#anyways juke rights!!!

[thedeathdeelers]

a choice

“and so choose, luke patterson,” the voice boomed around him. “a reset, back to 1995, leading you to a life of fame and fortune, or,” the voice paused for a second, then continued. “or the 21st century, always on the brink of success, but never within your grasp.”

“will i be able to keep making music?”

“yes, but never to the same scale as what could be in 1995.”

“will i be able to keep the ones i love?”

“yes, you will have your family no matter your decision.”

“but julie.. what about julie?”

“if you choose to go back, her memory of you will cease. she will only know you as a famous musician, born decades before her.”

“but she’s family!”

“choose, luke.”

“i-“

“fame or julie molina. you must make your decision.”

“i choose…”

//

the voice fades, and the pitch black room he was in disappears — suddenly there’s a flash of light, and luke is blinking furiously, eyes struggling to readjust.

it takes him a moment, but his vision starts clearing, little pieces of the space around him coming into focus.

his journal on the coffee table, alex’ kit pushed towards the back and reggie’s jacket draped over the couch — the studio just like they left it.

luke continues to scan the space, heartbeat starting to pick up when he sees no hints of julie anywhere — no piano, no coloured gel pens, no hair-clips nor plants.

did the voice make a mistake? was he back in 1995?

was he…never going to see julie again?

the panic rises while luke is rooted to the spot, unable to move.

what had he done? what was happening? why-

“luke?” he hears from the doorway- the voice of an angel.

he spins so fast he loses his footing, but barely has time to recuperate before a small mass of curly hair and blurry limbs come hurtling towards him, slamming into his body.

his arms reflexively come up, holding her in place and pulling her into him.

“julie,” he breathes out, his heart beating a mile a minute.

“you’re- you’re really here?” she chokes out, her slim arms tightening around his neck.

“i am,” he says, disbelief still evident in his voice. “i am.”

julie molina.

choosing julie meant choosing music — it was as obvious to luke as breathing.

she was music.

and luke knew that no matter what, he will always choose julie molina.

#idk lmao???? literally his popped into my head #i wrote most of this right before i passed out last night so. yknow. #this is all over the place holy shit #anyway #jatp #juke #julie and the phantoms #HAPPY JUKE JEUDI! #i genuinely apologise to anyone who reads this it’s just not great but i wrote it so imma POST JT #my fics #jatp fics

[burntblueberrywaffles]

"Ew liking unhealthy ships is so toxic-"

"Actually toxic ship are INTERESTING unlike those boring healthy ships that have no flavour-"

Meanwhile me, who can appreciate and enjoy any ship dynamics:

#like yeah sometimes the unhealthy toxic af ships just HIT but so do the soft friends to lovers #I’ve made many posts defending toxic ships but then some people would go in my notes and be like ’YEAH healthy ships are always boring’ #and it’s like;;;; you took my post about letting ppl ship whatever they enjoy and turned it right around to ship bashing #like no actually soft and cute and healthy can be extremely compelling if done right #anyway that was on my mind and yk me gotta meme my way through any thought that enters my head #signed: someone who ships both Juke and Snowbaird LOL #shipping #fandom #burntblueberrywaffles #meme #memes #fandom memes #blue makes memes

[writerownstory]

hold my hand and I’ll squeeze it back

part 5/?

(read part one, two, three, and four.)

It turned out that being friends with Carrie wasn’t terrible.

It was weird, but not terrible. Carrie had inserted herself into their lives as if she had been there all along and while Flynn said it seemed fake, Julie was determined to give the girl the benefit of the doubt for Luke’s sake. After all, if she made Luke happy, who was she to stand in the way of that?

Carrie was also frequently featured in her FaceTime calls with Luke which at first Julie wasn’t a huge fan of, but as the days went on, and it wasn’t so bad.

They all hung out whenever Julie was home from school on the weekends and though she would’ve thought Carrie was above hanging out and just watching movies, she seemed pretty content to be with them.

Luke had left to make some popcorn when Carrie looked at her from the other end of the couch.

“Hey Julie, can I ask you something?”

It was a little forward, but not out of the norm for Carrie. “Uh yeah, sure.”

“Luke told me you don’t play music anymore. Is that true?”

Music was an unspoken taboo subject around Julie and it had been for the last few months. The thought of anything to do with it made her want to simultaneously curl in on herself in despair but also scream out in frustration because without her mom, what was the point of it all?

Carrie’s question had been blunt, though well intentioned—she thought—and the complete opposite of everyone else who had been tip-toeing around her. The only one who hadn’t was Luke, and it was only because he didn’t have to. And possibly coming from anyone else, Julie might’ve considered it a slap in the face. A few months ago, she would’ve definitely taken the question from Carrie as a low blow. But now, it was oddly… refreshing.

She would wonder why Carrie might not believe something Luke had told her/why Luke had told her later.

“Yeah, uh… I haven’t been able to play since my mom died.”

“Why’s that?”

It should’ve been an innocent question. Julie wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. But it was a question she hadn’t been able to answer even for herself. Anytime she even tried to put her fingers to the keys, it was as if she felt the weight of the loss of her mom all over again.

Julie shrugged uncomfortably, drawing her knees to her chest like a shield. “I just… can’t.”

“Do you think you’ll ever play again?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “It’s been really hard to have anything to do with music.”

Carrie tilted her head thoughtfully. “You don’t miss it?”

“Haven’t really given it much thought,” she lied. The whole concept terrified her, but she hadn’t admitted that out loud to anyone, not even Luke.

Carrie opened her mouth to respond, but Luke came back with the popcorn then, plopping himself between them. He raised an eyebrow at her, silently asking if she was okay.

Julie smiled weakly to reassure him and he turned back to the movie. She thought that was it, but without looking back at her, he gently took her arm and tugged until her head was resting comfortably on his shoulder.

She looked up at him again, only for him to throw popcorn in her face.

She immediately reached for the bowl, throwing some back at him. “Hey! Watch where you throw that stuff, Patterson!”

“You’re gonna miss the movie if you keep spacing out,” he told her.

To her surprise, Carrie tossed some at Luke too and judging by the way his jaw dropped, he hadn’t expected it either.

“She can’t watch with you throwing popcorn in her face either!” she teased which began a popcorn fight between the three of them with Julie and Carrie totally beating Luke at his own game.

And even though Flynn would later tell her over Facetime that it was weird—“She’s a demon, Jules. You don’t just grow out of that!”—Julie thought Carrie was pretty okay. All they had to do was get along anyway.

Right?

read part six.

#i know there are mixed feelings about Carrie and Luke y’all #trust me I KNOW #but let it run it’s course okay #all will be right soon #julie and the phantoms #juke fic #love you anyway au #my writing

[dckweed]

Not sure if you're doing top gun requests right now, but if so, here's one. Rooster with a girl who is helping penny at the bar on a super busy night and there is some rowdy group who keeps calling her over and staring at her, and eventually they go too far and try to grab her but she just knocks one of them clean out and as the guys (hangman, fanboy, etc) is taking care of them, rooster takes her away bc she was about to go crazy on them lol. He's just like "that was so hot but you don't need to go to prison tonight."

baby i am always taking top gun requests. ooooh i love this idea so freaking much, thank you for choosing me to send it too, i absolutely do love it when you guys send things!

please note that i see every request that comes in and i am getting to them one at a time! with that being said, feel free to send one in!

anway, how are we all doing today? are we staying hydrated?

warnings: drinking, violence, inappropriate groping and harassment, bar fights, established relationship with rooster!

"BITCHLESS & DICKLESS' bradley rooster bradshaw x fem!reader

It was a busy Friday night at the Hard Deck, you and Penny the only two working and barely able to keep up with the constant flow of customers coming through, it only seemed to get even more crowded and rowdy when a small group of sailors fresh off the base come through, taking up a couple of the tables near the juke box. They signal you over and you make your towards them, order pad in hand incase they order more than just beer.

"Hey guys, how can i help you?" You ask, your voice upbeat and a smile on your face. It was sticky hot outside and you knew your shirt was clinging to your skin because of it, you tried not to feel too uncomfortable with the obvious way two of the men were staring at you. "Eyes up here, fellas." You say, giving a playful angry look. You were used to being looked at, it kind of came with the job title of bartender, but that didn't mean that it didn't make you uncomfortable.

One of the men cocks a smirk at you, leaning back easily in his seat. "They'll have a round of Budweiser," He says, his eyes not leaving you once as he gestures towards his friends. "and i'll have your number, sweetness."

Before you can open your mouth to object politely, one of his buddies beats you to it. "Hey, Hanks, give some of us a chance with her damn." He chuckles flashing you a smile.

"How about none of you get a chance?" You say sweetly, laughing with his buddies. "I'll be back with the beers in a minute." You shake your head, walking back to the bar. You grab six cold beers from the ice box and start putting them on a serving tray.

"Those boys gonna be trouble?" Penny asks, maneuvering her way behind you with a few drinks of her own. You hadn't realized that she had heard the interaction.

"No, they'll be fine." You shake your head, glancing back over at the table as you pop the tops off of the bottles one by one. The one that had asked for your number, Hanks, was staring at you and talking to the rest of his friends at the same time. His gaze unsettled you, but you carried on with your job anyway. You make your way back over to them, planting your serving smile back on to your face as you start handing out their beers. "Alright fellas, let me know if there's anything else i can get you, okay?"

"That phone number is still wanted, honey." Hanks' friend says, taking a sip from his bottle. He shoots you a wink and manspreads in his chair, you perk an eyebrow at him. What was it with navy boys being so goddamn persistent?

"I'm sure it is honey," You say, your voice a little more stern on the matter this time around. "but my boyfriend sure wouldn't appreciate me giving it out to random navy boys that walk into my bar." You turn to head back towards the actual bar, where you see Penny starting struggle.

"I don't see him around, im sure what he don't know won't kill him!" Hanks voice calls after you, its almost admirable how persistent they are, it was afterall one of the more endearing qualities about your boyfriend when you first met him, although you had to say that he hadn't been nearly as uncomfortable as these boys were.

"Oh he'll be around!" You call back over your shoulder, not noticing that at that moment said boyfriend and his group of friends had walked through the front door of the bar. You didn't notice them for quite a few minuets, giving them plenty of time to get to their usual seats as you worked on the fresh wave of customers at the bar, mixing drinks and handing them out almost mechanically.

After around twenty minutes or so Bradley comes up to the bar, standing directly behind you, your back turned as you pour beer from the tap. "Here you g-Bradley!" You exclaim excitedly, nearly spilling the beer in your hands before you hand it to the man standing next to him.

"Hey baby," He says, his voice gruff and hoars, tired. He gladly accepts your kiss as you lean across the bar for it, pressing his lips against your own. He was still wearing his flight suit, and still covered in sweat, and a quick glance towards the others told you everything y ou needed to know.

"Rough day?" You look at him, eyes questioning as you get to work making their drinks. Whiskey neat for Jake, Scotch on the rocks for Bradley and Natasha and a pop for Bob, your favorite sober companion most evenings.

"You could say that," He says, a deep sigh leaving his chest as he watches you, already feeling more at ease. You didnt pry any farther, knowing he would tell you all about it in bed that night. "When are you off?"

You pout, coming around the bar with the drinks on a serving tray. "Not until nearly closing tonight," You say, walking with him towards the others. Bradley studiously takes the tray from you, ever the gentleman even on his roughest days, his arm brushing your shoulder as you walk. "Hey guys," You greet, giving Jake and Bob your usual friendly kiss on the cheek, and with a giggle you give one to Nat too when she taps hers and gives you a lopsided grin. You could tell by looks on their faces that they all needed a dose of happiness.

"Where's mine?" Bradley whines, hand on your hip possessively. You roll your eyes at him but lean up to kiss his waiting cheek anyway, adoring the small smile that tugs at the corners of his lips.

"Awe come on Rooster, you get her all the time, let the rest of us have some." Natasha says, causing you to throw your head back in a laugh, leaning farther into your boyfriend. Your laugh was infectious and the whole group lets out a chuckle, you watch their bodies relax afterwards. "Might want to keep em coming, Y/N , it's been a rough one.."

Jake looks somewhere behind you, eyebrows pinched, stare hard. "Looks like you're in need, Y/N" He says, raising his whiskey to his lips to take a sip.

You look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on the group of sailors from earlier on the other side of the bar. "Those guys again," You sigh, grabbing your tray off the table.

Bob grabs your wrist before you go, and you furrow your brow at him. "Are those guys giving you a hard time?" He asks quietly, he knew Bradley was already on edge as it was and didn't want him looking for a fight.

"Nothing i can't handle, Bobby," You say, ruffling his hair with a wink before heading off towards the group, putting some pep back in your step. "Ready for round two already, fellas?"

The night drags on quickly and slowly all at the same time, customers come and go, drinks are made and made again and carried out to tables. The two main groups being your Boyfriend and the rest of the daggers and the group of boat boys who become more rowdy as the night drags on.

Bradley is already uneasy with them as it is, catching them staring at you one too many times and asking for your number more than once, to which you studiously turn them down, looking his way as if asking for help. He knew he would step in when needed, but he also hoped that didn't need to happen, he knew Penny would talk to Mav and Mav would talk his ear off about it tomorrow on base.

Your patience had more than worn thin, and you were counting down the minuets until your shift was over, hoping that the last half an hour would pass without any issues. Your hopes were wrong though.

You were bringing the group of boat boys another round of beers and a couple of waters and were just picking up the empties and placing them on your tray when you feel it, a large, sweaty hand sliding up the back of your thigh and right up onto your ass, giving it a heavy squeeze. Your eyes widen. "You wanna lose that fucking hand?" You ask, voice gruff as you stand up straight. The entire table quiets.

"What? Fly girl over there is good enough to squeeze this thick ass but i'm not?" Natasha had playfully smacked your ass on her way to the restroom a short time ago, something the two of you had grown close enough as friends to do. It had made you laugh, but this? Oh this was an entirely different ball game.

You see red, and off in the distance you hear Bradley and Jake both yell and the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor as they all get up abruptly. Youve done it before they can even reach you though. The tray drops from your grasp, your dominant hand balling up as the sound of shattering glass reaches your ears and your fist collides with Hanks' face, right between the eyes. You feel a sickening crunch under the force of the blow and blood spurts out of his nostrils as he slumps down, you had hit him hard enough to knock him out.

"What the fuck?!?" Bradley is next to you, arm out protectively as his friends all stand from their seats, ready to brawl over what you had done, even though their pig of a friend had done worse in your opinion. "Y/N?"

"Bitchless and Dickless over there can't catch a fucking hint!" You yell lunging for his friend. Rooster's arms hold you back though before you can make contact with him, the entire bar watches you scream and kick at the sailor as your boyfriend drags you out towards the parking lot. "Fucking assholes! Squeezed my fucking ass!"

Surprisingly, Bob is the first to throw a punch. He had been watching the idiots mess with you all night long along with Rooster. And after their long ass day he was just as ready to fight as the rest of them, infact, he actually took pleasure in what he did. His fist collides squarely with Hanks' friend and Natasha drags the already semi conscious asshole across the floor after you and Bradley, Penny coming to help her.

"Jesus christ baby, you started a fucking brawl!" Bradley laughs, opening the passenger door of the bronco, shoving all of his stuff onto the floorboard as he sets you up on the seat. "That was so fucking hot," He says, hearing police sirens in the distance already. "You have no idea how bad i want to fuck you right now but i can't have you going to jail tonight, buckle in tight baby.." He says, closing your door before running around to the drivers side, the only the thought on his mind is getting you home where you're safe and in your guys' bed, preferably underneath of him.

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick imagine #miles teller

[swiftiekisses]

ultraviolence

words : 2,261

tags : gun kink , fucked with a gun , predator / prey , reader has a prey kink , peacekeeper ! snow , light sadism , size difference , size kink , obsessive behavior , power play , creampies , orgasm delay / denial

a/n : idk what came over me whilst writing this im gonna be so honest…. semi inspired by Cherienymphe‘s “everybody knows that i’m a good girl, officer” fic!!! its so good

p.s : this is also posted on my ao3!!! ( divider by pommecita )

snow barely had any empathy for people, let alone any districts. he was a man who fell into poverty himself, but he got out of it, he was a capitol and he’s friends with those that come from the highest statuses. normally people felt pity for those in the districts, they scavenged for food, or proper clothing. not snow, he thought it was a game to watch them snatch up fresh bread and run like their lives depend on it. because it does, they survive, they live another day and satisfy their hungers, if they get caught, they’ll be dead in seconds— especially if coriolanus catches them. 

he liked the power he had, the fact that he could do almost anything he desired and get away with it because the districts had been committing a crime anyway, he just stopped them from doing it any more. he liked that they would cower underneath him, beg for their lives, he liked that he had the power to give them a simple warning, to let them off the hook, but he never did. 

not until now. 

he found himself chasing yet another bunny, heavy boots padding behind your thin, poorly made shoes. 

something about the adrenaline rushing through your veins had a heat developing in between your legs, like it was a primal reaction, an animalistic urge. he nearly noticed in the way your steps staggered, but that could be lack of spacial awareness, which he noted that you had. you were so busy running in straight lines you didn’t even bother to juke him or to hide. 

easy prey, aren’t you? 

he thought that at first, until your steps suddenly changed, turning to the right. 

and you had disappeared between the greens and tall trees, his wild eyes raced around the all too silent forest. he tuts, a low taunt, “where are you, bunny?” 

his voice came out sing - songy, having your breathing shake from the tree you hid behind, your thighs pressed together. 

how was a hunt so intimate, so sexual? 

“why are you hiding from me, bunny?” his voice is softer, as if he’s pouting. 

you hear his boots snap twigs with ease, crush leaves into fragile pieces, dip through mud. he was getting closer, like a wolf stalking it’s prey, like he knew where you hid. you tried to hold your breath, to keep yourself hidden, but it was no use. he rounded the corner, and you ran into a sprint again, nearly dropping the bread you had taken. 

if you hadn’t dropped it then, you were sure to now. 

his arms took you into a threatening hold, at first pushing you into a tree, then slamming you against the floor when you wriggled at his grasp. his panting breath, your fearful whines, the begging that sat on your tongue silently, it was as if sex had been happening even with your clothes on. your tears well with tears at being slammed on the hard ground, and he feels the fabric of his pants tighten at the sight. 

“please,” here comes the begging, music to his ears, “it’s my first time stealing, i’ve never done this before—“ 

“is that so?” his head cocks to the side, holding down your wriggling hands, “i’m sure i’ve seen you before, doll.” 

“you must be mistaken,” your puffy lips part, breath heaving as you try to pull away from him. 

it doesn’t work, he just simply holds you down, he easily could with one hand if he wanted to, “are you calling me a liar?” 

it was embarrassing, truly, being so turned on by the way his voice deepened with firmness, by the way he held you down with such ease, “of course not, i would never—“ 

“you just did, though,” his tone is biting, typically he doesn’t let conversations last this long, but something about you was different. his eyes catch on to the way your thighs are rubbing together, not in a way to try to free yourself from him, but where you crave friction. “my, my, what do we have here?” 

his hand taps against your thigh, pulling up the hem of your dress, his eyes land on yours, waiting for confirmation. 

you immediately nod, it’s so quick, impatient, he adores it. 

his long fingers lace around both of your wrists whilst the other pries your thighs apart, noticing the way fluids soil your panties. 

“how cute,” he observes out loud, allowing his hunger to show in the way he nearly rips your panties apart whilst harshly tugging the, down, watching how your legs immediately fall apart into a spread, panties hanging off your ankle for dear life. you were so desperate, you were willing to do this in the woods, present yourself to a peacekeeper just because you had gotten horny merely off a chase. 

his hand smoothes against your right inner thigh, feeling goosebumps form in prickles, and the way you shiver underneath each touch. his hand is large against your cunt, a single finger moving through it to feel the wetness, your hips immediately buck, desperate for more. 

his chuckle is soon silenced by his hand raising to his mouth, just so he can taste your slick. 

removing it with a pop, a curt smile tugs at his lips, sweet, like honey. 

his hand smoothes down your inner thigh again, and you realize he’s teasing you, “officer—“

his thumb is threateningly close to your cunt, “hm?” 

“touch me,” you breathe out, “please.” 

how funny is it that the last time you said please to him you were begging for your life? 

“like this?” his eyebrow quirks, pad of his thumb moving to swipe against your clit, your back arches ever so slightly. 

the whine that emits from you is far too loud for his liking, so he hushes you with gentle shhs, thumb rubbing slow circles on the bundle of nerves. 

“you don’t want people to hear us, hm?” he hums, “to find out you’re letting a peacekeeper touch you in such ways, truly scandalous.” 

he can imagine it being front page of the district newspaper, girl caught fucking peacekeeper in woods! 

your fingers twitch in his grasp, finding his movements far too slow, and he finds your movements and whines far too annoying. 

he moves to plunge a finger into your cunt, making your whines hush to whimpers, unintelligible words. 

“real impatient, aren’t you?” his finger moves slow at first, watching the way your hips move against it in response, “maybe i should just put you in your place.” 

he removes his finger, watching the way you desperately clench around nothing. his hand moves to grab his machine gun, which he had ditched as soon as he threw you to the floor, he finally releases your wrists, you have a chance to run if you wanted to, but you didn’t— because you didn’t want to run, because the fear that filled you when he aimed his gun at you had even more of your fluids escaping the oyster between your legs. 

he moves to cock it, taking it off the safety. 

“fully loaded,” he reminds you, but also seems to be reminding himself. 

he seems to believe you don’t believe him in the way you look up at him through glossy eyes, and he moves to aim his gun at a nearby tree, one to your right, directly behind you. and he shot, birds cawed as they flew away from the loud shots, he noticed how you flinched, immediately moving to the safety of his grasp, and he only smiled, how adorable that you find safety in the man who had enough power to kill you in seconds. 

he hushes your fears, not reassuring anything about your safety as he moves the gun tip your legs back apart, one of his hands leaving it as he wraps it around your wrists once more, holding you back down in a missionary position. the hand on his gun was less steady now, finger tight against the trigger, it had you biting your lip. he traces along your inner thigh with the tip of the gun, “you’re gonna be a good girl, right?” 

he watches you immediately nod, so eager, “yes, yes, officer.” 

his gun passes a trail down to your cunt, pressing against your clit, he could shoot right now, the finger on the trigger was so tight, so unsupported. he could slip once and shoot directly into you, something about that thrilled you more, made your hips buck against the gun, practically riding the weapon. he admires your desperation, the way your face twists with pleasure as you move against the cool material that built the gun. 

he eventually pulls the tip of the gun down, until it’s at your entrance. 

he watches your eyes widen as the metal dips inside of you, spreading you open with ease. 

your hands flail in his tight hold, “it hurts— officer, wait—“ 

“hm?” he pauses for a mere second, “sweet bunny, you can take it.” 

the pain soon subdues to pleasure as he begins moving the gun again, pumping it in and out of you and coating the black of the weapon with your milky slick. whimpers of pain soon become moans of pleasure, the tears that had built a gloss over your eyes dipping down your cheeks as your eyes close, hips bucking against the weapon. 

“easy, bunny, easy,” his voice is strained, like seeing you cry awakens something within him, when your hips stop moving against his gun he continues to pump it, faster this time, “good girl, gonna cum all over my gun?” 

you nod, more tears escaping as the thrill of your possible death and the pleasure from the weapon that may cause it becomes all too much. a deep groan vibrates from his chest at the sight of you crying, lips parting to continue, “that’s it, good, good.” 

it’s as if you crying is enough to have him reaching his climax already, as if seeing you cry felt like jerking off. 

the gun widens the more it goes into you, stretching you until you’ll be nothing but a gaping mess from his gun when he’s done. 

so filthy, to be easily stretched out by something that has killed many, how terribly cruel of you, to be cumming on it. 

and the man who had done it is merely watching, admiring you like this was an art gallery, and you were the center piece. he notices the way you near your orgasm, as your hips can’t help but grind down on the gun, moans escaping past your nearly bitten to bleeding lips. and you start calling out to him, “officer, officer, please— can i cum— please.” 

a mere plead, and if snow was a good man, he would say yes, but he wasn’t one. 

“no, bunny, you ran from me,” his finger slides against the trigger, staring at you with a new tint glossing over his eyes, “do you think you deserve to cum?” 

“yes, i need to, i want—“ your breath quickens, mindlessly grinding down onto the gun. 

“no,” he pulls the gun out, depraving you of every wish. he notices the way you whimper, thighs pressing together and rubbing in desire to form friction. there was none, and soon he was tossing his gun to the side, tugging his pants and boxers down ever so slightly to free his cock, then prying your legs apart once more. 

he carefully moves himself between your legs, his hand around your wrists finally freeing them, admiring the red ring he left from how tight his grip was. the same hand moved to fall against your throat, fingertips dipping in to your delicate skin as he guides his dick to your entrance, carefully pushing into you. he feels you tense underneath him at the feeling of him filling you once more, the length and girth enough to reach your intestines, you were sure of it. 

once he bottoms out, he notices the way a bulge appears at your pelvis, popping up against the skin then falling to a settle with each thrust. his other hand moves to your mouth, his fingers spreading your pillow lips apart, your salty taste pressing against your own tongue. 

“taste yourself, bunny, so sweet, hm?” he grunts with each thrust, practically manhandling you with each snap of his hips, fingers dipping down your throat. he watches your eyes roll back, mumbling pleas for the satisfaction of your orgasm to finally come, your bodily fluids sticking to his pelvis and his dick, your walls pulsed around him, drooling onto his cock. 

he nears his climax almost immediately, nose scrunching slightly, “cum, cum for me, sweet bunny.” 

“officer—“ your back arches off the earthy ground as you finally reach your climax, moans vibrating against his flesh and he continues to thrust, riding out your orgasm, overstimulating you until he’s practically fucking you dumb. eventually, he bottoms out, pumping you nearly full of his cum. he moves his hand from your mouth, sticky from your saliva, and takes your panties off your ankle, pulling out and plugging your hole with your own panties. just so you don’t lose any of his cum. 

“there, now you can walk around with my cum inside of you, how sweet.” he takes his hands off of you, moving to tuck his softening dick away and standing. 

he offers your limp body a wink, swiping up his gun, and following up with a, “don’t let me catch you again, doll.” 

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #tbosas #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x y/n #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth

[vexomn]

ZACK LEE the kinda guy to..

i always seem to come home and get the urge to make these..lol anyways- may not be accurate!! honestly its all for fun 🫡

—————————

The kinda guy to hold the door open for a girl and jokingly (or not.) say.. “m’lady…” HAHSSHHSD

————

The kinda guy to fall over and start doing pushups if anyone saw him do it. Like…he didnt fall over? He was keeping up his physique..right in front of the classroom door..

————

The kinda guy to be a reaaaallllyy big spiderman fan…Like I imagine his childhood bed having spidey covers THATS CUTE STOP probably dressed up as him for halloween and shit too. He’s embarrassed to admit it now tho..

“..is that you wearing a spiderman costume..?”

“NO???”

————

The kinda guy to constantly wear one airpod. Not cause he lost it, he just likes listening to his music AND knowing whats going on, in one side atleast. Probably blasts the music in his one ear too, so you better hope you’re on the right side of him if you wanna talk….what a random thing..

————

The kinda guy to enjoy cafe dates..yep..nothing to it..

————

The kinda guy to do that thing in school hallways where he purposely pretends to run into you and you flinch but he jukes you out? just to be annoying…terrible explanation but i hope yous get it..I feel like thats a universal thing in schools idk maybe aus kids are weird

#webcomic #webtoon #lookism #lookism webtoon #zack lee #vexwashere #lee jinsung #webtoon lookism

[sassypossumm]

Our Sins

Some Fire Fighter!Miguel angst to fuel the fire...(discussion of cheating)

Miguel stared at his drink, ruefully recalling Peter's last words to him. Right before he'd run into that burning building. Downing the last of the liquor, Miguel squeezed his eyes shut as the burning liquid ran hot down his throat. 

The memorial had been nice. Lots of well-meaning people saying lots of well-meaning things. 

Peter would've hated it. 

He held the empty glass up to the light. Tilting it sideways he looked through the bottom at the warped view it offered of the dimly lit roadhouse. The bar was small, and what it offered could hardly be deemed acceptable liquor. Paint thinner seemed a more apt description for the caustic substance that passed for alcohol. Still, the strong after-taste it provided proved that he could still feel. Gave him something to sink his teeth into. 

In the background the faint strains of some nameless country song flowed from the decrepit juke box in the corner. If Miguel had to guess, it along with the rest of that rickety little dive had been standing since the 40's. A roach scuttered across the table, but he couldn't be bothered to sweep it away. Rather he held up the glass and peered through it to watch the insect scurry under the table. 

His phone rang. And like he had been doing for the past two hours, Miguel let it go to voice mail. 

It was probably Jess anyway. Most likely wondering were in the hell he'd run off to. Miguel sighed and set the glass on the table, doubtlessly adding to the litany of tinted rings staining the tables surface. 

Guess they haven't discovered coasters yet. He mused dryly, turning the glass in slow circles. 

"Hey." The soft voice threw cold water on his musings. Miguel glanced up briefly, made a poor attempt at smiling and returned to scowling at the glass. 

You. 

"What are you doing here, Y/N." His words came out harsher than he'd intended. If you'd taken offence, you didn't let on, sliding into the booth across from him. 

"Seeing how you're holding up. You lit out after the memorial like your tail was on fire." Crossing your arms, you propped them on the stained table and looked around. The walls probably hadn't seen a coat of paint since D-Day if the water spots and non-descript grey aging spots were any indication, and the single fluorescent light, by all accounts the only modern update to the dingy dive. There was an outdated payphone in the back corner, though the cord was visibly cut rendering it useless. 

"Is this where you've been holing up for two weeks?" You raised a brow and tried to keep your tone neutral. 

"Don't start, Y/N." Miguel warned, meeting your eyes briefly. 

"You look horrible." 

"It's nice to see you too. Good to see you're still tactless." His voice dripped with sarcasm. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you'd regret. "Must be one of those 'shining' qualities Peter loved so much." His face hardened, and he poured another shot of brandy into the glass. 

"That's not fair, Mig, and you know it." You said defensively. He'd goaded you into a retort, and he smirked in bitter satisfaction as he downed the drink. 

"I call em' like I see em', Sugar." 

"This isn't getting us anywhere, Miguel." You sighed, leaning back against the seat. He chuckled mirthlessly and mirrored your posture. 

"Why are you here, Y/N?" 

"I told you, to see how you are." 

"Why are you really here?" He asked pointedly, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned forward and glared at him. 

"Because you're my friend and I care about you." He stared at you for several beats, his eyes flashing before his features shuttered and he leaned back again to pour another drink. 

"You don't have any business being here. I'm doing just fine." 

"Are you? Are you really? Because this doesn't look fine!" Realizing you'd raised your voice, you pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed, exasperated. Miguel ran his finger around the rim of the glass thoughtfully. 

"Well, you're certainly not looking worse for wear." he said cooly. Slowly you glanced up at him with a cocked brow. 

"And what's that supposed to mean, O'Hara?" You hissed. Miguel stretched and shrugged casually and hummed. 

"Just an observation. I don't exactly see the image of the devoted grieving girlfriend." 

"Oh? And just what am I supposed to look like? You? Apparently not sleeping or showering? You smell absolutely horrible by the way." You bit back, folding your arms. A bitter smirk crept across his face. "Peter's dead, Mig. But the world didn't stop turning." His smirk instantly fell, and he looked at you darkly. "Peter wouldn't want either of us," 

"You have no right to preach to me about what Peter would've wanted." You flinched when he slammed the glass down on the table, sending brandy sloshing onto the stained and sticky surface. You stared at the liquid slowly dripping down the edge of the table silently. "Peter didn't deserve to die. Why did it have to be him?" He muttered wryly. You couldn't argue with him, he wasn't wrong. 

"You were his girlfriend. And I was his best friend." He looked up at you with narrowed eyes. "Doesn't it bother you that we were fucking behind his back?" 

"Of course, it..." Your voice broke and you propped your forehead in your hand, hoping to conceal the hot tears threatening to fall. 

"Peter was the best person I know, knew, and I betrayed him." His tone was eerily calm. "Every time someone pats me on the back and tells me what a hero Peter was, how noble he was, I want to scream." He hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Because I know that it should've been me." His voice cracked, and he sniffed, stubbornly holding back tears. "I'm a piece of shit, Y/N. And no amount of time or booze is going to make me forget that." Your heart clenched at his defeated tone, and you reached for the brandy bottle. 

"We're both shit, Migs." You whispered, topping off his glass and taking a swig from the bottle. 

And neither of you knew how to fix that. 

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #fire fighters #miguel imagine

[thedeathdeelers]

thinking about the juke hug again. about the way julie didn’t hesitate to throw her arms around luke because she knew the only person who could comfort her then and there was the boy who just told her no music was worth it without her

thinking about reggie cracking a small soft yet sad smile when he sees julie and luke hugging, the way it doesn’t click in his mind that it shouldn’t be happening — because luke and julie holding onto each other that way seemed so natural? that he just. teared up a little and smiled at his friends. at the two who found each other through time and life and death

the way alex averts his eyes and looks down at the floor to let the two have a small private moment before the end, thinking about his own moment earlier that day where he held onto his person for potentially the very last time, clinging on to him for dear life just like his friends are right now

thinking about how supportive the boys are of julie and luke, of the unique connection they have, of the growth their relationship went through. how they’re in pain and scared and about to be zapped out of existence but they still let luke have this final moment with julie, knowing how important it is

they all love julie so so much, just like she loves them. but they also know that luke loves her just that much more — or, actually, perhaps just a little bit differently. in a way that makes them actively want to step back and give him this moment

a moment for him to bare his heart and soul to her

#i’m feeling it today #and they trust him to say the right thing — they know in a moment like this he won’t screw up like he has previously #anyway. #juke #jatp #julie and the phantoms

[missjoolee]

I Feel the Rhythm In My Heart

Here is an idea i had but will likely never get around to properly writing. Enjoy :)

_______________

Julie learned piano from her mom and therefore couldn't play it when her mom died. but she had learned the basics of guitar from her and then more complicated things from trevor later so it had less of a connection to her mom. so when she was struggling in the music program, almost kicked out, she switched to guitar and discovered it was easier to get back into playing and performing that way. She couldn't feel her mom sitting right next to her like when she sits on the piano bench.

anyway. she masters the guitar and becomes a studio guitarist for other peoples music, still not doing her own (not publicly at least)

on the otherside of the country, in the middle of their North American tour, Sunset Curve arrives at the venue when Bobby drops a bomb on them. "he's leaving the band effective immediately"

there is arguing, arms swinging, when an uber shows up and Bobby just leaves. he has all of his stuff in one bag and he has his guitar and they realize that he had to have been planning this if everything of his fits so neatly, so quickly, into an uber 30 minutes after they arrive.

not sure what to do, they debate cancelling the show, but music is how Luke copes and he will not let bobby ruin their music for him, or tarnish their name by making them cancel last minute. So he convinces Alex and Reggie to go on with the show, they just have to discuss which songs they can do without a rhythm guitarist. Figure out what changes they can make to fill in the gaps. but it's looking kind of dire when the guitarist from one of their opening bands approaches and says that, at least for today, he could fill in on some of the songs as best he could. he's been hearing the music every day for the last 20 days in a row and knew it from listening to the studio albums too.

So they have a plan to get through that night but they need to figure out something for the rest of the tour or they will have to admit reality and cancel the rest of the tour.

Their management calls around asking about known touring guitarists that could possibly join, but they are all booked up and there isn't a way to puzzle their free days together to make a cohesive schedule that doesn't have major gaps of uncovered days. that's when julie gets contacted about leaving the studio and performing.

Either someone desperately contacts her from their label's team, or one of the guys dm's her on tiktok where she posts guitar covers or something. but she decides to help out and goes on the rest of their tour with them as rhythm guitarist.

if it's the guys, Reggie sends the dm. maybe he would have found her by happenstance on his fyp, or maybe alex heard something that sounded cool and sent it to reggie (because luke isn't on tiktok) and reggie started following her because he recognized the skill, but they pull up her profile and force luke to watch before all three agreeing she'd be perfect

and julie arrives and is so short

when she arrives she maybe does a smol "audition" of one of the songs to show off her thoughts for it, and luke pulls the guys aside for "one second. Just one second!"

and he's like 'omg that is who we hired to perform with us?" all quiet. "she's..." "yeah, she shorter than I thought she would be" Reggie says not very quiet at all. "omg height does not determine talent!" alex is done with them. Reggie looks at Alex confused "I never said it did" Meanwhile Luke is going fuck fuck fuck she is amazing internally julie clears her throat. "you know i can hear you guys, right?"

blah blah blah. music happens, chemistry oozes, juke fall in love. but at the end of the tour, decisions have to be made.

Julie was a bandage to their immediate problem, but do they want to fix it in the long run?

do they want to find a permanent replacement for bobby? do they want to stay a trio? do they want to stay sunset curve?

having spent a month and a half in close proximity to Julie, they know the powerhouse that she is. She does backing vocals, they've seen her mess around with Reggie's keyboard, and Luke has seen her writing/they've maybe written together (not for SC) though. Also, she just meshed well with the rest of them from the get go. What should have been awkward close quarters on the tour bus really wasn't because she enforced boundaries from the start and then it felt like they'd known each other for years. Luke doesn't want to lose that. Neither does Julie, but she really isn't interested in being a rhythm guitarist long term. But she won't deny the thrill of performing that has reawakened in her. of the magnetic pull of the music that drives her closer and closer to the rest of the band, but especially Luke.

I think it takes some time. With the band maybe taking a "break" in the public's eye. but eventually they convince Julie to start a new band with them with new songs.

and when they play shows as JatP, every so often, Julie will get up from her keyboard and put a guitar on, playing an SC song as a nod to the month they met, but also for all the fans that were SC fans originally. They can still sometimes hear a favorite song by a band they loved.

#happy juke jeudi! #jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #juke #jukebox #joolee's crack-like thoughts #julie x luke #i chose a title with rhythm in it #because of the rhythm guitar haha #anyway #hope this isn't crap

[starlady-baby]

Juke Jeudi time! This time you get a double feature. Art and a story! Enjoy.

Ever since the stamps went away and Julie was able to hug her boys, things were going good in the Molina house. Although nobody knew how or why it happened, none of them complained about it. The boys could still spend time with their favorite alive person (because they still weren’t sure exactly what they were) and happy that they could still spend time with each other.

It was one of those days where things were more quiet than normal. Reggie was hanging out with Ray and Carlos, Alex was probably with Willie somewhere, and Luke was in the studio, working on a new song he and Julie had started. He hadn’t come up with any lyrics, but he’d started plucking out some notes on his guitar that fit with the melody they came up with.

Eventually all his ideas had been spilled out and he left the pages on the piano. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but Julie must be home from school now, right? He shrugged and poofed himself up to her room, hoping she’d be there.

She startled with a jump and rolled her eyes. She tried to look angry but Luke saw right through it.

“How did you even know I’d be here yet?” She asked, barely having set her backpack down by her bed.

“It was just a hunch.” He shrugged. “Whaddya say we go work on that new song?” He asked, a grin forming at the end of his lips.

“I would love to, but I just got slammed with a bunch of homework for tomorrow.” Julie sighed heavily. “And you remember what my dad said. I’ve got to focus on school first.”

“School can wait, Jules. You always get it done anyway, right?”

Once again she rolled her eyes. “Yes, but that’s not the point right now. I need to crank out some of this stuff before we go into the studio.”

Luke rolled his eyes and pouted. “C’mon… you’re sure you can’t just take a little break before working on your boring school work?”

“Yes, Luke, I’m sure. It won’t take long, okay? I promise we’ll work on it after.”

He was still pouting but nodded and sighed. “Fine. I guess we can do that.”

Julie smiled at him and grabbed one of her books out of her backpack. “You’re still more than welcome to join me. I don’t mind the company.” She said, that smile of hers turning into a smirk.

“Oh, why thank you.” He smirked back and sat on her bed.

After Julie grabbed the book, (some Shakespeare play that Luke had unfortunately recognized from his own high school days) she sat up on the bed as well. She propped herself up against the head of her bed, her pillows behind her back, and started to read.

Luke sighed quietly to himself, not so patiently waiting for when the two of them could go out to the studio. He knew that this is what she needed to do though. He knew Mr. Molina meant it when he said Julie needed to focus on school, otherwise their so-called “plug” would be pulled. And as much as he wanted to work on the song, waiting for her to finish her homework so they could still make music together was worth all his time.

Eventually Julie was about halfway done with her reading, which took shorter than Luke thought it would. She set her book down momentarily and decided to stretch.

“Jeez, I should’ve sat at my desk. That board against my back is not comfortable.” She mumbled, raising her arms up.

Luke nodded. “I can’t imagine it would be. At least the pillows help though.”

“I suppose. Thankfully I don’t have much more to read, though.”

“And then we can go work on our song.” Luke said as he grinned.

“And then we can go work on our song.” Julie laughed, grabbing her book again. This time though, instead of resting against the board and her stack of pillows, she leaned up against Luke.

His eyes widened a bit and then his grin turned to a soft smile. “Sounds like a plan, boss.”

Julie laughed quietly and returned to her book. As her eyes went over the pages and the words form sentences in her head, she eventually found herself under Luke’s arm, her head not too far away from his.

He looked down at her, happy to have her in his arms. So glad he can finally hold her and be around her without being afraid that they’d never be able to touch. That they could never hold hands. That this little relationship of theirs couldn’t go anywhere. Now he felt like he didn’t need to worry about that anymore.

Her eyes glanced up and she saw his soft hazel eyes staring into her own. They looked at each other for a second, taking in each other’s beauty, until they both leaned closer and their lips locked together.

After they pulled away, Luke grinned.

“I think this little relationship of ours just got a bit more interesting.”

#happy juke jeudi! #juke jeudi #jukebox #juke #julie and the phantoms #jatp #luke patterson #julie molina #julie x luke #luke jatp #julie jatp #my fanart #my fanfic too I guess- #I’ve never really posted my writing anywhere before #so I hope ya’ll like it #this was fun nonetheless #yay juke!

[mac-lilly]

Snippet(s) of the Sweet Home Alabama Juke AU that I will never write. Attention! Cheesiness incoming!

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

“Julie, marry me!” Luke blurts out and holds out his hand. Julie’s eyes go huge as she sees the object resting in his palm. It’s a ring – made from cheap plastic, decorated with glitter, and as a centerpiece, it has a large purple butterfly. She is immediately mesmerized by its beauty.

Julie is seven years old, and she loves purple, and glitter, and butterflies.

“I won it at the arcade,” Luke explains proudly, chest puffing out as he speaks. “Spent all the money I got from the tooth fairy to get it.”

Luke’s entire face lights up. He’s beaming at her, his wide, toothy smile exposing his missing front tooth. Somehow, his smile is more radiant than the midday sun, and Julie realizes that there’s something she loves even more than purple butterflies with glitter.

However, when Julie neither replies nor accepts the ring, Luke's demeanor changes quickly and drastically. Disappointed, his smile wavers and his shoulders slump. He looks crestfallen, and Julie’s own heart shatters into a million pieces.

“Why?” Julie’s voice is small as she speaks up. But Luke hears her anyway. He perks up, renewed hope sparking up in his hazel eyes. There’s an awestruck look on his face that makes Julie incredibly giddy and slightly nervous. She clears her throat, repeating the question.

“Why do you want to marry me?”

Luke takes his time to reply. He blinks at her, surprised by her words. Then, all of a sudden, he flashes her a cheeky grin.

“That’s a silly question,” he says, bouncing on his heels as a buzz of energy and excitement reverberates through his body. Luke cannot stand still for long. And he’s always sincere. There’s a gleam in his eyes – a look of absolute determination. He is dead serious about it.

“Because you are music, Julie. And I will always be in love with music.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Julie, please …”

Agony laces Luke’s voice, and he takes a step back. Then another. And another. He’s desperate to bring more distance between them. But Julie doesn’t let him go. He has to stay.

She reaches out, catching the sleeve of his old flannel. Her fingertips brush against the sensitive skin of his wrist, and Luke lets out a howl that makes him sound like a wounded animal. As if burned by her touch, he tries to twist out of her grip, but she keeps holding on. Clings to him because she can’t let him go. She can’t lose him again.

“Luke,” she says, tugging on his sleeve to catch his attention. But Luke doesn’t look her way. His eyes remain trained on the ground.

And Julie gets it. She really does. Within the span of a day, he’s lost both of his jobs, the rights to his music, and the love of his life. It is a lot to digest – even for a person as bullheaded as Luke Patterson. But maybe, Julie can give him one of these things back.

“Luke,” she tries again, putting all her feelings – all the love she feels for this man – into this single word. And finally, Luke stirs. Just a bit.

Slowly, he raises his eyes to meet her gaze, and what Julie sees there doesn’t surprise her but still shocks her to the core. There used to be a fire burning in his eyes. They used to be alight with passion and enthusiasm.

Now the flame is doused. All Julie can see is the pain she’s inflicted upon him; sees how eight years of heartbreak have taken its toll on him.

“What do you want, Julie?”

And Julie cannot help it. Laughter bursts out of her, and it borders on maniacal. Her reaction is inappropriate, and Julie does not miss the hurt expression crossing Luke’s face. But still, the irony amuses her.

There are plenty of questions Julie has no answer to. Questions about them, about their future. But also questions about herself. Hell, she has just ditched her fiancé hours before their wedding and quit her career as a successful solo artist to reconcile with her almost ex-husband.     

There sure is a lot to unpack, and time alone won’t fix them. They will require professional help if they want this relationship to work out. But that’s for later.

Right now, Julie has to answer a question. And it’s an easy one.

“You.”

Luke’s breath hitches, and a tremor runs through his body, making him shake. The look of heartbreak hasn’t disappeared from his face. But there’s a spark in his eyes that has just ignited, and it gives Julie hope.

“Why?” he croaks out. “Why do you want to be married to me?”

Julie smiles slowly.

“That’s a silly question,” she replies, and Luke’s eyes widen in recognition.

Julie tugs on his sleeve again, and this time, there’s no resistance. He moves closer, his hands coming to rest on her waist, his thumbs tentatively caressing her exposed skin, sending shivers down her spine, while Julie loops her arms around his neck. She pulls him down until his forehead touches hers.  

As she moves, Luke catches sight of the piece of jewelry she wears around her neck, and his breathing quickens. Twenty years haven’t been too kind to the cheap plastic ring. The glitter is long gone, and the butterfly’s wings are marred with scratches – scars inflicted upon it when Julie flung the ring at Luke’s head eight years ago. But it’s still there, patched up and treasured, and that’s all that matters.

“Because you are music, Luke. And I will always be in love with music.”

And the old ring is the last thing Luke sees before Julie draws him in for a kiss.  

#Did I write this while I was supposed to be working? Maybe ... #Apologies for all the spelling mistakes and grammatical errors -- they'll happen again #julie and the phantoms #jatp #happy juke jeudi!! #jukebox

[slocumjoe]

This is a very old and tired complaint but Shaun really was the stupidest thing about fallout 4. The synths were pretty bad too but the synths weren't supposed to be the characters motivation for doing anything. Shaun was several jukes in a contrivance trench coat that clashed with...everything else, to be honest.

So anyway, some dumb ideas i came up with in ten minutes to replace the "Find your son" plot, still using the basic ideas

The SS is still pre-war, and still is the only survivor of Vault 111. This time, they're the ones taken by Kellogg, and after undergoing something (basically just being conscious in the Institute for a bit) before getting thrown back out into the Wasteland. The motivation is figuring out who those science guys were, what they wanted with you, and later, are you a synth?

The SS is not pre-war. Game starts with you traveling with some merc group (gunners maybe?) told to investigate Vault 111 and get out any survivors of the cryo chambers. You find the cryo'd people, but the Institute and Kellogg are right behind you. Kellogg kills everyone in your band, leaving only you, as you hide or play dead or whatever. The Institute takes all of the people you were supposed to save. Motivation is 1: avenging your team and killing Kellogg, 2: figuring out why you were sent to Vault 111 in the first place, and if this job was a set-up.

SS is a traveler who stumbles upon Garvey in Concord. You save him and his group, and can join the Minutemen as usual. If you accept, the Settlement radiant quests start to involve the Institute. Synths are constantly attacking your farms, you keep finding replacements in your settlements trying to kill the original people, and the Institute sends you letters requesting your cooperation or to disband the Minutemen, depending on your actions. Kellogg also keeps showing up and throwing wrenches in Minutemen business. Now, as the General, you're trying to find the Institute to make them stop fucking with your people. If you decline the Minutemen, the Institute starts attacking the major settlements, and now the Commonwealth is under invasion. The Brotherhood rolls in with no fake niceties, and you get roped into it by either the Railroad or BOS in a random encounter.

Back to Pre-war SS. The cryo chambers open after 200 years on their own, and all of the 'residents' stumble out to find the Vault staff dead. Someone has to go see what its like topside. You can volunteer, or everyone draws straws/flips a coin/etc and you lose, having to go up. You go find Codsworth, he tells you there are people in Concord. Find Garvey, etc etc. Vault 111 is now up and operational by Pre-war civilians, but you're tasking with getting supplies for them. Joining the Minutemen makes this easier, as you can send supply routes rather than do it yourself. The Vault interests the Institute, who send Kellogg to attack Sanctuary and the Vault after hitting a certain threshold of success. You go after the Institute once it looks like the Institute, before the war, had something to do with Vault 111, and are now trying to come collect those results. Motivation is figuring out what the Institute is actually planning for the Commonwealth, and why Vault 111 and its people seem to be their ticket to that future.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #this is coming from someone who does use the vanilla story for their sosu #like it works for me but it still feels hamfisted #'i must find my son' as i travel with preston to make settlements #'i must find my son' as i painstakingly decorate every settlement and play dress up with the settlers #'i must find my son' as i scour the Commonwealth for bobbleheads to fill my handcrafted stand for them #like bruh. linear stories go in linear games. #non linear stories go in non linear games #like. i can get MARRIED before i find shaun. how does oldman shaun feel about danse or curie or hancock being his step parent #SHAUN. I AM FUCKING ONE OF YOUR SYNTHS/A CHEM ADDICT GHOUL LARPING AS JOHN HANCOCK. #ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT ME TO TAKE OVER AS DIRECTOR???

[groxglitch]

Contact

Pain.

Every synapse and nerve ending in 621’s broken body burned. The sudden Coral surge was overwhelming. It felt like his brain itself was buzzing, his head spinning. Every sensor feed from his stricken AC was more noise than actual data. The last time he’d experienced this much misery in one place was his initial augmentation; unlike that time, he no longer had a larynx with which to scream. Everything was red. Outside, inside, even if he closed his eyes all he could see was that flashing, jittering, intense red. At the outer vestiges of his mind he could hear a voice; soft, feminine, surprised and curious, though he was far from capable of making out what was being said. He clung to the margins, fading in and out as his AC was thrashed around the interior of the Watchpoint. He was fairly sure he had faded in and out of consciousness a few times now. And what was that voice? He was no stranger to hearing voices - usually the med cocktail took care of them - but this was different somehow, more alien and external than a voice in his head had any right to be.  Even in his dazed state, he could pick out angular changes in orientation, hear thrusters firing. Accelerometer data confirmed the changes, when his twice-fried brain could actually understand the signals. Was he doing that? Even his instincts had their limits.

“Raven.”

There was that voice again. At least she sounded soothing. Was this it? Was this the parting hallucinations of a brain that had figured out it was going to die? Something seethed  deep inside him. This was not how it was supposed to end. He had not come this far to die in some Coral-filled hole in the ground. His AC systems read off a full readiness report he could barely even comprehend. He did make out “operator vitals stable”, so he probably wasn’t dying. Not unless the Coral in his brain decided to cook off, anyway. He also noted he had absolutely no outbound signal. He struggled to un-slump himself within the fluid of his control pod.

“Raven, you need to wake up. There’s a PCA craft on direct approach, it’s jamming our signal.”

Suddenly his mind snapped awake. Combat. The noise had died off and he could make heads or tails of what was happening, albeit with some difficulty. His AC was standing on the roof of the Watchpoint. How? He could figure that out later. There was a hostile incoming. If he didn’t get it together now he wouldn’t live to worry about getting out of the Watchpoint, or the voice in his head that was evidently not a dying hallucination. He was still struggling to function, though; his movements were sluggish and he was struggling to process his machine’s full bandwidth of data. Frankly it was amazing he was doing as well as he was given he should, by all rights, be dead.

“I’ll synchronize with your brainwaves and support you as best I can. Get ready.”

Synchronize with- what? 621 struggled to make sense of the statement, but it wasn’t like he had time to worry about it anyway. At the very least, his datastream had cleaned up, and his AC was moving better, though it felt almost as if it were moving of his own accord. Wait, is this voice doing that? Who the hell even is this? Radar tracked a large AC screaming down to the Watchpoint at high speed. It swung around and drifted to a stop opposite his position on the roof, a large biped with what looked to be an EVA extension pack on the backside.

“Scans indicate it’s an autonomous PCA interceptor, designation Balteus. Be careful.”

The machine physically reached up and dragged down a sizable MRLS rack, locking in for a salvo. 621 already registered the hostile lock tone. This is gonna suck.

“Main system: reactivating combat mode. Move, Raven!”

He didn’t need to hear the suggestion twice. He lunged his AC forward with a booster-augmented kick, dipping low to the right to drag the missile volley towards him before suddenly juking left, sending most of the flight slamming into the ground behind him as he loosed a volley of his own from the plasma launchers on his shoulders. They detonated against Balteus, a shimmering off-teal field shielding the body of the machine from damage. Of course it has a pulse shield. Fucking PCA. He staggered discharges from the laser rifle in either arm as Balteus started to move, bolts rippling across the shield as the autocannons on the support ring returned fire in kind. Damage reports were fed directly to his consciousness as stray shells splintered off armor plating. Balteus came to a brief halt, and 621 reflexively fired his machine’s lateral thrusters, just barely clearing a cannon shell screaming past his left shoulder. He took the chance to loose another plasma volley, slowing down the rhythm on his rifles to give the poor guns a chance to cool, thermal warnings whining in his head. Not like he needed them; he could feel the rain sizzling off the barrels. No pulse weapons on hand. The only way I’m getting through that thing’s shield is with brute force. He tracked Balteus’s orbit, keeping pressure on with his lasers as it came to a halt, gaining altitude over him. The lock tone buzzed in his head. Perfect. He fired off the transit thrusters on his AC at full power, scraping low again to drag the missiles clear before streaking up underneath Balteus. It started to evade but it moved too late, as 621 brought his AC’s foot up in a rocket-powered flip kick. Sensors registered the shield protecting Balteus drop, and 621 carried his momentum through, bringing his weapons to bear as gravity reclaimed his machine. This time his weapons struck true, plasma fields and laser beams finding purchase against Balteus’s reinforced hide. It started to move again, putting distance between itself and its target as more autocannon fire raked 621’s armored hide.

“Thermal spike, Raven, get clear!”

The voice called it out before he even registered it, but sure enough, gouts of flame built at either side of Balteus’ support frame. The machine came screaming forward, lashing a gouge of superheated fire across the roof. 621 barely jumped his machine clear of the sweep, firing off a wall of plasma bolts as he engaged retro-thrusters and put some space between them. Balteus came forward for another sweep, which he evaded only by slamming down to the ground. He dashed forward underneath Balteus, barely managing to keep his machine standing as he pivoted around to bring weapons to bear once more. The damned thing’s shield was already back up.

“Keep fighting Raven, we can do this.”

Gotta kick it again, it’s the only way. Back to square one. Focus. He kept skidding backwards away from Balteus, throwing in erratic changes in vector to throw off its aim with the autocannons. He shifted into a hard left at the edge of the Watchpoint, tracking as Balteus followed his movements along the edge and repositioned accordingly. It initiated a staggered set of dashes forward, firing off another cannon shell in the middle, before launching into another flurry of flame blade strikes. 621 struggled to keep his machine ahead of the assault, thermal sensors spiking well past the redzone as flames licked at his machine. Finally, however, Balteus slowed down. It’s energy was, for a short window, spent. There’s my window. Once again, 621 fired his transit thrusters and slammed feet first into Balteus with as much weight and force as his spritely machine could muster. Its shield flickered out and 621 proceeded to hammer it with as much firepower as he could muster at any one time, driving his weapons as hard as they could go. Balteus tried to regain it’s stability under his barrage, and he fired up the thrusters again, this time sending it drifting across the roof with a shoulder tackle. He kicked off high, continuing his barrage until the weapons forcibly quit fire.  Flames poured from Balteus as it struggled to get itself under control. Flames billowed from several open blasts across the hull. Its thrusters gave out, and the machine tried to catch itself on its feet, swaying before buckling and dropping to its knees. It reached up and tried to drag its missile racks down for a final, spiteful salvo. However, in the midst of them sliding into place, several detonated in the rack, leading to a chain reaction that blew the entire craft to pieces. “Sympathetic detonation confirmed in enemy magazines; enemy craft destroyed. Well done.”

621 found himself huffing inside his control pod. Even if he hadn’t physically moved much at all, pushing an AC to its limits right after brushing shoulders with death takes a lot out of you. He took a second to collect himself. “Mind explaining to me who - or what - the hell you are, exactly?” He asked. Things weren’t adding up. Sure, a voice in his head could just be a hallucination, but his hallucinations never actively helped him drive an AC before. Short wave radio comms would pick up in his skull as well, but that PCA unit was very much jamming comms so that’s out, and there is zero chance of somebody copiloting an AC remotely over radio. “I am Ayre - a Rubiconian. We made Contact when you were subsumed in the Coral flow below. The surge of Coral throughout your machine allowed me a measure of direct control, and I was able to override the autopilot and extract you. The residual Coral in your machine is already fading, however… I am symbiotically bound to your implants.” Finally, a name to the voice- Ayre. It wasn’t just another mental side effect of his implants going haywire. Arguably, it was worse; he’d picked up a stray. How? Since when were there people in Coral? It was a mineral, a fancy sparky rock in the ground. It could do a lot of things, to be sure, but since the fuck when was Coral alive? “I understand that this is probably a lot to take in all at once. I tried reaching out to you before, but I… I guess you were still too far gone then to even understand me. Or maybe I hadn’t worked out how to communicate in a way you could understand.” “Well. Thank you for dragging me out of that pit, at the very least.” He said. “So, you’re in my head?” “Yes, specifically your cerebral implants. The Coral throughout your central nervous system acts as a resonator and allows me to exist within your brain, functionally as an extra brainwave.” “Well that’s grand.” 621 lamented. “As if I wasn’t enough of a wreck as-is. I’m going to guess you can rifle through my memories and the rest of my brain at a whim?” “That is correct, yes. At a surface level, that’s how I worked out your name, and worked out how to best coordinate with you in combat.” “Do me a favor then, don’t go poking around places you don’t belong. There’s places in my brain even I don’t touch anymore.” He chided. “I… will keep that in mind, Raven.” Ayre agreed. “Something you should keep in mind yourself: look up.”

In the gaps between clouds, as the storm overhead began to part, 621 could see the bare sky. Streaked through in red, churning as crimson lightning raged within. It traced clear back to the horizon, to the northern coast, where smoke and debris were only just beginning to settle. “That Coral surge you were caught up in was but a drop in the greater tide… and only a small taste of what is to come in Rubicon’s future.” “Fuck.” 621 found himself at a loss for words. How much Coral did we just release? What kind of well was that cork holding closed? “Raven, you need rest. Both you and your AC are in rough shape. I’ll re-establish communications with Handler Walter.”

621 looked to the-now smoking remains of Balteus. Maybe the PCA had a good reason for trying to keep the Watchpoint sealed.

#armored core 6 #armored core vi #fanfiction #this is probably far too long form for tumblr #i'm gonna do the whole fucking game sooner or later #still trying to figure out how to do raven as a standoffish asshole #ive done far too much concepting of them being heroic #hoist by my own petard #also tumblr is fucking the formatting #i can't fix it #ive tried

[helluvaoutlaw]

(((WOW! This blog has been existing for like, a weekend, and it has 23 readers already?? I can feel the love ❤ thank you all so much, I really appreciate it and I'm having so much fun. Striker too, right Striker?)))

As long as you pay me...sure.

(((Ahem, don't mind him folks, anyway if you have any musical request, just ask Striker to sing a song for you, and he will choose one depending on the theme you want!)))

Now wait a minute, I ain't a goddamn juke box-

(((You'll get an extra.)))

Deal.

#helluva outlaw #helluva boss #ask blog #helluva striker #striker

[aritany]

Do you have any pets? If yes, can we see pictures? If no, what kind of pet do you want, if any, and what would you name them?

Also, what are your top 5: Books by other people, songs, movies, and tv shows?

Also, what's the most important or best piece of feedback you've ever gotten on your writing? The one that's stuck with you the most. (From tumblr, an ARC review, a publisher, a friend, your partner, anything!)

(I know that's a lot. Feel free to skip some of that if you don't wanna answer it all.)

Congrats on publishing dgdss!!! I'm thrilled to have followed you for as long as I have (a year-ish??), and I can't wait to continue to follow your publishing adventures! (also, thanks for the commission of my boy Rook, ages ago! <3)

~ Morri (@memento-morri-writes)

ahh hello @memento-morri-writes!

i do have a pet! (technically, she's not Mine per se, but she lives in my house and shreds my furniture, so i take tax where it feels appropriate. here she is in all her slutty, slutty glory

TOP FIVES (CURRENTLY):

BOOKS:

THE DREAM THIEVES - maggie stiefvater

IF WE WERE VILLAINS - m.l. rio

SIX OF CROWS/CROOKED KINGDOM - leigh bardugo

BELOVED - toni morrison

EVERYONE IN MY FAMILY HAS KILLED SOMONE - benjamin stevenson

SONGS:

CAN I CALL YOU TONIGHT - dayglow

SLEEPLESS NIGHTS - ayokay (ft nightly)

HOPE THEY LOVE YOU - wingtip

WITH YOU - dotan

EYES WIDE - alfie jukes (yes it came out yesterday nobody talk to me)

i'm not a huge screen media viewer so this is just a collection of movies and shows i've seen and enjoyed semi-recently

MOVIES:

STARDUST (this gets a permanent #1 spot though)

A SIMPLE FAVOR

GLASS ONION (KNIVES OUT)

JULIE & JULIA

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN

TV/(ACTUAL PLAY) SHOWS:

THE GOOD PLACE (this also gets a permanent #1 spot)

DIMENSION 20 FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR (so far)

GRACE AND FRANKIE

THE WOMAN IN THE HOUSE ACROSS THE STREET FROM THE GIRL IN THE WINDOW

LUPIN

as for advice i've gotten, i think the most impactful advice i've ever gotten actually came from my agent. after the edits for DGDSS i'd really let that feedback impact my writing in a way that was not helpful. in initial edits for dead girls, my prose was stripped of anything descriptive and reduced basically to plot beats and stock actions. i still have some screenshots of what happened to my prologue before i realized nobody was advocating for me and that i'd have to do it myself - PM me if you want to see those.

anyway, i edited my second novel (the one we have on sub right now) to match the general direction i'd gotten during edits, handed it in to my agent, and she went heyyyyyy bestie this is bad. and she was actually very correct. and i realized i was going to have to re-configure my voice and find the space felt like mine in prose. and i do believe i've done that now, and i would have just continued on sulking and writing stilted, awkward prose indefinitely if she hadn't given me the little kick in the butt.

anyway, thank you morri! i'm so glad you're here, and i can't wait to tell you all about the next exciting thing (very soon). :)

#asks #alex ritany AMA #hee hee sorry this took me a second to get to bc she's a chonker and i LOVE it #alex talks