#dirt stop talking for once challenge

[dragonmuse]

How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer? 

 I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.  

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it. 

How do I dirtbag? 

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean. 

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries. 

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other. 

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT.  I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens.  We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.  

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on? 

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T. 

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay.  If you don’t, let us continue. 

What does dirtbag writing look like? 

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird.  It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business. 

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.) 

It has mistakes. 

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there. 

What if I don’t get good feedback? 

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish)  is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.  

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film,  (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness. 

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it?  Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too! 

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck. 

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?”  Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye. 

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole.   Fic is no different 

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT. 

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it’s bad? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it doesn’t make sense? 

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms? 

Then someone out there probably needs it!  And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY* 

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary. 

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape. 

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there. 

Go forth. Make. 

You have some errors in this essay. 

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT.  But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).  

#dirtbagwriter 

Go forth and MAKE

#writing #i'm not an expert #I just have been doing this a long time #and these are my feels #please feel free to throw away this strawberry

[itsscromp]

I have a cute idea! Insomniac Peter and Miles with a Reader who's 15 (so like the age most spiders start their crime fighting) and because their so new to fighting they're a ball of sunshine, but unfortunately bad at smack talk? Like they'll be fighting someone and the criminal will give a hurtful insult and they'll just be all 'yeah? Well you're dumb! 😡'

Peter parker and Miles Morales x reader

Definitely didn't look up youtube video compilations of all their quips for fun of it after you made this request >D lol, also apologies for the delay. Word count:660

Being the Spider-Hero was the most rewarding and challenging experience you had ever faced in your 15 years of being on this planet. But your mentors Peter and Miles helped you learn and master your powers in no time at all. But the one thing that they didn't help you with... was smack talk.

It was one of the things that made Peter and Miles who they were and roll with the punches. Like today when they have gotten a tip-off of a potential hunter base. The three of you then swung into action.

"Morning fella's, who's ready for there fresh cup of bodily harm ??" Peter called out to them.

"Don't let the spiders escape !!" One hunter shouted and the fight began.

"Is really the best time to do smack talk ??" You told peter as you fought your group of hunters.

"It's pretty much a part of the job !!" You could tell he was smiling under his mask.

Miles was blaring out his own smack talk as well.

"If you guys tried this at a real job, you wouldn't need to be hunters"

You were so baffled but amazed at the same time how they could be able to do this and maintain focus into the fights.

When one hunter was facing you, you prepared for yours...

"You really think, That an incompetent child playing dress up can stop me ??!!" He readied his swords.

"Oh yeah... well... Your just dumb !!" You blurted out as the hunter then lunged at you.

Peter and Miles heard your quip and couldn't help but slightly cringe at that, You really needed some help with your quips and smack talk. So once you were done with dealing with the hunters, Peter and Miles then guided you to a nearby building and then took off their masks.

"What's wrong ??, did I not do good ??" You asked slightly concerned as you took off your mask.

"No no not at all, You did amazing y/n, Your training has paid off. It's just... Your smack talk maaaaay need some work." Peter told you.

"Oh... that..." You looked down embarrassingly.

"Hey It's ok" He smiled softly as he wrapped his arm around you. "Like anything Miles and I will help you."

"Yeah, Look sometimes I still have trouble with my smack talk even if I've done this for nearly a year" Miles pitched in.

"Ok... thank you guys" You smiled.

So over the next week, they began to help you with your smack talk, Slow and steadily they helped you go over different situations and picked perfect moments to bring it out

"Hey... I'm gonna put some dirt in your eye..., Is that good ??" You asked.

"Close... but you really gotta feel the passion and motivation when it comes with it." Miles helped you.

So even when you went home, you practised in the mirror your smack talk and got better and better over time, even coming up with some original lines of your own.

Until one day you were ready to show the two your amazing new quips and puns. You found another hunter base and one of the hunters recognised you and growled.

"After all this time, your still just an ignorant child" He snarled at you.

You smirked under your mask as he said that.

"True, but that's just apart of my charm isn't it ??"

Peter and Miles were surprised and happy when they heard that. Your practice really paid off. And as you continued to fight the hunters, you showed off your new vocabularies.

"You and the other spiders will be crushed by Kraven's hands !!!"

"Awww you can't fool me Mr gruff exterior I know ya love me, and I love ya too !!"

Peter and Miles were so proud of you, once they finished the fight, they congratulated you on graduating into a full Spider-Hero now !!, You couldn't be more proud of yourself.

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

#platonic #reader insert #insomniac spider man #insomniac games peter parker #insomniac games #Insomniac games miles morales #insomniac miles morales #insomniac peter parker #peter parker x reader #miles morales x reader #Miles Morales #peter parker

[ghouljams]

My dear, so sorry but allow me to brain root this idea here. Feel free to delete it or just kill me for bothering you.

Street race!au

All of the boys work on cars after deployment as a hobby. Maybe Alex or Gaz open a mechanic shop just to have something to do in medical leaves. Their first contact with street race was in a small car gathering, one guy got too cocky about his Bugatti and shit talking the other till Soap got enough. After winning with his Dragster project, people keep inviting them for other races.

Price and Laswell are against it in the beginning. If police ever get one of them it's game over, Martial court and prison. Definitely something they don't want to have to report on, but after some persuasion (it's good to keep the reflexes going, Gaz said, and Ghost can finally learn how to drive better. Much to Ghost protests, it actually helps him understand that scratching the car only means he will be the one paying and fixing it, so he started to avoid getting too close from guard rail or other cars, curbs and signals.) They finally give in, with only a promise to not get near civis! Only empty streets, roads or particular sites or Price himself will skin them.

None of them really buy brand new, no they got to auditions selling broke down cars, going in places with abandoned car bodies. You know seeing something broken and thrown away coming back to life by their hands always brings a smile to their faces.

Price with a Rolls Royce, liking to run on long and straight roads. Gearbox is as stiff as his neck. Break lights blinking as if passing a Morse code. He is better at calibrating things, tried once to work on the electric part and now his radio always turns one whenever he goes left.

Ghost with a GT- R Godzilla, hating curves and dirt roads. Has a skeleton keychain on his rear window gifted from Soap. Likes to work on motors and such. Once have fallen asleep under a project and Gaz and Soap thought it was going to be a great idea to wake him up by smashing an empty cane on his feet. One bruise later, the two of them will work on his car for free to pay the headache.

Soap with a Dodge Challenger dragster, Loves to pop his exhaust to challenge people. More than once his tires explode when burning tires, has to take a lift with Gaz. Do bodywork in the office but prefer to paint and custom.

Gaz with a supra, confident in curves and sew. His car has a generic green plastic soldier hanging on the rear window, Soap gift. The only one with actual patience to do electric work and welding. Once was convinced by Soap to try and use the solder to heat up hotdogs, Ghost swears that the smell of it hunts the place.

(wanted to write more but I think it's alright a small bible.)

Thanks for letting me bored you. Hope you have a wonderful month. 💕🌹💕🌹

Ok, I'm not a car guy (except the dodge challenger, fuck I love a hellcat) but I have watched a lot of Initial D so... I'm basically a drag racing expert.

First thing's first I firmly believe Ghost does not have a license, this man is driving so fucking illegally it is unreal.

Second, headcanons:

I love Soap in a muscle car, it fits him like a glove. He's pulling up with a worn out leather jacket and a sandwich from tesco, late for the race because he knows he'll win. Loves corners. The thrill of seeing how close he can get to the rail is almost as good as watching a bomb go off. He's got those good precision fingers too, I bet he does a lot of filigree and line work on the cars he paints. Probably has a signature style to it that people pay through the nose for. Price has told him multiple times to stop upcharging, he is not going to. Also feels a lot like a trick driver. Driving backwards, lots of donuts and super quick drifts to whip his car around. I think electrical would also be his thing, again it's those precision fingers. He already does wiring for demo work why not cars?

Gaz on call for pickups every time Ghost or Soap fucks up their car. Ghost is in the passenger seat all the fucking time because he stalled his car and it won't start again. Gaz has literally never seen a car stall as much as Ghost's car stalls. Gaz is point man for setting up races, he knows everyone who has a fast car, knows what streets will be empty, knows where the cops will be, he's calling flag girls just to keep this shit classy. You will not catch him slipping. He's an all around-er. He's got the curves, the straight aways, he can do it all and he does it with a smile. He's having the best time. If you ride with him you will be holding on for dear life because he is not slowing down for that turn. Ghost nearly pisses himself the first time he catches a ride home from Gaz, Soap throws up. Price will not get in the car with him.

Price strikes me as a coach type, he's attempting to manage the team Gaz has put together, but he's really just there to watch. I agree I think he's best in the straight away. He's definitely suped up his rolls, and can blast through any competition, as long as he doesn't have to do too much drifting. Gaz attempted to drive his car once and learned the hard way that the gear box cannot handle curves well. Price doesn't care, he likes to go fast so he doesn't need to do much else. He's in the shop every other month staring at the engine while Soap and Gaz hover. He will not take suggestions, eyes on your own work soldiers.

Ghost doesn't like to drive as much as he likes working pit, hard agree. He's a real black thumb, engines are his bread and butter. I want to see that man in coveralls, wiping his oil covered hands on a rag as he inspects his work. Lowkey hates driving. Gaz and Soap are insistent that he knows how to race, because there's nothing more terrifying that having Ghost pull up to a race in his blacked out Godzilla. Definitely gets pulled over all the time for having his windows tinted too dark. I think his engine is loud once it gets up above 140 kph, by design not because there's anything wrong with it. Stalls his car all the fucking time because the man cannot drive if he's not racing. Certified passenger princess. Soap makes him a shitty pink glitter t-shirt that barely fits and Ghost wears it all the time around base. Pisses Price off to no end, have some goddamn self respect.

#ghoul speaks #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #street racing au #yeah anyway I don't need more aus on the pile #this doesn't feel like a darling au #more like a platonic boys being stupid au

[upsidedownwithsteve]

hi, here’s me saying it with my chest!! the drama surrounding autumn was six months ago and you continue to make snide comments about ‘deactivated’ users sending hate like you genuinely believe that she’s stuck around to what? send you hate asks? and nothing else? what an incredible self-absorbed implication that is. either speak with your chest and accuse her outright or stop dragging her name through the dirt because you have some childish vendetta with zero proof. 

it’s incredibly fucking privileged to be able to remain ‘neutral’ on an issue such as genocide- whilst on your laptop, with free time to be online, you know, not being bombed to death. you write almost majority of your content for stranger things. if you’ve been paying any attention, there are several loud and proud zionists contributing to that show and by remaining neutral, you take their side. true, you don’t have to post about palestine - but it’s very telling when you make a post about how you shouldn’t have to post about palestine. again, didn’t realise it was so difficult to condemn a genocide. 

Thank you for finally talking without the security of an anonymous box.

I’ve made one comment recently about “deactivated blogs” and please let it be known, there was more than one. my thoughts on who these blogs were (multiple) were said at the time, like you said, 6 months ago. if these blogs wish to attack me via an anonymous button, whilst bringing my unborn child into it, why should I give them the respect of putting their name on my blog? There are lots of people who are aware of who these blogs are and a lot of people who share the same views as I do.

I’ve never once said I’m “neutral” and I’ve spoken out about Noah and his actions before. I believe you also write for stranger things so I’m unsure what your point is. However, to me, you’re a stranger online, just like I am to you. You do not know what I do in my spare time, you do not know what charities and organisations I support, you do not know what I choose to do with my business, you do not know anything about me or my life. Speaking, or not speaking, online about things does not reflect on someone’s real life values and choices.

If you’re so unbelievably bothered by my silence - to the point of sending anonymous messages to me - then please, let me tell you my view.

I support Palestine. I do not believe this is a war. What is happening is a genocide. I support these views and beliefs through my own life decisions and through the ways I can use my business.

You do not know what else I have going on outside of the internet, away from this blog, above and beyond being five months pregnant. You do not know why I choose to use this blog as an escape from real life. You do not know what other issues, stresses or challenges I have in real life. You do not get to condemn and judge myself or others on the choices they make simply because they aren’t doing the same as you.

#ask

[janethepegasus]

Dumb things the TWST boys probably did

Riddle - Spent 10 minutes walking around the various bookshelves, frustrated that he can’t find the one book he’s looking for. Only to find out it was in the first shelf he looked at, just facing the wrong way. He felt so embarrassed for overlooking that.

Ace - He tried to do a loop during flight class, but he slipped off his broom halfway through. He didn’t get hurt though.

Deuce - He tripped over a paint can and spilt it all over the ground and himself.

Cater - Did a stupid challenge he saw on Magicam and expectedly he injured himself. Got his head chopped off for doing that.

Trey - While he was baking, Riddle came up to him without warning wanting to ask him something. This caught Trey off-guard and he accidentally smacked Riddle with a pan. They both apologized for it.

Leona - Ate a random flower in the botanical garden after waking up from his nap

Ruggie - Used his unique magic to make someone do a cartwheel into the pool. The victim accidentally smacked into someone as soon as they dived in.

Jack - Came into class in his wolf form, not even realizing that until the teacher pointed it out. He apologized for that.

Azul - Accidentally used his legs as if it was his tentacle to grab something off his desk. He realized what he was doing and was embarrassed that his mind went auto-pilot, thankfully no one saw it.

Jade - Tried to do the classic “sliding over a drink” by the Mostro Lounge bar but he overshot his throw and it just fell to the floor.

Floyd - Whipped out a loud fart during an important exam.

Kalim - Tried to dive into his piles of gold like that one cartoon he saw, only to hurt himself upon doing so. Jamil scolded him for doing that.

Jamil - Had a basketball smack him in the face.

Vil - During winter, he just picked up some snow, wondering why people stop just to mess around in the snow like snowball fights, and just tossed the snow aside...only to accidentally hit a passing-by student with said snow.

Rook - He tried to hang upside down by making his boots dangle over the smallest ledge he could find. But his boots slipped off and he fell, he just laughed and brushed the dirt off of him.

Epel - Messed around with some lipstick, making a big smile on his lips. Vil immediately wiped it off.

Idia - Has done the “hair mustache” thing with his hair.

Ortho - Was caught recreating an anime hero’s poses, thinking he was all alone.

Malleus - Yuu taught him how to T-Pose and the next day he just walked around while T-Posing.

Lilia - Has accidentally talked to someone in an ancient forgotten language, once he realized they couldn’t understand him, he just says “Whoopsie daisy! Guess that slipped out, huh?” and just repeated what he was trying to say in English.

Silver - Fell asleep mid-stretch and woke up feeling VERY sore.

Sebek - Had a shouting match against a thunderstorm.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanon #boys doing stupid shit #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #deuce spade #cater diamond #trey clover #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #kalim al asim #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #idia shroud #twst ortho #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #sebek zigvolt

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Do you remember the asks I sent a while ago about how another hero would have risen faster if Zelda had let link die in the calamity and the new hero’s « imaginary friend » was the spirit of botw link acting as the companion for the new hero? And how it would make botw link’s family feel? Do you think you could write something with that?

(@wildsage00 @luckybyrdrobyn @artisticgamer)

There was chatter of a strange swordsman amongst the gossipers in Hateno.

Abel was wary of it. He didn't like when there was "exciting" news in Hateno. He preferred it when the village was quiet. It had been quiet for so long, any change in the status quo immediately put him on edge.

He could only handle so much these days. Hylia knew Lyra was enough of a handful.

It had been fifteen years since the Calamity. Fifteen years since he'd lost nearly everything, fifteen years since he'd failed in his duty as a knight, as a husband, and as a parent, fifteen years since he'd buried his soldiers, civilians, his father-in-law, his wife, and his son all within the span of a few weeks.

He still had never spoken of it since then.

In a way, it was foolish of him not to bring it up. Clearly Lyra was just as affected as him, and she had far more of her mother's temperament than his own. He handled the matter silently while she fell apart. He held her while she cried herself to sleep night after night, shivering from nightmares, begging him to make it better and find a way to bring her family back.

She'd stopped crying, after a while. He'd hoped it meant she was improving, but he knew better. His daughter's one saving grace was that both her parents were stubborn, and she had inherited that. It had been interesting, watching which child took after which parent and how they blended them together. Link had always been sensitive, and he had grown quiet under pressure, putting duty above all else like his father. Lyra had always been louder like her mother, understanding the importance of duty but always questioning it; despite this, she held much of her father in her, growing resistant, angry, driven, outright frightening in the face of pressure. She would rise to the challenge and destroy any obstacle in her way out of pure spite if she had to.

As the years had gone by, Lyra's stubbornness and anger came to a head in her adolescence, that horrid time when a desire to grow, naiveté to the world, and self centered viewpoint all mixed into a stubborn and emotional teenager who wouldn't listen.

Those years had been difficult. Abel and Lyra had fought many times, and he'd had to leave the village in search of her more often than he cared to recall. She'd been insistent on learning how to fight, on reclaiming Hyrule as if she could do so by herself, on picking up her brother's sword and killing Ganon singlehandedly.

Those years had... strained their relationship. But they were trying to rebuild. Abel had compromised, teaching her a little of how to fight. She patrolled the forest just outside of Hateno and fought off monsters. Every time she returned with excited tales of her victories his smile grew a little more. It was a fair arrangement, and it kept things quiet and peaceful.

Until the talk of a swordsman started.

Visitors to Hateno Village were a rarity. No one dared venture out of whatever safe haven they had found the first few years after the Calamity. Refugees trickled into town the first few years and Hateno could barely support them. It wasn't until close to a decade later that anyone dared explore once more, and that was when word spread of the dangers of travelers. Strangers were watched warily these days.

Abel washed some dirt off his hands by the pond as he listened to some women gossiping. He heard feet shuffling and glanced to see Uma, one of the village teenagers, approaching him.

"Sir Abel, Mom says there's a swordsman in town," she noted.

Abel hummed noncommittally in acknowledgement.

"Have you seen him?" Uma continued gently.

Abel sighed. Uma was one of the chattier kids in the village, and she found events outside of Hateno fascinating. Naturally, she gravitated towards those who had any sort of experience with the rest of the world, so Abel had been victim to her interrogations in the past. An exciting visitor was definitely likely to pique her interest. "No. And you'd best be careful about him."

Uma gave a small pout, nodding a little in acknowledgement before asking, "Do you know where Lyra is?"

As a matter of fact, Abel did not know. Given the current excitement buzzing through town, he probably should look for her. "No."

"Oh. Ok. Can I get you anything before I go, Sir Abel?"

Abel paused from drying his hands on his tunic. The question was spoken innocently from the lips of a child who didn't know any better, but its origin was something he didn't care to think about.

Hateno Village was not a large place. Everyone knew everyone. They had all known Abel and his family, they had all seen Link walk through town to get home with a legendary blade on his back. Though many didn't know the happenings of Hyrule, word spread of the Hero of Hyrule, the Princess' Champion, and his role in destiny. Just before the Calamity it had gotten bad enough that Link no longer spoke in to anyone in the village and barely uttered a word in the safety of his family's home. When everything had fallen apart...

Well. Abel didn't care for the way people looked at him. Most did so with pity. Some with curiosity, eager to hear what had actually happened. The mayor had been kind enough to prevent any sort of interrogation. Over the years the concern and nosiness had transferred to their children. Uma was a kind soul from a kind family, and had clearly been told that Abel was in need of help, and so she always offered when she could.

He hated it.

"No," he answered quietly, and the teenager traipsed off, likely in search of Lyra, unbothered by his short responses.

Sighing, the world weary man turned and nearly ran into yet another teenager, though he immediately realized this one was not from the village. Based on the boy's dark complexion and black hair, he looked like he could be from Lurelin Village, one of the few remaining hamlets in the entire country. He was built strong; though short in stature, his muscles were apparent, sculpted from training though still softened by youth. He wore garb from the fishing village, all the more confirmation to Abel, and, as suspected based on the rumors, he had a sword on his back alongside multiple travel supplies.

Abel watched the boy warily. He hadn't expected the swordsman to be this young, but he still didn't trust him. What was he doing here, anyway?

"Um... hi," the teenager said, shifting in place awkwardly. "I... heard that girl--Uma? She... she called you Sir Abel. Are you Sir Abel?"

"What do you want?" Abel asked, crossing his arms and staring the boy down.

The teenager shriveled a little under his gaze before glancing to his right, staring at something for a moment. He took a shaky breath, his hazel eyes darting back to Abel for a moment.

Something about this kid was off.

"My... I..." the kid tried awkwardly, and then gave a sharp bow. "Sorry! I'll leave now!"

With that, the boy rushed by him, heading for the village inn. Abel watched him go, hackles less raised than before as he grew bemused.

XXX

The inn was really nice. Like, much nicer than the one back home. Of course, he guessed more people came here. Hateno was more centrally located. Maybe that was it.

Link didn't know. All he knew was this place was so big and overwhelming. He missed home.

After paying for a place to rest, he dragged his feet upstairs, thankful that he had the place to himself. Then he looked hesitantly to his right. "I'm... I'm sorry. He's... I..."

"It's okay," came the always quiet voice as the Hero reappeared, eyes downcast. "He can be intimidating."

Link watched his companion worriedly. The Fallen Hero often had an air of sadness to him, but he usually tried to hide it behind a neutral face or a small smile. Today had been a nerve wracking day for both of them - as soon as he'd been given this new task he'd seen the tension in his companion increase, and he'd spoken even less.

"You said he was the captain of the guard," Link offered with a shrug, trying to cheer him up and also trying to figure this out. "I mean... captains sound intimidating."

The Hero huffed a little, not commenting, still gazing somewhere far beyond where Link could reach. He wondered if it had to do with the Hero's guilt. Link had seen his friend through the years, playing with him, and as he'd grown older the visits had been fewer and far between until the Hero had finally admitted his true destiny with reluctance. He had apologized, stating that the fault was his own, but had promised to be with him every step of the way. Link had found what answers he could from his family and his village, but not much was known about the Hero of Hyrule except that he, alongside all the other Champions, had been killed.

Link supposed the true issue, then, was that the Hero's guilt made him think that he had failed the captain of the royal guard. After all, he had been tasked with protecting not just Hyrule, but the princess specifically. Now she was trapped in the castle.

This entire side quest was... terrifying to Link. He had been traveling with his friend for a good while now, but after many battles and growing in strength, the Hero had said they needed to find Sir Abel, who would be able to help him find the legendary sword that they would need to defeat Ganon. That had led them to Hateno Village.

The idea of taking the mantle of Hero had not quite sunk in until he'd realized that once he accepted that sword, he accepted his destiny. Having to do so was already weighing heavily on him... having to speak to such a scary looking man didn't help.

He kind of looked like his friend, though. That was weird.

"I'll talk to him, I promise," Link said as he sat on the bed. "I just... need to come up with a good way to approach him. Got any tips?"

The Hero hugged himself, looking opposite of Link.

Well, great. His friend was really upset about this. Link sighed. "Hey. It's... don't feel bad about... him. The Calamity destroyed the entire country and killed all the Champions. You know that it's... it's okay, right?"

He'd been trying to have this conversation for a while now. It was obvious his companion bore the weight of the entire Calamity on his shoulders. He'd tried dancing around the subject, thanking him for his help, saying he was great fun to be around. It had been complicated at first - he'd wondered if the Hero had befriended him as a child just to manipulate him into doing his duty when he was older. But he knew this person - he knew the reason he'd befriended him was out of shame, not some devious ulterior motive. So he'd been trying to cheer him up, because any joy he'd seen in his friend had slowly drained out of him as their quest had progressed.

The Hero looked back at him, face stony.

Link huffed. "It's okay. I wouldn't expect you to stop an entire freaking army of guardians. They look really creepy."

"You haven't faced one yet."

"Yeah, yeah, so I don't know how strong they are, whatever," Link said dismissively. "They still look freakishly strong."

"That's why I've told you stay away from Central Hyrule."

"Okay, but like, there were a million of them at the fort on the way here."

The Hero grew silent.

"Did... did Sir Abel fight them?" Link asked hesitantly. When he got no response, he sighed. "We'll figure it out, okay? I'll get the sword."

"Please," his friend suddenly said. "Don't... don't try to do this for me. I don't want you to do this for me."

"You want me to do it for Hyrule?"

"I want you to choose to do it."

"I already did," Link answered immediately. "I chose this. And I'll, uh... choose to maybe try some of the local food and go fishing before I get near that guy again."

His companion chuckled, a rare smile pulling at his lips. "I'll think of a way you can approach him in the meantime."

"Great! You think about it so I don't have to," Link chirped happily, hopping to his feet. "Maybe we can talk at dinner?"

"You know I can't maintain my form that long."

"Breakfast?"

His companion pointed outside the window, and Link slowly walked to it. This was another trial, wasn't it?

"Get the spirit orb from the shrine," the Hero instructed. "I'll meet you after that."

"Spirit orb. Got it." Link nodded, turning to smile only to find himself alone in the room. He felt a little cold and empty all of a sudden, sad and lonely, but he tried to shake it off. He wished his friend could just stay with him, but he guessed it took work being a spirit in a land of... not spirits.

Link looked back outside, catching sight of the knight he was supposed to talk to. The man was wandering by the inn, throwing a wary glance its way. The fisherman gulped.

Later. He'd deal with it later. It was time to relax for the day, and then defeat the shrine in the morning so he could talk to his companion.

They'd figure this out together, like they always did.

#I remember those asks! :) #this got way longer than I expected it to lol but it was quite fun #wild spirit #now it has a tag so we can find it whenever #writing #writing prompt #you ask skye answers #lovely anon #breath of the wild #I guess technically #legend of zelda #loz au #breath of the wild link #botw link #abel

[nymphoheretic]

˜”°•.˜”°• You like cats? •°”˜.•°”˜

Nymph: I'm so late! But this is a valentine's day gift for Vee @animedaddymilkers for snow's @suyacho's server valentine's exchange! I hope you enjoy this cute fluffy moment with a shy!Baji!

Synopsis: Baji has been crushing on the cute botanic store clerk for a while now so Chifuyu gives him the push he needs to finally pop thee question.

Warnings: None! Just a cute, moment with Baji asking the reader out.

Word Count: 1k

Pairing: Baji Keisuke x GN!Reader

Tags: @rinnori @tokyometronetwork @sailewhoremoon @stygianoir @bookandyarndragon @babiefwuit @bakugosbratx @linpunny @litlepaws

Baji was never good at expressing his feelings. Chifuyu or Ryusei were always good at things like that. - hell even Kazutora was better than he was. But all that changed when he saw you. It was like his whole world changed. You were his ray of sunshine on a cold rainy day. His heart pounds each time he sees you when he passes by your botanical shop. But he could never work up the challenge to go talk to you.

He was staring longingly at you when he was helping Chifuyu carry bags of cat food on a delivery to one of the elderly customers who lived down the road from the shop. “One day…” Baji smiles as he watches as you help a customer pick out a bouquet of roses for the upcoming holiday.

Chifuyu catches him gazing at you out of his peripheral vision. He begins to devise a plan that would force Baji to go talk to you.

----

The next day, Baji was at the front desk, wiping it down when Kazutora walks up to him and hands him a slip of paper. “We got an order in for some fresh catnip, but we’re out.” Sliding the paper over the counter to Baji, he continued. “Chifuyu needs you to go to that botanical store down the street and pick up some more.”

Baji’s heart races in his chest as he stares down at tha address scribbled on the paper. He calls out for Kazutora before the other man is able to slip away. “Why can’t you go?”

Kazutora grins before flicking the bell that dangles from his earring. “I got important orders to fill, So it's all on you, Baji! Good luck!”

Baji growls out Kazutora’s name once more before a flush spreads red over the bridge of his nose and into his cheeks. He looks down at the slip of paper in his hand and a wistful sigh is blown from his lips. Damn Chifuyu and Kazutora for this. They were trying to force him into talking to you. Sighing since he had to go pick up the fresh catnip, he takes off his apron and grabs his keys. “I hate you both!” He calls out before leaving the shop.

Chifuyu laughs behind his hand as he looks up at Kazutora with a grin. “$50 bucks says he’ll ask'em out before he leaves.”

“$100 says he tries to bring'em to meet Peke J.”

----

“Thank you! Come again!” You say as you wave off your customer and grab a broom to finish cleaning up the dirt that collected on the ground some the plant pots. You hear the bell of the front door jiggle and you stop sweeping to look up. “Hi! Welcome! What can I help you with?” You give the customer a warm smile as you wipe your hands on your apron, walking behind the counter.

Baji swallows dryly as he stares at you. You were just so damn pretty with sparkling eyes and a killer smile. He could feel himself falling even more for you just by being in your comforting presence. “Yeah, we had an order of catnip for pick up. Name’s Baji Keisuke.”

You look through your books as you scan the sheets for his name. “Ah! Baji. Right here.”

The sound of his name flowing from your lips made his heart clench. It just sounded so perfect coming from you. Baji could help but to admire your features as you scurried around to gather his order. You were just so fucking cute and he could feel himself turning more red the longer he was in your presence. Baji had to ask you out or he would combust into flames.

“Say, you got any plans for today?”

You pause, turning wide surprised eyes at him. “I’m sorry?” You asked, not sure you heard him correctly.

Baji swallows as he forces himself not to back track. He needs to do this. If you reject him, he’d be at peace with your decision. “Just wanna know if you’d like to go out with me. Be my valentine or some shit like that?” he shoves his hands into my pockets as he adverts his honey-colored eyes, red filtering over his nose and flooding his cheeks.

You look up at him, your mouth in a perfect little “o” as you let his words register in your brain. You had been secretly pining after this man ever since you saw him outside your shop one day. His long ebony hair and pretty golden eyes are what drew you to him. His cute fanged grin trapped you. His personality is what made you fall. Snapping your jaw shut as your face flushes with warmth, you also look away shyly. “I’d love to.”

Those three magic words made Baji’s heart race so fast in his chest, the pounding of it beneath his rib cage loud in his ears. His lips break out into that wide toothy, fanged grin as he pushes his hair out of his face. “Really. Wow…I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

A giggle bubbles in your chest as you hand him his order of fresh catnip. You grab his hand and a sharpie and scribble something down on the palm of his hand. “Here, call or text me and we’ll set something up.”

Baji pulls his hand back, skin warm from your gentle touch. “Ah, yeah, Will do.” He turns to leave, completely forgetting about his purchase until you call out to remind him. “Oh, yeah, thanks.” Baji quickly grabs the potted plants and walks over to the exit. Before opening the door, he flashes you one last charming smile. “I’ll text you!”

Another soft smile spreads over your lips as you calm your beating heart. As you begin to resume your sweeping, your phone buzzes with a notification. Walking back over to the counter where your device was, you saw you had a message from an unknown number.

“Hey, this is Baji. You like cats?”

#nymphomanic♡ #baji x reader #keisuke baji x reader #baji fluff #keisuke baji x you #baji keisuke fluff #tr fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev fluff

[dangoarts]

ok the rot has become terminal and spooks won't stop yelling at me until i make this WEEEEEEE

lethal company creature headcannons

featured creatures (in order): brackens, masked, nutcrackers, jesters, coil heads

@currently-simping you did this

cutting for length, descriptive body horror

brackens

they are plant. :3

ok getting serious they spend the beginnings of their lives germinating with their leaves above the surface and their bodies below it. once their bodies are conscious and functional enough, they dig themselves out of the dirt and start being little gremlins

brackens are fairly solitary, but they usually guard the sapling until it uproots, then teaches it how to hunt. once it can survive on its own, they part ways

eye contact is seen as a challenge. they display and shake their leaves to make themselves look bigger

BIGENDER 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥aka brackens don't have a bodily gender and their spores can be female or male when needed

brackens about to bloom are SUPER aggressive, usually killing and eating anything they can get their hands on to grow their spore blossoms. when they start blooming, they do a complete 180 and get really friendly towards anything similar looking to them. this includes employees and masked. once they have a sapling to protect, that chumminess is Gone and it's back to hyper aggressiveness

the modern day population of brackens is slowly dying out, with the populations on vow and march surviving just marginally better than the others. most brackens are malnourished, since their main prey, humans, are getting smarter at avoiding them, and their original alternate source, baby forest giants, is near impossible to get. additionally, saplings need a saturated area of soil to germinate, and the desert and snow moons don't have the necessary water to keep them alive

growing reproductive spore blossoms takes a lot of energy, but since brackens are typically malnourished, they often don’t have the energy to spare growing them, so they just skip it. if they do, it’s hard for the spore to plant and germinate because unless they’re on vow or march, the climate can NOT handle them. also they’re usually inside the facility and the spore can root on concrete, but the child’s body can’t grow after being fertilized so it dies soon after

sometimes spore lizards carry and germinate bracken spores, and those children are orphaned if they manage to incubate. they weren’t taught neck snapping, so they usually just brute force kill by mauling their prey

brackens are angered by staring and coil heads freeze when looked at so it's like an opposite thing. brackens would take that as a challenge and try to snap their neck, they can't bc it's on a spring, they get angry and start to maul them, coil heads incinerate themselves when deconstructed, Fire Bad to plants. no this isn't me projecting i have no idea what you're talking about

masked

strap in gamers this one's a doozy

starting with the physical stuff because the culture is all over the place depending on circumstances

their mask is the core of themselves. all of their memories and their personality are stored inside it. the material is like keratin or bone

a mask without a host hibernates until it detects a viable one nearby through body heat. masks that hibernate for a while take longer to wake back up and recognize a viable host is near. viable hosts are mostly humans, but they can attach to and control any humanoid body, organic or inanimate

when they attach to a host, they hook tiny claw-like structures into the host's face to secure itself. afterwards, it burrows into the eyes and travels through the optic nerve to take control of the brain. the host is unfortunately alive through it all until it reaches the brain

the longer a masked is bonded to a host, the more they replace the host's internal structure with their own. they mainly target bone structures and nervous systems, breaking them down, replacing them with its own branches, and storing the compounds in the host's blood. once a masked begins this process, they can no longer detach from their host until the body is damaged beyond repair. when it does, they store as much necessary compounds in their mask, then essentially kill off their branches

they can essentially keep their host's body alive forever, as long as they maintain it. they can draw energy from practically anything, even electrical sources like apparatuses, but they can only grow and spread when they have an organic food source. not many masked keep their body past 150 years, since the upkeep needed to maintain it is incredibly demanding

when a masked converts a human into another masked, they use their host's blood to forcibly transmit their parasite to them. the compounds found in the blood are used by the new branch of the parasite to rapidly construct a shell to protect themself. they typically turn others out of instinct, but sometimes they turn people because they're lonely or because of social pressures (will be explained later). some refuse to turn others for personal reasons

masked parasites are related to nutcracker and jester parasites. while nutcrackers and jesters need an inanimate shell to protect themselves with, masked evolved to create their own shells and prey off of viable hosts to spread. they typically don't view nutcrackers as threats and are often partnered with them for protection, but loners will sometimes attack nutcrackers to steal their shell if their body is deteriorating

their masks are durable, but enough blunt force can break them. if a mask is broken while dormant, they die since they can no longer properly attach to any hosts. if their mask is broken while bonded to a host, they are essentially a walking corpse (more so than usual). they have memory issues while they are still alive, since their masks contain most of their memories, and when their body is unusable, they die along with it

i'm closing my eyes and ignoring the microbiology nerd in my head

ok now for the social aspects

there are two main groups of masked: loners and masquerades

to start with loners first since they're easier and cover the base culture, loners are like their name suggests. they're typically people who get possessed by dormant masks scattered across the moons or people turned by other loners. they also consist of masked that don't have a standard host; for example, a masked with a bracken host

they're often found in groups of one to four, mimicking an employee group

masked are very social creatures, and if they aren't with at least one other entity, masked or not, they'll seek out someone to turn

it is possible to befriend a masked without them turning you, although it's pretty difficult (this one's for all you gays out there (i'm gays /hj))

some masked join an employee group, with a select handful of them staying with their original group after being turned by a mask their host put on. even though it's technically the mask in control and the host is no longer alive to dictate what happens, some residual feelings from the host can influence the masked's decisions (this is seen easier in masked with robotic hosts since the pre-programmed code can influence how they act)

touching foreheads is very sincere between masked. it has multiple meanings depending on the context, like "i'm sorry," "i love you," or "i missed you." it's typically reserved for those they're very close with or when they want to show they're genuine

give them a hug. you will most certainly not have a parasite thrown up on your face they are just lonely

masquerades are larger groups of masked, usually around an average of 30-50 depending on the moon and the political strength of the ringmaster leading the group

these occupy mansions on rend, dine, and titan, although there are more on rend and titan. they act similarly to the mansions' previous owners, with some even claiming to be the original owners. they often have nutcracker guards

the largest masquerades are on rend, which is believed to be the birthplace of the masked. some argue it's titan, but those who believe that live there instead. there are tensions between these two groups

the mansions claimed by masquerades are documented on the company terminal, and the ship autopilot avoids landing at any site deemed compromised by them. sending employees there would be an immediate death sentence

rend is the most accepting moon to loners, and the most hostile moon towards potential hosts. members of masquerades regularly travel throughout the moon to find any wandering loners, meet with other masquerades they're on good terms with, and turn any stray employees they can get their hands on. it's expected for rend masked to turn anyone they meet, which can be difficult for some to get behind

dine's masquerades prefer to be more secluded and selective than the other two moons. it's downright impossible to find their mansions without an internal guide. members keep to themselves and stay indoors, any loner that shows up at their doors are put under heavy scrutinization before they're either accepted or kicked back out again, and stray employees are typically killed rather than turned

titan is like the annoying rich guys of the already annoying rich guy masquerades. they think they're better than the rend and dine masquerades (spoiler: they're not). like rend, they expect their members to turn anyone they meet, then they run the new masked through an indoctrination (hazing). anyone who doesn't live up to the uptight standards in titan masquerades are thrown to the dogs

masquerade members, especially ringmasters, decorate their masks with sigils denoting what group they are allied with. they also add any other decoration they want to, like additional paint, feathers, sequins, or ribbons

masquerade members aren't very accepting towards masked with nonhuman hosts. it's a byproduct of old traditions and social brainwashing

their most important tradition is when a member's body is about to give out. their trusted allies stand watch as they go dormant and abandon the body, then they're assigned with finding a new host for them. anyone caught purposefully keeping the mask dormant is instantly thrown out of the masquerade or killed

holy hell i'm finally done with the masked that was so much

spot my favorite impossible difficulty

nutcrackers

this one's gonna have a lot of speculative history behind it let's go

originally, the parasites controlling nutcrackers were a lot smaller, hunted mollusk-like creatures for food and shelter, and overall kind of cringefail. they eventually grew a bit smarter and started constructing bigger shells out of whatever they could find, held together by their tendrils and a dream

they act like starfish where if you cut off a tendril: not only will the original grow it back, but the tendril will grow a body. you need to Melt Them.

like humans, their pupils dilate and contract to control how much light enters their eye. however, their pupils also dilate according to their mood

it's hard for them to discern the difference between inanimate objects and creatures standing still. they mainly react to movement

scientists took an interest in studying them and seeing what they'd use as shells. they discovered that if they were given a humanoid shell, the parasites could replicate motor movements

they began selectively breeding and raising the parasites to encourage larger, smarter specimens. these were given larger and larger robotic shells until the first model nutcrackers were made

wealthy families on the three snowy moons bought the nutcrackers as guards, and the business of manufacturing nutcrackers soon exploded. the most common models made during this time were property guards, personal guards, and facility monitors

nutcracker model exteriors are a mix between wood plating and metal jointwork. inside, they have a robotic skeleton, with some models having a voice box for speech, a music box as a sort of alarm, or both. the parasite's core is its eye area, and it rests at the nutcracker's jaw for an easy line of sight. the rest of it wraps around the robotic skeleton, acting as the muscular system of the body

when tensions on titan escalated into an all out war (mentioned in sigurd's "real job" log), production of nutcrackers shifted towards war efforts. my personal headcannon is that the war was fought over how the company monster should be dealt with, whether it was keep collecting scrap since that keeps it tame or create a bomb strong enough to kill it, potentially destroying the entire moon of Gordion with it. the nutcrackers were produced for the side that wanted to keep the company tame

ok history lesson over

more info can be found on @currently-simping's blog! they're the other half of my brain cell and we practically co-own everything we do. they're way more interested in nutcrackers than i am :'D. as of writing this, you can find scraps of their nutcracker hcs/lore here and here

jesters

this one's gonna be shorter than the others, mainly because i want to keep with the whole "what the fuck is this thing" vibe it initially has, and it also gives me an excuse not to write a 5 paragraph essay about it oops

very very VERY territorial creatures, but only with themselves and masked. they'll claim a mansion as their territory, then chase out or maul anything it perceives as threat. they'll hunt loot bugs, snare fleas, and thumpers for food

if another jester tries to enter one's territory, they'll fight for it. a fight between jesters is incredibly violent, and bystanders have a high chance of being mauled if they're nearby. the losing jester either flees the area or is killed and cannibalized by the winner

they easily mistake employees as masked. if it could tell the difference between a human and a masked, it probably wouldn't attack humans, unless the human was moving into the mansion

their skull is made out of the same material as a masked's mask. it's broken up into virtually seamless fragments that snap together when it pops. their limbs are similar

where did the box come from? who the hell knows. it's completely indestructible though

they see with echolocation. they can detect vibrations through the floor, and it's precise enough to tell them what kind of creature is making the footsteps and where they are in relation to them. when popped, their screams help them pinpoint their targets even better

some people think that the reason why jesters hate masked so much is because masked initially preyed on them as hosts, which could be the reason why they have their skulls

if it doesn't see you as a threat, it's either relatively disinterested or it plays around with you. they typically like messing with nutcrackers

coil heads

i had to exposure therapy myself by making a half-coil oc before making lore these are the beasts that freak me out the most

they are NOT NATURAL!!!!! AIN'T NO WAY!!!!!!

looping back to the mentioned war in the nutcracker section, coil heads were created as a response to nutcrackers. since nutcrackers have a difficult time identifying threats until they move, the opposite side built and programmed their own robots to freeze when looked at on the battlefield

they were programmed to also attack enemy soldiers, but after the war, they couldn't detect what was the difference between enemy and ally and defaulted to enemy

they're powered by miniature nuclear reactors at the core of their chests that double as self-destruct buttons. if any part of the coil head's shell is taken apart, it'll trigger their core to melt down

their blueprints and code were kept under heavy lock and key, and the self-destruct sequence upon being taken apart made it impossible for anyone to study and harvest that information from a model. the guarded information about them was lost after the war ended

the "nails" in its body are sensors that allow the coil head to detect any entity staring at it in a 360 degree field of vision. the sensors can detect the direction of an entity within 30 feet of it

don't ask me where the springs come from i have no justifiable answer to that

why do they not have forearms

sir what is Wrong with you

#I'M INSANE!!!!!!!!!!! I'M CRAZY!!!!!!!!!!! #instead of doing my mountains of homework i spent all day doing this i hope you guys appreciate my sacrifice /silly #lethal company #lethal company headcannons #lethal company bracken #lethal company masked #lethal company nutcracker #lethal company jester #coil head #just a ramble #long post

[undiscovered-horizon]

Welcome to Moon Siren Horticulture! - Morpheus x Witch!Reader

[MASTERLIST] | [Sandman-inspired playlist]

SUMMARY: Running a plant shop known among deities and occultists just can not be a simple job. One day, the strangest client shows up looking for a remedy for a curse.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.5k

Dirty hands, strong smells that gave you a perpetual migraine, cuts from thorns all over your hands - running a horticulture store was a physically demanding job that became only more challenging when one considered a clientele of occultists, deities and pure madmen. The other side of the coin was the curious and hardly practical methods of payment you so often received like phoenix feathers, dragon scales, mermaid tears or sasquatch fur (you were never quite convinced about the authenticity of that one). Despite having no use for them, you had kept the strange artefacts patrons of the store had given you. It seemed like the more responsible thing to do rather than abandon them in the middle of nowhere for regular people to find.

The doorbell rang when you were repotting some plants. A heavy sigh left your lips - you didn’t want to leave your little maintenance task unfinished but you knew better than to make deities o cultists wait. As you had learned quite early on, sacrifices made one quite impatient if not entitled.

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back in a bit,” you said to the plant. The stems and leaves waved in a disturbingly intelligent manner as though they had a mind of their own.

Rushing through the spacious greenhouse, you were frantically wiping your dirty hands on the thick apron you wore to work, although the dirt under your fingernails seemed humorously unimportant when it came to the entirety of your appearance - no matter how clean your hands could be, dust and leaves were still in your hair and your clothes reeked of nitrophosphate. Despite being unpleasant, you had a burning suspicion that it only added to your ‘strange plant expert’ image.

The man at the counter appeared about as bizarre as he looked charming. His dark hair was dishevelled as though he had only just woken up from a deep slumber. The black coat, if the night sky could ever be sawn into a garment, stood in contrast to his pasty skin. The stranger was quite thin, making his head look disproportionately big compared to the rest of his body. His protruding cheekbones contributed to his already quite strict demeanour. A raven’s croak resounded in the small shopping area of your store.

"Welcome to the Moon Siren Horticulture!” you exclaimed with a smile known only to people who had worked retail at least once in their life. “How can I help you?"

His glistening eyes of deep blue, a starry sky reflecting in a raging sea, stared at you with a disturbing lack of emotion. "I wish to lift a curse,” he said in a low voice. Paradoxically, the brooding ones were generally more pleasant than the giddy ones - mainly because they had a tendency to keep their thoughts to themselves.

"Of course, sir but I must ask: are you sure it's a curse?” you asked him in the most polite tone you could muster. Gods were often proud but rarely were they bright.

"Do not question me,” he warned you slowly. 

Without a falter in your polite smile, you continued your inquiry: "Then tell me about this curse."

“A young boy,” he began in a breathy, low voice, “who’s neither asleep nor awake. He can not eat or drink and yet his body withers. His mind resides between life and death, inside a void between realms.”

You nodded to yourself. "Yes, I'm afraid it is a curse. A minor one, more of a hex but on a child nonetheless…” A shudder run through your body as you felt your skin crawl. "I’m sorry for being impolite. You have no idea how many old deities come through this door every day and talk about curses when they mean a common cold. Apparently, when people stop worshipping gods, the gods begin to lose their holy powers and need to wear scarves during colder months. Who would have thought?"

The sound of talons clicking against a clay pot swayed your attention. Looking away from the brooding patron, you saw the raven nip at a bell-shaped indigo flower with a golden stalk. The moment its beak touched the petals, the bird croaked loudly and jumped away from the plant.

"That's a Gilded Dendra, very poisonous. Turns your blood black. A truly horrible way to die,” you warned him. Disappearing into the greenhouse in the back of the store, you added: “You don't want to touch it, little friend!"

“Little friend? I’m kind of offended but I kind of like it,” Matthew bemurmured. “Hey, what’s a ‘moon siren’?” he asked loudly, partially expecting Morpheus to be the one who answers him.

“It’s not anything in particular,” you called back from the greenhouse. Grabbing the right pot, you were making your way back to the front of the store: “My grandfather was a sailor and had a tattoo of a siren sitting on a moon on his forearm. His wife, my grandmother, absolutely despised that tattoo, so when he passed away, she renamed the store in his memory.”

The clay pot settled on the counter with a muffled thud.

“What about this one?” the raven croaked. He was sitting on a branch of a small tree, or a big bush, with round, gold-coloured berries that looked a little too shiny and metallic to be considered ingestible. “Death by ambrosia?”

“This is Amberberry, safe to eat. It tastes like beetroot and honey. Some say they can also taste mint. Go on, have a few.” Your shoulders shrugged with disinterest. It was safe to say that working at a store that was fairly popular among the strange and divine, you were quite used to the ruckus. Redirecting your attention back to the strict-faced man, you presented him the plant you had just brought: "Long Verecund, Humilus Proceria. Often called Witch's Remedy. I’m sorry but I have to ask: have you ever prepared a cure for a curse?" 

The flower generally looked like a rare specimen of a lady bell: small, lilac petals growing along a thin, long stem. Among all the other fragrances drifting through the air of the store, including the stench of nitrophosphate that stuck to your skin, it was virtually impossible to smell the faint, sweet aroma of the plant unless one had their nose right up against the lilac flowers.

He didn’t answer you - simply stared at you in anticipation. “It’s not complicated,” you gave him a nervous laugh. To be fair, you weren’t sure why exactly you were tense: was it because his ambiguously inhuman appearance had an odd charm to it or because his apparent lack of emotions made you unsure what reaction action to expect from him? “You need to grind two parts petals to one part moon water, bring to a simmer and keep slowly mixing until it's a smooth paste. The remedy should be either ingested or used as an ointment.” Here you made a small pause, for a moment pondering whether it wasn’t rude to inquire about the boy. But the image of a child being eaten away by a slow, malicious curse made your stomach churn and your sympathetic heart yearned to know more. “Who’s he to you? If I may ask?”

“An opportunity to pay off a very old debt,” the stranger answered. His response came off as assertive but not yet crude. “Name your price, witch.” For some reason, the title came out of his mouth dripping with venom as though the sole motion of his tongue pronouncing that word made him disgusted.

“I can’t take anything in return,” you said while shaking your head. “I don’t want to. The boy’s well-being is good enough for me.”

“I did not ask if you had a price. I asked what it was.”

Surprised, you lifted your eyebrows - he had to be the very first client that insisted on paying. “What do you think this flower is worth?”

“I’m not knowledgeable in plant maintenance.”

“You misunderstood me, sir. This Long Verecund, what is it worth to you? How much does it matter whether you have it or not?”

The stranger reached inside his coat. As though he had been prepared for your wish of strange currencies, he revealed… a snowglobe? It was a small trinket, couldn’t be taller than 7 centimetres. Once the golden sand, a curious element in a snow globe, settled, a statuette of a siren sitting on a moon was visible inside the sphere. It looked like something straight out of a souvenir shop but at the same time, it was strangely personal and thoughtful. He put the item on the counter before quietly saying: “The nightmares brought by the plant shall not bother you anymore.”

You furrowed your eyebrows feeling an odd sense of dread appear in your stomach. How on Earth did he know about Widow’s Woe?

The doorbell rang again as the man opened the door. The bright sound pulled you out of your own bewilderment. “Sir?” you called out to him before he could leave your store for good. Morpheus looked at you over his shoulder, silently awaiting whatever it was you needed to tell him. “I wish you all the best. I really do.”

“Thank you.”

Part of you wished he’d swing by again but maybe not because of cursed children that time.

____

I played "Strange Horticulture" and absolutely loved it. A chill game with plants and achievements for petting a cute black cat? Hell yeah!!

#the sandman fanfic #the sandman netflix #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman imagine #the sandman #sandman #sandman x reader #sandman x you #sandman fanfiction #sandman imagine #morpheus sandman #morpheus imagine #morpheus x you #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader

[cod-dump]

Gone in the Night

SoapGhost

TW: Major character death, hurt/no comfort, angst

@mysticalgalaxysalad

___

Ghost has gone out on high risk missions before and he’s always come back. Soap had stopped worrying about him ages ago because he had come to learn that it was pointless. Man always bounded back, a new scar to show off and new morbid jokes to accompany it. It was pointless to worry because Ghost wouldn’t back away from a mission.

He was forever fearless, always facing whatever challenge was given to him.

Soap stopped worrying because he always came back. Late at night, early in the morning, in the dead of evening. He always shows up, ready to sleep and tell Soap about whatever he had gone through on the mission. Soap had awakened countless times to the man in bed with him, curled up against him and sound asleep. It always made him smile that Ghost always came to him after long missions. Normally on top of the covers because he didn’t want to bother him even though he all but laid on top of him.

“You can just wake me up, love. I don’t care.”

“I don’t need to be under the blankets to feel close to you.”

Soap had felt his heart flutter in his chest at that, unable to stop himself from smiling. Ghost always came to him first. Everyone knew that. More than once Soap has awoken to Price knocking on his door, asking for Ghost who was sleeping next to him. Price would steal Ghost away and the man always came back to Soap afterwards. Gaz joked that he was like a magnet attracted only to Soap.

“No matter where you are, he always finds you. Did he put a tracker on you or something?”

Soap laughed, “Oh, definitely. It’s right here where my heart used to be before he stole it.”

Gaz gags dramatically at that. 

Soap had stopped worrying about Ghost going on long missions, in the dark until he had made the kill. Ghost always kissed him before he left, always made a lasting impression before he disappeared. Soap had awoken countless times to Ghost kissing him and stripping his clothes from him. He always chose the day before he left so he had plenty of time to show Soap how much he loved him. But it would never be enough for Soap because he was always left wanting more. Always eagerly awaiting for Ghost to return to him.

Ghost had left five months ago. And communications between him and Price were cut last week. No one had heard anything from him, no one. Not their contacts, the men that went with him, nothing. Everything became quiet. Very quiet. But Soap didn’t worry, he felt he had no reason to. The Ghost always came back, always crawled out of the dirt and finished the job before he went home. Soap wasn’t worried, why should he be?

He wasn’t worried… but Price was. The man was pacing after day five of no updates from Ghost or his team. But Soap still didn’t worry and just tried to calm the man.

“They’re fine. Probably deep in the shadows.”

Price always had these gut feelings about things. A six sense that told him when something was wrong. Soap only started to worry after realizing that Price was having one of those feelings about this. Day seven of no word from Ghost was when Price started to arrange a team to go out and figure out what was wrong. There have been other cases when communication was lost and Price didn’t send anyone out to get a word from them. But this was different. And that made Soap worry even though he never had to worry about this before, at least not in a long time. Price was heading the team and Soap asked to go with him. If something had gone wrong, Soap wanted to be there to help fix it.

He didn’t let Price talk him out of it. So they went out together, leading a team together. When they had reached the last known location that Ghost and his team were, the day before they had gone quiet, they found nothing there. No sign that they were even there, which meant the day they had last talked to them nothing was wrong. That things were still in control before they continued on.

Even when they were left with nothing to follow, Price found a trail. And they followed that trail. Soap was trying to stay optimistic as they moved but… then they started finding bodies. More of Ghost’s team were found and more obvious the trail became to follow. They followed the trail to what looked like an abandoned village. An abandoned village where Ghost’s target lurked. They were met with gunfire which they returned. They were able to take them out, killing Ghost’s target last. Then Price found the end of the trail.

Three of their men were inside a building that they had barricaded. They all looked like they had seen the gates of hell open and had collapsed into the arms of their comrades. Soap had swallowed hard because there was no Ghost.

“Where is Ghost?”

The men said nothing but pointed over into the darkness of the next room. Soap felt his heart drop as he walked closer, panic coursing through him as he saw a trail of blood across the floor. He shined a light into the room and choked on a sob. There, leaning against the wall, slumped over with a hand tight around a knife handle, was Ghost. Soap rushed over to him, sliding down next to the unmoving man. Soap could barely hear anything but his own heart beating.

“He went in there last night…”

Soap reaches up and cups Ghost’s face, feeling no warmth through the mask. He swallows as he slowly takes off the mask, greeted by Ghost’s pale, slacked face. Soap wanted to scream, cry so loud that it shook the sky like thunder. But he didn’t. He just pulled Ghost’s limp form against his chest, hands shaking as he felt no warmth from him. No heartbeat, no breath. Soap knew he was gone and all he could feel was his heart breaking. All he could think of was that Ghost died here, alone in the dark. That he dragged himself in here so he didn’t die in front of his men. Soap carded through his hair, feeling his heart slow back to its normal rhythm. He stared at the mask that Ghost had always worn in the presence of others.

Soap reached out and picked it up, feeling a part of him die.

“MacTavish.”

Price’s emotionless voice made Soap look at him. He could see a part of him had died, too.

“Who did you say that the target worked for?”

“Johnny… let’s get him home.” Please don’t follow him down the path he made.

Soap continued to cradle Ghost against him, looking at the mask once more.

“Take him home.”

Soap left one last kiss to Ghost’s forehead, a temporary goodbye. A promise that he would see him again.

“Johnny-”

Soap brushed past Price, feeling as though he couldn’t hear him clearly. Like he was whispering and mumbling. Soap walked out of the building, going to Ghost’s target and picking his pockets until he found a phone. Then he left. That phone in his hand… And Ghost’s mask in his clenched fist.

#tw death #hurt/no comfort #major character death #call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #soapghost #ghostsoap #fic #fanfic #also on ao3

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

Talking to Ghosts

A postgame Omori epilogue exploring the way each member of the gang would cope after learning the truth. This time, Kel takes the wheel.

After Sunny gets into his mom’s car and leaves Faraway for good, Kel sits on his porch and Doesn’t Think About Anything. 

It isn’t easy. Kel just had one of the craziest nights of his life. Everything Sunny said in that hospital room is bouncing around in his brain like one of those DVD screensavers. Except instead of a tacky color-changing logo, it's the worst thing he ever heard. 

Luckily, Kel is very good at this game. He kicks off his shoes and digs his toes into the dirt. He plucks blades of grass and shreds them into spindly little threads. The bloody wreckage of Sunny's eye keeps surfacing in his mind, but it's way more fun to think about what he could IM Sunny about, now that Sunny has AIM. It’s even nicer to remember how tight Sunny hugged him before he left. 

…Man. It's dumb, ‘cause it’s not like he didn’t already, but. Kel is really gonna miss that guy. 

The sun climbs higher in the sky. The clouds scud by in no particular hurry. By the time the cool of morning heats to day, Kel is feeling sort of normal, actually. 

So, of course, that’s when Aubrey shows up. 

“Sunny,” she spits. 

Kel does a double-take. “Wh— Huh?? Where???”

“No, you fucking moron, I’m asking. Where the fuck is Sunny.”

Right. Classic Aubrey. Skipping straight to ‘physical violence’ is an insane first resort, but it’s par for the course, for Aubrey. When Aubrey feels bad, she can’t just hide it, like Hero, or swallow it, like Basil, or—freaking—think about literally anything else, like Kel. Aubrey would rather forge her hurt into a warhammer and swing it at anyone dumb enough to get close. 

They’ve had this fight a million times already. At this point, Kel could do it in his sleep. 

Even after all this time, he can’t help letting Aubrey piss him off. But he does manage to bail out before she can break all his bones with her nail bat, so. That’s probably personal growth. 

Kel gets all pissed off and stomps off and then stops being pissed off, because he hates being pissed off. He’s always hated feeling angry. It feels like poison in his blood. He doesn’t get how so many people can do it so much of the time. Why would you choose to feel bad when instead you could just… look at something else?

###

On his way inside, Kel blunders right into Hero.

“O-Oh! Sorry, bro!” 

“All good,” Hero says automatically. Reflexive. His eyes are rimmed with red, but he obviously doesn’t plan on talking about it. “You okay?”

Kel has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Clearly, Hero is taking the news way, way, way worse than anyone. (Including Aubrey, who is currently, actively committing property damage about it). But of course he’d rather die than say so. 

“Totally,” Kel reassures him. “All good.”

###

It was the same when they were kids. 

Oh, Hero acts like he never gets mad. He acts like he’s too grown-up for that kind of thing. He’s even pretty good at it. He’s got Aubrey fooled, and Sunny. And obviously their parents (not that that one was much of a challenge. Mamá and Dad would believe anything if Hero was the one who said it). 

But Hero could never fool Mari. Mari was sharp, like Sunny. Perceptive enough to smell the lies on your breath. If you were hiding something, she could always draw it out of you. She’d soften Hero up with teasing and flattery and then hit him in his weak spot at the exact right moment, the perfect jab at the perfect angle to split him open like a fish. The good cop and the bad cop, all in one. 

Kel used to hear them sometimes. Once in a blue moon, when Hero and Mari were sure that no one was listening, they would even let their hair down a little. Take off their disguises and let themselves be less-than-perfect for a change. Sometimes it was Hero who was crying, and sometimes it was Mari. Sometimes both of them at once! 

But most of the time, they weren’t crying. They were pissed. 

Like in fourth grade, after Kel’s practice got rained out. Kel was soaking wet and past exhausted. All he wanted was to lie down and close his eyes and not even think about the stupid math test that he definitely flunked this morning. 

He was already reaching for the door when he heard the voices: pitched low and stretched taut, like a rubber band about to break. 

“—even matter!!” Hero was whispering. “If I’m too busy, it’s my fault for not helping; but if I do tutor him—instead of studying for my own finals!! By the way!! Which I really need to be doing!!!”

“I’m familiar with the concept,” Mari said drily.

“—then it’s still my fault for—what? Not helping well enough? I mean, what??? What do they expect me to do? Freaking… crawl inside his head and make him smarter?” 

Mari snickered. “You could hide a walkie-talkie in his hat. Like that Spongebob episode where he goes to driver’s ed.”

Hero huffed a tired laugh. “I just don’t get what they expect me to do. I’m not the one who still can’t do long division in fourth grade.” 

Kel froze with his hand on the doorknob. Okay. Yeah. He wasn’t sure for a second, but—yeah. They were definitely talking about him. 

Some people would probably pick a fight about it. Some people (cough, cough, Aubrey) would storm in guns a-blazing. And where would that get her? All the mean stuff she heard would still be in her head. Nothing would change, except that everyone would know that everyone knew that everything was worse than it looked. Kel didn’t want any part in it.

He backed away from the door. He backed all the way down the hall, and halfway down the stairs. Then—louder this time—he stomped up the steps and burst through the door to their room.

“Oh!” Hero looked very briefly panicked. “H-Hey, little bro! Short practice today?” 

“Uh huh! We got rained out! But look!!!” Kel bared his teeth, showing off the ragged hole where his canine used to be. 

Hero turned faintly green. 

“Grooossss!” Mari giggled. “Did you twist it out yourself?”

“Uh huh!”

She ruffled his hair. “You’re so cool, Kel. Don’t ever change, okay?”

Kel grinned up at her, gap-toothed and beaming. “You got it!!”

###

But everyone changes.

###

Kel opens his eyes in Basil’s room. 

It’s not how he remembers. Basil’s room used to be wall-to-wall leaves and vines and memories. Now it’s vacant. No photos. No sticky note reminders. None of Sunny's sketches on the walls. Just white paint and beige carpet and a pool of inky dark, slowly swallowing the floor. 

In real life, Kel wasn’t here for this part. He had to hear about it from Aubrey while they huddled outside the ICU, clutching each other’s hands hard enough to cut off the circulation and taking turns telling each other that it was going to be okay. But Kel’s brain must not know that. Because this time, he can see everything.

Basil kneels over Sunny’s chest. Sunny’s face is eyeless mush. A mangle of ground meat. 

There’s a blur of motion as Hero tackles Basil against the wall.

“Kel!” he bellows. He kicks the shears across the floor. “Kelsey! Now!!”

Oh. This is where he comes in. 

Kel jerks around to stare at Hero, who’s got Basil pinned by the throat. “Wh–What?”

“Hold him!!”

“Huh???” Basil isn’t even struggling. He's just dangling there. Bleeding.

“NOW!!”

On his way across the room, Kel almost trips over something on the floor. A body. Sunny’s. But Sunny was sleeping in the living room. Why would Sunny be on Basil’s floor? 

Kel looks closer. 

Sunny’s face is red. Sunny’s hair is slicked flat and his face is all red, only red without any eyes at all. His face is torn red and he’s—moving. He’s moving. He’s awake. He’s bleeding out and he can feel it happen because he’s still awake. 

Sunny looks at Kel without any eyes. Red sputters through his teeth. “Khrrrh—”

###

Kel wakes up gasping. Scrambles for his phone before he remembers that he doesn’t have Sunny's number. Does Sunny even have a phone? Would Kel even know if he did?

He stumbles downstairs to the family desktop. Sunny’s online. Big surprise. Sunny is always online, and never answers. 

Kel is so freaked out, he almost types, ‘Hey, are you okay?’

‘Hey, Sunny! Sorry, I don’t want to stress you out, but I’m really scared. I’m really scared for you Sunny. I can’t stop feeling like something bad is going to happen. I can’t stop dreaming that something bad is going to happen. But they don’t feel like nightmares. They feel like visions. Premonitions.’

‘Hi Sunny. Long time no see, haha. Hey, weird question: are you okay? Are you hurt? Please tell me if you’re hurting but please please PLEASE don’t lie. Sometimes I get so scared you’re going to die. Are you going to die? You have to tell me if you’re—’

Kel doesn’t type any of that stuff. 

He types, snnyyyy! u up? lol

He types, cant sleep haha

He types, wanna sneak out 2 hobbeez? ;) ;) ;)

Sunny doesn’t answer. Because he lives three hours away, and because he never answers. Whatever it is that Sunny wants, it’s obviously not to go to fucking Hobbeez.

Kel types, misss u bro. gna try 2 sleep. wishme luck :/

###

When he pads downstairs, he’s met with the hissing crackle of frying eggs.

“Mo~rning!” his mom sings out. “Thought I’d make breakfast, since it’s your brother’s last day!”

Right. Hero heads back to college tomorrow. Kel knew that. “Heck yeah! Can I help?”

“Vaya, vaya! I don’t need any more mess! Oh, and your friend got home from the hospital. You should go say hi! I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

“My—” Kel sputters, before he remembers that she couldn’t possibly be talking about Sunny. Sunny lives three hours away. “Who??”

“The little blanquito. Que siempre parece como conejito mojado.”

Well, that’s definitely not Sunny. Which means that, by ‘hospital,’ Mamá meant ‘psych ward.’ Specifically, the wing for kids who tried to murder their best friend.

Kel’s eyes unfocus a little. The last time he saw Basil, it was—

(—pinned to the wall with Hero's elbow pressed into his throat. Beads of red dripping from his fingers. Even later, blanched and bloodless on the gurney, Kel could still see the blood crusted under his—

Basil wasn’t even very badly hurt, after. It looked a lot worse than it was, but that’s just ‘cause all his wounds were on his face. It’s not like Sunny’d had any way to defend himself. Just his own two hands. At worst, the marks might have got infected from all the grime under Sunny’s unwashed nails.)

“You should go see him!” Mamá says encouragingly. “I’m sure he’d be glad to see a friend.”

…Right. That’s what Kel is. A friend.

###

Basil really is back. He’s coming to school and everything. It’s—weird.

Not bad. It’s not bad. It’s just that talking to Basil is— Um. It’s sort of like playing a videogame about talking to Basil. Like Kel is watching himself from outside-in.

It was the same after Mari. Kel couldn’t wrap his head around why she did it. He couldn’t even stand to think about why she did it. So, he didn’t. He spent months on autopilot. Controlling his body remotely, like a mech pilot or something. ‘Press A to get out of bed.’ ‘Press B to put on your clothes.’ ‘Press X to bring your brother another meal that you both know he isn’t going to eat.’

“K-Kel?” Basil says again.

“Haha, sorry! Guess I spaced out for a second. I just wanted to say that it’s, uh. You know. It’s good to have you back! And if you ever need anything—someone to talk to, or to back you up if someone’s messing with you, or whatever—just, like, let me know.”

Basil doesn’t look up. He just keeps fidgeting with his fingernails, chewing a scab on his lip that’s already started to bleed. He obviously isn’t convinced.

“Hey, c’mon!” Kel whacks him on the arm, making Basil flinch. “You know we’ve got your back. If anyone gives you a hard time, you tell them to talk to me.”

If anything, Basil looks even less convinced. “...R-Right. Um. Thank you. I’ll… do that.”

Kel has to stop himself from scowling. He’s aware that he’s fucking this up. He just doesn’t understand why.

For a few years there, Kel was pretty sure that he was a good friend, at least. If nothing else. Now it turns out he couldn’t even get that right. In the end, it’s like everything else. No matter how hard he tries, it never seems to be enough.

What is it about friendship that he isn’t getting? Isn’t being friends just, like… hanging out, and going on adventures, and having a good time and stuff? Why is everyone so determined to make it into this big exhausting thing?

###

Kel is hanging out on Sunny’s porch again. Though technically it isn’t Sunny’s porch anymore. The For Sale sign is gone, so the sale must have gone through. But no one’s actually moved in yet, so. Not like there’s anyone to kick him out.

Kel isn’t moping, if that’s what you think. Being here is just a habit. Somewhere he goes to be alone. If anyone saw him here, they’d feel too awkward to approach.

…With one obvious exception.

Aubrey stalks across the lawn with her bat slung over one shoulder. The storm brewing in the air frizzes her hair to angry spikes. As usual, she doesn’t mince words.

“Are you seriously still doing this?”

Kel buries his face in his hands. “Why are you still so mad at me?”

“Why do you think?”

Thunder rolls. Lightning rends the sky, a violent gash in the dark.

“I don’t know!!” Kel shouts, too-loud in the ensuing quiet. “That’s why I’m asking!!”

Just for a second, Aubrey’s bat lowers. “...Are you actually fucking stupid? You totally iced me out. For years. In the worst time of my life.”

“I already apologized for that!!”

“I don’t care,” Aubrey snarls. Her goodwill has officially run out. “That doesn’t do anything! I’m not gonna get any less mad until you make it make sense!!”

Kel grimaces. “It’s— It was just…”

…It’s just that she was being so awful. At home, Kel was swallowed up by the black hole of Hero’s grief. And the second he clawed his way out into the light, there was Aubrey, choking, totally coming apart. Kel just wanted to feel okay for two seconds. Was that really so much to ask?

Wasn’t it bad enough that Mari was gone? Wasn’t it enough that Sunny left with her? There were plenty of times when Kel couldn’t get away from it. When he had to lock himself in the shower to keep from breaking down. But did it really have to be all the time? Always? For every second of every day?

Kel couldn’t even laugh at a joke without feeling like a jerk. Like feeling okay for a second was an insult. (Not to Mari, obviously. Mari was like Kel: she found the fun in every moment. Mari would be thrilled to see him whoop after landing a free throw, or laugh because a butterfly landed on his juice-stained shirt. And she’d hate how Hero and Aubrey were acting. So why was Kel the only one who was wrong?)

“I gotta go,” he mutters, jerking to his feet.

Aubrey barks a cold laugh. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

You can read Kel's chapter here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43929270/chapters/123048562

Or start from the beginning: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43929270/chapters/110454879

#omori fanfic #omori suntan #omori photobomb #omori kelbrey #omori epilogue #true end #this shit is effectively therapy (but only for me) #omori spoilers

[cultofdixon]

A Force of Nature [Pt. 1]

Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • She/Her to They/Them Pronouns • Stepping up into the father role took a lot of guts for Daryl, but it was a challenge worth taking. Even if the world tested him plenty • ANGST/SFW • TW: PTSD / Injuries / Illness / Canon Violence • I got lost with ages cuz TWD makes it confusing, this is my formal apology

NEXT

“Please tell me it’s not real” Carol follows Rick to their cellblock after the group from the run came back. “Rick, who would do such a thing?!”

“Monsters who can’t take care of their children the second bad things happen” Rick frowns opening the curtain to Hershel’s cell finding Daryl on the bottom bunk holding the six year old he and Glenn found. “Holy shit”

“Easy with the language” Hershel states continuing to listen to her heartbeat even if it was still pounding after what had happened.

“Tell me what happened out there”

“We were just. Doing a run. Getting supplies. Formula and any food related was priority. Then we found an old school that did have people taking up camp in it. But she was…the only survivor”

Daryl held the child the entire time Glenn was talking about how they found her and Hershel checking her of anything. The entire time he felt her shift and hold onto his arm tighter than before whenever her condition was brought up.

The two had found her locked up in a supply closet, starved and shaking. Covered in dirt, had some cuts on her face and arms, a few bruises. Daryl didn’t hesitate for a second when her first action was to cry and hold her arms up. He didn’t expect to be this attached to a child the second he held her. But given some of the damage done to her when they first saw her, he knew that was a form of punishment done to her. As much as it did save her from whatever killed the rest of their camp, she was forever going to have what happened to her in the back of her mind.

“Are you okay?”

Daryl looks up from his spot on the floor next to his bunk that currently held the sleeping child. Carol brought herself more into the cell as she sat across from him on the floor.

“No”

“Has she talked since you and Glenn came back with her?” Carol frowns worried for the child herself. “Could make something real quick for her”

“It’s fine. She sleepin’. Don’t wanna disturb her” Daryl frowns as the smallest sound made from shifting in the bed caused him to quickly sit up and check on her even if she was just readjusting. “Need another blanket…it was awful. Thought takin’ down the Governor was a hellish display…but where we found’er…worse” he kept his voice at a whisper for the kid as Carol couldn’t help but notice the crack in his voice when saying that.

A lot was happening in that moment. Infusing old Woodbury people. Assigning work. Making the prison more homey. Grieving what was lost.

Daryl couldn’t stop himself from thinking when he was a kid. Having nobody in his corner, especially when Merle left. He’s not just going to sit there and let her suffer like he did.

________

They’ll never have the life like he’s had growing up

“The one time I bring my son out here, your kid isn’t here?” Carol scoffs jokingly knowing they couldn’t be that far from the camp Daryl has set up along the river.

“Dog is with’em. They’ll be back after checking the snares”

“You let your child do that? Granted…I’m not surprised. They are your kid. They probably know a lot of things only the Daryl Dixon would” Carol smiles making the archer roll his eyes while he set up the fire for them.

Henry was getting his blanket from their wagon when a dead rabbit was suddenly tossed in his line of sight. His scream scared both Carol and Daryl but given the slap sound that followed. Clearly—

“Hey you hit my fucking kid, I’ll hit you back”

“THEY HIT ME!” Henry snaps gesturing to the red hand print on his face once he got into the light of the fire. Daryl squints for a moment before letting it slide as Carol groans annoyed.

“Y/N what did Henry even do this time?” Carol couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her when she was trying to be serious. But the look on his face grew sour before returning to shock when Y/N had snuck up on him once again.

“STOP THAT”

“STOP YELLING OR ILL SMACK YOU AGAIN” Y/N snaps making their way to Daryl and setting down the two rabbits the snares provided. With the addition of Dog dropping a walker hand by his feet making him grimace while kicking it into the flames.

“Asshole”

“Oh yeah? You’re lucky I got caught in one of those fuckers or I’d wrestle your ass to the ground!”

“Woah Woah. Back track” Carol interrupts the two only for Y/N to immediately retract. “No this ain’t back to when you were eight and stubborn with check ups. If you’re hurt. You’re hurt. Come on” she points to the tree stump she was going to sit on.

Daryl quickly got up from his position moving to Y/N’s side not caring for the rabbits anymore as Carol helped the teen take their jacket off which was covering the damage. Thinking they could patch themselves up without any of them knowing, but of course Henry had to strike a nerve that lead to them just spilling the beans anyway.

“Hun, can you get one of the canteens?” Carol asks of her son, finally showing that one of the snares didn’t place right and clamped onto Y/N’s arm before they could retract fast enough. “How come you didn’t holler for any of us? We’ll do a pressure dressing for now…but I think they should come with us to Hilltop to get it better checked out”

“But I—-“

“I’m coming, kid. Don’t stress about that part.” Daryl states checking the wound himself as the two were helicoptering Y/N for a moment which made Henry uncomfortable.

“You should just be better at opening traps”

“And I’d like to see you fight with more than a stick, we’re both disappointed” Y/N frowns wincing when Carol started to flush out the wound, her whispering apologizes as she does such. “I’m sorry”

“Why are you apologizing? Accidents happen” Carol reassures seeing the same worried look on their face when they were younger appear. She couldn’t help but hold Y/N for just a moment knowing the stress they’re trying to endure from such an injury.

Only for it to bring back that older feeling of stress.

________

Daryl anxiously held Y/N’s almost lifeless body from when the flu came through the prison as he had gotten there in time to get Hershel the medicine to help save their people. She hasn’t quickly bounced back like the others have but she wasn’t going to die either. Simply rest in his embrace breathing slowly.

“How she doin’?” Maggie pulled Daryl out of his thoughts as he glances at her for a second.

“Hasn’t entirely woken up. For longer than a minute”

“Guessing that’s when you readjust”

“Mhm” Daryl frowns keeping her close as Maggie brought herself to sit beside him for a moment while Glenn slept in the cell next door. “She’s got me wrapped around her finger”

“That’s what kids do, but hey. She’s got a good parent now” Maggie smiles watching the twitch in the corner of his lips when she said such. He kind of likes this, but the anxiety? Not so much

________

“Uncle Aaron!” Y/N screams happily running over to the man who happily hugged the teen. “Why are you here?!”

“Don’t tell Michonne” Aaron zipped up his mouth watching Y/N do the same with a smile. They next gesture for him to lean down to their level. “Yeah?”

“Have you told you know who yet?” Y/N whispers with a devilish smile seeing Aaron get flustered at the question. “Cuz I think he likes yea too”

“You may be Daryl’s kid, but you’re still learning about being observant like him. I don’t think you know who does”

“Mmmmm gotta rip the bandage off” Y/N smiles patting his shoulder, letting him straighten up continuing to smile at the teen.

The two suddenly flinch to Daryl yelling Y/N’s name.

“See Enid!” He snaps watching Y/N give him a thumbs up before running over to the medical trailer. “Goddamn kid”

“Sorry if I knew I was stopping them from something pressing I would’ve—-“

“Nah it’s alright. Yer their favorite uncle and we don’t visit Alexandria as much as we used to” Daryl frowns parking his bike with Aaron following.

Part of Daryl wishes he didn’t rope Y/N in his endeavors on finding Rick. But the other, is solely Y/N not wanting to leave his side.

________

“She’s 9”

“They’re 9” Aaron corrects Michonne hearing her apologize immediately after. “Why is this a council decision? Daryl is their dad. If he wants to leave and look for Rick, it’s either he brings them without their input. Or asks what they want and goes from there”

“As much as what happened…is affecting most of us still” Michonne frowns resting her hand on her belly. “They can still have a normal life, this isn’t normal and Daryl should’ve force them to join him”

“Michonne. This is Daryl and what he told me about Y/N? They aren’t going to separate any time soon…you are the same with Judith. You love her. Care about her. Want what’s best for her. But you also don’t want her to ever leave your side”

“Aaron…”

“Come on” Aaron guided Michonne to the streets of Alexandria to watch the display outside of Daryl’s town house.

Daryl knelt in front of the nine year old helping them zip up their jacket as Y/N fiddles with the gloves he made them put on. He watches them get situated with everything before noticing their attention on Aaron and Michonne. How can you not notice them watching? But as he started to walk over and tell Michonne they were leaving, Michonne watched Y/N trail behind him and eventually take his hand. That small interaction gave enough to ease her.

“We’re headin’ off”

“Be safe, especially you” Aaron smiles High giving Y/N as they let go of Daryl’s hand for a second to hug both of them.

“We’ll find him, Michonne” Daryl reassures her as she held Y/N for a moment longer before letting the two head out.

________

“Can I come?”

“Nah, you stay here with Carol and Henry. I’ll be back with Eugene” Daryl states seeing Y/N blankly stare at him causing him to get a little annoyed. “Spit it out kid”

“Take Dog at least…” They frown crossing their arms as they developed the same habit Daryl does. Indirectly saying “be careful”.

Daryl nods whistling for said Mal to join him, Aaron, and Jesus. He was the last to leave Hilltop as he couldn’t help but make sure Y/N went to somebody they trust before he headed out. In this case it was Carol.

“I’m gonna see if Tara needs help with anything, see you later?” Y/N informs the two before leaving as Henry couldn’t help the scoff to escape him.

“What?” Carol nudges him to spill the beans as Henry couldn’t help it anymore.

“How are they just babied so much and still trusted more than me?! I’m 17! They’re 15!”

“Henry if only you knew—-“

“If this is going to be the whole “I was privileged” talk I don’t wanna hear it mom” Henry crosses his arms looking at Carol only to realize after saying such that he was a bit rude with his tone. “Sorry. I just. Confused on how that works”

“Because you’ve been protected all your life. They were not” Carol wraps her arm around his shoulders kissing his temple. “Besides. Y/N would do anything to stick with Daryl but they don’t always argue with him if he asks for them to stay”

“Babied…”

“You’re babied. By dad. So…?” She smiles, laughing a bit to the eye roll response from her boy.

When news of the group returned to hilltop, Y/N stepped out of the med trailer with Siddiq and Rosita. They slowly started to approach the scene and was immediately stopped by Rosita pulling them back. But the sight of Daryl and a few Hilltop folk taking a lifeless Jesus off the back of the horse, was too much.

“Y/N—-Hey, come on” Rosita frowns tugging at them to move but they tensed up when every part of them wanted to run over or run away.

Yet they stood there stuck at the sight clenching onto their shirt feeling their anxiety claw at them.

“Y/N…” Rosita started to get worried as she brought herself around to their front carefully resting her hands on their face watching the tears suddenly start to pour. “Oh hun…” she pulled them into her embrace letting them latch onto her for just a moment.

Then once they let go of Rosita, Y/N quickly ran over to Aaron latching onto him without a second thought. As the gesture caused them both to fall apart even more.

“I knew he loved you too, Aaron…” Y/N whispers feeling his arm tighten around them as his sobbing became more pronounced.

After burying their another of their family, Michonne came up with a sick idea regarding their most recent prisoner.

“No!”

“Daryl, they might—-“

“I’d rather have my trauma exploited. Not my damn kid’s”

“It’s just that they’re close in age Daryl…it’s not the end of the world to at least try and see if Y/N can get Lydia to share more about her mother” Tara frowns keeping the calmness in her voice when trying to convince Daryl but everyone was on edge after what happened to Jesus and Y/N hasn’t talked to him about how they’re feeling yet about it. He doesn’t want to trigger something to happen.

“I’ll ask…but if they say no—-“

“Then it’s no” Michonne reassures him before needing to take care of another matter leaving Lydia in their hands.

And it was.

________

“Hey…you okay?” Michonne frowns sitting beside Y/N as they drew their attention back to Judith who was currently playing with the chalk Daryl had found her on a run forever ago. “Y/N, is this about where Daryl went…? He said he would come back for y—-“

“When what? Come back for me when what…what markers gotta be met? Cuz I know he ain’t ever coming back if it’s once he finds Rick…” and that’s when the regret sunk in as they felt the tears start streaming. “I believe he’s alive but Da—Daryl shouldn’t have to leave for so long…he could treat it like our runs..not like. Whatever this is…”

Michonne didn’t know how to ease their anxiety given she feels a bit at fault. She didn’t tell Daryl to go find him, but she was thankful someone was doing it. When Y/N came back with Daryl once because they were sick, Michonne thought he was staying. But he left during the night to keep searching and left Y/N where they would be safe.

“I…” Y/N croaked a bit, trying to get the painful words out as they kept pinching at their fingers. Watching Michonne’s hand come into view taking a hold of one and letting them squeeze it with both of theirs. “I was already abandoned…why did it have to happen again”

“Daryl didn’t abandon you. He would never. He’s doing this for family. He’d do the same for you, even more.”

The tears continued to roll off their cheeks as the teen brought themselves to rest their head on Michonne’s shoulder. Letting her wrap her arm around them bringing them close.

“He’ll be back, I promise”

•

When Leah turned up and left, Daryl sat on the porch to the cabin in the woods with Dog for a moment. Then it hit him.

“Fuck” He reaches into his pack rummaging through it like a mad man to find a Polaroid he was afraid of losing ever since it was taken. “I’m fuckin’ terrible…”

As the gates to Alexandria open and Dog came running through confusing the few that stood by to greet Daryl on his return. Aaron couldn’t help but pet the dog being a tad distracted until he felt Daryl’s hand on his shoulder.

“Where’s my kid?”

“With Michonne, have been all day.” Aaron frowns watching his friend’s expression become even more full of worry. “Nothing happened to them, Daryl. They’ve just been a little…I don’t know”

“Been what? Aaron don’t—-“

“Triggered. Lonely? It has been a year, Daryl”

Shit. Daryl thought whistling for Dog’s attention so that he could follow him on his way to the Grimes’ residence in Alexandria. He stood in front of the door feeling the same anxiety like he did waiting outside Leah’s which brought on all kinds of regretful emotions. He shouldn’t have left them behind. For what? Someone who made him choose…he could’ve had it all…with an awkward conversation in the middle of it…but all along

It should’ve just been the two of them.

Right as Daryl was about to knock on the door, it swung open revealing Y/N who was all decked out in their gear. He was coming back for them and they were going to go out and find him.

“Hey kid I’m so—-“ Daryl was cut off by them suddenly latching onto him. He stopped trying to finish his sentence, hugging his kid tight feeling awful hearing them sob.

“Please don’t go…don’t leave me behind”

“I ain’t going anywhere without yea kid, I promise”

________

Alpha arrived to retrieve her daughter but as the conversation continued and was disturb by the cries of the baby in the pack of Whispers. She looks toward the mother and glares for a second, resulting in the baby being left.

One second Y/N was beside Daryl at the guard stand, next thing they weren’t. He only started to panic when things escalated which means Connie emerging from the corn field to save the baby. But right as he was about to step down, he saw knives being tossed from a great distance and knew them from anywhere.

“Goddamn it kid!” Daryl snaps quickly heading down and going around to get out of hilltop with company following.

The lumber collection was revealed to have a hatch to outside the walls and that’s what got them out in time only to watch Connie come toward them with the baby. Y/N no where to be seen causing Daryl’s anxiety to get the best of him until he heard their familiar rage filled grunting they express when fighting somebody. In this case, a Whisperer they managed to get on the shoulders of tumbling out of the cornfield.

Y/N quickly drove their knife into the whisperer’s neck taking them out but Daryl quickly grabbed them. Tossing them off and crushing the person’s head in for even touching his kid. That once the dust settled he found out they had gotten hurt by said person.

“I appreciate you defending Connie but—-“

“I could’ve died. We don’t know…w-we don’t know what exactly they’re capable of. But they left a baby. A baby. For fucking walkers!”

“Y/N…”

“I…I don’t think giving Lydia was the right idea. But what they did is inexcusable” Y/N frowns patting their chest for Dog to jump up on them as they would pet him to ease some of their fears. “I don’t want anything to bad happen…”

“You’ll be safe, alright? Nothin’ gonna happen to you or any of us”

Then of course, his kid is exactly just like him.

Stubborn.

“You ain’t coming”

“Connie is”

“Yeah cuz she’s an adult”

“That you know no ASL to communicate, I understand fast action—-“

“You don’t know it either. And she’s got….” Daryl stops himself as he watches Y/N tap Connie as the two started to sign to one another. He was even more confused but Y/N knowing will become useful later.

My dad doesn’t believe me that I know Y/N frowns to Connie as she gave them a worried look. Henry told me what he was doing, and I let him go. I need to help you

And you will. But your safety, and Henry’s. Comes first Connie emphasizes before taking out her notepad writing for Daryl to understand that Y/N is coming with them even if his glare was obvious to them both.

“Don’t let them out of your sight” Daryl states watching Y/N interpret for Connie as she gave him a thumbs up. “When did yea learn this?”

“When you’ve been in Alexandria for a while, mostly against your will” They hissed. “You start to explore and read a lot of the literature around”

“You even know five dollar words, and you still snapped at the teacher before the bridge collapse”

“I either learn from you or by myself. I ain’t trusting anymore total strangers” They state only for Connie to playfully hit them in the arm after reading their lips. You’re the exception they signed before the group finally left to search for Henry.

Which lead to hiding in an abandoned building with Henry AND Lydia.

“Y/N let me out I can help”

But they couldn’t do anything in the moment, Y/N was occupied with covering Connie’s back and taking down the son of a bitch that got Henry in the leg. Which when Lydia broke down the door to get to the two.

When Daryl came down to the group after taking down Beta, from his knowledge, he quickly assessed the situation and decided to head to Alexandria first given its closer. Take care of everything and by the next day, they’ll make their way to the Kingdom.

“Connie’s gonna keep an eye on yea, and you keep an eye on Dog. Alright?” Daryl frowns seeing Y/N’s worried look in Henry and Lydia’s direction as he brought his arm around them catching their attention once more. “We’ll be back before you know it. Make sure nothin’ happens to Henry or Lydia”

But…

They couldn’t have predicted what happened next

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

[cult-of-the-eye]

Feeling shitty so I'm gonna treat myself to MAG 84

MARTIN K BLACKWOOD MY BELOVED

oh my god he's so plainly nervous omg this is such a difference to jon

the way jon does his whole pompous ass speech listing way too much information to look like he knows what he's doing but martin is way more pragmatic the way he just gives the necessary information

its so funny that the apparent least skilful of the archive crew is taking up the statements and doing it better than jon

he's really getting into it, he's doing the voices and everything

at first i couldn't get over how Martin he was but it sort of fades as he gets into it

is margaret carnegie someone i'm supposed to keep track of?

hoarding, dirt, the dump

corruption vibes

rat butler that's so fucking funny kids are so creative with their insults

loved the scary stories? i guess that part wasn't what scared him but i think it does raise an interesting point about what avatars do with people who get joy from a fear - do they hate those people? see them as challenges to make the joy turn sour?

what the fuck is she doing with gordon??

the way he said rot oh my god

baked beans????? lol

ew

EW

EW WHAT THE FUCK

FUCK THE FUCK OFF MAGGIE

GORDON WAS FINE????????

GORDIE'S DUMP.

oh my god that means someone did that to maggie before her, how long had this cycle been going??? who was the original?? was she priming him to become her all this time??? why him?? and who will be gordie's next victim?? wow i wonder what happened to the statement giver, it would've been interesting to see what he did next

oh god poor martin

his whole brush with jane prentiss and the worms and the corruption and the next time he's doing a statement its another one about fucking worms

that's so creepy horror institute of them i bet elias somehow made this happen

he's doing better than i thought he would be tbh

the biggest thing he's worried about is if it was a good job or not

i guess he still wants jon to come back and scold him about some mistake he made in the recording

HE STILL CALLS HIM THE HEAD ARCHIVIST. HE IS REFUSING TO ACCEPT ANYTHING ELSE. HE BELIEVES IN JON MORE THAN JON BELIEVES IN JON REALLY.

ABSENT. fuck. hd

tim if he feels like it - HA that's so tim and also literally me

i actually once had a similar experience to that

hmm yet another thing i have similar to Tim

he doesn't have jon's emphasis on rigorousness cause he doesn't feel the need to prove himself, he thins all he can do is get it done so that's what he's doing

what's this little slip up with i vs we? did he drag tim with him? was tim so unhelpful that martin did it himself so he was gonna be like yeah fuck this i did it myself but then he stopped himself and was like no we did it together?

classic inside bitch outside nice person martin

pneumonia - newspaper pulp?????? cancerous growths???? insect legs???? fuck off oh god SOMEHOW STILL MOVING ew ew ew

IT WENT MISSING

GORDON TOOK HER????

i think it's interesting how martin doesn't have the same scepticism as jon, which seems obvious cause he's had multiple run ins with the paranormal, he'd have no reason to disbelieve that it could happen but what's interesting is that he believes it happened to him. yeah i think the fact that he's dealt with worms before and the anxiety of not being believed probably makes him inclined to believe him or even he's just got way too much to worry about rather than whether or not someone's statement is fake

i wonder if anyone's got any good archivist!martin headcanons i feel like that would be so cool

melanie king!!!!!! why is she looking for him???

SHE GOT SHOT IN INDIA????? HER WAR GHOSTS???

it's so cool that throughout all of that, she's come to jon to talk about it cause he's the only one who understands

i guess he has that sort of charm about him

the statement is so disoriented its clear she was looking for jon and jon only but still martin offers to take her statement

he's trying to be as helpful as possible despite everything

jon's missing, they think he killed someone - i love his non-accusatory language

ha accidentally bore them to death - I LOVE YOU MELANIE

HE DIDN'T ha he's so indignant

i'm so happy that jurgen leitner's legacy has become "old man who got pipe murdered"

YEAH if jon were to ever murder someone, he'd do it in the most convoluted, worst way possible, like try to poison someone and end up accidentally counter acting it in some way or some shit like that

oh god they don't know about the not them and sasha oh no that's gonna be devastating when they do find out

god the institute really is where you come when you're desperate and out of options

he listens - i think that's the first good thing i've heard someone say about jon in the entire podcast oh my god

martin trying to be helpful again

ELIAS FUCK YOU FUCK OFF

martin's so nervous around him!!! i guess he's still the big boss and he's lied on his CV

HE KNOWS GHOST HUNT OF COURSE HE FUCKING DOES THIS CARTOON VILLAIN OF A MAN HONESTLY I BET HE WATCHES ALL THE PARANORMAL STUFF EVEN THE SHITTY ONES LIKE GIGGLING AND KICKING HIS FEET JUST FOR THE FUN OF IT

he even kept up with the fact that ghost hunt ended as well the bastard

"showed surprising promise" even his compliments suck

oh my god all of this is just a wink wink to jon. she doesn't know how much promise she actually had, she doesn't know how deep the paranormal stuff goes

martin's trying to get her to leave YES YES he's smarter than people give him credit for

he's such a snickering evil bastard oh my god he knows jon will come back or daisy will kill him so he doesn't need to worry about filling vacancies until daisy tells him otherwise

FORMAL QUALIFICATIONS AREN'T EVERYTHING, MARTIN

HE KNOWS. OF COURSE HE KNOWS. OH HE'S SUCH A DICKHEAD.

god he's desperate like what do you think you're gonna say to try and stop someone from taking a cursed job in front of said boss of cursed job while you are in the same cursed job

THE STATIC INCREASES

problem, martin?? FUCK EIHBCBIKLBRWILNW

MARTIN TRIED TO STOP HER. THE ANGER. ANGRY MARTIN SUPREMACY. HE WAITS UNTIL HE'S ALONE TO BE MAD. EVEN HIS ANGER IS TO SERVE OTHER PEOPLE. WOW.

Amazing episode. I hate elias. I may hate insects more. Ew.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin k blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #melanie king #mag 84 #jurgen leitner #brutal pipe murder #alice daisy tonner #the corruption #tma s3 #tma s3 spoilers #i have therapy tomorrow and i'm gonna tell my therapist about this #cult listens to tma

[jaymber]

Rebel! Rebel!

Timeline 20151 - Protagonist : V Temarii

[ First | Previous | Next ]

V was surprised by Kerry's call a couple days after the gig at the Red Dirt, even more so that he seemed to want to talk to him, and not Johnny. He was looking for a merc to hire, Kerry said, but V started doubting it. Maybe it was due to his past hanging out with the Valentinos, but V thought that any friend would do what he did that night, helping out however Kerry needed, be it threatening some people or blowing up a car. A typical night in Night City. He didn't mind becoming Kerry's friend. It felt natural. Like they've always known one another. It wasn't just the memories he had of the rockerboy, thanks to Johnny. There was a connection he couldn't put a word on. Something V wanted to feel longer when Kerry said he was leaving. He stood up, and stopped him.

"Wait, Ker?" he called, "Lemme drive you home, yeah? Your hands are still shaking, and Johnny said you weren't the best driver." "That what he said?" he laughed, "Don't worry about me. Was about to call Delamain." "I insist. Got something to show you, anyway."

"Fuck me." Kerry froze when he saw the Porsche come their way. His face showed many conflicting emotions, but V could feel most of them were positive. A spark shone in his eyes, a glimmer V couldn't stop staring at. He couldn't hide his growing smile. "Where you found it? Look for it everywhere after- well…" That spark dimmed as the silence grew. "Long story," V quickly said, "Get in." Kerry complied, fixing the seat to his liking. His eyes surveyed the car as he laughed to himself. "Oh, going down memory lane right now," he mumbled as V started the engine, "You got no idea what went down in that car, V." "I don't know, Ker. Have my fair share of weird car stories, being a nomad and all. Really think you can impress me?" "That a challenge I hear? 'K, drive on and listen up."

Sure, Kerry had his fair share of stories. Those times weird groupies got inside. Those times he 'borrowed' it under Johnny's nose. Good memories that gave V a sudden feeling of nostalgia. But the merc too had had weird shipments to transport. Had had hitchhickers with incredible past catching up to them after they got into his car. Stories V hadn't told anyone but Jackie before. By the time they reached the villa, Kerry Eurodyne was truly just Ker in V's eyes. A friend he felt really comfortable around. "Seems we have arrived at our destination." "Seems we did, yeah. Thanks, V." A comfort Kerry didn't want to leave either, it seemed. He didn't step out of the car, staring at V with the spark back in his eyes. They didn't want the moment to end.

"Wanna… come in?" Kerry eventually spoke, "Have a drink?" "Are you proposing a drink? Or… a drink?" "Both, long as you're into it." "I-" V stopped, and thought about it. He only had had one night stands. A drink would mean the end of their friendship, in V's mind. And he wanted to see Kerry again. "Thanks, Kerry, but hmmm… next time, yeah?" "Uh. Sure, whatever," he said harshly, visibly hurt, as he exited the car in a hurry, "See ya. I guess." V knew Kerry had misunderstood him, because Johnny knew him and that tone. He quickly opened the door to clear things up. "No, wait, Ker. I mean it!" he yelled, then waited for the rockerboy to turn around, "It's just… this is new. Don't wanna screw it up, so I'd rather take my time for once. But I definitely want a drink with you." He hesitated a little, but got closer to Kerry, getting on the tip of his toes to kiss his cheek goodbye. He could feel warmth spread across his face with his lips. It took a lot of self-control for V to keep his words, and not meet Kerry's mouth here and there. Patience. This, the connection they had, was special. V couldn't risk to screw it up.

"Thirsty, but not quite perched just yet, eh?" Kerry mused, and V couldn't help but laugh, waiving him goodbye and hoping to see him again soon.

#cyberpunk 2077 #kerry eurodyne #oc: vaea temarii #male!v #kerry x v

[random-yandere-fandom]

If your requests aren’t open, please ignore this. What do you think would Gakushu do if his darling (who is usually a very intelligent student) suddenly writes worse grades with the goal to join the class 3-E? They’re friends with one of the students there and after visiting the class once, have realized how nice and relaxing it is down there in comparison to the pressuring main school where they are constantly being pressured and where arrogant and mean students are everywhere. As a little extra (you can leave it out of course) the s/o also wants to get away from Gakushu for a bit since they’ve had enough of his manipulative behavior.

They are open, no worries! This idea is wonderful! I tried to characterize the reader a bit different this time for fun.

Yandere Asano with a darling that wants to get into 3-E

The rustling of trees, the smell of freshly cut grass lingering in the room from the window that was just closed, the few students still remaining chatting in small groups or calmly writing into their notebooks. The atmosphere was so calm, so incredibly inviting that it had been etched into your mind. You did your best to fight the sigh building up, stress that had accumulated in your body trying to find a way out in some way.

Once again you let the pen glide over the paper, much slower and more scrabbling than writing as you answered the question on the test. The pressure in the room was palpable, everyone doing their best to get what they know onto the paper and the sound of clicking pencils and quiet sobs that made you feel pity only worsening the mood. Focusing on the room instead of the obstacle on your desk was a death sentence though, not for nothing were you a part of the famous class 3-A that had competitions left and right. But oh well, you had made your decision, and there was no one to stop you as you knowingly left a few blanks and made the rest look like panicked scribbles.

It was a day after that that Asano approached you, his infamous smile almost making you want to hurl at the sight. His grip on your shoulder was tight as he pretended to be concerned, asking you about your grade, the sudden drop in all of them for a fact. He had already offered to tutor you before but you had refused, and now even his father was worried about you(r failure). You put on your best smile, telling him that it was a small slip up, that you would be fine on your own and that he (should fuck off) needn’t spend any time on worrying about you. It was your indifference to the threat that made anyone else gasp in horror, that you’d be demoted, maybe even put into class 3-E, that finally tipped him off, confirming his suspicions.

You simply walked of as he stood there, watching, having to entertain some students that decided to talk to him. This was not how it was supposed to be. You were always in the same class, he had seen how much effort you put into your studies, how hard you worked to get to your rightful place. He had observed all your little quirks, memorized the way you held yourself and done his best to make sure you were his, playing the charming, kind and smart classmate that you were sure to fall for. But not only did that not work, now you were even leaving him for some damn classroom full of people not even worth the dirt under his shoes. 

His father had already given him a warning, either you get back on track or he will have to stop his interest in you. As if that would work. So, Asano tried everything he could think of to get you to stop your childish antics. He contacted your parents, terrorized those from 3-E, talked to you on multiple occasions. Nothing worked and while he had to admit the challenge was a bit fun at first, giving him an excuse to spend even more time on you, it was growing annoying. You simply were not bothered, your one goal to escape his grasp and study on that hill clearly outweighting everything else he had to offer. 

None of his other plans had worked, no matter how intricate they were and some part of him was proud, of course you, the only person he actually liked, were smart enough to get what you want, even if your opponent was he himself. 

Either way, he was slowly getting desperate, no matter how much he hid it. Your transfer would be all too soon, the only reason you were still in his class, within his reach, was his doing, but even that would not work much longer. Asano is no fool, he knows that you dislike his manipulativeness, that you could read him as if he was an open book. Even if that was what made him interested in the first place, it was ironic that this would be his downfall. As a last effort he once approached you openly, dead set on being sincere in hope that it would somehow get you to reconsider your actions. But before he could start you had already shut him off, tired of his constant clinginess the last few days, always hovering around you and trying to manipulate you to his whim. 

It’s the last thing that really sets Asano off. Fine, you want to join 3-E, change your environment a little, be closer to your friend? Then do so. It will only be a few more months until the year ends either way. What are you going to do after that? Asano is in this for the long run, practically planning out your entire future by his side. There is no way he won’t get you back, whether you want to or not. He will make sure that this is the last time you defy him. To think this all could have been avoided, that you could have stood on equal footing? There is no going back now and so you better enjoy the next few months away from him, they are going to be the last.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere assassination classroom x reader #yandere assassination classroom #yandere assassination classroom x you #yandere assassination classroom asano #yandere asano #yandere asano gakushu #yandere asano x you #yandere asano x reader

[supernaturalgirl20]

Driving home for Christmas

Pairings: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, smut 18+, quickie in the car, unprotected sex, mild cursing.

A/N: ok so these little one shots with Marcus are gonna tie in with my Xmas series Our Last Christmas. There little snippets into their life before all the problems started 🥰

Part of @toomanystoriessolittletime December writing challenge 🤘

Series Masterlist

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Marcus closed down the boot before running around and hopping into the driver's seat. He turned his gaze towards you with a bright smile, “all set, baby?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Marcus reaches over and gives your thigh a quick squeeze and shoots you a wink before turning the key in the ignition. The hum of the engine stirs the butterflies in your stomach to life once again and you worry your bottom lip.

You’d both been invited to Marcus’s parents house for Christmas this year and it would be your first time to meet them. Hard as you tried to get out of it, you couldn’t put it off forever considering you’d both been dating just over a year.

Marcus insisted that you had nothing to be nervous about and that his parents would love you. Especially his mom.

“And we’re off,” Marcus says as he pulls out of the driveway. Twenty two hours to shake these nerves, you thought to yourself.

***

“So I was thinking,” Marcus says, his eyes flickering towards you, startling you from your thoughts. “We can drive until we get as far as Nashville and then we can stop for the night. I’ve booked us into one of the fancier motels.”

“Fancier motels? Didn’t know there were any,” you say with a chuckle. “Are you getting smart with me baby?” The hint of amusement in his voice has your eyes drifting up to him. His gaze is set on you and his eyebrow is quirked.

“Never, baby.”

“Hmm,Hmm. Anyway, as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me,” he says with a wink. “We stop for the night. Get some grub and a decent night's sleep.”

“Oh I don’t think we’ll be getting much sleep,” you mutter softly. You can see Marcus shift in his seat beside you and you smile at the effect your words are having on him. “No?” He asked, his voice soft and low.

“Definitely not. I mean we can’t very well have sex in your parents house now can we? So we gotta make up for it.” A groan slips past his lips as he adjusts himself, his grip on the steering wheel tightening just a little.

“And why can’t we have sex in my parents house? We’re adults. We’ve been together a year, they know we have sex. Or at least they assume.”

“Yeah, but not the kinda sex we have baby. You're not exactly quiet. Plus we like it on the rougher side and I’m not sure your mom or dad want to hear that.”

“Jesus fuck, baby. If you’re not careful I’ll pull this car over and fuck you right now.”

“Promises promises,” you say, with a flutter of your eyelashes. Suddenly the car is veering sideways and Marcus is pulling it off the road.

“Marcus, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna fuck you baby. Like you wanted.”

“What?” You squeak, as you sit up straighter in your seat. “Marcus we can’t. We’ve only been on the road for four hours. We have at least another eight before we stop for the night.”

“Exactly. Eight long hours. I can’t wait that long to feel you wrapped around me, especially not when you're talking dirty to me.” He drove the car down a small dirt road and parked before he unclipped his belt and reached over and did the same to yours.

His hand ran along your waist before gripping you tight and pulling you into his lap. You puffed out a breath as you settled your legs either side of him, his arousal hard and evident against your thigh.

The hand that was resting on your waist wrapped itself around your neck, pulling you close. Your lips meet in a frantic kiss that grows more heated by the second. He groans into your mouth as you slowly grind down on his thick length. “Shit baby. I need you,” he pants as he begins to fumble with his belt.

You both frantically and rather awkwardly remove your trouser before he lines himself with your entrance and pushes you down onto his cock. “Oh,” you both moan as you stretch to accommodate him.

It’s hot and messy and the car rocks with the movement of your hips as you ride him. His hands are holding you tight - one wrapped around the back of your neck, the other holding onto your hip, as he pushes you down harder on him.

“Are you nearly there baby? I’m not…fuck…I’m not gonna last much longer.��� He grunts loudly as he rests his head back against the seat, his gaze focused on you. “I’m almost….oh fuck…oh god yes…I’m gonna…”

Marcus doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to break your focus as you ride him hard, seeking your release. He watches you taking in your face as you bite your bottom lip in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you. “Fuck baby, look at you taking me so well. Never gonna get enough of you.”

He grunts loudly as he spills himself inside your tight walls panting out ragged breaths as he rests his head against your chest. “Well, that was hot as fuck,” you breathe out and you can feel the vibration of Marcus’s chuckle against you. “I think we need to do this again. At least four more times on the road.”

He’s sitting back now, his gaze focused on where you’re both joined. “Shit I’m getting hard again.” You gently pat his chest before slowly moving off him. “I think the other Mr Pike is gonna have to wait for a while.”

Marcus pouts as he fixes himself and waits for you to strap back in. “We are stopping again before the motel,” he says matter of factly, his finger pointed in your direction.

“Can’t wait,” you say with a wink as you begin to tuck into your croissant. You’ve made yourself completely comfortable, taking off your shoes and resting your feet on the dash .

Marcus’s hand reaches over to rest on the back of your headrest as he reverses, his eyes drifting down towards you.

“God I love you,” he whispers in a soft, low voice. Stopping mid chew you turn to look at him, a sheepish smile on your face. “I love you too, baby.”

I’m gonna marry this girl, Marcus thinks to himself as he pulls back out into the road.

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