#I dunno flee the room

[rafeysdoll]

bestie we neeeed dealer!rafe and his fav customer who’s so cute and pretty and he’s absolutely obsessed with her but she’s not falling that easily!!!!

i love love loveeee you and ur brain angel girl. this is an introduction to dealer rafe <3 thanks to @babygazette & @hewwokitti for helping me out

“we.. we should talk in my room, its uh.. loud.” rafe prompts, your dealer sneaking a hand against the small of your back when you nod, pushing you past the bustling crowd. every step you take upwards causes your already short skirt to ride up and expose your plush ass. “here listen, why dont you.. uh,” he trails off, pulling you in front of him in order to cover your back instead.

when you do get to his room, rafe turns you back to him with a large smile, going through drawers before pulling out a small, pink heart bag filled with your desired substance, in arms reach. “oh thats so cute!” you squeal, grabbing the small baggie where you could now see it read ‘favorite customer,’ on it, a tiny doodle of a heart besides.

“oh i bet you tell that to all your customers,” you giggle, batting your lashes as the familiar feeling of heat comes up through your cheeks and ears. you couldn’t help it, rafe always made it clear he liked you, always made sure you felt special as well as having the interest to double check that you’re reacting positively with small flirty replies or lingering touches. “nah, just you pretty.” he drawls, lifting your hand and kissing it softly.

“rafe..” you whisper with a soft smile, looking away from his blue irises. “i know you feel it too baby, you’re just playing coy,” he replies, making a small tsk sound before chuckling. “come on, work with me, alright?”

you take a small step back, shrugging your shoulders when he places one hand on his hip. “dunno what you’re talking about rafey,” you lie, biting your bottom lip. “right, okay. you gonna make me work for it huh?” he licks his lip, nodding as he already sets his plan in motion to sweep you off your kitten heel clad feet.

you stay silent, now looking back at him with a cheeky smile, moving in for a small hug before kissing his cheek. “thanks for the weed rafe!” you squeal before fleeing for the door.

#oceandriveab #rafe ౨ৎ #dealer!rafe #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey fanfiction #outerbanks smut #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks x reader #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron thoughts #rafe cameron

[addie-henderson]

stupid thought popped into my head, imagine Percy and annabeth just taking turns flustering reader, just casually brushing their hands against you on and off or whispering dirty thoughts into your ear. Is this cringy😭

is this cringy? maybe. but I don't care

you choke on your breakfast as the filthy words feel your ears.

"are you ok, doll?" Annabeth asks from across the table. her voice is still sleepy causing a silky Virgina accent a lot like her father's that never seemed to linger very often. you squirm at the sound, flushed as the arm holding you still squeeze tighter.

'do you think she'd notice if touched you under the table? '

Surely she would. Annabeth had a few faults and the lack of perception was not one. Percy smiles softly and shoves a bit of pancake into his mouth. Content with himself. You glance at him and he makes eye contact as if to say 'go on. tell her. '

"well? are you ok, doll." the name is both familiar and foreign from Percy. it's usually used in a joking manner to mock Annabeth more than anything. but the way it rolls of his tongue is frustratingly attractive when it's used to mock you.

" 'm ok. just sleepy." you lie as Percy's hand squeezes your thigh.

Annabeth looks between the two of you suspiciously. but doesn't say anything beyond that. she wasn't a talkative morning person... or a morning person at all. the rest of breakfast is uneventful in your tiny apartment besides the growing flushed feeling in your cheeks everytime a large rough hand runs against your skin.

it had been your turn to do the dishes and you awaited the excuse to flee from the grip of your boyfriend for a moment to catch your breath. however the feeling of rough hands was quickly replaced by cool slender fingers brushing against your stomach as Annabeth pressed her face into your neck from behind. the sound of running water faded into the background as the pounding of your heart reaches your ears. her chest was pressed against your back reminding you that despite her baggie attire (a shirt stolen from Percy) she was not flat. "hi flower..."

"h-hi Annie" you stammer as her hands fold under the fabric of your shirt.

"what is Percy up to with you today?" she poses it as a polite and innocent question, but you know it's anything but.

"I dunno," you huff as her hands brush up closer to your chest. "I swear."

"you swear?"

"swear." you almost whine when her hand pulls out of your shirt leaving your body feeling like you had a fever.

you turn and look pathetically at her with a grumpy expression. Annabeth smiles and kisses your pouting lips.

"well I need to know." she says as she pulls apart. you grumble and grab a fist full of her shirt pulling her back in. you'd be damned if they both left you this way. your lips met hers in a heated frenzy and you push your hips closer to hers in an attempt to seek friction she couldn't provide (at least not standing up right) her hands settle on your hips giving you a warning squeeze to slow yourself, her nails dig slightly into your skin and you feel a tingle up your arm and you pull back. she opens her mouth and you think for sure it's that shes going to tell you you should head back to her room. she leans in again just enough that her lips are almost touching but when you go to greedily close the gap she pulls back.

"if you don't finish the dishes we'll miss our movie."

the movie in question had what's been one of your favorites but now it felt like sitting through hell. it was a showing on cable TV so you couldn't pause or fast forward or reply but you couldn't focus on any of the parts that you knew where your favorites with one hand brushing over your core through your shorts every few minutes and the constant feeling of small kisses pressed into your shoulder where Annabeth rested her head. you can feel your hand flexing in terrible anticipation and frustration growing in your stomach until it pops. "JESUS WILL ONE OF YOU PLEASE JUST FUCK ME."

#cha•°•annabeth #cha•°•percy #•°•percabeth #•°•anon #•°•percabeth x reader #•°•poly

[trickstarbrave]

Things I’m learning from the hygiene UESP page:

>Dunmer prefer no body hair. Did not know that. I suppose that implies it’s done for a practical matter (they do seem to have unique forms of flees and lice based on lore. They could wax to get to prevent the spread to other places in the body)

>Dunmer have nail polish made of shalk resin

>werewolves are very clean and enjoy grooming each other or having special tools for it

>sewer systems are extremely common it seems, and old. The Dwemer likely had indoor plumbing all the time across also castes, but for commoners of other races outhouses and needing to carry water in for washing seem to be the standard. The second era empire built large and complex sewer systems in several major cities tho so I think all races understand and accept them

Questions I still have:

Do you think the Dunmer and Nords like. Bathe privately? For IRL Norse ppl bathing was mostly done in streams, rivers, hot springs, and only large settlements MIGHT have had bath houses. Dunmer I genuinely dunno. I feel like they could have public bath houses easily but then I also remember they are a rude and paranoid ppl. I kinda wanna go with “yes” on the public bath houses.

As for the Nords I think bc they are a colony of the empire and I feel the empire def has public bath houses they slowly introduced those concepts to Skyrim. Only like, major holds really have them though and otherwise if u wanna bathe at a inn or smth u request a tub, take it to ur room, and gotta boil water, fill it, and bathe. And this is only for nice inns too. If ur a place like riverwood they will maybe give u a bucket of u wanna just clean ur face and wipe down but otherwise they expect u to just bathe in the river like everyone else.

[moorishflower]

Apropos of the Addams family post from a few weeks back: Hob meeting Gomez and them immediately vibing. Freak4freak friendship. Taking one look at the horrific sublime and wanting to kiss it with tongue

GOD yes like I have trouble imagining writing Hob meeting Gomez Addams actually because the IPs are so different but if he ever did it would be IMMEDIATE recognition. Same hat vibes. Have you beheld my big beautiful spouse? Behold them and despair (the despair is lovely this time of year)

Like can you imagine Hob attending ANY function in the Dreaming, either as the Dreamlord's husband or his consort? Normal McNormalman wandering around amongst gods and fey and nightmares and angels and being so painfully ordinary and HUMAN that he loops back around to being just. The cryptid in the room. Everyone whispering to each other, "Does anyone know that guy? Who is that? Did he sneak in?"

Hob just happily chatting away eating canapes and mingling and discussing footie with satyrs and shit, and finally some asshole god or demigod strolls on up to him and clears their throat, and demands to know "Who are you? Why are you here? You're just some human."

And Hob blinks his big beautiful brown cow eyes and he says "Oh! I'm here with my husband! Here he is now!" And just simp mode activates IMMEDIATELY. Dream standing there in full nightmare regalia glowering daggers at whoever has dared to impugn the honor of HIS husband, visibly bleeding shadows while the unfortunate guest contemplates how swiftly their mortality is about to be ripped from their still-conscious body, and Hob tucks his arm through Dream's, "How's your night been so far, baby? Good party, the brownies seemed very interested in the latest scores for Manchester, think they might be close to setting up a league of their own, dunno who they'd play against though. Christ, you look fantastic tonight. Doesn't he look fantastic? We should definitely dance later, imagine how you'd look on the floor with all these shadows around you. Phwoar. Are you thirsty, darling?"

"Wine will suffice."

"Sure, love, be right back. Nice talking with you, mate!" And off he trots to the refreshments table, and meanwhile Dream has expanded to roughly 1.5 times his normal height and living darkness wreathes him in an aura of cold sweat and midnight shivers, and he has to lean down almost at the waist to address whoever this unfortunate SOB is. Blinking slow and deliberate, like a lizard eyeing a mouse.

"You are lucky. My husband is in a charitable mood. If you ever speak ill of him again. It will not be his mercy you must seek."

And Hob comes back with two glasses of wine right as Dream is straightening up, and the unfortunate god or demigod looks like they're about to simultaneously weep and piss themselves, and he gives Dream his drink and then in a smooth and seamless motion gets his arm around Dream's waist and dips the 8ft tall nightmare man. Logically, and based on their respective heights, it should not be that easy, but Dream is visibly enjoying it.

"My sweet," Hob is murmuring into Dream's clavicle, "my darling, my Dream. Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?"

"Yes. But tell me again."

And at this point Hob's would-be detractor takes the opportunity to flee, just as Hob is planting a line of smacking kisses up the Dreamlord's neck. "Beautiful," he's saying, "ravishing, stunning, awe-inspiring."

And after that there's a sort of flyer or pamphlet that gets circulated through a bunch of supernatural circles, with Hob Gadling's name and description and picture, THIS IS THE PRINCE-CONSORT OF THE NIGHTMARE KING, HE IS ALLOWED AND ENCOURAGED TO BE HERE.

#ask response #the sandman #dreamling

[pinkiepiebones]

Passing this question back to you, how do you think Renfield felt after he was freed from Dracula and how did he cope (or not) ?

Terrified.

The day after Dracula's demise hordes of three-letter agencies descended on the apartment complex and the Lobo's estate to try to ascertain what the fuck had happened. Rebecca had sensed something like that happening and, after she and Robert revived his codependents group, she had driven Robert to his place so he could pack some things. "You're gonna crash with me a while," she said. It wasn't a question.

He picked up his Welcome mat and threw it down to the pile of Lobo and police bodies three stories down. His packing was rushed, but practiced. He had to learn how to flee places in a hurry over the decades. He had to learn how to move with blood sticking to his skin and wounds oozing. He had to learn to watch his hands move as a terrible voice roared in his head and claws wormed into his sinew. He turned to leave and startled at the sight of Rebecca sitting on his sofa.

"Dude, you took like three seconds." She frowned. "Did you just shove some shit in a grocery bag?" She stood, shaking her head. "C'mon big guy, let's try to not panic, okay?"

Robert nodded, obedient.

Rebecca found his backpack- not in use, sitting empty on the shelf in his closet, purchased because it made him smile (it was made to look as though it had been fashioned from sunny quilt blocks). Rebecca spoke gently, now, guiding him to pack three of most of his articles of clothing for the time being. There was no way to tell how long the investigations would take. "And we can always buy you more stuff," she added. She recounted a time when Kate had been packing for some trip in high school and their father had joked about the overpacking. "He said, 'funny how stores cease to exist when you travel, huh?' because she was gonna be gone for a week but she had like six suitcases..."

Robert nodded, attentive.

The ride back to Rebecca's house was quiet. Robert watched her most of the drive. He clambered out of the passenger seat and grabbed his backpack and followed her inside.

Rebecca guided him while telling him about her small house. He looked at the pictures on the wall in the hallway. He studied the lives inside the frames. Then he followed Rebecca into the guest room.

"You," she said as he neared, "need a shower. So do I, probably, but, y'know, age before beauty or whatever. I gotta go check the heater, so, uh." She spread her hands. "Make yourself at home, roomie."

Robert set his bag on the guest bed and stood in the middle of the room, the muffled sounds of suburbia beyond the heavy curtains overwhelming his senses. How often he had hunted in just such a world, how often those sounds- lawnmowers and dogs and children- had simply meant 'Master's meals.' He pressed a hand to his mouth to suppress a scream and the wave of nausea that hit him.

Your sole purpose in life is to serve me.

Robert swallowed his guilt and his self hatred and ventured back out into Rebecca's house.

Rebecca jumped when she turned to find Robert standing behind her.

"Fuck!"

"Is there anything I can do?"

She looked at him, scrutinizing. "I dunno, this thing's just getting on in years."

"I meant, uh, in general?" He smiled. "How can I be of service?"

"No."

"No?"

Rebecca stormed past him. "You are not replacing him with me, don't even start down that path."

Robert chuckled nervously. "Oh, I didn't mean-"

Rebecca turned back and took Robert's hands in hers. "I know you didn't mean it. But you gotta know that this codependency stuff is going to keep messing with you, right? So, just-" She squeezed his hands. "You keep yourself from trying to be servanty, okay? I'm a big girl, I've been takin' care of myself a long time. You only have to serve you, got it?"

Robert felt tears sting his eyes.

"I don't know how to do this. God knows I'm trying, but now that he's gone, his voice isn't in my head, I can finally hear my own thoughts, and..." Robert gently pulled away from Rebecca.

"All I can think about is him."

His friend nodded. "I mean, we did just chop him up and mix him in cement and dump him into the sewer. I'm thinking about him too." She smiled and patted his arm. "C'mon, let's get the last of his blood offa you, maybe that'll help."

Rebecca had an idea; instead of Robert taking a shower, she offered to help him wash his hair as he took a bath, and he was glad for it. He felt a bit silly sitting in her tub, his long legs bent and a towel shoved around his waist for his sense of modesty, but that silly feeling ebbed as the warmth of the water around him seeped into his tired bones and Rebecca carefully leaned over to scrub at his hair with something that smelled like chamomile and lavender. He damn near purred at the sensation of her blunt nails gently scraping his scalp and her calloused fingers winding through his hair. He leaned his head back so she could pour a cup of water on his head to rinse, careful to guide the shampoo suds away from his face.

Rebecca pulled a few towels from a cabinet and plopped them on the counter by the sink. "Okay, I think you can handle it from here. I'm gonna grab a shower and then we'll figure out dinner. Sound good?"

Robert nodded, content.

#renfield #renfield 2023 #I never actually fill prompts do I I just glance at them as I am running headlong into a different story

[casualsnickers]

what is going on in that head of his ?

it took a few days for me to work out how i wanted to get this dumb dumb in my style but i settled for... whatever it is he's supposed to be. dunno. i keep thinking he has a tail but i know he doesn't

i liked wigglytuff and i still do still like his character. dude sleepwalks with his eyes open, can cry loud enough to cause earth tremors and shatter glass, completely solo'ed team skull without batting an eye, is essentially an exploring prodigy and knows things he shouldn't, collaborated with a criminal when he was a literal child, but like, can i see some of that wackiness around the main protagonists? i mean, he essentially runs a gang. half of the jobs from this place are about beating up thieves and miscreants and the morning chants recounts that if you try to flee during training... well, best i not mention that.

i just think it would've been hilarious if during the graduation trial, the game devs would've made wigglytuff absolutely busted. give him hyper voice and let him strike all enemies in the room with a power similar to spacial rend or roar of time. considering that he can still move when he's asleep, i don't think sleep spore or sleep seeds would work on him either. oh, and maybe agility and earthquake just to ensure he's a nightmare to battle :)

#pokemon #pokeblogging #mystery dungeon #pkmn #pmd explorers #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd #pokémon #pmd eos #wigglytuff

[cthulhusstepmom]

It's a pretty unanimous conclusion that Ghost can't find out about the reptiles, for his own sake, at least until Hugo and Wee Man have found forever homes. Soap isn't stupid, he knows that he won't be able to keep it up forever, he's just asking for a little more time is all. Naturally this leads to some shenanigans.

One day in early summer, Soap's sitting at a rickety picnic table near where he and Ghost go to smoke. It's isolated from the rest of the base and it's pretty solidly established as Ghost's territory so he doesn't have to worry about people. On the table is Peach, the beardie with mbd named in honor of his boy at home, enjoying some natural uvb and dandelion greens. He's arranged a meeting with the people he's found for her next weekend and he's spoiling her nonstop until then. All of a sudden there's a tickling in his hindbrain, the sort of feeling you get when a big cat is just out of sight. It can only mean one thing. Ghost. Panicking only a little bit, Soap frantically does the only thing he can, he shoves Peach up his shirt. What follows is probably the most awkward conversation he's ever had with his Lt. which is a shame because the fair weather has put Ghost in a truly legendary good mood. Soap is a highly trained operative, he's stared his torturers in the face and laughed at them but the pain of razor sharp little bearded dragon claws scrabbling at his chest and catching on totally regulation nipple piercings is enough to make his eyes water.

A few days after Peach goes to her new home he ends up filling the vacancy in the rescue hotel, it never stays empty for very long. This time the poor critter is a baby blue tongue skink rescued from an abandoned apartment building in a warzone. The private that brings him the lizard looks about as nervous as can fucking be, he can't really blame the poor lass what with Ghost looming in the corner like the specter of death itself, deadly silent and exuding enough malice to curdle their breakfast on the table and turn the fish belly up in their tank. Thankfully the box is discreet with a few nondescript airholes cut in the side. The private thanks him stutteringly and flees the rec room like her heels are on fire. Ghost doesn't say anything, simply raises an expectant eyebrow while Gaz and Price studiously drop peas into the fish tank. Soap just shrugs "care package" he says with a cheesy wink. Ghost scoffs and it's seems like it's put to rest, though his Lt. sticks to him like glue for the rest of the day.

The closest he'd come to discovery was late one night. He'd screamed himself awake about a half hour before and, unable to get back to sleep, is just cuddling on his bed with Wee Man. A quiet, almost hesitant knock on his door brings his attention away from the snake. It's so quiet that he almost writes it off as his tired brain playing tricks on him. But then whoever it is knocks again, a little more firmly this time. Quickly, Soap disentangles himself from Wee Man, leaving him to explore the bed, anything he could get into is locked and he's too big to get into any crevices anyway. Cracking the door open he doesn't know what he expects but it sure as hell isn't Ghost, dressed down in loose pajama bottoms and an old ratty hoodie with a soft black balaclava hugging his face. He suddenly becomes very aware of the fact that he's just in boxers.

"Ghost?"

His Lt squints a bit at his name, almost as if he wasn't sure he'd get this far.

"Couldn't sleep, heard you were up..." probably the most tactful way to acknowledge his screams of terror "...can I come in?"

Cold panic flushes through Soap, only made worse by the scaly nose he can feel start to nudge his leg. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Wee Man, social butterfly that he is, is trying to force his head in between the crack in the door and Soap's leg.

"Och I dunno, it's a right fuckin mess in here right now." He hedges trying to gently maneuver a living rope of pure muscle longer than he is tall with just his bare foot. The crestfallen, vulnerable expression on Ghost's covered face makes something in him cry out. His Lt. starts to say something but Johnny doesn't let him finish. "But if ye'll lemme put some pants on I can make ye some of the chamomile tea ye like? We could go to yer room if ya'd like, might be able to see the floor too." He winks, seeing the exact moment Ghost notices his state of undress, the tops of his cheeks going the slightest bit rosy. And maybe it's that time of night where nothing quite feels real but he could swear he sees his Ghost smile a relieved smile.

"I'd like that."

#look at these beautiful dumbasses #communication is important kids don't hide whole ass creatures from your will they won't they millitary spouse #to be fair to Soap these are probably the worst critters for Ghost to meet trauma wise #a semi venemous and a large constrictor not great #from what I've seen of the comics his dads snake looks like either a boa or a retic but theres also semi cannon info about venom scars? #im not 100% sure if thats dumbasses who dont know snakes or if thats his time with the cartel? #not that i trusted the military propagandists to do adequate research but it's still disappointing #vulnerable Ghost my beloved #cod mw2 #ghost x soap #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #reptile person soap #simon ghost riley #fish person gaz

[tfp-enthusiast]

The neutral Bot

[Just a little idea that came into my head, i might make a series out of this or something, i dunno what elese to do with this]

I will probably make a few headcanons and oneshots for both con's and bot's.

You never really wanted to be a part in the cybertronian war, but no one could escape from it. You saw many of your friends fall both by decepticons and autobots and while you hated both parties because of that, you learned to that you can't forever hate and hold grudges. Almost all of your friends died back on cybertron, some could flee with you, but they all eventually died.

After your last companion died you held your distance from everybot and that worked for a few millenia. But you knew that it couldn't always be like this which made you think about what you would do if you ran into some bots.

You couldn't join anyone, not only because of your past but also because you didn't want to permanently be on one side. What would you do if the side you're on isn't as great as you thought? You could never switch sides- the decepticons would offline you almost immediately when you choose to betray them and the autobots, at least some of them, wouldn't be acting any different.

So you choose to be a neutral, you didn't know if there where others like you and if it would even be accepted but you would eventually find out.

After a long time you finally got a signal of new energon and you where sure that you would meet other bots there.

The instruments inside your ship began to blink wildly, a sight that would irritate any other bot but you got used to it now, which got your attention after making a double take just to be sure that you weren't seeing things.

"Primus.. That is a lot of energon! I could make a stop, i needed to get out here anyway, why not now?"

You also landed for another reason: You knew that there would be another bots, with an energon signal that strong and in such masses there would be no way that you where the first to find it.

It took you some time to get to the planet, you did actually found out that it's called earth by the native species even though you couldn't find much else in the databank of your ship you still where surprised to find anything about it, you landed more to the side of an energon signal because you couldn't risk your ship right now on this unknown planet.

You walked around fifteen kliks until you saw something move in front of a seemingly energon mine. You brandished your knife on your right servo and slowly approached the mine and possible some bots.

You where right. There where bots, decepticons to be exact, which where transporting energon out of the mine and trough a groundbridge. You lowered your blade to your side, but you still where ready to defend yourself if they attacked you, and walked out in the plain sight so they wouldn't think that you tried to spy on them or attack them.

The vehicons saw you almost immediately and pointed their blasters at you but you already knew that this was gonna happen.

"I don't want to fight you, I just landed here."

The vehicons seemed conflicted and a little confused about what you said. Just a few nanokliks later two of them walked towards you, which you didn't see as an attack as they didn't point their weapons at you, and took you towards the open groundbridge.

You didn't dare say anything when you where in, presumably, the so called Nemesis which was a little shocking for you considering that you just showed up but you accepted it. Not that there was a choice for you, but still.

You soon got into the control room where the vehicons who brought you stood guard infront of instead of going with you.

When you got inside almost instantly froze in your steps when you saw just who they brought you to. Megatron, Lord Megatron.

You couldn't get yourself to speak for a moment out of fear and surprise from seeing the warlord just a few steps away from you.

"Why where you at the mine?"

You internally shivered at his voice, it sank deep and you wouldn't be forgetting it soon, but build the courage to answer after a short moment.

"I was on the search for energon and came across the strong signal on this planet. I choose the nearest signal and saw the troops, i didn't know if it where autobots or decepticons, I got ready to fight if needed but didn't want to if i could avoid it."

For a few kliks there was silence. It made you nervous and you thought about all the things that could happen if he thinks that you lied.

"I see... Answer me one question. Why couldn't we see if you where an autobot or an decepticon?"

Now was the moment that you imagined so many times while you where traveling. You where filled with dread yet you where curious too, Megatron decides what happens and while you also thought about what thr autobots would do you knew that they wouldn't be as brutal as him.

Your words seemed like they couldn't come out and it was almost painful to say it even though you memorized the words for this situation. It wasn't really as easy as you thought it would be but what did you expect to happen? You where one of the few, maybe the only one, that choose to be a neutral which could make you to a target of both sides or, if you get lucky, it could save your life.

"It's because I'm a neutral sir. I chose to not stand on anyone's side."

There was this silence again. But this time it seemed like the warlord was genuinely surprised or even confused about what you just said.

"..Why did you choose to be one?"

"Because i couldn't take one side. Both autobots and decepticons have killed my partners but i realized i wouldn't survive if i kept hating both so i choose to just be on the side that helps me most and for that i would help them."

You felt ill after you said those words. You where glad that you could get it over with so fast but now you where nervous, no afraid, about the warlord's reaction. He was known to loose his tempter quite often and you didn't know if you wanted to find out what would happen to you if he did.

"You are saying that you help both sides? Some kind of spy for both sides?"

"–No, I wouldn't say any information of location or plans, because it would be the end of me right there, i would help at the base or a mine. Maybe on the battlefield but I didn't fight for a long time.."

"I would like to see what you are capable to do here. But if you ever even think about tricking me i will rip out your spark and make you watch the whole time. Do you understand?"

"–Yes, sir!"

"You will be brought into the medbay now and then we will see what you will be doing here."

Knockout had to burn half of the decepticon logo onto your right shoulder because even though you where a neutral you still where, somewhat, a part of the decepticons and Megatron wanted to let other bots know that and that there would be consequences if someone hurt one of his best bots.

You where with the decepticons for quite a while, you even met some autobots and that quite often, and it seemed like nothing would change. But fate is sometimes mysterious and changes as quick as day and night.

You just got back with your ship after searching for an old friend of yours but sadly you where too late to safe them. You mourned them and buried them before you took of again.

You thought about what you would do now and where to go again but soon decided that you would just go back to earth and look what happens next.

Almost immediately after you landed on earth you saw some autobots walk towards you and your ship. It where Arcee and Bulkhead, you met both already plenty of times and they knew what and who you where which made the situation a whole lot easier.

You still where confused about something small, a human to be exact, running towards you.

"I know you! You are some kind of joker for both sides right? Bulkhead told me about you and–"

"Uh Miko, I think you should give them a small break."

It went a lot more smoothly than with the decepticons even though the autobots where a little hesitant about letting you into their base. But you understood that issue, unlike the decepticons the autobots couldn't just keep moving away with their equipment and all.

But they decided to trust you and let you in but you had to make a promise not to tell the con's about it when you where with them again.

You where in awe at their base even though it wasn't nearly as professional as the Nemesis it had something homey about it and you missed that feeling.

You had to talk with Optimus Prime because he wanted to know a little more about you and what you actually do. The talk was short but pleasant, it didn't surprise you that he hadn't that much time because he still is a prime, and you soon could roam freely around and get to know everyone.

The autobots soon saw the decepticon half on your shoulder and questioned you why it was there if you where a neutral. It soon made click in their helms that they should probably do the same but with their logo, you where a little exited to see a new bots reaction to this because you where sure that this never happened before, and soon Ratchet got to work.

It took some time to get used to the humans but they where really fascinating actually and they seemed to like you. You became some sort of caretaker for them and even helped them with school or some other things.

In the end you seemed to have a home, or rather two to be exact, and some new friends. One thing you told both sides was that you would never hurt anyone from both the con's and bot's because you couldn't bring yourself to hurt a friend.

You often went on travels trough the universe or around the solar system you where currently in to relax and sometimes you even took a bot or two with you so you could have a few moments of peace. You knew that it was equally hard for both sides in these times and you always tried your best to make them at least smile for a small moment.

Thank you for reading this small idea of mine! I wish you a good day/night and hope you enjoyed this.

#tfp Decepticons #tfp Decepticons x reader #cybertronian reader #tfp Autobots #tfp Autobots x reader #Neutral!Bot AU

[homerforsure]

Forced drinking fic 👀

Anon, I am so sorry for this. I started working on it and realized I have no idea what I'm doing yet and also this part doesn't actually have any forced drinking.

Basically the premise is that there are some guys fleeing a manhunt and they force their way into Buck's apartment to take refuge. They tie him up and help themselves to some alcohol. (i can't decide if buck is supplying a party or if they bring some themselves OR if Buck just has a well-stocked kitchen cabinet. And then they decide it's rude not to share with him.

Obviously Eddie calls in the middle because there's a manhunt in Buck's neighborhood.

The buzzing seemed to get louder with every ring. Buck tried to turn his body to trap the phone between his thigh and the railing to muffle the sound, but all that did was let it reverberate all the way down the staircase and echo through the room until voicemail caught the call. 

“Is that you?” Cujo asked the cowboy. 

The cowboy scrunched up his brow. “Where would I get a phone?”

“I thought you kept the burner.” 

Shaking his head, the cowboy said, “Snapped it and dropped it on the way. That’s coming from him.”

He jerked his head toward Buck without looking up from the cards he was shuffling and the other two men turned their heads toward him. Buck strained to keep his eyes on them, the instinct of prey not to lose track of the predators, and quick breaths puffed in and out of his nose as the bike lock pressed into the underside of his chin like a knife. 

“Who is it?” Cujo asked. 

“Dunno,” Buck answered, swallowing around the lie as his heart pounded in the cadence of the names of everyone he hoped wasn’t at the other end of the line. “I was expecting a call about my car’s extended warranty. Might be them.” 

They kept staring at him, drinking from their liquor bottles and Buck fought to keep from squirming under the scrutiny. He felt the next call a split second before the buzzing echoed again down the railing and let his head fall back against the stair.

“Sounds important,” Cujo said, pushing his chair against the table and rising to his feet. “We better make sure everything’s okay.” 

“Don’t,” Buck said, pressing his feet into the stair as if he could push himself out of the way. The move put more weight on his screaming shoulders and Buck groaned as Cujo put his foot on the first stair. “Stop, man. Just leave it. Fuck. Stop!”

In a terrible, thoughtless miscalculation, Buck kicked out at Cujo, trying to break his kneecap or at least keep him back. He caught him on the thigh, but all it did was bring his ankle close enough for Cujo to grab and yank, laughing as Buck’s ass slid off the stair he was on. The u-lock slammed into his throat, driving a strangled cry out of his mouth and his arms were ripped up again by the bindings that were attached to the other end of it. 

As Buck dangled, gasping wetly for breath, Cujo dropped his leg, but planted his foot on Buck’s thigh, keeping him from getting any purchase and pushing himself back up. 

“I told you earlier,” he said conversationally, bending down to dig through Buck’s pockets. “If you’re going to be feisty, you gotta get a lot better at it.” 

Cujo’s fingers closed around the phone, pulling it free just as it stopped ringing. He lifted his foot as soon as he had his prize and Buck, still choking, flailed again, this time scrambling to catch the edge of the step. Blackness sparkled at the edges of his vision and his throat throbbed and he couldn’t find it. Panic disconnected Buck from his limbs. His trachea might be broken. He was going to strangle to death. He wheezed and kicked and then…

With one massive fist, Cujo seized Buck by his belt buckle and hoisted him up. Air flooded his lungs and Buck could only lay limply on the stairs as blood rushed in his ears and his entire body seemed to throb. 

“Aww, would you look who it is,” Cujo said, holding the phone up to Buck’s face. “We probably should call him back, don’t you think? Poor guy might be starting to worry.” 

Black spots continued to pulse in his vision, but Buck could see the name of his missed caller on the screen and his racing heart only pounded harder. 

Eddie <3

#birthday snips #forced drinking fic #buck whump #am writing

[violetlunette]

Spoilers for TWST Chapter 7

So, correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems like Silver’s mom abandoned him. I know the fairies told her to run, but Leah was in the same room as Silver when the attack happened. She could have run over and grabbed him, or something, so they could flee together. But instead, she just left him. This isn’t like Malenore's situation, who was going to fight the enemy to keep her son safe, Leah was fleeing for her own safety while leaving her child to the fairies. (Again, from what I understand, I’ve been wrong a lot lately.) If this is true, it’s an interesting contrast with Malleus’ parents; Leven (Reven?) “died” trying to find peace (as he was a diplomat who disappeared reaching out) and The Dawn Knight died to aid in conquest with his bastard-in-law. Malenore died to fight for her son’s life while Leah “died” fleeing for her own. Both mothers left their sons but did so for different reasons. (Not that I think Leah is a bad person, I’m just overthinking here. I’m sure she thought the fairies could protect Silver better than her.) Still, I think it's kind of interesting. I dunno, I’m rambling. Your thoughts?

#twst #twst silver #silver twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland silver #silver twisted wonderland #silver vanrouge #chapter 7 #twst ch7 #twst spoilers #again maybe I'm wrong

[kydrogendragon]

For the WIP tag game—I’m very interested in The Raven King!!

Peeps enjoy the concept of the Raven King xD I answered another ask here if you're curious about more of it and some more background/premise. Since I've got 20k words of it to poke through, have another snippet!

“It’s a lovely space,” Hob said, looking around. To the left and right of him, the balcony continued, curving around the room. The ceilings curved upwards, connecting to the main ceiling where carefully carved stone pillars reached down to the floor below. Glass panes, not colored this time, lay inside the roofline, allowing the winter sunlight to stream through. The storm seems to have passed, Hob noted. “Do you host many grand balls?” The king stayed silent for a time. Hob’s gaze eventually returned to the tall, dark haired king when he started to speak. “It has been a… long time.” The Raven King turned and looked down at the room below. “You are a very interesting individual, Robert Gadling.” Hob chuckled, crossing his arms on the stone ledge and resting his head atop them. “That so? More than the usual blokes you bring here every fifty years then?” The king’s brow raises as he glances back to Hob. “You are aware of me then?” Hob tilted his head from side to side. “Yes and no? Just that bit. Still don’t get the fire thing. Not that it matters much, I suppose. I’m here now, aren’t I?” The king hummed in response. “I suppose.”The pair stood in silence once more. The gentle crackling of the fire of the sconces on the wall were the only sound. “Most try to flee, after coming here. You have not.” “Were they ever successful?” The king breathed out, gentle, but almost a sigh. “No.” “S’what I thought. Figured all running would do would make me tired before I died. Besides, dunno where I am. Dunno where I’d run to.” The king’s brows furrowed. “Died?” Hob hummed in reply. “You believe I brought you here to kill you?” Hob shrugged. “Killed, sacrificed, used in some magical godly ritual,” he said, swirling his hand in the air as he spoke. “Whatever you want to call it. That’s why I’m here, right? Why else would you take people?” A cold hand brushes his skin, guiding his face by the chin to look at the godly thing in front of him. The Raven King’s eyes stare deep into his own as he spoke. “I did not bring you here to kill you, Robert Gadling. I have brought you here to live.” “What?” The king’s lips twitched. “Is that what the village believes? That I maim and kill those I take?” “I mean… yeah? I think?” The king hummed. “Perhaps that is for the best, then.” Releasing Hob’s chin from his hold, the king slots his hands behind his back and turns from the balcony. “Come, I will show you to your quarters.”

#ky asks #wip game

[yanderefantasies]

May I ask for some yandere Headcanon with Andrew and an SO that has been kidnapped ?

Hope you're doing good 👍

Yeah I’m doin sorta okay- allergies are kicking my ass rn. Considering adding some new fandoms to the masterlist, dunno tho. Anyway- hope you’re all well:)

-Despite appearances, Andrew isn’t as aggressive n shit as people stereotype him to be, but he also isn’t some boy who needs to be babied. He’s a grown man with issues, but has a damn heart for fucks sake.

-Andrew wouldn’t treat his abducted darling harshly, if anything, he’d feel guilty for what he’d done. But he knows it’s already too late to turn back at that point either way.

-Because of this, don’t expect much talking for him for awhile. It’s mostly just mumbled apologies and avoiding eye contact when he brings some food to your room or something, but that’s about it. Eventually, once he tries getting over the guilt of taking you away, he’ll start thinking about delusional possibilities for the future.

-He’ll warm up eventually. Greet you, try to smile a little and touch your hand when giving you something. Things like that. Thought, as stated before, he isn’t a man to be babied. Don’t think he’s some soft fool that’ll roll over for you with a snap of your fingers. He knows what he wants, and that’s a relationship with you. He plans to get that one way or another.

-He wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you, but he’s definitely had to leave the room a few times in fits of anger because of your insults and behavior. But, he quickly turns around and comes back soon enough with a hesitant smile on his face, writing it off as you being in a mood that day.

-I don’t think Andrew would ever turn to violence. He’s not that type of man. But, he isn’t against manipulation, making you think you want and need him, just as he does with you. It may start with simple things, like guilt tripping you about his childhood, for one. But also taking advantage of your isolation, saying that you need him with you.

-He’s a strong man, I wouldn’t suggest trying to fight and flee. If anything, you’ll just worry him. This man dug up and carried coffins for a living, he’s clearly not weak. But as stated before- he wouldn’t hurt you. Just a little restraining you until you tire out should do the trick.

#yandere #yandere male #yandere hcs #yandere x reader #yandere blog #yandere prompts #headcanons #Andrew kreiss #yandere Andrew kreiss #yandere Gravekeeper #yandere identity v #yandere identity v x reader #identity v x reader #andrew kreiss x reader #male reader #gay #mlm blog #yandere mlm #yandere idv

[forlorn-crows]

i just want dew to be loved so....

Aether peppers little kisses behind his horns, across his cheekbones, along the curve of his jaw. He wraps his big hands around Dew’s waist, pulling him closer against his chest.

“Aethe—what—” his hands are dripping with dishwater where he’s holding them above the sink like a helpless praying mantis. Aether just keeps kissing him, laughter bubbling up in his chest as he purposefully gets more enthusiastic. He noses for that spot on Dew’s neck that makes him crazy, but his breath is huffing over his skin with silent giggles, only serving to make Dew scrunch up and attempt to flee.

“Stop you bastard—t-tickles, stop, Aetheee,” he whines, fangs desperately trying to stifle the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Aether bumps his horns into Dew’s affectionately, ceasing his onslaught of kisses. “You’re just so cute, I couldn’t resist.”

Dew reaches for a nearby towel, still pinned against the quintessence ghoul’s body. “Right, because me doing the dishes is so attractive.”

Aether gasps in mock offense. “Excuse me, it is. I saw you from across the room and my heart stopped, fire lily.”

Dew’s face burns. “Whatever,” he mumbles, tossing the dishtowel on the counter. He crosses his arms and peers at Aether out of the corner of his eye, mouth still fighting back a grin.

“Look at you,” he presses the pad of a finger into the corner of Dew’s mouth, smiling wide. “Acting all shy. Like you don’t know how cute you are.”

Dew hangs his head, silvery hair falling to block his face. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“See! Doing it again,” he teases, pleased with the peek of dusty pink now running down his neck. Aether brushes the hair away from his face. “I love you all flustered,” he mutters, kissing the shell of his pointed ear. An involuntary shiver runs down Dew’s spine.

“I’m not flustered. Now if you’ll excuse me I have dishes to finish, thank you very much.”

“I think you’re a filthy liar,” Aether laughs, pulling him closer still. Dew wriggles in his grasp. Aether easily adjusts his grip to still the chaotic fire ghoul. He rubs his nose into Dew’s hair, inhaling the smell of cinnamon and shampoo. He exhales, purring contently.

“Do you know how crazy you make me? I just wanna eat you up,” he trills.

The reverberations are slightly intoxicating, lulling even. Aether’s still nosing and mouthing at his ear, over and over on that sensitive spot just above the back of the lobe. The combination of both of these things plus Aether’s words has him easily melting into the bigger ghoul, tipping his head back to rest on his collarbone and whining under his breath.

“Oh, like that, do you? Not distracting you, am I?” Aether asks with false innocence.

Dew ignores the tone entirely, in fact completely distracted by him. “N-no, I love it,” he stutters.

“Mm, I love you, honeydew.” Normally the rhyme would make him roll his eyes and scoff, but right now he couldn’t care less. Aether continues to kiss at the expanse of blushed skin between his ear and shoulder, pace considerably lazier and more pointed than before. His hands are roaming too, up and down his arms, his torso, palming at his waist. He gasps as Aether runs one hand down the front of his hip, sucking lightly on the junction of his neck at the same time.

He spins around in Aether’s grasp, looking up at him through long lashes. He runs a finger down his chest, stopping to poke him in the sternum.

“Why don’t you show me how much you love me, since you so rudely interrupted my chores, hm?”

Aether grins, grasping Dew’s chin with one hand. He leans in, centimeters from Dew’s lips.

“My pleasure.”

#i wrote this in literally 30 mins #no beta we die like men #ficlet #fanfic #the band ghost #i just want dew to be a happy bean #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #fluff #anon #ask #sort of #by proxy

[amypihcs]

Helloooo! Let's see today's letter, what do you say?

The boys approach the house from which the signals are coming and hey! Who's there?

Hey! It's Gregson! Holmes? Normal greeting? Well, i call 'darling' a lot of people i can accept that! Gregson nowadays just... ACCEPTS. Holmes to pop up in interesting cases from the blue. He gave up trying!

WAITWAITWAIT, MR HOLMES! Signals? Well, one for you. AND one for us! AH! -introductions with american detective follow- This scene sounds so much early case as well! Gregson admitting almost between his teeth that Holmes' presence is good during a case and so on.

Now WHO ARE YOU LOOKING FOR, Gregson? Detective?

WAIT, THAT ONE GUY? Holmes KNOWS this man, reassuring! Or maybe not. how comes that you're here?

Lol, Gregson admitting that Holmes usually knows more than the official police. AAAAAAnd the american believes that they've been seen? And it's the reason the signals stopped. Now, since it's an early case and it's CLEAR, i find incredibly weird and quite amusing that both officers turn to the youngest of the group

Ah Watson! What a nice backhanded compliment. Did they discover of the abbey grange affair and kick your door down? So you wrote this as a way to make your apologies? (as it was published in 1911... could be!)

Three englishmen (one of them is probably scottish) and an american enter a room and...

Tho. He's dead. That one Gorgiano they were looking for.

Hey Holmes? What are you doing with the candle?

Toh! The misterious lodger!

She is reacting quite well at the scene! Good! Now where is Gennaro? Who signaled? -Holmes raising his hand-

Also, little comment as an Italian. Doyle. My man. You really couldn't've found a more stereotypical neapolitan name.

Time for the London force to express itself in the person of inspector Gregson!

Holmes going Hey, Stop, let's y'know, THINK. She wants to tell the story, we want the story. Let's listen to her! And is nice enough to explain her that what you say could be used against you during the trial.

She tells her tale, born in Posillipo, couldn't marry because her fatehr disagreed, fled to America after eloping and marrying in Bari, hubby was part of the secret society 'Il cerchio rosso'. DAMN. (Also this boosts my sensation of an early case. if the man is around 30 and we are, using @skyriderwednesday's chronology in '85, he would've been born in '55 and so perfectly in time to still join a Carboneria-like society maybe with the intent of getting Rome, which became the Italian capital city only in 1871) Well, in NY all seems to go well, but Oh crap. Gorgiano. Among other things he also tries to assault Emilia and the couple flees to London. And Gorgiano's pretty end is Gennaro's handywork. And so now what should we do?

DUNNO what you officers are doing, i'm getting my Watson to the Wagner night! Bye, Gregson!

And now the plans for our next story!

Hey! Wasn't this a pre-norwood builder and post-empty house one? It'll be interesting!

#letters from watson #sherlock holmes #dr watson #HEY WATSON WAGNER NIGHT WITH ME -Holmes #Watson being very bi #victorian husbands

[go-to-the-mirror]

@a-mag-a-day

Before I get into the relisten: hot jon rights.

This is going to be another stream of consciousness ramble. Maybe I'll say something good, maybe I won't.

(The official transcript.)

CW for a little bit of paranoia inducing rambling about Alternates from TMC.

BREEKON That's right. Just wanted… to… to drop off a package.

The way Breekon speaks, all broken up. It's just so sad :(

BREEKON Dunno. ‘s not right on my own. Not right. No point in doing it on my own. Dunno what happens now. Thought I might kill you. Missed my chance. Thought I might just deliver something. So, here’s a coffin. In case you want… to join your friend.

It's sad about Breekon hours :( How are you supposed to mourn for a part of yourself? How are you supposed to heal when you're literally incomplete.

BREEKON Make me. [A whooshing noise starts to rise with Breekon’s words, but immediately ceases when the Archivist speaks] ARCHIVIST Stop. [Heavy static rises] BREEKON What’re you doing? BASIRA Jon, what are you doing? BREEKON What’re you— Stop it. Stop it! ARCHIVIST No. [Breekon winces in pain] BREEKON Enough! Stop looking at me! [Breekon lets out a final cry and flees, a door is hear distantly. Static diminishes]

HOT JON RIGHTS!!!! I love this part it's so cool!!! He's so cool.

We started in a plague. Not like the nasty crawlers, but like bringing any other doom.

Fun fact about me, when I learned about the bubonic plague in primary school I was terrified. Not really of getting sick, though I think it was part of it, but of a red cross painted on a door, a mark of death. I was scared of the certainty that if I was infected, I would die. And no one would try to help, for fear of their own demise.

Not really relevant, but there it is.

Two strangers rolling towards them, unstoppable and uncertain, wearing faces they would only half remember, bringing a fate they would beg their god to forget. They could not hate us any more than they might have hated the rock that falls on them from a crumbling cliff. They did not know us, but they knew what we might do to them, what we might bring them.

This! This is the fear of The Stranger that actually gets me. Not the clowns or the mannequins or whatever, I'm not actually that freaked out by those, and I have yet to find art of Nikola that would actually freak me out or scare me. It's this kind of stuff and the Strangers from WTNV. Standing, staring, they could be right behind you, they're not doing anything but they might, they might at any moment attack. They're unfamiliar and strange and you have to be on your guard because you don't know what to expect, but they don't do anything, they just wait, as your dread grows ever higher.

Horror like that makes me very paranoid. I have a page in my notebook of trying to convince myself that the Alternates from The Mandela Catalogue weren't real, and what I was most freaked out about with them was that they could be anywhere. They could be posing as your friends, they could be in the corner of your room, they could be a puppet show on TV, they could be right behind you.

Don't turn around.

He squeezed its first owner until they stopped, and dumped them in a river, and I stayed with the second until they didn’t know who they were any more than they knew what they were.

The Stranger is weird. <3

The winter in Russia was cold, and in the icy air the absence of our breath was clear for all to see.

I like imagining that, something subtly wrong, you don't even notice it until you do, and when you do, you can't stop noticing it.

I have never known hate before. I have never known loss. But now they are with me always, and I desire nothing but to share them with you.

Don't know what to say to this. Just... :(

BASIRA And don’t open the coffin. ARCHIVIST It is addressed to me… … Yes, alright. You’re right.

I like his sense of humour. It's similar to mine sometimes.

Anyway! This is over! I only said a couple things of worth, but I hope you enjoyed the look into my mind regardless!

#the magnus archives #tma #mag 128 #breekon and hope #tmc #jonathan sims #a mag a day #landscaping your mind chapter one

[birchwoodbark]

@shmorp-mcdurgen

ive scrapped the forgiven au idea but i wrote a little thing for fun lol

probably out of character but.

TW: body horror, character death, blood, implied suicide. ask to tag if you need to.

(still dunno how to do the 'read more' thing 💔)

-

-

-

"CESAR, YOU BASTARD! I KNOW YOU'RE NOT THAT THING ON THE OTHER SIDE OF MY DOOR. YOU FUCKING TRICKED ME!" Mark yelled into his phone, "I DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH LONGER I CAN FUCKING TAKE THIS. YOU'RE THE REASON I'M GOING TO DIE. YOU AND ALL THE POLICE. I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY."

He ended the voicemail, throwing his phone across his room.

[...]

Cesar almost immediately played the voicemail, the volume startling him. Disturbing laughter was in the background, sounding almost just like him.

He suddenly found himself running to Mark's house as fast as he could. His breathing was rather heavy by the time he arrived. His suit was ruined, it wasn't meant to be run in. That didn't matter. He knew an alternate was in Mark's house but he had to do something. He needed to help Mark. His best friend would do the same for him. He tried to open the door only to find it barricaded. He saw a broken window but he knew the glass would slice his hands up. That didn't matter. He went through it anyway.

He looked around briefly before bolting up the stairs. He skidded to a stop as he realized he was too late. Blood was everywhere. He didn't need to see Mark to know he was dead.

He fell to his knees and began crying, hugging himself. The voicemail echoed through his mind.

Mark would never know he tried to help.

The alternate was still there but he was too distraught to acknowledge its existence.

Suddenly, the alternate shoved past him, running off. He looked up to see what drove it to fleeing. The sight made his blood far colder than ice.

Mark was staring down the hallway. He was scared, the right side of his face cracking like glass. The bloody shards fell onto the floor.

His eye… his… his teeth…

"M–Mark…?" Cesar squeaked.

A sudden, brief cacophony of screams frightened the two of them. Mark was evidently scared and angry.

"I'm—I'm sorry, Mark. I heard your voicemail and I–I ran… I thought I could help y–you or s–somehow save you o–or something… I'm sorry, I was too late… I'm so sorry, Mark…"

Mark looked at Cesar's bleeding hands, his ruined suit, dirtied dress shoes… Cesar valued those things greatly.

How would he play the piano if his hands healed poorly?

His suit and shoes were expensive. He only had the one, he couldn't afford another.

He was wearing his favorite dress shoes.

He sacrificed his favorite things trying to help him.

Mark stiffly walked to Cesar and hugged him. Cesar was scared for a moment before understanding that Mark had forgiven him.

"...Thank you, Mark…"

#tmc alternate au #the mandela catalogue #tw: body horror #tw: character death #tw: blood #tw: suicide #(< implied) #ask to tag #alt mark #cesar torres (alt au) #mark heathcliff #cesar torres