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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 month

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Could you do a lethal company fic where the reader has a pet hoarding bug dressed up to the nines with a little bow tie. Because we got to pick him out from the crowd right. The team is wary of the bug and wants it gone but the reader is like “No that’s my buddy, my little guy :(”.

When the team lands on a planet the little man searches the facility to find items and returns them to the front. To reinforce good behavior the reader gives them some shiny coins like pennies.

Everyone is happy the crew meets quota and the bug gets a nice hoard of shiny things.

"There you go, welcome to your first day on the job!"

Taking your hands away, you stepped back to admire your work on the hoarding bug you just brought aboard the ship, having dressed it in a simple orange vest with a bowtie and its own employee nametag.

You picked up this guy on Experimentation, and it seemed to become quite attached to you (and not because of the scrap you were carrying). Considering how docile it behaved while helping you transport items to the facility's entrance, you got an idea.

It's a crazy one, for sure..but you believed it could help your crew make the next quota.

You intended to surprise them after they came back just after sundown--yet when you opened the doors, one intern already had their shovel-in hand, ready to swing.

So to see you then stand in front of the alien had them all bewildered.

"Boss?! What are you doing?! That's-!"

"It's okay! He's friendly. Just...relax, everyone." You put your hands up, refusing to let any of them get one step closer. "He's not gonna attack us. So please, put the shovel away. You're scaring him."

The hoarding bug chittered nervously, creeping up to hug your leg as it shyly stared at the three other humans in suits just like you.

But unlike them, you didn't wear a helmet. All it could see was your stern expression, your eyes sharp and focused, and your forehead only slightly damp with sweat.

It knew you were only trying to protect it..yet it couldn't tell what the others were thinking, making it all the more anxious.

"Scaring him?!" The shovel-wielding employee scoffed loudly, not loosening their grip on their weapon for a moment. "It's us who should be scared, if anything.."

"C-Can we ask why you brought a hoarding bug onboard, boss?" An intern meekly interrupted.

Your eyes lit up as you smiled, patting the spot between the Hoarding Bug's antennae. "From what I observed..he wants to help us transport scrap. And he hasn't attacked me once, nor has he tried ripping anything out of my hands. So I deem him to be our fifth crew member. And his name will be....Buddy."

He perked up at the name, and you laughed. "I take it you like that name, huh?"

"...seriously?" The employee grumbled. "No offense, but I'd like to remember "Buddy" as my dog's name, not the name of this...pest. Is it even legal to domesticate these things?"

"Well..we have Trent." You pointed to the fishbowl resting on the filing cabinet. "And I don't see you complaining about-"

"It's a damn goldfish! A common pet back on Earth. We know next to nothing about hoarding bugs!" They snapped, frustrated. "How can you be so sure it's not gonna just steal our stuff and....and...."

However, they trailed off as they noticed your gaze become harsher. And the others in the crew knew that you meant serious business.

"I'm just saying..you're putting us at-"

"We may not know much about hoarding bugs, but we can learn from this one if we allow him to stay. I have a way to keep him in line and help maximize our quota. So have a little trust in me, okay?" You huffed. "If it's gonna be a problem..then I'll have to reassign you."

"What?! But I-"

"You're great with keeping spiders and snare fleas off our backs, Employee..I would like to keep you onboard. Just..let me prove Buddy to you. Don't make me the bad guy."

All you got was silence and a small nod from the disgruntled employee, who finally decided to put their shovel away in the cupboard.

Only then did your bright smile return. "Thank you." You clapped your hands with glee.

"So um..how will you train it--I mean him?" The other intern inquired, tilting their head.

"Two words...positive reinforcement." Deciding to demonstrate, you dug a quarter out of your pocket and knelt down beside Buddy, tapping him on the shoulder. "Hey. I got something for you as thanks for getting that rubber duck safely to our ship."

His red eyes seemed to shimmer at the little trinket you were bestowing to him, as he took it right away and stared for a few good seconds...before scuttling over to his corner of the ship. Then he placed the coin on the floor and sat there, content.

"Ohh..so you'll let him keep some things? Like he'll get his own nest?"

"I've conditioned him to admire currency more than weddings rings." You chuckled, standing back up before you headed to the terminal. "And they're intelligent enough to understand trading, so..if he does get ahold of one, we can easily negotiate."

"And I guess the clothes are self-explanatory."

"Right, gotta pick him out from the crowd." You booted up the system, checking to see which moons had clear weather for your final day for this quota.

Then you noticed one that was never there before.

"Huh..Adamance. That's a new one. It's grouped with March and Vow, so I guess it's a forest moon."

"Wouldn't hurt to venture there." The Employee remarked. "Is it free?"

"Yep. Let's go." You launched the ship and set course for Adamance, smiling back at the group--plus Buddy, who seemed startled by the suddenly jolting of the ship as its autopilot took over.

..........

"A register?! How did he manage to find that?!"

"What can I say? Hoarding bugs have their ways." With a proud smile, you patted Buddy on the head for yet another successful scrap hunt on Adamance.

He looked down at the heavy cash register in his arms, pulling the lever. He was surprised at first, but a moment later chittered with apparent delight at the dinging noise it made.

You could only grin. "See? I taught him to do that, too! Now he's officially just like us. Go put it with your collection, Buddy."

Nodding obediently, he scurried over to his "nest", dropping the register alongside some other shiny trinkets it found within the facility: a brass bell, some bolts, a cookie pan, and even a golden cup.

It seems visiting Adamance was the right decision, although the absurd amount off baboon hawks outside spelled trouble for you and your crew despite being outnumbered. During one transport trip, a few tried to wrangle a piece of scrap away from Buddy, who fought fiercely to keep it safe.

Suddenly, it dawned on you that hoarding bugs and baboon hawks never had any reported encounters with each other...so you feared the worst when you realized Buddy would be seeing them for the first time and not know what to do-

Until he managed to make himself look big by simply hovering in the air and buzzing angrily--which apparently scared off the entire horde.

The tulip snakes were another nuisance, but luckily none made him nor you (or anyone in the crew) get any airtime.

On the final trip back to the ship, you noticed he was distracted by the large inactive robot that stood by the cabin, and you had to whistle to help him regain focus..to which you rewarded him with a dime for a good job.

One of your interns opted to investigate the structure, and on the inside they discovered writing on the wall that spelled "68-ART".

As it turns out, that's a route to the moon called Artifice, with a description mentioning active "machinery", which you can only assume meant the big robot standing outside.

At the moment it was too expensive to visit, but you kept the name in your notes and praised your intern for finding it--alongside Buddy, who drew your attention to the cabin to begin with.

For now, though, you were ready to lift off from Adamance before any earth worms or eyeless dogs woke up. You definitely didn't wanna run into any of those when you collected so much scrap already.

Now all you had to do was head to the Company Building and drop off how ever much was necessary to meet this quota.

And thanks to the help of your fifth crew member, you were able to make it without losing a limb..or a life, for that matter.

#seeing this rq made me go 'yippee!!!!'#clanask #anonymous #lethal company x reader #lc x reader #hoarding bug #loot bug #platonic

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bookish-bogwitch · 2 months

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an ask game for writers to procrastinate working on your WIP(s)

thanks for tagging me @wellbelesbian!

1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s): Basil Pitch's Diary. It's literally my only WIP.

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___” Bridget Jones's Diary + Carry On = We Love Baz, Just As He Is

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it? Internalized homophobia, gaslighting, self-hatred. 😬

4. 🧭An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)? I never considered an alternative title to BPD, but the one that comes to mind now would be a huge spoiler. The alternative title to the next chapter is "I Fortunately Know a Little Magic," which is sassy and snappy (R.I.P. Howard Ashman) but less thematically relevant than the title I chose.

5. ⚠️Which WIP your most likely to finish or update next? Basil Pitch's Diary. Literally every other fic I've ever posted has been while "taking a break" from BPD, which could go on indefinitely if I let it, so I am bound and determined to finish this fucker before starting something else.

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as) I have a list for BPD called "Chapter Checklist." It contains subtle insights "Baz is an UNRELIABLE narrator."

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP. Here's Baz and Dev in ch. 7:

“Will you stay for dinner?”

“Can’t. Dev and I…”

As Niall told me about their plans I grabbed one of the football’s nylon loops and let Rusty tug on it as we walked. It seemed too late for Niall to have a date all the way in London, but what do I know about dates.

“Come with us,” said Niall.

I grimaced. “No thanks. I’ll catch up with Dev when he’s not on molly and climbing down your throat.”

“You don’t ‘catch up’ at Beast Night. You dance.”

“With whom?”

“Men.”

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP. I just looked in the trash folder of the BPD Scrivener project and found this note I don't remember writing:

Renée Zellweger would play Baz. People would be skeptical but she’d fucking nail it. Gaining weight for a role? How about growing eight inches, sprouting a happy trail, and joining the legions of undead. (Might as well cast Oscar bait.)

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet? A Watford-era get-together magickal mishap involving animal transformation and beloved children's literature. So, you know. The usual.

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on? Just the one. @facewithoutheart and I have a secret side project going that involves back-and-forth writing and it's stalled out on me. It's very fun and silly and I plan to return to it when I need a break from some of the angstier parts of BPD.

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now? I'm not working on any one BPD scene right now, but trying to map out the rest of the fic in greater detail so that I can roll from one chapter to the next. I was struggling for a couple of weeks with how to make an unavoidable canon plot point emotionally relevant to Baz's arc, but I think I figured it out last night. Phew.

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send. Kudos and tags to @cutestkilla, @thewholelemon, @whatevertheweather, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @monbons, @onepintobean, @ileadacharmedlife, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @skeedelvee, @im-gettingby, @imagineacoolusername, @iamamythologicalcreature, @youre-an-apocryphal-concept-223, @rimeswithpurple, @goblindad-emoshit, @facewithoutheart, @artsyunderstudy, @alleycat0306, @erzbethluna, @ebbpettier, @emeryhall, @f-ing-ruthless-baz, @hushed-chorus, @hertragedyconnoisseur, @ionlydrinkhotwater, @ic3-que3n.

#tag game #writer asks #baz pitch #simon snow #indulging myself #procrastination

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whatevertheweather · 2 months

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an ask game for writers to procrastinate working on your WIP(s)

Thank you for the tags @bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @youarenevertooold I've been in search of ways to procrastinate <3

1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s):

I'll go with one that isn't being posted yet: Callous.

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Touch starvation + poor communication = Baz's No Good Very Bad Night

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

PTSD, disassociation, and, uh, emotional hurt/comfort?

4. 🧭An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)?

Bold of anyone to assume I'm good enough at coming up with titles that I have multiple to choose from. Oh! But actually I do for Bait and Switch, thanks to Dre brainstorming fishing idioms with me. There were 4 alternatives, but my favorite is All is Fish, because it makes no fucking sense.

5. ⚠️Which WIP your most likely to finish or update next?

It had better be Musical Chairs.

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

In an uncommon turn of events, I only have one (active) WIP right now that's not already named as it will be posted, and that's "yeah sure let's just write some shit that's way later and not finish the other that's fine"

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP.

It’s just…there’s also some deer in the headlights energy to him, which, mixed with the general aura of barely tamed violence, is throwing Shepard off. Truly, it’s been a good long while since he’s done this kind of pinballing over what he’s seeing when he looks at someone.

He does know what he’s seeing when he looks back at Simon. It’s the sort of face that has him politely averting his eyes to examine the bland thread of Simon’s shirt instead. He thinks walking in on the two of them tangled up without a stitch of clothing wouldn’t feel half as intrusive as looking at that expression did.

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP.

I had to abandon about a page of the above misnamed WIP (now to be succinctly abbreviated as YSLJWSSTWLANFTOTF) because it no longer fits the tone of the rest of the fic at all, which is sad because it made me laugh. It's too long to put here in its entirety, but here's part of one line, which shall function as the dead darling's eulogy: "I know you have a dick, Baz, I’ve fucking well been thinking about it!”

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Okay there's one I don't want to say much about because, selfishly, I want to be the one to write it, but it's related to truth spells. (Technically I've started it because there's a document with 10 scattered lines of dialogue, but I haven't started it started it.)

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on?

I'm trying to focus on 3, but I might have to say 4 here.

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

I have rewritten the same 4 pages of Musical Chairs about 5 times. It's absurd. I know what's going to happen, I have the ending written, I have almost everything that gets us there written, and yet this section is u n d o i n g me.

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send.

I'm gonna take that as me sending kudos to all these lovely people: @cutestkilla @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @artsyunderstudy @fatalfangirl @whogaveyoupermission @iamamythologicalcreature @thewholelemon @facewithoutheart @martsonmars @ileadacharmedlife @ivelovedhimthroughworse @larkral

#for number 6 I also have to give a shoutout to the callous chapter 'haha whoops more chapters'#my writing #ask game #(sort of?)

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elderberries-and-honey · 3 months

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I think I may have bit off more than I can chew with the prequel. Whenever I think about going into that save file, I find myself getting really anxious and I can feel the burnout starting to surface. I thought taking a break from posing and just playing the game might help but it hasn't really.

Truthfully, I was really excited about it and I'm unsure what happened but all my motivation for it just kind of crumbled. Like all I can think about is getting the rest of the 1890's finished because there's still a lot of story left to tell there and I'm worried if I don't, I'll start to lose motivation for this entire story and I do NOT want that to happen!

I love these pixels so much and their story is just constantly coming to me in pieces in my head and it's hard to ignore; to the point it's made trying to focus on the prequel really challenging.

So I think sometime next week, I'm just going to scrap it, post a summary for curious readers of what I intended the prequel to be and call it a day. I don't know yet if there will be photos attached or not but we'll see what I have the energy to do. Regardless, I'm a little sad because I really was excited for it in the beginning but I can't keep pretending it's not holding me back or stifling my creativity.

I'm sure no one cares that much to be upset and I'm probably just overthinking it / making myself anxious. And, of course, those that do care and are genuinely interested in my story will understand and want me to do what's best for me!

Big, big love & thanks for the support as always 🖤

#sigh rip the prequel 💔#but i just eanna get back to the heart of the my story #sorry for being the queen of getting burnout 🤧

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greydoesthearts · 11 days

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“you can rest now.”

Anti and c!Jack?

As if I didn't write a heartbreaking enough story yesterday here's another lol

Words: ~620

It had been a while since Anti had visited The Void.

The feeling of Marvin's new, stronger magic prickled at his skin in an odd way, but the satisfaction of being outside of any repurcussions caused by Seán's writing, just for a little while, overruled it.

Odd enough, though, that even a minor change, any small presence, made it notably different.

A powerful one had arrived recently, but he could feel it fading almost as quickly as it'd come. He almost didn't care if he found the cause or not.

Had Seán killed off one of the egos? They were probably better for it, anyway.

Seán had basically done that to him, so surely he had no problem with it, and he chuckled dryly to himself as he became stagnant. Though, the pause did nothing but accentuate the tingly feeling of his current situation, and in fact when he turned to look, the source was right there.

He narrowed his eyes to get a better look at the curled-up figure; short, brown hair, pale face and hollow cheekbones laced with a scruffy beard.

Oh, now that was a surprise.

The Void sucked up most of the sound from this distance, so he bridged the gap, circling the other man for a moment before he looked up and noticed him.

Jack caressed his sickly face, picking apart his reflection in the inky black expanse.

He wasn't quite sure where he was, but he could certainly guess just by the lack of, well, everything. He remembered Marvin talking about it before--before everything. How he'd wanted to open a gateway to The Void, explaining to Jack exactly what it was.

And now here he was, a project tossed like a fry to the gulls, sitting here, listening to the monotonous humming of magic and glitching.

Of course he was here, too. And approaching fast if the increase in sound was anything to go by. The Void acted in strange ways.

Jack swallowed thickly, still keeled over and just examining how his body reacted to movement here. He clenched his fists, finally looking up.

"Reaper finally take you?" Anti asked the moment Jack laid eyes on him; he wanted to shout, scream at the sarcastic tone as Anti turned to look at his fingernails in boredom, a show that, somehow, he was still more powerful, that The Void reacted differently to him and vice versa, that it wasn't a death sentence in the same way it was for Jack. It was the same game they'd played for years. "You won't listen to me, but I'd say you've been spared."

Those words set Jack's heart on fire, burning him from the inside cruelly. He didn't even bother trying to untangle his tongue, letting the wave of despair wash over him.

"What was it?" Anti continued when he couldn't elicit a response. "Four years? Six? Left hanging onto a thread of life that you could do nothing to grab back once you'd been made to let go. Waiting for that doctor to save you as the story likely intended. But then, he scraps it all. Leaves you to rot.

"And now you're here."

Jack had no answer, letting his head drop and resisting the urge to cry. He wouldn't, not in front of Anti, who just stepped closer, kneeling down in front of Jack.

"Here, where you can recover. Where you can rest. You can rest now. Without worry--"

"Why do you care?!" Jack finally loosed his emotions.

Now it was Anti's turn to remain silent, but the unspoken, "I don't," hung in the balance between them, between their combined power struggle and Marvin's magic, and everyone else who didn't know what Seán could make happen to them.

#jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #c!jack #grey does writing #grey does requests #anonymous #angst cw

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barmadumet · 4 months

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So, @underacalicosky and @wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart tagged me in the WIP Tag Game, AND THANK YOU FOR THAT, but I don't have any new WIPs since the last time 🤷🏻‍♀️and you all know about all of those. . . BUT I have been working on option 3 from that poll quite a lot - I have about 75k words, but I am nowhere near ready to post a first chapter. But you know what? I think part of my slump right now is that I haven't shared any of my writing in almost 6 months since I finished Streets. So, though I am nervous to do this - because knowing me, I'll probably end up changing this or scrapping it - here is a small sample of that fic I've been working on:

Ferus awakes to the smell of brewing tea, and he’s not even sure how Obi-Wan has achieved such a feat when he doesn’t even have a kitchen, but the aroma is unmistakable. He glances at the parallel palette a few feet away – Anakin is still sound asleep, and the first sun is not yet peeking into the interior of the cave.

When Ferus stirs, he sees Obi-Wan perched on the plateau in the entryway of the cavern. He sits beside him and the Jedi Master slides him a cup.

“I had another ready,” Obi-Wan comments evenly, but cheerfully. “I thought you might be up soon. . . Your Master used to talk of how you’d wake with the suns.”

Ferus’ lips curl at the mention of his former, deceased Master, Siri Tachi. “She was like Anakin, and could sleep all day if you’d let her.”

Obi-Wan smiles softly. “And he needs extra rest these days, it seems.”

“He does. He gets worn out so quickly. . . It’s strange to think it’s Anakin – always so competitive, pushing himself to the limit. Needing to be the best. To win.”

“That need for victory,” Obi-Wan somberly tsks. “I do believe that’s where I lost him.” He sighs. “His fear of losing. . . It impacted him in more ways than one, but now that he’s lost so much, I don’t think it frightens him anymore.”

“Well, he hasn’t lost you – and it’s clear you’re what matters most to him.”

“You mean a great deal to him as well,” Obi-Wan reminds intently.

Ferus marginally shifts the subject, “Obi-Wan? You don’t have to answer this, but. . . I saw the two of you last night, the way you. . . I know I only implied it before, but did the two of you have a relationship?”

“Not a romantic one, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“That is what I’m getting at – the way you held him, and the way he was curled up against you – I can’t say it’s a position I’ve ever been in with my Master, but I’ve surely slept beside my husband in the same manner.”

“I never touched him,” Obi-Wan defends sharply. “Especially not when he was seventeen. But when he got older, when the war started. . . Well, we became less like Master and apprentice and more like. . . something else entirely. But nothing ever came of it. There was tension there, and to be honest, I think it caused problems between us. This chirpy Anakin is one I’ve not seen in a long time, and I’ve missed him terribly. I honestly don’t know what possessed us to curl up together last night, because it’s not something he’d remember us doing; it’s not something we did until he was older. We’d seek comfort during the war, but it was never really romantic so much as just comfortable – natural. . . and I suppose that’s why we ended up that way: it just felt natural. I’m sorry. I’m rambling, and I know that’s not much of an explanation, but when it comes to Anakin. . . in light of this situation. . . I’ve just never before been so confused and so sure of myself all at once.”

Ferus laughs ironically. “That’s exactly what I was trying to explain to you about taking him under my wing. It felt both wrong and right. I’m still conflicted at times. . . and I. . . I can’t stay, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s head turns sharp. “You can’t go,” he protests.

“I can’t stay,” Ferus reiterates. “I need to get back to the base – check on things there. Try to get back home and make sure Roan’s family is safe.”

“But you don’t intend to return.”

“I. . .”

“Anakin will be crushed. Please don’t do this. Not right now. Let him get settled.”

“He doesn’t need me, Obi-Wan; he has you.”

“Do you not hear how he refers to the two of you as one unit? Do you not see the way he lights up when you enter the room? Do you not see how he hangs on your every word? ‘Well, Ferus says. . . Ferus thinks. . . Ferus wants. . .’ ”

“That’s just because we’ve spent so much time together. I’m all he’s had for the last few weeks. He’ll be fine. I know you’ll take care of him.”

“You aren’t so sure. I can sense it – your worry for him, but you’re running away because it scares you –because of what he used to be, and I’m. . . I’m scared, too, and maybe I need you just as much as he does right now. You’re the only one that— Don’t go. I want you to stay.”

Obi-Wan and Ferus go quiet when they sense Anakin awake and approaching.

“Good morning, dear one,” Obi-Wan beams when a sleepy looking Anakin appears. His eyes are tired. His face is blank. His arms are folded, buried in his Master’s robe, head covered to hide his scarred face.

Anakin’s gaze is on the horizon, where the second sun is just starting to rise, the shadows of the cave now absorbing soft morning light. Both men have turned to watch him. Now, he watches them back and smirks. He wedges himself between the pair, then puts his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

Ferus is just about to stand when an arm comes around his waist and pulls him closer. A cybernetic hand snakes up his back and rubs it gently. Ferus slowly turns to look at Anakin just as he lifts his head from Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and Ferus finds he can’t look away from the intense and engaging stare.

Anakin lets his forehead tenderly bump against Ferus.’ When he feels Obi-Wan’s arm stretch around him, he boldly decides to now use Ferus as his personal pillow instead, supremely content with having contact from each side.

Obi-Wan’s knuckles brush back and forth against Ferus’ ribs, an indirect way to communicate, a way to say he understands. He knows Ferus is wrestling with the very same qualm he himself had struggled with for many years: craving Anakin’s touch, while simultaneously fighting a guilt-ridden urge to push it away. He sees Ferus’ dark eyes peer at him from over the hood of the robe Anakin is still snuggled in – tethering between satisfaction and indecision.

Ferus is rigid, neck straight and chin high. But at Obi-Wan’s faint, but soothing smile, and with Anakin burrowing further into his side, he can’t help but rest his cheek to the top of Anakin’s head, shamefully giving in to the warmth and solace they both provide.

The three remain huddled together as they watch the sky change colors in a comfortable silence.

Thoughts?? Any interests? I feel like this will be a fic about 4 people will read lol, but I've been wanting to write it for almost 2 years now. I feel rusty! Idk if I can pull it off, but I'm going to try.

Thanks again for the tags, friends! It looks like all of your WIPs have been inquired about (or I already have knowledge of them! 🤩) These all look DELISH!!!

#wip game #not exactly the same game but #you can always send asks if you want to know more!#obikin #and ferus #obikinfer #or i also like skylinobi for this trio #sigh #beautiful boys

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unholyplumpprincess · 1 year

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Falls on my knees,,, Peach can I please request nsft Junker Queen with a smol fem s/o who comes from a rich family and is kinda sheltered? Like, sneaks out to go see her Junker wife, maybe a bit of a corruption kink if that's okay? Ty ty in advance! And if the request isn't to your liking, that's totally alright too! <3

Now, I don't normally do gendered readers. BUT I couldn't get the idea of Junker Queen calling reader her Lil Princess soooooo I'll make a self indulgent exception this time. Also accidentally got carried away and wrote more than intended lmaooo

Reblogs > Likes. Please Reblog if you hit like/heart to keep more writers like me alive and to see more content! :D

Ao3 link: Here

Fandom: Overwatch

Relationship: Junker Queen x Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader explicitly uses she/her pronouns + has a vulva + is called a good girl/princess/wife/etc, I'd say fem reader but as a femme nb Id be okay with those terms sooo, There's a public scene so like- pda but make it horny?, Possessive Junker Queen

Words: 3.2k

_____

Would it really surprise anyone nowadays?

You always had a luxurious life- yet, very strict. You were raised under the intention of taking over your father's company, being the only child in line for it. You were to be someone else's legacy. Your feelings and opinions never mattered- not even your hobbies.

Your father ran a tight ship, one that limited you greatly even into your adult life. He worked closely with Vishkar, working on a program that would better life for humans and use omnics as either scrap metal or servants.

You never liked it, always having immense empathy for those around you. Omnics or otherwise. It left a poor taste in your mouth at the thought of having to take over such a company.

But. It did mean you had to learn the tricks of the trade. Meaning trading with other people, companies, and sometimes even faux kingdoms.

And that's where you met her.

~Rest under the cut~

Odessa was not a woman of unreasoning, but she definitely wasn't one you bullshitted with either. She could sniff out a lie like a bloodhound; No exception to your father either when he tried to underhand her.

She laughed in his face when he proposed helping with the feral omnics around and using them as scrap metal. Offering to clean out her Wasteland just for parts. But she knew better and had leaned down from her imposing throne, using her axe to tip his chin up as she crooned; "And what's in it for me, old man?"

Whilst looking directly at you.

He tried offering money for the scraps, but in the end they had reached an agreement of some kind. You would come to her faux kingdom and help her with financials and factions that she couldn't seem to get right. And of course, he'd still pay handsomely for the scrap he took. But, if he overstepped his bounds or went against his word, he could kiss his scraps goodbye.

And judging by how she had looked at your during this dealing, you expected you'd be scooped up as well as 'aid for the salt in her wounds'.

It's how you two get close. Odessa- or Dez, as you find she liked to be called instead- keeps to her word and uses your knowledge for her own gain. And in turn, you get to see parts of the world you know you'd never be allowed to.

She takes to calling you Princess, and at first you scoff at it. But soon it turned into a fond pet name, something that made you feel pretty and cherished.

Your interests start to show again, an old love of engineering and tinkering coming into play on one of the weeks she has you. She finds you late at night in her very own workshop, using pieces of scrap found around to make a makeshift sculpture of her Champion. A little ball that when a button was pressed, popping open into the sculpture to form the little hamster inside.

After that, she'd come and watch you instead.

Her keen eyes on you as she straddled a chair backwards, resting her chin over the top of it as her honey eyes burned holes into you.

Then more watching as you got to stay for longer periods of time. Dez was interested in your routines, how you lotioned your skin, patting lipgloss on your lips and doing your hair. Softer things she was unfamiliar with, just like the rougher things you too didn't understand.

Tension built between the two of you. You couldn't look her in the eye without feeling flustered. And it seemed like she caught on quickly, trying to do everything to impress you.

She was like a puppy some days.

Some times you caught her making a struggle sound when lifting something heavy, only to act like it was no big deal when you walked in the room. Or how some days she'd try to cook something more elaborate with spices like you did, but it would be too much and inedible.

It's the thought that counted.

It wasn't until she shows up in your room in her wing with flowers does it occur to you this silly queen had been trying to court you.

From there, you…try not to go home too often.

Your father doesn't like that you're enjoying time away. It all becomes too much one day when he tries to tell her he's breaking off the arrangement to the Queen. To which Dez laughs in his face and reminds him that she's not against taking his only child.

Not that you would be against it either.

When your relationship starts, she's all chivalry. She's loud, huge, and isn't scared to get into fights with people who even look at you sideways.

She holds your hand in public, grabs your ass, presses a hand on your lower back- you name it. She says it's to 'Give that lot something to really look at' and 'Let em know what's the Queen's property'.

It makes you feel…wanted.

But Dez also grabs your hand to guide you gently down the steps, or helps you tie your dresses up in the back. She'll sit with you while you take a bath, watching you with all your fancy bubbles and soft lotions with curiosity.

And then hunger when you offer for her to join you.

In turn, you learn to get a little dirty. The basics of self defense and standing up for yourself. Learning how to say No with certainty and getting into hobbies you'd long since forgotten.

It's one day after one of your baths does she make her move. She's upset about something, frustrated, looking to blow off steam. She tells you you smell so good, that you're so soft.

That she wants to tear you apart.

You go that night sore and bruised with bite marks lining every inch of you. With a snoring girlfriend lain across you and holding you like a stuffie.

Princess becomes more than a pet name after that.

One final night, you have a fight with your father and sneak out that night. Your private dropship already knows where to take you, the built in AI taking you there.

It's dark out, but Dez is already waiting for you. As if she got wind of it before you even showed up. You don't question it or try to make sense of it, just taking her hand silently as she escorts you off your ship.

"Rough night?" Are her first words that break the silence as she leads you inside her bedroom. You laugh dryly, wiping at the mascara trails under your eyes silently as she hands you a tissue.

"S'alright, love. You can stay here as long as ya need, yeah? Been in my fair share of spats with my old man too back in the day." Dez comforts you, opening her large arms as you come towards her to rest your head on her.

Your head reaches below her chest. Her hands are warm and rough as they rub across your back, focusing on the exposed part of your upper back where your dress dips down. Her short nails soothingly rub across your skin as you breathe in her scent slowly.

"Got any positions available in your kingdom, Your Highness?" You murmur as a jab to be humorous, but it comes out quietly.

In turn, Dez spares you a little chuckle. She pulls away briefly, grabbing your chin to tip it up to her with a cocksure smirk playing on her lips. "Could use someone to help me keep documentation on things." Her thumb then rubs across your bottom lip, watching as you close your eyes and peck a kiss to it. "Could also use a lil' wife to keep me in line too."

"Wife, huh?" You tease back at her, reaching up to grab her hand and press a kiss to her palm. But when she doesn't laugh at first, you glance back up to her face to see she's looking at you expectantly.

It clicks.

"Dez you're not seriously proposing like that, are you?" Your tone is full of mirth, flattered even. Your smile breaks her as she starts to smile in turn, leaning down to kiss your forehead and then your nose.

"Nah, nah. Just a thought, Princess. Would wanna find ya a big ole ring. Somethin' that screams 'Queen', ya know? Maybe we'll even getcha a lil tiara, aye?" All the while she speaks, gesturing to your head and forming a circle with her fingers like she's measuring you.

"Are you going to bring fireworks for the occasion?"

"Of course, doll! Would do it in public too. Maybe after pulverizing some bloke in the Reckoning." Dez hums thoughtfully, cupping her cheek and letting her eyes flick over your now smiling face. "Though, worry it'll make 'em think you're part of that prize. The title and the bride up for grabs."

"I'd poison them in their sleep and get you your title back."

A grin splits across her face, her big, booming laugh echoing in the room as she scoops you up into her arms to squeeze you tightly. "Now THAT'S my girl!"

You stay there afterwards. Carefully bundled in her bed with her night after night. Most nights she's not there, busy with handling things. And in turn, you learn to stay up late with her. You write down all her words, keeping documentation on factions and any upsets that went around town.

It feels like a domestic lifestyle. She's even started teasingly calling you her bride and wife, much to your embarrassment.

Dez treats you gently, the utmost gentleman that she is- per her own words.

But one time, when you go to the bar with her, someone gets a bit too bold with you. Knocking shoulders with you, poking at you. You can see her from across the table slowly looking murderous. But the cherry on top is when the person beside you implies they could treat you better.

You're surprised they don't end up a bloody pulp. But you quickly learn why when Dez croons at them, "Oh, ya do, aye? And would you happen to know what little spots make her tick, hm?" In this venomous tone as she stalks around the table to come toward you.

You squeak as you're lifted off the chair by her, your body turned towards that person as her hands slide down your shoulders. Down to your waist where she grabs you tight and makes you gasp, a heavy flush covering your face.

You try to turn your head, but she grabs your chin, turning your head towards the person to make sure they're looking just as you are.

"See how her legs shake?" Dez continues, her free hand trailing up to your chest and making you tremble. "See how she melts at my touch?" Her hand on your chin slides down, and you automatically move to make room for it to wrap loosely around your throat.

Your lashes begin to flutter, your breath shaking.

"You wanna know what sounds she makes for me in the night? Screaming my name? Ya think you could do that? Mate, I can make her scream for me without ever bein' inside her." Her words are harsh and heavy, but you're so distracted by her hand trailing down to the bottom of your dress. Her hand slides underneath, over your thigh, bending you over with her height only.

"Doll," She directs to you, her tone so sweet and kind. You hardly have time to breathe. "Remind this poor, blubbering fool who you belong to?"

"M-my Queen."

"And who only gets the utmost pleasure in having you?"

"You, my Queen."

"Now. Be a good girl and tell this bloke to fuck off." Her tone is sweet to you, so kind. You're shaking at the feeling of her body heat behind you as she stands to allow you to stand.

Her hand catches your chin again, directing you to open your eyes and look at the poor son of a bitch avoiding eye contact with you as the whole bar stares.

"Fuck off."

You don't get to finish your time at the bar. From there, Dez tells everyone to get back to what they were doing and have a good night. Said with a big slap on the back to the person who had been flirting with you.

You barely make it to the bedroom before Dez is snarling and slamming you into the nearest surface- but of course with a hand behind your head to avoid impact.

You whimper as she captures your lips in hers, bending down to do so. Her hand grabs your hair, her other one quickly shuffling up your skirts to fit her large thigh between yours to cause a moan to gasp from you.

"My pretty girl," She snarls against your lips, kissing down your neck as she pulls your hair. Forcing you to expose your neck as you gasp out. Her thigh presses up harder into you, feeling how wet you are already and making her breathlessly chuckle. "Oh? My sweet Princess liked that, hm?"

You try to nod, but can't move a muscle when she sucks a bruise into your neck with a cry from your own lips. "D-Dez-"

"Yeah, keep sayin' my name, angel. Gonna make you scream it real soon." She promises, her voice sounding like a growl as she scoops you up to deposit you on the bed.

You hardly get one bounce in before she's grabbing your hips and tugging you to the end of the bed where she gets down on her knees in front of you. Your dress is shuffled up where you quickly hold the skirts in place to watch her helplessly.

She moans at the sight of you, her finger trailing over the wet spot on your panties and pressing with just enough pressure over your clit to make you squirm. "My poor baby. A queen should never let her bride be wanting, hm? How selfish of me."

Your panties are ripped off, tucked into her back pocket before Dez is quickly yanking you close to bury her face into you. Her tongue knows exactly what you like best, licking flat over your whole cunt before her lips seal over your clit.

You scream out, your hands finding her braids and grabbing onto them for support. Your legs quake as she presses forward, forcing your feet to press to her shoulders and effectively pressing you into a better, open position.

It works to her favor, as she quickly introduces a thick finger pressing inside of you just like you like.

You cry out when her tongue flicks across your clit, back and forth nice and slow before taking you back between her lips again to suckle. She presses in a second finger, curling them upwards just as she moans helplessly into you when you pull her hair.

You cum quickly like that, with her fingers pumping into you shallowly and her tongue flicking across your clit nice and slow as if savoring you.

"Dez- D-Dez, fuck, baby, please, f-fuck-" Your cries are all her name like a prayer, fucking your hips into her face as she growls into you again.

It's only then does she pull from you, not giving you anytime to think as she forces you onto all fours.

Two fingers slide into you again, her other hand coming below you to sandwich your clit between two fingers to massage it in time with her fingers fucking you.

You scream her name into the mattress as your fingers claw for support in the sheets. Your face buries into them, desperate to muffle your pathetic whines as your eyes roll back into your head.

You're over sensitive, but you can still make out her words behind you. Each one more claiming than the next.

"No one else gets to see you like this."

"What a pretty Princess for her Queen, hm? Not such a good little girl now, are you? Just look at how well you take me now."

Then finally, her hand leaves your clit, giving her enough space to lean over you as her fingers fuck into you still. Spoken as she nips your shoulder and murmurs behind your ear, "Beg. Beg to cum around my fingers, pretty girl. Let 'em hear ya all over the wasteland, yeah?"

Then Dez moves. Moving to lay on her back under you, keeping her fingers sunk into you and using her free hand to grab one of your hips bruisingly.

She yanks you down to her awaiting mouth, moaning into you just as you sob out and start to hump into her face and back into her fingers.

You know Dez doesn't need to wait for you to beg, pleas already slipping from your lips in a higher pitch with each swipe of her tongue. Each curl of her lips sloppily kissing over your clit in open mouthed, messy kisses with a brush of her tongue on each kiss.

You scream for her. Screaming her name loud enough to be heard outside the open window for sure as you cum on her tongue and fingers.

Your back arches, twisting your fingers in the sheet as your eyes roll back into your head. You don't even realize you're kicking your legs and squirming too much until both her hands take a hold of your hips.

Dez's strength in her very fingertips makes you shiver, sobs racking your frame as overstimulation winds into your bones. Tears bubble in your eyes, your body shaking as you whine her name quietly.

It's then that she slides out from under you, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand before readjusting you.

She pulls your trembling form into her arms, cradling you bridal style and fixing your dress into place. You cling to her tightly, burying your face into her neck as she rubs over your back crooning to you gently.

"You did a good job, love. Not hurt, are ya?" Her voice is gentle, using her cheek to nuzzle at the top of your head. You shake your head quietly, humming to let her know that your reply is no.

"Good. Cause I ain't done with ya yet." Dez chuckles softly, kissing the top of your head with a turn of her head. Your reply is a soft whine, feeling how one of her hands cheekily slides under your dress to squeeze at your thigh.

"What? Haven't even properly bruised ya up yet. After a slight like that, I'm itchin' to tear you apart." Her words are a promise, despite her soft tone. "'Sides, we know you can take more than just that."

"You're going to kill me." You groan back to her, lifting your head finally just in time to catch her gaze. Your cheeks flush at how dark her eyes are.

How hungrily she looks at you.

"Not gonna kill ya," She promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead tenderly. "Just gonna make sure ya can't walk tomorrow."

And you know Dez. Her promises?

They're not ever broken.

---

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callsigns-haze · 4 months

Text

Loves Revolution

Chapter 3

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw (as Micheal Collins) x Jake Seresin (as Harry Boland) x OC! Madison Cassidy

A/n: This is the third post to my new series so please be nice! I'm going to try to make this into a series so please show this story a bit of love and reblog!

Summary: Bradley, Jake and Maddie have been friends for many years ongoing. Bradley from Cork and Jake and Madison from the troubled Dublin, have been close for life. Now fighting in the 1916 Easter rising and the ongoing history to the Treaty and the independence of Ireland their story lives on.

Warning: Mentions of gun use, ptsd, mentions of death, mentions of shooting, flirting, mentions of abuse, description of dead body, death, blood, drinking, cursing, SMUT

"Merry Christmas. "Bradley smiles. entering the room that came quite your office in the abandoned building on the scraps of Dublin.

"Merry Christmas Eve," you answer him, not quite lifting your head from work. There were a lot of papers to do and letters to answer and yet you do this on a holy day.

"So. What are your plans this evening?" He wonders hoping that you don't spend Christmas alone. "Me and Jake, we're going out this evening and I'm going to his tomorrow," you casually answer, not thinking much of it.

Bradley didn't know that Jake and you were so close together and didn't you expect it either understood that the two of you were friends and co workers but he didn't' expect the two of you to spend Christmas together.

"I thought Jake told you," you simply say, being sure that Jake had already informed him with such a plan yet here you were proved quite the opposite.

"We haven't crossed paths to much since Dev's back. I'm sure he was intending too." Bradley's voice is filled with quite a bitter tone, not the happy, friendly guy he is but quite a rotten, spoiled tone.

"Hey Mads you up there?" Jake calls from the bottom of the stairs. You get up from your chair, weaving around Bradley to call down from the railing, "I'm coming!"

You tell him that so he knows you have to pack up and only then head down. You put some papers back and once you're done you tell Bradley, who looks out the window, which faces towards the main streets. "All the work for today is on the table. I'll see you after. Christmas!" you say excitedly grabbing your cost and running down the stairs.

Merry Christmas indeed.

-------

"You picked the most Irish Christmas," you joke as the two of you sit you in the bar, at the rather far end on a booth, sharing some whiskey.

He smiles at you and laughs at how this was the most Irish way to do it. The bar was filled with people. They were singing dancing, howling their drunk a worries away.

Jake gets up from his side of the booth and sits down right beside you, resting his hand upon your shoulders. You melt to his touch leaning right in as your head lays Upon his arm. He Kisses the top of your head as you ask a rather strange question.

"Why didn't you tell Bradley that we're spending Christmas together?" To that Jake just shakes his head. His best friend also had feelings for you, he was sure of that. And he wasn't going to tell him that the two of you were together.

"Maddie, we've been through this. It's me or him." You hated when he brings it up. You've told him a thousand times that'll always be him.

"I've told you -" He cuts you off in your tracks. "I know you did, Mads. I just need you to be sure."

You were sure. You wanted him so much that you couldn't contain it. You didn't know how to show it to him more so you decide.

"Make love to me."

He couldn't believe what you said, especially here. He thinks misheard what you were saying but you repeat it.

"Make love to me, tonight."

----

"I couldn't stop fantasising about caressing you," His lips just brush my earlobe as he rasps against my ear.

"And that you touch me," he said, offering a sly little buck. The mere sensation of his rubbing against me makes my throat feel like it could erupt in a hoarse groan. It seemed that he liked seeing me nearly nude more than I did.

"Let me?" His emerald eyes betray hunger and want even in the dark. Rather than respond to Jake verbally, I covered my shirt-covered breasts with my hand and led it over his.

Jake's palm on my left nipple caused my heartbeat to speed, but I still scowled at him since he was still.

Kindly talk to me. "Say anything, please," he said, his eagerness audible in his low tone.

"Touch me." Finally, I said. which he immediately complied with. Within the cramped confines of my bunk, Jake was able to crawl over me. For the third time today, his velvety lips found mine as he lingered over me. The hand that had been on my breasts began to touch me again, and his tongue easily found its way into my mouth.

It would be an understatement to say Jake's palms felt amazing running over my body. Never before have I missed someone so much as I had forgotten his personal touch. Jake gave me a delicate squeeze on my left breast and then moved his lips down to the hem of the big shirt I wear to bed every night. His fingers moved across my tummy and back up to my skin, giving me goosebumps.

I made every effort to be silent, but as soon as Jake's thumb touched my tender nipple, a groan came out of my lips. Fortunately, Jake's mouth masked the sound, presumably enough that nobody could hear it.

When Jake's hand moved towards the south and his mouth attacked my neck, my legs widened a bit. I wanted to scream with ecstasy and anguish when he kissed and lightly touched a certain region.

"Fuck." When he licked at the flesh he had just injured, I took a breath.

Jake's fingers sank into my wet underwear as he pushed my shirt up to my neck, exposing my entire body. When his index finger started to go up and down the moist spot, I suppressed another groan. I found it harder and harder to remain silent as he continued.

"Jake, I don't believe I can-" Jake's finger went softly within me, cutting me off. My head landed back on the cushion, and I bit my lower lip to contain my screams.

"I believe you can." He muttered. He was loving what he was doing to me, and I could see that.

Before I could say anything more, Jake's fingers slid out of my pants. "Jake, I'm gonna c." "What are you doing?" I questioned him after realising how deeply I was inhaling at the moment.

At this point, the lack of light was really starting to wear on my nerves, plus the fact that Jake had stopped suddenly and I couldn't see what he was doing gave me the impression that he could be leaving.

"Please Jake, I-fuck!" Jake slid inside me so easily that his hand covered my mouth. He felt so amazing that I nearly forgot.

"Be quiet, okay?" I nodded in response to his whisper, and he took his hand out of my lips. All I needed to see was Jake's face, which was all I could see in the dark. I caressed his cheeks with my fingertips and found his eyes to be wild. He was supported by both of his arms on each side of me. His mouth was slightly open, and every time he moved his hips, his eyes would briefly close as he lost himself in happiness.

I moved my hands up Jake's back, my claws just touching the skin. This seemed so much more intimate with his little gasps and low, throaty groans.

How his hips moved at a moderate pace to avoid drawing attention to our movements in the bunk. His full lips nestled into mine, lingering long after he withdrew just enough to leave his lips hovering over mine as if he was afraid to touch them again.

He said, "Y/n, baby," over my lips. It wasn't until I opened them to meet Jake's that I noticed my eyes were closed.

"I'm gonna come, I can't, I-" I was sobbing, knowing that I would always want Jake beside. Fuck the withering of our love. This is something we could accomplish. We could carry out this action once again.

"Please come." He said, "Come for me. My lips found your neck again, leaving little kisses all over."

"Hey! Fuck-" It hit me hard all at once, causing my toes to curl and my fists to press painfully against Jake's back.

He drew out and discharged over my lower tummy, burying his head in my neck. I didn't mind that he was breathing quickly or that he was resting his entire weight on top of me. I gave him an even tighter hug, my hands gently tracing over his damp back.

After a time, he raised his head to give me a serious look and asked, "Why did we drift apart like that?" He enquired. I didn't know myself, therefore I didn't have a response for him.

"I don't know." I muttered. "Only thing I do know, is that we won't drift apart this time." When I stated it, his eyes brightened.

"I really hope you're right," Jake whispered, resting his head on my chest.

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fantasyinallforms · 1 year

Note

How about… “Hey…are you dead yet?”

Thank you for the prompt, @sunnyrosewritesstuff! I am loving these! This one was a hard one for some reason, but I liked the challenge, and I'm pleased with how it turned out!

This is for the March Madness fotfics event!

Also on AO3 under my "Tales on the Road to Erebor" collection

Bagginshield {T}

Title: Better on your lips

How long had they been walking? Carrock seemed like a pleasant but distant memory. The eagles had saved them, but they retained few packs after escaping the Goblins, fewer still after the eagles. Gandalf had disappeared shortly after they landed, babbling about scouting ahead to see if an old friend still resided in the area. He had yet to return. Their movements in the region were bracketed by the wargs that never left their trail, stopping them from being able to rest for more than a few hours at a time. They were aided only by the advantage of a head start. Now the company wandered between rocky moors, trying to scrap by on what they had and what they could catch. Unfortunately, what they had was almost nonexistent, and what they could catch would seem to be very little.

Before this adventure, Bilbo was not accustomed to the feeling of true hunger. Since he had learned to get by on what he was offered while traveling. While he was never truly full, he wasn't starving. That was until now. Three days ago, Thorin had tightened everyone's rations again. They got a small piece of hard tack or jerky per day. A few wonderful times, they had found enough to forage that he could have two pieces. The dwarves seem to be pressing on in rather the same fashion as they always did despite the restrictions. How they did, Bilbo didn't know. He could feel his stomach practically eating his spine. His clothes fell loosely around his frame, and he had punched a few new holes in his belt. He had never felt hunger like this before, but he had heard it described to him in stories by those who had lived through the fell winter that plagued Hobbiton before he was born.

“Hobbits aren't meant to go without food.” His mother once warned, “It messes with our minds and can drive us mad.” Mad. Yes, that’s what this felt like. Bilbo was lost in his train of thought. He didn't see the rest of the company stop. He was stopped mid-stride by a thick hand on his wrist.

“Master Baggins, I said we are stopping for a few hours. Or do you intend on continuing on without us?” The sound of Thorin’s voice was usually pleasant, but today it cut at the edges of his nerves.

“What would it matter if I did? We'll be dead within a week with this rate of not finding food.” Bilbo wrenched his wrist out of Thorin’s grasp and stalked back toward the center of the party.

“Oh, don't be like that, Bilbo! Landscape’s getting a little less rocky, and I’m sure we’ll find something soon enough!” Bofur’s chipper attitude was growing annoying and incredibly tiresome. Bilbo found the nearest tree and curled in on himself, not bothering to interact with others.

Predictably Thorin had ordered there to be no fire, so the company made themselves as comfortable as they could around a clump of trees. Soon Bombur started to hand out rations. Bilbo took his and held it in the palm of his hand, trying to will it to be bigger. As much as his quip from earlier had been made in annoyance, he really didn't know if he would be able to survive more of this. Lack of food, lack of sleep, and constant movement. He was likely to collapse at any moment. But what could he do or say? They were all hungry, they had an orc pack on their tail, and there was no time to stop and forage. He had just started to earn the respect of the company. Would complaining about how he needed more food than a typical dwarf despite being half the size put him right back in the position he was in before Carrock? He didn't want that. He liked the new softness that Thorin’s eyes held for him now.

No, regardless of the risk, he knew what he had to do. It was not as if he would achieve rest with his stomach like this. He needed to find food, ANY food. He could sneak off and be back before anyone knew he was gone, and if he did find something, perhaps they wouldn't be so cross that he snuck out in the first place.

______________

Across the camp, Thorin pulled Balin and Dwalin into a meeting.

“We all know the situation. We have less than a week before we’re out of rations completely. These lands seem unusually barren of anything to hunt.” Balin stated.

“Now that we’re out of the cliffside, we need to try and forage. It’s our only option!” Dwalin urged

“The last time we stopped to forage, the Orcs made significant ground!” Thorin reminded him. When they first left the eagles, they had traveled for a few days, then when the company thought they were a fair distance from danger, they had scattered temporarily to look for anything edible and had managed to scrounge up a few things. That night, however, they heard their first sign that the wargs were drawing nearer. It would seem evil truly never slept.

“We could use the downtime we have now?” Balin suggested.

“No. The rest of the company hasn't gotten the chance to rest in days. They won't last another night of no sleep. I’ll go and be back in a few hours. When I return, we move again.” Thorin was particularly conceded about Bilbo. He had been in good spirits coming down from Carrock, but as the rations tightened, his mood went sour. In the last three days, Bilbo hasn't smiled a single time. The hobbit’s shrinking frame was not something that had gone unnoticed. He remembered Bilbo telling stories to the rest of the company that hobbits proudly ate seven times a day. At the time, it seemed an incredible feat. Dwarves could certainly pack down a meal when it was offered, but they could withstand sustaining themselves on small amounts of food for long times. It was this fact that got them through the first few harsh winters in Ered Luin. Now though, after months of watching how Bilbo’s body had changed, he realized that hobbits must have incredibly fast metabolisms. He was quite literally watching Bilbo wither away, and it was increasingly painful to watch.

A few times, he had instructed Bombur to give his piece to Bilbo, with the instruction of letting him know they were able to forage more than usual and could spare the extra piece. The hunger of that day was made lighter by the quiet sounds of happiness Bilbo made when he ate. Every part of him wanted to keep Bilbo happy and smiling forever.

Thorin didn't wait. After the meeting ended, he immediately started heading further into the trees. One of the hardest things about this area was that the clumps of trees present were dense but scarce. Thorin didn't like having the wind at his back. It felt too venerable, so he stuck to the forested areas as much as possible. An hour into his search and he found nothing. Another 30 min, and finally, he came across a downed tree littered with mushrooms. Thorin wasn't an expert at knowing what was and wasn't edible, so he grabbed as many as he could and stuffed them in the bag he had brought. Bombur or Bilbo could tell him if they were edible later.

He started walking back towards camp, then stopped dead and quietly drew his sword as he heard the sound of the underbrush shaking. Either this was about to be a problem, or he was about to return to the company with something that would make Bilbo smile again. He listened for the sound of whatever it was to clear the underbrush, then lept out to attack. He dropped his sword mid-swing when he saw it was Bilbo. The hobbit had his shirt pulled up to make a pouch. The pouch was currently half-filled with mulberries. He looked like he had just been caught in a trap. His hazel eyes widened as he finished chewing the mouthful he had likely just eaten before Thorin appeared. His initial reaction was to be annoyed. Everyone in camp has strict orders to rest and not stray. Oh, but how could he be mad? Bilbo looked positively thrilled. His eyes had light in them, and he had a stain of mulberry juice just under his bottom lip. Bilbo’s presence did things to his mind even he didn't fully understand. He so badly wanted to remove the stain with his tongue. Thorin loved mulberries. They held a similar but sweeter taste to blackberries. Would they taste even better on Bilbo’s lips? Mahal above grant him willpower.

“Thorin! I-I promise that I had every intention of sharing! Th-they just looked so good and-” Thorin put his hand on Bilbo’s wrist to stop the flood of words.

“Peace, Master Baggins. I might have done the same. Mulberries don't last long once picked, anyway. We’ll have to eat all of these tonight, or they won't keep.” Thorin held out the bag he had brought so that Bilbo could deposit what he had collected.

“I didn’t think dwarves would know about mulberries. They don't grow in the mountains.”

“No, but they grew in the area between Ered Luin and The Shire. I traveled that road many times in search of work. They became some of my favorite things to look for on the journey.” Thorin closed the sack and gently placed it on the ground.

“Here, you should have some before we head back. I know you skip meals sometimes.” Bilbo took Thorin’s wrist and pulled it towards himself. He splayed his fingers over Thorin’s palm so that his hand oped more and dropped a hobbit-sized handful of berries. Bilbo’s hands were always so warm and so full of life. The casual contact felt nice; no, it felt right. He closed his hands over the berries gently so as not to crush them.

“Thank you. If you want to look for more, you can. We have a little time before we need to head back. You really shouldn't have come out here alone, however. I would ask that you not do it again for your own safety.”

“Hey… are you dead yet? No? You're welcome. If I managed to save your life, I can protect my own long enough to pick berries. Besides, It was either I try to find food, go mad, or don't wake up from my next nap.” He turned around and went back to tending the bush while he spoke. Thorin chewed on the words before they finally caught up to him.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘Don't wake up from your next nap’? I knew you were having a harder time than the rest of the company, but I didn't realize it was that dire! Why didn't you say anything!” A zing of panic bolted through him. How much had he missed? Was Bilbo so starved that he verged on death?

“Without food, hobbits wither. Eventually, if we can't find enough to eat after a long enough time, we just stop. It happened to a lot of hobbits once. The winter my mother was a small lass. Many hobbits died of starvation. Some lost their minds first; others just went to sleep and never woke up. I’ve never experienced hunger like this before, and it feels like my mother's stories, so I suppose it is possible. I didn't want to be an extra burden. We’re all suffering a lack of food, not just me. I had no right to complain,” Bilbo replied. Thorin took a step forward and spun Bilbo, so he was looking at him. He tried to keep the desperate and terrified tone out of his voice, resulting in him letting his anger loose instead.

“You are dying! What better time is there? Fair does not mean equal. What would I have - we have done if you perished! This company needs its burglar if we are to see this quest through. After everything we went through in the goblin tunnels, you would let yourself die over something as simple as being a burden! I would rather you be a burden than dead!” Thorin was no longer gripping Bilbo’s shoulders. He had moved in his own panic to cradle Bilbo’s head between his hands.

“I wasn't thinking straight; I’m sorry. But if we have to stop and forage every few days, then the wargs will catch up to us. I can't ask the company to put themselves in mortal danger for the sake of my stomach.”

“Then I will! I will guarantee your safety!” Thorin took a step toward Bilbo but halted at the look of fear in his eyes. For a moment, he thought he had truly overstepped. He had been nothing but dismissive of Bilbo up until this point. What right did he have to ask Bilbo to trust him with his life?

“Thorin, duck!” Bilbo yelled. He didn't have time to respond before Bilbo threw his weight into him, toppling them over. Thorin heard nothing in the undergrowth or area around them. He looked around to make sure Bilbo was ok and found him flat on his back next to him, clutching a large struggling snake in his hands. Thorin couldn't reach his sword from his position on his back, so he rolled on top of Bilbo, grabbed the snake, and crushed the bones around its neck with one hand rendering it dead. The snake fell limply at their side.

“That’s an adder, very venomous,” Bilbo said between a few big gulps of air.” When Bilbo had the wind back in his lungs, he started laughing obnoxiously. Thorin cocked an eyebrow.

“It’s the absurdity of it all. We come to the woods to look for food. Both find a few things, run into each other, then run into a snake. It will make a funny story one day.” with that explanation, Thorin found he could not resist laughing either. “It gets better. They’re venomous, not poisonous, which means we just caught ourselves meat for a stew.” Bilbo giggled again and grabbed a berry off the ground, one of the ones Thorin had been holding in his hand, and popped it into his mouth, making a happy little sound. There was a distinct glint in Bilbo’s eye that didn't let Thorin move from where he was, even though he was incredibly aware that he was positioned over the hobbit.

“Do I have something on my face?” Bilbo asked, bringing a hand up to his lips in a self-conscious move due to Thorin’s staring. Thorin’s eyes flickered to the stain of mulberry juice still on Bilbo’s lip. It was then that members of his company decided to burst through the underbrush.

“Over here, I found them!” Dwalin shouted. His shout died on his lips as he saw the position they were in. Thorin quickly got to his feet, pulling Bilbo with him.

“We caught dinner,” Thorin said, thrusting the snake into Dwalin's chest. Dwalin smirked. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Make sure Bilo gets back to camp safely.” Thorin grouched. He had almost done it. One more moment, and he would have laid claim to Bilbo’s soft lips and all the promises they held within them. When he returned to the rest of the company, he found a quiet place to sit and eat his share of mulberries. The more he ate, the more he was certain. They would indeed taste so much better on Bilbo’s lips.

#bagginshield #thilbo #bilbo x thorin #the hobbit #fanfiction #fotfics #FIAF(me)fics

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thatsnotmygunflash · 8 months

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oohh i guess either "i'll choose you always. no matter what" or "i love the idea of growing old with you"

Who says we can't do both? 😉 I'm in the mood for some fluff so why not.

"You're late," Len said as soon as he felt the air shift in the kitchen, not taking his attention off the dirty casserole dish he was viciously scrubbing.

"I know, I'm sorry, Hal was-"

"Taking up all your spare time again." Len cut in with a too-casual tone, scrubbing at the stubborn specks in the corners with a single-minded focus. "Yes, I'm aware."

"You're jealous," Barry huffed.

"I don't trust him," Len said quickly in response, using the nail of his thumb to scrap off the black spots the brush couldn't seem to get off.

"Because you think he likes me." Barry accused with a tired sigh. Len didn't reply for a long moment, rinsing off the soap still sticking to the surface and setting the dish down in the drainer with a harsh clank of glass against metal when it knocked against the saucepan.

"He does," Len said with finality as he shut off the water. He kept his eyes straight ahead as he reached for the towel on his shoulder, using it to wipe down the water splashes around the sink.

"Lenny," Barry whispered gently, laying a hand on his shoulder as he came to stand directly behind Len. "You know Hal is just a friend."

"Like how Kara is just a friend?" Len bit out against his better judgment. He hated himself for being like this. For letting his overwhelming feelings for his speedster to cause such ugly emotions to stir inside his chest. He had never been like this before. He didn't want to start a fight, but he also hadn't wanted to sit in his empty kitchen feeling increasingly more neglected with every passing minute, the food he cooked for their weekly date night growing cold waiting on the counter for Barry to show up. His text message sent in the first half hour went unanswered and the phone call at the top of the first hour got the same treatment.

"Lenny, I'm really sorry, okay?"

"Why were you three hours late?" Len asked, finally turning around to pin Barry down with a harsh eyebrow raise.

"I needed his help with something," Barry replied hesitantly, his nervous hands twitching at his side. It made Len bite the inside of his cheek, keeping the first harsh response that popped into his head to himself.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Seriously Lenny, I'm sorry, okay? I swear I just needed his help with something."

He was lying. Barry was actually trying to lie to him. He thought the hero knew better by now, you can't bullshit a bullshitter.

"That's not an explanation," Len said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared the younger man down with an accusing frown.

"Lenny, you know you're it for me, right?" Barry rested both hands against Len's biceps, giving a reassuring squeeze to the tense muscles. "It doesn't matter who flirts with me or how well I get along with my friends. I'd choose you, always. No matter what. In fact, I intend to prove it."

"How do you plan to do that?" Len asked, narrowed gaze stuck on Barry's devoted smile.

"Lenny, baby, do you wanna know what gets me out of bed most days?"

"What?"

"I love the idea of growing old with you. Of retiring from the hero business and living on a ranch outside of the city. Having grandkids begging their parents to let them stay at our house every weekend. I love the idea of buying a house and living with you for the next fifty years. Of growing our family as big as you’ll let me. I love the idea of you and I old and gray and even more in love than we are now. I love the idea of us, forever. I want you, Lenny, I'll always want you." Barry reached into his back pocket, coming out with a clenched fist and an adoring shine in his eyes. "I was late because I was having a hard time deciding what you would like best. I wanted it to be perfect. Something you could look at every day and still love even fifty years from now."

Barry held out his hand, opening his palm to reveal the shining silver ring.

"I want you in my future, Lenny, I want you to be my future. Will you marry me?"

"Six."

"What?" Barry laughed in nervous confusion, shifting his weight from foot to foot as Len continued to stand there staring unblinkingly at the offered ring.

"My cut off for kids. It's six."

"Is that your idea of a yes?" Barry questioned hopefully, holding his breath when Len slowly reached a hand out towards the ring.

"Yes," Len confirmed softly, taking the ring between two fingers and holding it up to the light to look at it properly. It was a simple silver band, at first glance, but as Len moved it from side to side it looked almost like it was shimmering blue in the right light.

"Yes?" Barry repeated, a blinding grin stretching across his face when Len slipped the band onto his ring finger. It fit perfectly. The weight settling against his skin just enough to be present but not enough to bother him. He could see why Barry had chosen it.

"Yes, Barry,"

#and then they kiss #leonard snart #coldflash #barry allen #the flash #captain cold #thank you for the ask!#i loved this prompt

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theaspen · 1 year

Text

summary : Jay seems to keep appearing in your alternate nightmares. He acts as your night in shining armor, always helping you in your sleep. But when you try to stop the nightmares altogether he doesn't like it.

genre : thriller, angst, one-shot.

pairing : Jay x you

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of blood, death and suicide. If you are sensitive to these subjects please don't read!!

PART 1. PART 2.

PART 3

_______________________________________________________

Author's note: Yes I did tell this was a oneshot but keep dividing it into numerous parts. Yes I am alive. Yes i do hope you enjoy the scraps i was able to write. Yes this is not proof read. I love you all please leave any comments, reblogs, asks ANYTHING cuz it's fuel to my writing.

_______________________________________________________

"Was the boy handsome?"Sulli, my only friend, asks me.

My hands pause at the building block I was going to put on top of the tower we both created. For an 8 year old, I really shouldn't have expected anything else.

"I don't know..I only saw a glimpse of his face." I finally decided to tell her.

She mumbles, disappointed and yet again engrossed in her puzzle. Sulli and my friendship might be weird to most but I like it. I ramble on and she keeps me around for someone to play "Knights and dragons" with her. I don't really mind, it keeps me from trying to run away from here.

"What do you think I should do Sulli? I know it's just a dream but this has never happened before." I mumble again not expecting an answer.

Sulli stops and looks at me with big eyes, in a way where I feel extremely inferior. She seems to have that effect on me a lot. "I think you should visit him again. Ask why he's here.

_______________________________________________________

"Sleeping early today?" Kyungsoo asks, surprised at me already bundled up as much as I can on my bed.

"Yep. Please place a glass of water on the table before you go." He placed the glass and left me promptly alone.

I did intend to sleep early, but the AC is too cold. The blankets are too itchy and despite the water I drank already twenty minutes ago my mouth seems to be as dry as ever. My neck aches and I want to cry from the overstimulation.

My eyes rest on the ceiling tiredly. The walls seem to be talking to me today, Each side whispering and mumbling the nastiest things under their breath. My eyes blink out fresh tears and I weep mournfully, "Leave me alone. Please just leave." I beg.

But the voices don't seem to stop. Each one is growing closer and closer but I don't know what they are saying. I never do. I just know that each whisper , each word so close and breathing down my neck prickles my skin like tiny needles. They pierce my skin and my heart so deeply I want to desperately rip the sheets off me and find the bed stained with my blood.

But although I know that the shivers that rack my body are violent, and that the walls and the souls want me dead. My heartbeat slows down because this is the sign that I'm going to fall asleep.

______________________________________________________

The wind up here is strong. It whips and lashes at my face But it doesn't deter me one bit. My eyes are just focused on the horizon. I've been standing here for the past ten minutes. I'm barefoot but the floor beneath me is smooth.

I'm aware from the corner of my eye that there is someone approaching me. They have been doing so since the time I arrived here. I don't know who it is, but I hope it's Jay again.

My figure turns around. The world around me is barren, in the world I've created for myself there is no sky. There are no clouds or sun. In Fact the only thing supporting me right now is a bridge. It's narrow and I can fall over any moment if I'm not too careful but I don't mind.

The person approaching me comes closer and my eyes rake over its blurry figure. My throat tightens as I take in the tattered clothes caked with snow. It's not cold here but the figure is shivering.

My brother approaches me carefully, calculatedly. His one eye is glaring at me and the other is swollen to the point he can't open it anyway. My throat opens to let out a cry but it stops there as a silent scream.

He's near me now. I don't need to see the rest of him to know how he looks. The image is forever ingrained into my mind anyway. I can picture his dark, almost black blood carelessly staining his clothes. I can see his left arm stuck on the handle of the car and his body littered with cuts too deep for it to be repaired. The only major difference is that he seems to be awake now.

"You did this to me, you know that?" He tells me, his voice barely a whisper but I know what he's saying and I nod.

His face contorts into something ugly. His eyes hold so much rage, such intense loath that it doesn't occur to me this time that I'll wake up. I know I deserve it. I knew I'd see it in his face sooner or later.

He grabs hold of my wrist, and despite the snow covering his body, his grip is burning hot. Smoke seems to leave his hands and I can feel my skin melt. "You're hurting me." I croak.

"Good." Is all he says before flinging me over the corner of the bridge.

______________________________________________________

Falling isn't what I imagined I thought would be like. I thought the wind would whistle near my ears. I thought I'll feel nauseated or even faint. But nothing of that sort happened. Even the sky has no mercy, letting me watch my brother's satisfied face as I plummet into the ground.

But the hit never comes. Instead I was shocked, not enough to wake up but enough to give a loud gasp as icy water surrounded me. Salt water fills up my mouth and I want so desperately to go up but I can't see the surface anymore.

I know I just barely fell but all that surrounds me is the ocean. The back of my brain begs me to look for a way out. To spot the bubbles that *should* be there. To follow it. I've taken swim classes before. I know exactly what to do, but this time my arms flail helplessly. I pray and pray that I go deep down and finally give up so that my death could be labelled as an accident rather than a cowardly action to run away from my mistakes. From my sins.

A final breath escapes my mouth and my arms and legs relax letting the tremendous force of the water push me down and deep. I go willingly.

_______________________________________________________

My eyes are blurry and tired and I can't figure out if it's the weight of the water that clings onto my lashes or my tears, either way I force them open to be met with Jay's face. This time I can see his face clearly, there are water droplets dripping onto his shirt and his hair is unruly.

When he sees that I'm awake he lets out a huge sigh of relief and lets go of my shoulders flopping down on the sand.

I get up disoriented and look around. I can see the ocean and I can feel the sand that's beneath me, the grains of sand stick to my face and hands as I let out coughs.

"You saved me." I say as a matter- of - fact, "Why?"

"I was waiting for you, you know?" He says instead, completely ignoring my question.

"It's lonely here and you're the only one who visits me. If I don't save you, who will?"

It's against all logic for Jay to exist. If I told them about this they would tell me it's a figment of imagination my own mind created to cope. Perhaps that's the truth but right now Jay might be the only one who even wants me alive, and that's enough for me to hope I don't wake up for just a little longer.

A few seconds pass and I spend them observing Jay determined to remember the most of him when I wake up.

"I'll save you again you know?" Jay says, looking at me. "I'll save you with everything I have in me, so please visit again. With you I think I have a purpose After All. "

I don't say anything, startled by his sudden confession. He looks right through me and holds out his pinky finger.

"Promise?"

I interlock my finger with his and repeat, "Promise."

_______________________________________________________

#jake #jay #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen fics #enhypen supernatural #enhypen drabbles #sunoo #jay x reader #enhypen thriller #enhypen headcanons #enhypen mystery #enhypen horror

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dirtyoldmanhole · 8 months

Text

@/damoselcastel was kind enough to show me a bunch of the FE:Fates visual works artbook pages the other day!

and because i am continuing to be .... brain rotted (lol) ... grabbed a copy since there was more than a few relevant pages/official artworks, and wanted to have a high res/color corrected version of these pages for art refs to slap on my reference boards! if i'm looking at them every day now for the past three months they better be accurate!!!

anyway! it came TODAY!!! :D :D pakidge

IT WASN'T EVEN SUPPOSED TO COME UNTIL THE END OF THE MONTH AAAAA

god dang this thing is THICK, now this is what i call a proper artbook! a little hard to see here but you can see by both the front and the spine that it's a chonker -- the two tellius artbooks combined are thicker but they're also a bit smaller elsewhere.

rest is under the cut b/c it's me promptly going feral :P

(and seeing who's on the spine ahhh!!! honestly that's really cool and super appropriate given his subtle plot/character relevance?! super fucking cool to keep seeing nintendo nod at him in symbolically relevant places, but not too overtly )

SPEAKING OF I SHIT YOU NOT GUESS WHICH SPREAD THIS THING FELL TO FIRST

I SHIT

YOU

NOT--

stone cold, swear to you, straight up didn't intend that but this was literally me irl then:

:')))))))))

(also HE GETS A WHOLE SPREAD???? and a turnaround?!!!!!! even freaking corrin's nohr noble design gets like an EIGHTH of the page

gunter gets treated SO WELL in this artbook i'm on the floor trying not to sob like i'm sixteen again and begging for any zihark scraps

also this is so much more high res than what's on my reference board the nitpicky artist in me is literally crying for joy about FINALLY HAVING A HIGH RES REFERENCEEEEEEEEEEE

also what the fuck the architecture is so cool???????????

THE WORLDBUILDING I AM WILDING

for real tho i remember my first conquest playthrough my jaw was on the FLOOR being genuinely amazed at how cool the worldbuilding was especially on the nohrian side with the gothic vibe and y'all don't know how useful this is going to be to replicate nohrian motifs in all of my drawings/probable comics/doujinshi/etc.

[foams at mouth]

this artbook also covers EVERYTHING

like there's a healthy amount of character work , but there's also enemy designs (always thought fate's enemy designs were unusually kickass, like some of these folks could be outright characters themselves), the architecture stuff above....

my room lines....

OH MY GOD THIS MEANS I HAVE A THIRD SET OF TRANSLATIONS I CAN CROSS REFERENCE TO FUCK YES

sorry for shitty blurriness it's just me vibrating in excitement lmao i'll upload it in the high res chunk

.....

hellooooo sir~~~~

(you knew i was going to be posting that shot >:D )

his possession CGI gets a full fucking page too ajlsjsjkskjhhjshjg

HE GETS TREATED SO GOOD HERE Y'ALL, SO MANY FULL PAGES???????????? is this what it's like to be brain rotted over a major character i will never know the feeling lul

(there's actually at least two other gunter fullbody artworks in here, those have already been scanned/uploaded properly by others so i won't post 'em here unless y'all want em!

and then lastly!

to finish it off, god this cover progress is so cool, kozaki knows what he's doing.

and i'm pretty sure gunter's linework gets changed halfway through, his expression's somewhat different than on the final! and i'll be posting that along with the other high res/cleaned up scans! just need to figure out if my scanner's gonna do a better job than my phone or vice versa.

[tries to stay composed] [fails]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

#meta

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choco1 · 6 months

Text

An Allegory for the Eldritch

I was washing the dishes yesterday, and it got me thinking. We have an ant problem. There are small, black ants intruding upon our home. As such, they often cover the dishes I intend to wash, and it is a great hassle to deal with them. I don't like hurting ants, and I typically spare them where can. If they are eating on a cup I need to wash, I'd often let them dine in peace and wash the cup later. However, if the cup must be washed then, I get out the most ants I can and often drown the rest.

Ants are impossibly small beings compared to us. They fundamentally cannot understand or comprehend us or why we do what we do. There are billions of them for each of us, and I know I treat them too well. I give them the benefit of the doubt too often, I am far too merciful compared to what's reasonable, and I imprint upon them an emotional intelligence they simply do not possess.

I will not go out of my way to hurt an ant, but if they were, say, littering the floor, I wouldn't put much thought into crushing them. I try to spare them when washing dishes, but should some drown, I wouldn't feel any remorse or empathy. Should they enter my home, I am typically peaceful with them, but I will often harm them and take their lives for convenience's sake as I do not truly value their lives. Why should I? They're just ants, after all.

This made me think of lovecraft as many things do. This got me thinking. Is this how eldritch beings view us? Ants are to us what we are to the eldritch. We lead exceedingly simple lives compared to the eldritch, and us attempting to understand them would be a fool's errand. There are millions of us for one of them. We are incredibly small. We live such short lives, and we die so easily. We poke our noses where we don't belong, enter the homes of those far greater than us, but we never understand what we're getting into. They wouldn't care for us very much at all.

Even the kindest, most benevolent god would not truly care for our lives. It may be averse to harming us, but, ultimately, we die too often and too easily, we are too simple and plentiful, and we mess with their lives and enter their homes even if we don't know it. Why should it care about us?

On the other hand, there could be eldritch entities who take pleasure in harming us. Like a child burning ants with a magnifying glass, we are mere toys to be played with and broken. A sadistic monster from our perspective, but nothing outlandish from the perspective of the eldritch.

Then there could be gods who don't care about us one way or another, but should we tread upon their domain, should we enter their homes, should we dine upon their scraps and walk upon their floor, they wouldn't hesitate to exterminate us all.

We think we are the pinnacle of life; that we are the most incredible creatures out there, but that may just be because we can't understand anything that may or may not be beyond our perception. Ants cannot perceive us in our entirety. They are simply too small, too stupid, and too simple to see us in our entirety. In an ant's eyes we are gods, In our eyes, we are human, but, in the eyes of something greater, we could be naught but insects

#How do tags work #I'm new to tumblr #Lovecraft #cosmic horror #my thoughts #cthulhu #the king in yellow #eldritch #my writing

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skaruresonic · 5 months

Text

I write HL fics sometimes so go check 'em out. links and excerpts under the read more. yeet

In the Eye of the Beholder - benignmilitancy - Half-Life [Archive of Our Own]

It wasn't a conscious decision.

It seldom is.

Risk factors. As if one's life can be reduced to a chemical deficit. ---

He can't say where it started, only where it's led him.

He saw the dwindling rations, the tight pinched miens of the men around him. The incessant chatter of a television broadcasting some new infathomable horror.

He ate less, started giving Kleiner his share. You need it more than I do.

Maybe the transference is why Kleiner started fighting battles on his behalf. Merely breathing is an incredible act of courage. I'll not have you speak ill to him when he's ailing.

"What about the rest of us, Kleiner? Do you really think this has just been peaches for us? Damned facility took everything! May God have mercy on our souls, because this coalition certainly won't spare us!"

In the days following the Seven Hours, he experienced no passions, no ambitions, no plans or desires. Consciousness a blank expanse. He became an unthinking creature, a vegetable at the ripe old age of twenty-three, confined to lying on a dirty couch, waiting for it to become a coffin.

A hand rustling the pillow beneath him, propping him up. A spoonful of flavorless chicken broth poised to his chapped lips, which parted out of reflex and allowed the liquid to slip inside.

Occasionally he felt fingers, dry and cold, knead his throat.

You must live. Kleiner, a tremulous wisp. Our hubris stole your future. Barney, I promise with whatever breath is granted me, I'll correct this grievous wrong. ---

I believe the Combine intend to show us every horror possible. They'll try to strip us of our rationality, our humanity, our sanity and our very souls. They'll parade us as animals to be gawked at and specimens to be dissected. You cannot do their work for them, Barney.

Life has no intrinsic meaning, it's true. We can neither rationalize nor justify our existence. We may not have a reason to continue. But there is such cohesion, such structure, to the universe that I find it impossible to believe we don't have a place in it at all. Let us be damned before we let our aggressors define it for us.

For a single sublime moment, Kleiner's hope made him beautiful.

Bless the wretched, who cling to scraps as they drift through this dark sea. --- Mycotoxin - benignmilitancy - Half-Life (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own] Hammer Two forges ahead and freezes at the threshold.

"Oh, sh... " And then it remembers. "Untagged biotics in Sector Nineteen."

Ghost Five staggers back in, twists and convulses beneath a pulsating mask of black mold. Spores spray on each exhale of the ventilator, latching onto the dust motes and burning. Asthmatic smoke.

Christ. Fall back. Bear back.

Daggers discharge. Raindrops in a puddle. The sterilizers have nowhere to go. They're simply eaten.

Hammer Two activates its wall and pulls up its hammer, sloughing sparks. There is something gladiatorial in the way it creeps toward Ghost Five. Near valiant. But the moment dies brutishly: the wall sputters and half of Hammer Two disintegrates. The other half slumps to the carpet. Carrion. Feasted upon. What it is now, the others don't know.

What's the designation? someone asks. Questions ripple through them.

What's the designation.

Spores.

The designation.

Mold?

Designation.

"You fucking morons, who cares what it is?"

They call for their mother, who responds with cold silence.

OVERWATCH WE ARE REQUESTING DESIGNATION

WE HAVE UNTAGGED

--- Derailed - benignmilitancy - Half-Life [Archive of Our Own]

Rain bombs the rooftops, a thousand simultaneous explosions silvering the streets. Water rattles the drainpipes loose from their bolts. Skies weep, unable to inhale. Endless baptisms rinse the city clean. He hasn't seen anything like it since the Seven Hours.

The man who stepped in front of the razor train, the whole and complete Kevlar-clad body he used to belong to, asked him in a thin whisper: You think it'll work?

Will what work?

Your Resistance. Go poking at the beast and it'll tear your head right off the stump. ---

Mask - benignmilitancy - Half-Life [Archive of Our Own] After a moment of silence, you roll up the hem of your armor.

They can't help but stare at the purple welt puckered over your right kidney. The flesh folded inward, the serrated ghosts of stitches puncturing brown skin.

Torso pads caught most of it. You appraise it with a nonchalant sniff. He cut it from a tin can, y'know, didn't know how to hold it the right way, and, uh. You trace the scar, almost fondling it under the pad of your index finger, before lowering your hem. He ran when he saw it broke off. They sent a couple shredders after him. Didn't make it past the front gate.

You sigh then and throw a stick into the oil drum. Golden cinders flare.

You know the real fucked part? As you were bleeding on the floor like a stuck pig? You got pissed at him. You. The mask. They were chasing him out the door and all you could think was, Just you wait, you raggedy little shit.

---

Path of the Borealis - benignmilitancy - Half-Life [Archive of Our Own]

Alone, he contemplated his failure.

One thread remained.

He crushed it.

Windows shattered outward, crashing tidal waves of glass into the darkness. Incandescent tubes scorched around him, belching sparks that caught on the upholstery. The tram's chassis screeched as the car folded in on itself, metal joints and steel bones scrunching with papery ease.

The last vortal cord sizzled protest in his fist.

Doctor Freeman. The darkness harbored lungs, and it prepared to scream. It… appears we've been quite… obdurate. ---

"You call me less than human. You, who are no more than an animal yourself, terrified of any glimmer of truth illuminating the shadows playing upon the cavern walls of your dim consciousness. What possible use could we have for you, an evolutionary dead end clinging wretchedly to its last vestiges? Only a fool would believe her short-lived passions serve us in the palace of the enlightened."

Breen dropped her. Let her crawl.

Long, jointed fingers grasped her ankles and dragged back its prey, letting the steel grate abrade her Hunter wounds. The floor's ridges scraped her flesh until her scabs cracked. A cold, seeping trickle smeared across her stomach, joining the sweat dampening her undershirt.

"I am the gentlest propagator of this process, believe you me. The native-born aren't quite as considerate for the concerns of the flesh, but I still remember what it means to be saddled down by human foible."

Clutching her throbbing shoulder, Alyx scrabbled in vain at the floor. Toward the launcher, toward anything that could offer salvation. Her heart slammed inside her ribcage, full to burst.

"I can improve you, perfect you in ways your simian cerebrum can hardly grasp. Have you seen the thorough work I've done with Dr. Mossman? How easily I've washed away her pesky flaws? One can't help but appreciate her now that she lacks her stubborn streak, her subtle arrogance driven by fears of inadequacy. Far better than the existing stock, wouldn't you agree?"

This couldn't be it. She couldn't die here, not to him, not with Mossman watching—

" …Now, there, you won't feel a thing, I promise. This baptism is the most invigorating thing you will ever do. Doesn't that sound far kinder a fate than any afterlife could purport to be? And who better to convert you than me?

"Not to worry: you're in much more capable hands than the ones that clutched your father. His death was an unrefined mess I wish not to repeat. No; for my next piece, I intend to chip away at you until what remains cannot even be called broken."

In the midst of horror, a place of calm. A clear voice.

Look, her father said. Look closer.

No; closer. Past the shock and pain and helplessness; past the blood pooling through limestone; peel back the layers, quiet the scrape of the scream writhing from your throat; stop feeling, stop grieving and see; what remains?

The Advisor in the barn. Bearing pockmarks from its damaged life support.

Alyx, her father said. Look in the inhuman eyes of the one who killed me. ---

Around her, darkness laughed. Stupid girl. Your father suffered many nightmares, but only one was born of choice.

[Lies.]

Whether hand or mind willed it, she didn't know. The former slipped into her boot and curled around a familiar curve.

[Vindicate me. Extinguish these lies.]

Alyx slaked off the HEV with a shove and brandished the pincer. Let the bastard's amused gaze absorb the glint of the weapon that had lured the terrified animal from Breen's host body, made the human inside taste hell.

"This is what you really want, right?" It turned, wry amusement etching Gordon's features. "What you arranged in Black Mesa." With a spirit as chillingly clear as ice, she poised the tip over her heart. "Let him go." Pushed in until the point sank through the parka's outermost skin, slitting tender down. "Or you lose everything."

Unperturbed in the slightest, it rose, and walked toward the fire. "Of the various species I have encountered, I have noted core characteristics." Emerald radiance blurred its edges. Gordon immolated. Gordon through a stained-glass window. Exalted. Untouchable. "They are born, cold, hungry, and screaming, into a world where their suffering engenders no meaning. Rather than endure such an existence, many seek relief. They embrace the end."

The pincer quaked.

"All except one. You do not know how to die."

The light was as holy as it was alien. Heatless like oblivion. Like transcendence.

"It is because you do not know how to die that your kind worships shadows. I knew your Resistance would never come to be without a sacrificial lamb or two. For that role, I could have chosen anyone. You, well. Provided the most convenient means, shall we say.

"To put it in the simplest terms I can: I don't like squandering my investments." Smooth metal nudged her breast. The heart, pumping worthless blood, accelerated at the intrusion. "At Black Mesa, I hoped to purge you of your afflictions. But I see my methods have failed. Instead, you passed your strain onto your neighbor."

Instinct checked her hand, prevented her from carrying out the threat.

The entity huffed a noiseless laugh as she relented her grip. "The flesh is a prison. It craves survival."

tery power is four p

Reduced to a crawl, she knelt beside Barney's prone form while the entity raised its arms, spreading veined wings of cables and cords. If she couldn't commit the crucial deed, she could at least... At least...

"There is nowhere to run, Miss Vance. You both belong to me," it said, "the organs of my body." ---

Something Secret Steers Us - benignmilitancy - Half-Life [Archive of Our Own] Maybe all their struggles amounted to futile effort, a fool's errand. An armored suit worn once and tucked away.

She wouldn't accept her death with any of the grace her mother and father had. She'd be dragged screaming into the dark, gnashing her teeth and biting the hand that supposedly fed.

Until now, she'd been measuring herself against this shadow in her head, this specter of Eli, weighing whether or not he'd have done the same in her circumstances. And she'd been so certain, so absolutely sure her father would have done the right thing, wouldn't have let anyone under his protection die.

"I can't take this," she whispered. "Between Dad and Barney and Gordon, it feels like I'm being crushed… And I know they need me to hold it together, I know… But making these decisions over who lives and who dies… How am I supposed to do that?"

But maybe he would have. The prospect that she didn't really know him at all, what he was capable of in a similar moment of blind, abject desperation, terrified her. That behind every self-effacing moment of his was calculation. That his insistence not to saint him but to look to Gordon instead—so certain this myth of a man held the answers they sought—had been in fact meticulously designed to get her to this point, with Gordon as the control. Solved like an equation, by proof and by axiom, whose life will pay the greater dividend? Whose life may we cast aside? Show your work, Dr. Vance.

#'tis the season for half-life. fa la la la la la la #half-life #half life #fanfic #half life fanfiction #I didn't list all of it but. w/e

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spaceyflowerswriting · 2 years

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Heyyy can you write danny and reader kissing ? Thx bye bye

lots of love (daniel park x reader)

details: fluffy drabble, gender neutral reader written in 2nd pov, general canon au, you and daniel are dating

summary: daniel gets rewarded by his partner for the many nice things he's done for them.

a/n: thanks for the cute request :] <3

Daniel wasn't sure what was up with him today, but he wasn't going to question it when every single one of his acts of services expressed to you was met with your sweet smile. Honestly he was starting to convince himself that he'd just be like this for the rest of his life if it meant he could see you smile like that.

"Devoted to them for the rest of my life..." Like a doting husband.

He blushed at the thought. What was he thinking? You two were still highschoolers with uncertain futures in the making. He shouldn't be committing to such a heavy decision at his age. Still, the thought was nice.

A happy sigh passed his lips and you were quick to notice.

"Are you daydreaming again?"

"Sorry," he replied with a laugh, going back to sweeping the floor.

You smiled and went back to your own chore of tidying the classroom by sorting out some books. "You don't have to be sorry, I was just pointing it out. What were you daydreaming about, by the way?"

"Um..." He quietly cleared his throat, unable to stop the pink that was beginning to color in his cheeks. "Nothing much." In an attempt to avoid further questioning, he asked, "Do you want to take a break? We should go get a drink of water or something after our hard work."

The playful look you gave him made his heart race but he calmed when you went along with his suggestion.

He set his broom down and made a beeline for the door of the classroom. "Okay! I'll run and go get some water bottles for us--"

"Nuh-uh. You've done more than enough for me, today." You stepped towards the door, clearly intending to block it.

Daniel kept walking over anyway. "But--"

"Nope." Once you stood in front of the door, he stopped moving to pout. "Stay right where you are. I'm going to get the water bottles."

There was a momentary lighthearted staredown, although Daniel was only using his puppy eyes. That, combined with his pout, made for his ultimate charming tactic. Or at least that's what he hoped. Thankfully, it worked either way and he brightened up as soon as you huffed.

"Okay, fine, you can come along."

"Thank you!" He hurried to follow you out when you left the classroom.

"Seriously, though, you've done way too much for me today."

Daniel cheekily remarked with, "There's no limit, is there?"

You lightly elbowed him. "Yes, but I'm starting to feel guilty. I mean, you even gave me a shoulder massage earlier."

Maybe that was a little over the top, but oh well. He continued to tease, "Well, that's just because I'd do anything for you."

"Daniel, you are too much sometimes, you know that?"

"In a bad way or--" Before he could finish, you grabbed his collar and slightly pulled him down to your height to kiss him. He quickly melted into the kiss and his hands found themselves resting on your hips.

Usually he was unsure of where to place his hands whenever the two of you kissed, but at the moment it came naturally to him. Seemed like something really was up with him today. He could only hope it'd last so long it became a part of him.

After you pulled away, you leaned in to his ear and quietly said, "I'll give you more kisses later~"

His cheeks colored in pink the same way as before and a big grin formed on his face while you properly pulled away this time and continued to walk off. He trailed after you like the lovesick puppy he was.

bonus extra writing below that i thought was funny but scrapped lol (original plan for this drabble/oneshot was daniel being awkward about a first kiss)

"Be gentle... and fast. Be manly... but kind. Got it?"

"Zack, that sounds awfully familiar to something you've told Vasco before."

"Hey, if a piece of advice works, there's nothing wrong with repeating it. And it's not like you have any advice, Jace."

Jace's smile cracked. "Yeah... but still. Daniel asked how you kiss someone."

"And? My advice still applies?"

Daniel rubbed at his nape, glancing between his friends. "Uh, but Zack, how exactly do you kiss someone in a manly way?" He was only met with silence and Jace awkwardly looking away.

Eventually, Zack managed to mutter, "Well... you just..."

Jace sighed and lightly slapped Zack's arm, making the latter glare at him. "Stop making shit up, you're just going to confuse poor Daniel."

"I'm--!"

"Daniel, just talk to your partner about it. Learn together or something. That's the best advice I can offer."

"Ah, okay! Thanks, Jace." Daniel politely bowed his head at Jace and then nodded at his other friend. "You, too, Zack."

"Anytime, Daniel," replied Jace as Zack gave him a thumbs up and a, "Come back anytime for dating advice!"

#lookism x reader #daniel park x reader #daniel park #requests

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