), are hidden under such a deep level of denial that a bulldozer won't dig far enough to pull it out. He doesn't give two shits to Dazai's opinion (even if said opinion does, subconciously, influence him), because he understands where Dazai's awful outlook on the world comes from, and he thinks it's bullshit (I am begging people to read Stormbringer especially now since the official translation is out). He's not the one waiting around for Dazai to show up, he has his own life! It doesn't mean that he doesn't care, it means that he lies to himself that he doesn't care, and so any POV of Chuuya's has to account for that. His hurt about Dazai leaving would most likely diverge into "well I always knew he was an ass, it figures" rather than a hit to his own self esteem, at least on the surface. It's always important to know what feelings your character is aware of consciously vs subconsiously, with soukoku especially.

How do you show it then? Well, how Asagiri shows it, through actions. If you notice, he doesn't actually spend all that much time talking about what Dazai or Chuuya think on a deeper level in their POVs, prefering to show it through their actions or the eyes of others (Adam, Oda). Chuuya says he would be glad if Dazai up and died in a ditch somewhere when Dazai wasn't answering his calls in Stormbringer, but damn is it clear, with the threat of Verlaine killing everyone important to Chuuya, that he's actually worried. He sure as hell doesn't show it though! And I doubt he wants to aknowledge it in his own mind.

(Dazai, I think, is a little more prone to self-examination, but teen!Dazai's got similar issues with lying to himself or not wanting to think about something he doesn't like so)

I also just, really want to see more scenes with each character showing their strengths. With Dazai, it's obviously his mind, the way he can manipulate a situation in his favor through very subtle means, but his ability to read the room also comes down to his inability to cope with the lack of information. So it's mostly a combination of "look how cool Dazai is" (written well) and "wow he sure done fucked up this one huh" (I wanna see him fail and not know what to do for once, but feel satisfying).

With Chuuya, his strengths come from both his quick thinking and his skill as a fighter, which, you know, it's surprisingly hard to find a good fight scene with him. A fic I read had a fight scene inspired by the Birds of Prey movie, which, yes, is exactly what we should be going for, actually XD a cinematic scene showing off that character's skills. Chuuya keeps getting Godzilla fights...I want more scenes where he's giving the most dangerous government ability users in the country a hard fucking time by throwing bullets out of a helicopter really fast...or him just beating up a lot of guys with the objects at hand. You know, cool shit.

#that helicopter scene will forever be the best chuuya scene i stand by that #i keep writing about how to write fic but not actually writing fic...maybe one day #bungou stray dogs #bsd #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #soukoku #asks

[gremlin-writes-angst]

Scraps to a Tank

Ive been working on this AU for a while. I'm very excited to finally post the first chapter. I'd love feed back from anyone, about anything. This is one of my favorite things I've come up with/written, and want to know how I can improve.

I am tagging some of my favorite redacted asmr writers/Tumblr pages because I'd love to have some feedback (if comfortable and have the time) but also I just want to share what I have.

This chapter is a little cheesy, so small warning for that.

 1.7 k words

Fandom: Redacted Asmr/Audio

TW/CW: Quinn in other words toxic, controlling, abusive relationship. nothing graphic. This is a Boxing/Fighting Au so there is fighting, i wouldn't consider it graphic, but everyone's different so read with your own discretion.

Let me know if I missed a trigger or spelling mistake.

Please comment and reblog, it lets me know people like my stuff and encourages me to write more!!!!!!

The building was intimidating.

It wasn't tall or fancy like the buildings a couple of blocks down.

It was an average building.

An average gym.

And yet it was still so daunting.

They checked the card for about the sixteenth time.

The sign matched the card.

The dirty, crusty, crumbled-up card.

The card's appearance didn't match its meaning.

This card was their lottery ticket.

“That name doest fit you.”

They turned around, a man, a beast.

He was tall, big, rugged.

The definition of strong.

Standing right in front of them.

“Excuse me?”

“Your fighter name, it doesn't fit you. And honestly neither does this.” 

His hand slowly waved around, gesturing to the alley.

“You're better than an alley fighter.”

They couldn't hold back their laugh, short and dry.

Just like Quinn’s. 

“You must have mistaken me for someone else. I'm the fighter that lost.”

“I know.”

He steps closer.

Yet distanced.

He was still giving them space.

He respected them.

“And everyone and their mothers knows that fight was rigged. Though I could see it.”

Intrigued, they took a step closer.

“See what?”

“The passion. The strength, the techniques, you are a fighter.”

“I’m not.”

“You have the will to be.”

He stretched his hand out, a business card.

“I can teach you.”

“So this guy approached me today.”

All Quinn did was grunt and roll away from them.

“He says he can teach me how to fight.”

Their excitement was palpable.

“I already did.”

The air tensed as he fought to dampen their excitement.

For once, he failed.

“No, like real fighting, I looked up the name on the card. His dad is Gabriel Shaw, like Gabe Shaw!”

They hadn't felt this hopeful for a long time, and they wished Quinn would share their interest, at least a little, at least for once.

“Gabe Shaw, like the 3 time champi-”

“Two time, I recognized the name, he died before the last fight.”

The air tensed more.

Quinn was good at pushing things to their limit.

Even the air.

They hated it.

It was sicking.

They were sick of it.

Sick of Quinn.

“I think I'm going to take him up on it, he doesn't fight anymore, but from what I saw he’s good, just as good as his dad, and his fighters get pretty far. I could be a real fighter, I could learn real techniqu-”

“I already taught you real shit, and we already win.”

He moved fast and with anger.

Out of the bed he charged at them.

“Quin-”

“We already win. You're getting too cocky. Winning isn't about the fight itself, winning comes from the fuckers that bet, the poor drunk suckers we trick with the fights. That's how we win. You are no fighter, you know that. I’ve shown you that.”

He looked into their eyes, he didn't have to threaten them.

Not with details at least.

They knew it all too well.

That look in his eyes.

The tone in his voice.

It was all he had to do. 

And he knew it.

And he loved it.

He smiled, wicked and calm. Like this was normal, they supposed it was.

They didn't want it to be.

Not anymore. 

His hand reached for their forearm.

“Let us get to bed now precio-”

 They moved.

 Just slightly.

Just enough to avoid his touch.

"You don't want to do that, precious."

He was right.

They weren't ready.

They had to be ready.

They will be ready.

"I couldn't take it."

"What?"

The other fighter spoke, they weren't looking at you, their eyes on Quinn.

"Being with him. Dealing with him once a month is too much."

"Yeah. You're the first one to say that."

"Probably because the other fighters want to get in his pants. They just can't resist ‘The Viper’ "

They don't reply.

"Sorry, I thought you knew."

"I do, there's not much I can do."

"I think there is.”

"You don't understand"

"I do."

They look at the chunky heart-shaped ring on their finger.

"You can get out."

Those words drew them in.

Cautiously they expressed their interest.

"He's quite insecure, use it. Take away his control.”

There was a pause.

They looked around again.

Their eyes caught on Quinn.

A decision was being made behind those eyes.

When they made their decision it was clear.

They made eye contact.

Strong eye contact.

And continued.

“You'll have your moment. I promise. Take it or don’t, it’s up to you.”

They turn their back. 

" It's a little strange that you never win these staged fights. I think it's about damn time.”

"I hope everyone's bets are placed because the books are closed for Scraps vs Sweetheart!"

The announcer looks at Quinn, and with a quick nod, he starts again.

"Fighters ready?"

Sweetheart has an intense stare as they nod.

Scraps, on the other hand, doesn't hear the announcer the first time.

"Scraps? This fighter isn't even prepared, it's your fault if you took your chances on this underdog."

They snap back. 

"I'm ready."

And they were.

"Then…..FIGHT!"

The match starts, as planned. 

A couple hits, a swing of the legs and Scraps is knocked to the floor, as planned.

Sweetheart approached, to taunt, as rehearsed.

"Don't take this personally."

That's the only hit they give sweetheart.

Sweetheart's eyes glimmer as they smile.

"I won't. Take your moment."

Scraps grabs their neck, slamming their heads together before flipping them behind. Scraps moves fast as they get up. In the crowd, they see Quinn and his goons moving to the ring. 

"Sorry, thank you."

"Don't be, go."

They climb the makeshift fence and run. A huge smile stains their face as they leave the building, rain washes the sweat off their face. They keep running. Not running away from Quinn but towards freedom,  towards their future.

They took a deep breath before they opened the gym doors.

It’s bigger than they'd expected.

They'd never been in a professional gym like this. 

There were multiple rings, real rings, not the homemade stuff they were used to.

There's no reception desk like a public gym, but luckily David Shaw was the first person they spotted.

He was in a ring with someone.

They walk towards the ring, they can feel the other fighters watching them.

They get to the ring David is in.

Neither he nor the other fight realizes it.

"David?"

The two whip their head to you.

"Get out."

He was calm but still seemed angry.

"I'm Scraps, from the-"

"I know who you are. Now get out!"

They climb out of the ring, and begin their walk to the door, feeling defeated and quite offended they, whisper to themselves.

"Well fuck you mister big shot ."

"I'm not a big shot."

David says from behind. 

Scraps freezes up.

"When I said get out I meant the rink."

They stay still.

"Will you turn around?"

David didn't hold back his frustration.

Scraps feels it'd be best to turn around.

"Sorry."

"You shouldn't enter a ring without permission, not here."

"Sorry, I've never been somewhere this professional."

"You don't mean that."

"What?"

"Those sorries. That is not how you feel."

"I am sorry. And how exactly would you know how I feel? You just met me."

David's eyebrows raise as his eyes keep a dull annoyed look.

“To quote you ‘Well fuck you mister big shot’, that's how you feel, Don't act differently,  it pisses me off. I hate suck-ups."

Scraps believes him.

"Well, I'm not sorry, only because you don't have to be an ass, you said you recognize me, then you should of figured I wouldn't know these rules."

"I was an ass so I could protect you, get used to it."

Scraps smiles.

David rolled his eyes.

"It’s been about a year."

"Does the offer still stand?"

"Yes."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Nothing."

Silence rests between them.

Scraps isn't patient enough to let it continue. 

"So can I start today?"

"We can't just take you in at the last moment, the trainers have others to train.”

"I don't." 

A curly-haired blonde yells across the room, near a punching bag, and starts rushing toward the two.

"I'll do it." 

David takes a breath so deep it is visible from his chest. Before he let out a sigh.

"No."

"Oh come on David, I'm a great trainer."

"Asher, I know that, but I said no. You are not the right fit. "

"Ohhh you want to train them."

Asher starts walking towards Scraps.

"Lucky bastard."

He whispers, without maliciousness.

"So what do we call you?"

"Well, I've gone by Scraps for a while."

"Scraps? Really?"

He looks them up and down.

"That won't work"

"He's right, I'm not calling you that."

David seconded Asher.

"Well, I don't really have any other ideas."

"Tank!"

Another voice echoes throughout the gym. 

Scraps wasn't expecting to recognize anyone other than David, but rushing towards the group was the boxer who gave them the nudge they needed.

Behind said fighter was a guy, seemingly trying to stop the other from coming over. He was failing.

"That would be Sweetheart,  they're our newest addition."

Asher kindly tried to keep Scraps updated through all the chaos.

"They know who I am Ash, at least I hope they do, with the concussion they gave me. You've got one thick skull."

Slightly overwhelmed by all the attention,  Scraps freezes and doesn't answer.

"But listen, Tank, it's perfect,  there like a machine. They gave me a concussion for God's sake, and then, after slamming our heads together,  which had to have hurt them too, they flipped me. That mother fucker acted like I weighed nothing. They're a fucking tank."

"How many times have I told you to watch your language."

David made a sound comparable to a growl.

Sweetheart rolled their eyes, then looked over to Scraps, to engage them.

"He's not a fan of my filthy mouth."

"I sure am."

"Milo"

David sounded like he wanted to strangle Milo.

Yet, to Scraps surprise no one was scared.

The group just laughed it off.

It was strange to Scraps.

"Ohhh my god!"

Asher shot his hands out to get everyone's attention.

"If you go by Scraps now, and we change it to Tank it's like, like you're being rebuilt, becoming stronger. Which is fucking sick."

David shakes his head at the profanity. Before turning to Scraps.

"It's up to you, it's your name. You don't have to choose now. "

"I like it. I mean, I love it."

That's all they said, they wanted to say more but didn't want to overshare about their life after five minutes of meeting these people.

"I am a tank. So I'll be Tank."

If you'd rather not be tagged let me know and I'll respect your wishes.

@dominimoonbeam @romirola @ejunkiet

#redacted asmr #redactedverse #fanfic #redacted darlin #redacted angst #redacted sam #redacted audio #redacted quinn #redacted fanfic #redacted david #redacted milo #redacted au #redacted sweetheart #redacted asher #redacted tank #redacted angel #boxing au

[daswarschonkaputt]

I just want to tell you how much I loved reading your fic. This is the show I wanted to watch. You did the mafia stuff justice and the characterization was awesome. I loved all the scenes with Chan by the way. All of them. I'm so sad they killed him in the show. One of the very few credible bodyguards *cries*. Anyway thank you so much.

the moment chan shot that guy in the head, out of the side of a moving car, whilst the other guy was in another, equally fast, moving vehicle -- i was in love. i was like, wow. this man knows his shit. an absolutely insane shot.

and then i had to write him, and he was the hardest perspective to handle. why do you know so much you fucker????

i guess i'm a glutton for punishment though because i kept putting him in chapters.

#asked and answered #daddy chan my beloved

[aldcaldos]

just a bunch of Vex Facts™ that have been bouncing around my brain for a while

grew up a kabuki street kid, pickpocketing anyone she could get her grubby little hands on and sharing the pot with a small group of other kids who she ran tiny cons with

she and said group of street rats holed up in an old abandoned, almost collapsed apartment building

she has no contact with any of them in the present, some moved away, others disappeared when they were still young, and the rest....who knows?

became a joytoy and a dancer when she was definitely too young to be doing either (welcome to night city) because the pay seemed better than ‘petty street thief’ and it put food in her stomach

worked her way up that ‘corporate ladder’ surprisingly quickly. went from standing out on jig-jig street and dancing in side-store windows to actual clubs and a somewhat established clientele list (was never super high up, more mid-end  — in her words, “ganger grunts could never afford me but the high up corpos in the shiny suits and silk shirts only looked for me if they were actively trying to slum it, get some dirt under their fingernails. i know who i am.”)

worked as one joytoy in a group employed by a guy who had them all get a tattoo with a tracker in it on the inside of their upper left arms that read “don’t bite the hand that feeds.” when vex later left she had the tracker de-activated and the don’t crossed out.

got into the bd scene very briefly cause it seemed a good way to make some extra cash on the side. scrolled a few good scenes, nothing major, but one or two might still be in circulation somewhere. after all, stuff like that, once it’s out there it gets passed around right?

met jackie one night while coming back from a “meeting” with a client in heywood. was cutting through a back alley to get to the nearest metro station when she’s confronted by a less than savory character who’d seen one of her bds and decided to take liberties he wasn’t invited to. suddenly she’s bleeding with her face shoved into a brick wall, her arm’s twisted behind her back so tight she thinks it’ll snap and there’s a gun pressed against her head. she screams, but this is night city. who here isn’t used to the sound of random screaming at night? who’s going to care? next thing she knows, her attacker is gone and she turns around and comes face to face with a big fucker wearing valentino colors. but instead of being another danger, he’s asking her if she’s okay. her attacker? out cold on the floor from one punch. doesn’t stop her stomping on him with her heels though.

jackie takes her to get cleaned up and to see padre. guy who attacked her? a 6th street gangoon lurking on valentino turf where he shouldn’t have been. jackie’d recently left the gang but that didn’t mean he didn’t still have loyalties. the pair end up at the coyote that night, talking and drinking (vex will mention this at jackie’s funeral, how it “freaked the shit outta mama welles, seeing her son walk in with a scraped up joytoy.”)

she stops being a joytoy that night. jackie takes her under his wing (he got one of his “good feelings” that she never understood but never questioned) and he teaches her the ropes of being a merc. she took to it rather well. 

turns her body into a canvas because it only belongs to her and she doesn’t have to care whether it would make her less profitable.

vex and jackie work together for a few years, but then vex meets Some Guy (i haven’t named him yet go away) and, still being a little foolish, decides to move to atlanta with him. this leads to a huge fight with jackie because they were just starting to make it good as mercs, climbing up the edgerunner food chain, and jackie, who’d never liked her input, just knew it was going to end badly with this dude. if only she’d listened.

fast forward two years and guess who was right? vex, having been left sitting on a curb with her shit in a bag, returns to night city, but doesn’t tell jackie when she arrives, convinced he’ll still be pissed at her. only goes to the coyote after, as in the streetkid origin, she gets almost-mugged in heywood. gets the job from kirk, tries to steal a car, then suddenly jackie’s there with a gun to her head. what a reunion.

jackie did in fact say “i told you so.”

wears synth-cherry flavored lip gloss.

is very good at being manipulative but can’t sneak for shit. little hard to do when you’re dressed head to toe in vibrant neon purple.

collects purple weapons. aesthetic is important. it’s her brand. favors her shot gun.

bit of a pyromaniac. really likes when things go boom. gets the projectile launcher installed in her arm and is a little too giddy about it.

regularly makes messy personal decisions. dino dinovic (who becomes dino dinodick in her phone after the first time they have sex) being one of them.

emotionally stunted. having even more emotionally stunted rockstar johnny silverhand in her head does not help matters in the slightest.

#oc: vex