#plis show in tags

[the-kr8tor]

Ok so I figured out (I think) how to do a request.

Could you please do one where R and Hobie are being gf and bf, but Blob just wants R’s attention and when they see Hobie having all of it Blob is like “Move u ain’t her child 😒”

If you can write that my life would be filled with joy plis 😭🩷🩷🩷🩷

I got you, lovely!! Hope u like it 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mentions, Cat symbiote AU, Blob the Symbiote cat AU, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You and Hobie are doing your own thing, with the telly on, you rewatch your favourite series whilst you munch on chips, the sound of crunching gets Hobie's attention from his gadget. He's been tinkering on the dining table, brows knitted together in frustration.

Huffing, he calls it a day, fingers stiff and aching from pinching small mechanical parts. Hobie flicka his eyes on an unusually quiet Blob. The symbiote cat purrs on top of the fridge, twin tails swinging from side to side, sweeping the top door. Hobie guesses that Blob has discovered the warmth on top.

Taking the opportunity to finally cuddle you on the couch without the alien in the middle hissing at him. He makes his way towards you, socked feet padding on carpeted floors.

Without warning, he takes the cheesy bag from you, placing it on the coffee table.

You look up at him, mouth full of cheesy goodness, eyes questioning him. “bhat?”

Hobie lays his head on your lap, prompting you to lay your legs flat on the settee. He sighs into your stomach, nosing your shirt, hand splayed over your lower back, hand squished in between you and the couch. He doesn't seem to mind it though, with how his eyes are closed, furrowed brow smoothing out as you trace his spine with your knuckles.

His legs dangle off the arm rest, too tall for the three seater couch.

“Tough day?” You flick your eyes from the telly to his scrunched face.

He groans into your shirt in a reply, you feel the vibration from his throat, tickling you a bit.

“Can you at least get my crisps back before turning me into your pillow?” You fold yourself, to whisper right in his ear, knowing what it does to him.

With your lower back aching, he twists around to aim his webshooter at the snack, snatching it right from the table to his hand.

Hobie hands it to you before he goes back to his previous position.

“Spiderman has saved the day once again.” You announce it like an anchorman from the twenties.

“Dork.” He murmurs into your shirt, leaning slightly to look up at you. “Crisps me.” opening his mouth comedically, you giggle at the sight.

“You’re the dork, dork.” You feed him chips while you watch your show.

Instead of Hobie watching with you, he watches your expressions shift from smiling to a frown. He bets the show is entertaining but he's more interested in watching you laugh and pout at the telly.

You feed him another crisp, Hobie tilts his head when a black mass flashes on your side. In a quick movement that he couldn't even anticipate, Blob has flopped on top of Hobie's face, suffocating him in all his blobby symbiote self.

Hobie rapidly sits up, you dodge his oncoming face. Blob stays attached to his face. For a second you thought he's trying to bond with Hobie again but Blob hisses when Hobie tries to pry the alien off his face.

“Love, a bit of help?” He struggles, Blob's tentacle-like limbs stretch as Hobie moves him further away, but the little symbiote is stuck on him like glue.

You huff, thinking that Blob needs to be trained better at co-existing with Hobie. Scratching the one spot you know Blob can't resist, you coo at him even though you're currently annoyed at the alien. His milky white eyes close, limbs loosening their hold on Hobie's head.

Blob drops like a sack of potatoes on Hobie's lap, triumphantly making his way to your lap. He purrs, curling around himself happily.

“You little shit. I was there first!” Hobie puts his foot down. You stop him with a look, wordlessly telling him an ‘I've got this’. He lets you, crossing his arms on his chest like a kid who didn't get his candy.

You take Blob by his armpits, looking right at his big white eyes. “If you want to cuddle you gotta share. Do you understand, Blobius Cornelius Blobirington? You can't just suffocate Hobie—” he meows like he's arguing back. “Anyone for that matter, you can't just do that. Got it?”

Blob moves his head towards Hobie, glaring his alien eyes towards the man.

“Hey! Play nice.” You place Blob on your shoulder, he immediately splayes himself over, lounging. But you don't see his scowl thrown at Hobie. “See? Compromise. We don't fight for attention.”

“He's literally tryin' to kill me with his stare.” Hobie points at Blob. You crane your neck to look but you only see him happily sleep on your shoulder. “What a wanker.”

“Don’t rile him up. Come back here, the spot’s all yours.” Patting your lap, he crawls over to you still huffing and puffing at how Blob is spoiled.

You just want to watch your show in peace, hopefully they stay asleep until you finish the episode.

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #atsv fanfiction #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #spider punk #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x fem!reader #spider punk x you #blob the symbiote #cat symbiote #cw food mention #hobie fluff #fanfic

[beansidhebumbling]

An Examination of Cruelty and Other Such Failings

Nezriel Exes

Her dress was still crumpled where it had been thrown haphazardly the night before, the red silk a symbol of a passion that had burned in the wee hours of the morning with little regard for any sanctity her Mama upheld in Nesta once.

Before.

Before him. Before touches too hot, eyes too knowing, teeth too sharp; Before Nesta started to worship a different god, a crueller one, maybe. All gods were cruel but Azriel... he was a lesson in the what happened when one cared more about the sum than the parts; the breathing, human parts.

Her own breathing felt painful now, the beginning of a stress headache burning at her eyes and pulling tight on her skull. Az. No. Azriel. Not Az anymore, not to her, breathed deeply, steadily, like an innocent. Nesta snorted to herself, a liar even in his sleep.

How very him.

***

The light seeped in through gauzy, white curtains, Mor’s hand no doubt, and Nesta was stricken by how his face, beautiful in the age it was beginning to show, in crepey lines and hollowness, was softened by the dappled, yellow light. Maybe not all age she noted, on a closer look, comforted that her examination would remain a solitary pursuit by the metronomic movement of his chest. The purple shadows pressed into his eyelids, his naturally chiselled face looked just the wrong side of gaunt..

this was not quite the face she loved.

***

She was under no illusion that she had changed since they parted. An argument, a fracturing, a break-up. Words too small for a hurt so big. So explosive, and bitter, and brutal. Her frame softened and wider by the Gilmore Girls diet she’d been following, by the stress that’d been mounting. It was hard to mind herself the way he had.

Hard when three square meals had never been on a list short enough to receive attention, let alone fruit collected from markets in hemp net bags, prime rib-eye wrapped in grease paper, endless variations of nut butters organised on his ridiculous, Italian marble condiment station. Meals he plied her with, spoiled her with, until she allowed herself to grow comfortable with Az Azriel wanting to mind her in ways she could not, did not herself.

Stupid, stupid Nesta.

She should have known better. Comfort was yet another luxury she couldn't afford.

She never felt comfortable anymore.

***

He had not looked different in the dim hazy light of the bar. He had looked as well-maintained, manicured, and handsome as was expected when you had an extensive home gym, Peloton a given, and La Mer hand cream on tap. While his eyes burned from across the bar, the patrons gathered to celebrate Feyre and Cassian’s engagement utterly failed in their roles as buffers, he had looked as he always did.

Intense, consuming, heart-breakingly beautiful.

Even as some horrid part of herself noted with disdain that her thighs chafed against each other, rubbing in softness, in a way they hadn’t in the time before. That the women he’d surely slept with after she walked, probably blonde, probably charming, probably utterly lovely, would never dare to allow such a thing.

His hunger for her had thickened the air around her, had made her think of the unread texts sitting too heavy and tempting, weighing down her inbox, that had led to her blocking his number. Of the new Instagram account he had made. The man who was invisible to social media for so long, who had waxed lyrical to her time and time again of the black hole of energy it was made of. The man who huffed a laugh into her drying hair as she had pushed back,

‘Yeah, yeah, old man. Now let me scroll and fall into this hole in peace’.

The man who was now first to like any photo she was tagged in on Elaine’s, Eris's, even Rhysand’s account.

His request to follow her remained unanswered.

Even gods could change apparently.

Even gods could lose.

***

Her eyes caught the time on his digital clock, bringing her back to herself again. The red numbers flashed a warning,

Move...

Move.

Move!

Avoid confrontation.

Azriel had always risen before seven, one of the things bald men with podcasts attributed his success to. She couldn’t afford to stay any longer in reverie, to let him coax her back. Especially when no small part of her craved it. 

She turned away from him and his pretty, peaceful face, to wriggle her way out from the tanned arm laying on her hip, gripping at her, even through the thick coverlet. While doing the overly familiar dance of collecting strewn underwear, wriggling her way into the tight red slip, she looked at him and her chest tightened just a bit more. Because there he lay, half of a once-great love, vulnerable and searching, seeking her across the expanse of the mattress.

This was why she couldn’t even steal his shirt, an infinitely more comfortable walk of shame look. She couldn’t because she knew he’d take any reason to talk to her, to knock on her door. She couldn’t hand him a legitimate invitation in the form of a crisp Brioni shirt.

 She wasted no time brushing her teeth, with her toothbrush found in the sleek, mirrored cabinet. Her pink toothbrush still kept like some sad, weird shrine to their intimacy. She knew she'll dwell on that later.

She made her way to the door of his room, steps light and well-versed in their terrain, leather jacket thrown over her shoulders, purse, and thrifted, white, slingbacks in hand when the sound of his breathing changed.

Fuck.

***

She stilled on instinct, heart dancing, as he pushed himself upright in a way that was so fast it was almost comical if his dark eyes didn’t arrest on her, narrowing as he caught her red-handed in her escape.

Heart beating too fast, mind moving too slow she went to speak a few times before,

‘Sorry, didn't want to wake you. Keep our mistakes private, right?'

She was aiming for light but the awkward laugh at the end was undercut by how her voice cracked mid-sentence.

Was that hurt that flashed on his face before it was cold and shuttered once more?

He was out of the bed, brazen in his nakedness and upon her before she’d finished, his big hands, cupping her face, and a voice so rich, still gravelly from sleep, retorted,

‘Oh Nesta, not a fucking chance sweetheart. If you think you’re leaving this room after last night, after a mistake,’

the last two words sharpened and thrown back at her like arrows,

'you are being as delusional as I was five months ago. I was wrong. I was wrong to let you go. And believe me I've atoned for my sins, but I will not stand for you calling this a mistake. I won't watch you sneak away from a room we should share.'

Those brown eyes were deep pools of sincerity and regret. Gods repented in this strange, new world it seemed.

The next words were spoken so softly, almost to himself,

‘I can't. I can't. If you want to hurt me, at least let me hear your voice as you do so, let me look on your face as you break my heart once more. Stay with me and do as you will. I can tolerate anything but your absence.'

Shaking his head as if to refocus, he smiled, a pitiful, broken, best attempt at one, with eyes that roamed her face, gorging on all they had missed, before saying,

‘Come back Nes.'

'I thought I was a distraction.'

She sniped.

She remembered still.

He winced.

There, she thought, first blood in a new fight. Though God knew they'd spilled plenty here before.

***

The pulse of arousal that pierced her was sharp and strong and she hated that this was the most alive she’d felt in months. That she yearned for this fight, has been since she talked herself into approaching the bar last night, lying to herself that all she was doing was fulfilling a craving for bottom shelf vodka and coke.

She'd been to enough therapy since to know she was on shaky ground. She was envisioning the frenzied fighting and fucking to come, a sickening thrilling deja vu, when he kneeled.

Legs buckled like a broken puppet.

A script change.

Tears streamed from eyes filled with such anguish she felt her own swell in response as Azriel cried,

'Never a distraction. I was stupid, a liar and a fool. I kept telling myself that, telling you, because the truth terrified me. You were, are, and always will be everything to me.'

Tugging at his curly fringe, a nervous habit of his, he continued.

'I thought if I believed that, that you were a distraction, I'd find a way to survive even if you left me. Instead it drove you to walk and I found out none of it mattered. There were times in your presence I thought heaven might exist. Your absence, however, confirmed hell is real and it lives in the empty space you once filled beside me.'

Her skin felt like a live wire. Girls like Nesta Archeron didn't get love confessions from exes, they got bad credit and a therapy bill.

Or they had until now anyways.

'How do I know you've changed? All the time you made me feel full never compensated for what you took when you hid me from your friends, when you called me a...'

The word was too hard to say.

She resorted to examining the crown molding as Azriel waited a beat then answered carefully.

'You can't. I'm asking you to trust me knowing I have no right to. I love you Nesta. This is all too late. I know that. Believe me. I'm going to win you back. I swear it. You leave today and I'll find a way tomorrow or the next day. I had sworn to leave you be but looking at you now, I know you feel it too. I just hope someday you'll see it as a blessing too.'

***

When she leaves she feels his eyes following her to the taxi.

In the coming weeks he sends gifts - antique books, red dahlias, mix tapes of songs he thinks she'll like.

When she gets a text from a new number she does not block it.

When she visits next time, she brings her suitcase with her.

Because she understands.

The only craving she has ever had was for him.

As has been the case since she first started working for him, they were drawn together, they both knew this on some level.

That they were unbreakably bound to each other by gods so cruel.

Maybe crueller than him.

Maybe crueller than her.

Somehow.

#nesta #azriel #nezriel #acotar #angst

[bluebells-and-dragonflies]

collars

Ascended Astarion collars you as yet another way to mark you his. It doesn't look much different from the rest of the jewelry he plies you with when he first slides the thing toward you over the dinner table, just another priceless trinket to adorn you- just another pretty thing to destroy, when he inevitably tears it from your body. But then you see the tag, flat metal stamped with your name, and you recoil. Astarion smirks at you as your cheeks flush, sipping the wine you'll never be able to taste again. What is it, darling? You serve him so well- why shouldn't everyone know it?

As Raphael winds the collar around your throat, he tells you exactly why he's doing it, although he thinks it's obvious: all pets need collars, after all. And make no mistake, that is exactly what you are. He takes his time admiring the glint of the gold on your neck, the magical seal at its clasp that ensures you'll never be able to take it off yourself. Circles you slowly so he can see the loop at the collar's front. No leash yet, he reassures you, having seen the flash of trepidation in your eyes. No, he'll save that for public excursions. He can't have you running away the moment he decides to shows you off. What kind of master would he be, unable to keep his dog in line?

#this is really very tame for me but i'm thinking a lot abt possession lately #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #raphael x reader #dark #tw dubcon #i'm very new at this and don't expect anyone to see it lol but if there's something not tagged that should be let me know #.astarion ascended #.raphael #.nsft

[illicitlimerence-writes]

one chance | c. leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader word count: 2.4k words requested: yes, by an anon: “magic hour!!! hello!!!! so goooooooodd!!🥰🥰 plis make a part 2❤️❤️” & by @purpledianezzzzzz “BESTIE MY HEART 😭 imma need a pt2 after that absolute SWOON of a fic” & by @poison0bee “we NEED a part two where after the next day, we see a time-skip, where we meet him again n have a cute happy ending. 🥺🥺” warnings: fluff, angst, language maybe?, idk idk a/n: their story isn’t over yet. REPOSTING BC IT WASN'T SHOWING UP IN THE TAGS. also, i’ve been absolutely HATING everything i’m writing rn, which is why i haven’t been posting as much lmao. i literally write a few sentences and then end up deleting everything bc it sucks looooool. i don’t know when part three of this story will be up, so pls be patient. alsooo, this is not the story i was talking about when i said i was writing something with sharl, that one’s taking a bit more time but i don’t want to rush it bc it’s based on one of my favorite movies<3

my masterlist / this is a part two to 'magic hour'

it had been five months since her trip to cancun.

the main reason she hated going on vacations was exactly this, the sad realization that she had to return to her normal routine after living her best life only for a few days. it was sad.

the hardest part was saying goodbye to charles. three days with him were not enough.

that was also why she was apprehensive to let herself be free and try new things. when she liked something, or someone, she did it with her whole being. she wasn’t one to do things halfway, she committed every cell of her being into it. it was difficult when things ended. 

their last day together was one she’d always remember. he picked her up early, way too early to be awake. but, he wanted to see the sunrise with her, and wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. their time was limited, so they had to make the best of the minutes and hours they still had left. they went down to the beach, watching the sun making its way up, through the calm waves of the clear water in front of them. she was sitting in front of him, his legs on either side of her, her back against his chest, his arms around her protectively. he’d noticed small goosebumps on her skin, so he leaned in closer, giving her the warmth she needed. his heart skipped a beat at the soft sigh she let out as she snuggled her cheek against his arm. 

next, they walked to a restaurant near the hotel. at some point during their walk, charles grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together, all while keeping his eyes ahead. his clammy hands gave away his nervousness, though. she chuckled to herself, holding on a little tighter, letting him know she wanted this, she was okay with it. 

the rest of the day was spent sharing knowing glances and soft touches. as they ate, his arm was around her chair, the pads of his fingers against her back, her shoulder. as they walked through crowds of tourists, one of his hands would be holding her own, whilst the other one was on her waist. at night, as they watched a firework show, she slid her arms around his waist. the air wasn’t chilly, but it was enough for the thin dress she was wearing. he took that as his sign to envelop her in his arms, placing a kiss to the top of her head as they watched the bright, colorful dots light up the sky.

just as they had all day, they walked back to the hotel hand in hand. their faces were flushed and hair was a mess from having been up since before dawn, but they were inside an invisible bubble where only the two of them existed, and they didn’t care about anything or anyone else. as they entered they reached her floor, he walked out of the elevator first, but she suddenly stopped in her tracks. there had been an ache inside her chest when she first woke up, that had vanished throughout the day. but now that the end was near, so close she could almost touch it, it became impossible to ignore. 

“what’s wrong?” he asked, standing in front of her, he lifted a hand, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“i don’t… i don’t want to say goodbye just yet.” she whispered. her eyes were slightly glossy as she stared up at him. “i want more time,” she begged.

“it’s okay,” he whispered, his hands holding her face gently. “i wish we could have more time as well.” 

“distance sucks,” she tried to smile, but the tears in her eyes revealed her true feelings. 

“i’m right here, i am still here,” he told her. “i’m not going anywhere,”

“promise?” she asked, “just for tonight… will you stay with me?”

“of course. i’ll stay until you get sick of me, until you’re begging for me to leave you alone for at least five minutes,” he pressed his lips against her temple, hearing her sigh.

“i don’t want to say goodbye,” she repeated, a part of her wanted to be mad at herself for allowing herself to get close to him, to be foolish enough to open her heart to someone she could not have.

“then don’t,” he whispered against her ear. “let’s not say goodbye tonight.”

he took her to his room. thanks to a friend that had bailed at the last minute, charles had a room all to his own. he led her to the bed, sat her down on the bed, that was still messy from when he slept in it the night before, since he’d hung the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the doorknob. he handed her one of his shirts and a pair of shorts so she could change. she walked to the bathroom, shaking her head at her reflection. the adventures of the day were clearly visible on her messy hair, her skin affected by the sun. she splashed some water on her face, drying it with a towel she found by the sink, and got her hair out of the way. she wanted to hurry up, didn’t want to waste the little time she had left with charles.

as she stepped out, charles was ready for bed, too. he heard the click of the door as she closed it behind her, he raised his head, a smile making its way onto his face instantly.

“hey,” he whispered, letting out a deep breath.

“hi,” she said, taking a step towards him. he did as well, meeting halfway. “i have to be up early,” she reminded him.

“i’m a light sleeper,” he told her, “i’ll set an alarm,” he placed a hand on her waist.

“okay,” she nodded, one of her arms went to his neck, playing with his hair, “i don’t want to say goodbye,”

“then don’t. come with me, back home,” he said, leaning his head closer to her. she smiled.

“i can’t. we both know i can’t. and i can’t be upset, because you’re not mine. not mine to have or to lose. but i don’t want to say goodbye.”

“it doesn’t have to be a goodbye,” he tilted his head, pressing his lips against her cheek, “it can be a see you later. we can make plans to see each other, somewhere, sometime.”

“i’d like that,” she gave him a small smile.

charles’ lips went up from her cheek to her temple, he wrapped his arms around her, like he’d done all day, but this time felt different. they didn’t have a whole day anymore, they had hours left together. 

“thank you for these past few days,” she mumbled against his neck.

“i would like to give you many more days like this, if you let me,”

“i would love that,” the corners of her lips tilted upwards, but her eyebrows settled in a frown. 

“it’s a plan, then,”

“okay,” she nodded, leaning her head back. she looked into his green eyes, stared at his face, the flushed cheeks and red nose, she wanted to memorize every part of his face. she didn’t know when or if she would see him again, so she wanted to remember him like that, soft and gentle and caring, loving and attentive and perfect.

she snapped out of her daydream, the voice announcing that the plane was landing in nice, france was loud enough to catch her attention, although, thinking back to the happiest days of her life was not an unusual occurrence, it’d become part of her daily routine by that point. it was pathetic, she knew that, but she hadn’t felt happiness like the one she felt back in that piece of heaven on earth.

she looked to her right, where her friend, helen, was sitting. it had been helen’s idea to go to france. and as much as she wanted to stay home, helen wasn’t taking a ‘no’ for an answer. it was stupid to say that after catching feelings for a stranger back in cancun, she became afraid of traveling. she didn’t want to admit it, but that was the truth. but after much debate, she caved in, and there she was, landing on france. she knew she was close to charles, which made the whole trip ten times worse. 

“we’re going to have so much fun this weekend,” helen said, nudging her shoulder, (y/n) gave her a small smile. they made the way down the airplane, walking inside the airport to collect their bags. after they secured their luggage, they walked to a car rental service. the airport was crowded, there were people all over the place, so she stayed close to the desk as they waited for the keys. 

she grabbed her phone, sending a quick text to her family, saying she was okay. a small voice in her head told her to text charles, tell him that they were just a couple hours away from each other, but she was interrupted by her friend.

“let’s go!” she smiled, and together they walked out of the airport, finding the car that would be theirs for the weekend. once they settled in, she sat on the driver’s seat, with helen by her side. she wasn’t the biggest fan of planes, so driving made her feel a little bit better, more grounded. they put on music, a fun playlist to get their moods up for all the adventures they’re going to have that weekend. “okay, i know i said we were going to have a fun, chill weekend here,” helen starts, (y/n) nods, “but… i just- i know how much you’ve missed charles,” it takes everything in (y/n) not to slam her foot on the brake, she eyes helen, who has a guilty look on her face, “we’re going to see him.”

“you’re kidding,” she says.

“no. listen, i have it all figured out,” helen starts, grabbing her phone to read her plan, “we’re going to drive there, we’re staying with rob,” she could practically hear the smile on helen’s face as she mentioned charles’ friend, the one she’d met back in cancun, the one who introduced her to charles. she didn’t know whether to hate him or thank him. “and we’re going with him to the grand prix,”

“the what? where?”

“in monaco. it’s charles’ home race,”

“fuck,” she whispered, looking at helen, “i don’t know if i can-”

“yes, you can. listen, i’ve seen you moping around for this guy more than i ever have. i know you try to bury those feelings down deep, but it’s not okay. so we’re going there, you’re going to see him again, and you’re not going to let him go.”

“but what if- what if he’s already found someone else?” she asks, thinking out loud.

“he hasn’t. i promise you, he hasn’t. and if he has, i’m sure he’ll drop whoever it is just to be with you.”

truth is, despite the fact that her and charles had exchanged numbers and other ways to communicate despite the distance, she hadn’t made much effort to get in touch with him. she thought it was dumb, because there was no point in getting even more attached to someone she simply couldn’t have.

but as she stood in front of a room with his name on it, inside the ferrari motorhome in glamorous monaco, the fear turned into something else.

she knocked twice, but the sound was barely perceptible, so she did it again. she waited, with her heart pounding inside her chest. she waited, and felt a knot in her throat as the door swung open. 

he was standing on the other side of the door, wearing a red polo and jeans. his eyes went wide as he recognized her, a face he hadn’t been able to forget since they said goodbye that morning back in december.

“wh- how…” he mumbled, a deep breath leaving his lungs quickly, his chest heaved as he took one in, “how- you-” he continued. (y/n) parted her lips to speak, but was left with the words inside her throat as charles pulled her in. he closed the door, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “you’re… here…” he said, leaning his head back to look at her. she did the same.

he looked just the same. his hair was a little longer, though. but the spark in his eyes was just the same.

“you- you never called or…”

“i know,” she whispered, swallowing the lump that had been inside her throat since she arrived in the small country of monaco. “i know, i-”

“was it… me? or…”

“no! no, god no. i… it was me, i- i couldn’t… i couldn’t risk it,” she said.

“risk… what?” he asked, lifting his hand to caress her cheek. she’d missed his touch. it had been too long since they’d been away from each other, the time they’d spent together was not enough.

“i’m not…” she paused, “good at this. i don’t- i don’t let people in because i’m afraid they’ll leave. i don’t like getting attached, or get my hopes up only to end up disappointed. i can’t risk another goodbye.”

she said, and charles listened. he knew she was in a delicate position at that moment. there was no doubt that her feelings for him were exactly the same as what he felt for her.

“i told you,” he started, he kept his voice soft and gentle, “we don’t have to say goodbye. not back there in december, not today. not ever. it doesn’t even have to be a ‘see you later’ either.”

she stayed quiet, staring up at him. his eyes reflected the sincerity in his voice, in his words. 

"i have traveled all around the world, seen the most beautiful places you could ever think of. yet nothing, nothing compares to what i felt the moment i saw you. you were reading a book, lying on a lounge chair by the pool, and i just thought you were so… cool. i knew i wanted to get to know you. even before we were introduced in the boat, i was already enthralled by you.” her breath got caught in her chest as charles spoke, “i haven’t stopped thinking about you since we said,” he smiled before continuing, “see you later,” she smiled at that as well, “at the hotel.”

“neither have i. but i-”

“i know. i understand your fears and worries, but all i’m asking is for one chance. give me this weekend, or however long you’re staying here, to show you that i’m all in. i want this, i want you,”

“i want you, too.” she whispered, the words were barely audible, but he heard.

“one chance. give me one chance,”

“okay.”

-

@ireallydontknowdudee @spideyanakin

#charles leclerc oneshots #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fan fiction #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1 fiction #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #f1 fanfiction #f1 drivers #f1 drivers one shot #f1 drivers x reader #f1 drabble

[beaconfeels]

WIP Wednesday✍🏻

Technically it’s Thursday now, but if I haven’t gone to bed, it doesn’t count, right? Not going to tag anyone this time since it’s too late, but here’s a little bit from the third part in my Lucky series that I’ve been working on here and there. Thanks for the tag @lucky-bishop , you wonderful human.

Stiles will live, but he’s still sick. The curse had done too much damage in the time it was able to linger, and it will take Stiles time to heal. Fortunately there doesn’t seem to be permanent damage to his organs, but he’s tired and extremely weak from weeks of barely being able to eat.

So Chris brings him home, tucks him up in their bed, and does his best not to let his worry seep into his partner as he plies him with warm broths, and fresh squeezed juices, and anything else with some nutrition that Stiles can keep down.

Peter is over often, and after the way he helped save Stiles, Chris doesn’t begrudge him it. Even if it is a bit strange to actually see Peter plant soft kisses on Stiles’s forehead, or hold his hand. They trade off shifts by Stiles’s side, even though Stiles spends the better part of his days at first sleeping.

Stiles seems to be healing, if slowly, but there’s something off. Something Chris can’t quite put his finger on, until one day Peter pulls him aside, brow furrowed.

“He smells miserable,” Peter says. “I pull any pain he has, and I think he’s healing, but he smells sad all the time. I don’t-“ he trails off, his hand coming up to tug at his own hair in an uncharacteristic show of worry and frustration.

Chris’s heart aches. Stiles is sad? He smells miserable? Jesus Christ, no wonder something has felt off. No wonder Peter’s lips have been pulled down tight the past few days. “I don’t understand,” Chris says helplessly.

Peter shrugs. “I don’t know,” he growls. “There’s something wrong. I think you should talk to him.”

Chris raises his eyebrows. “Why me?”

“You’re his primary,” Peter says easily. “What you two have is solid. Don’t get me wrong, I’m in this for the long haul, but he and I are newer, and our dynamic is…different than yours. I think he’s more likely to open up to you.”

Chris hadn’t known Peter saw things that way, but it’s a nice confirmation that Peter isn’t angling to keep Stiles all to himself, that he respects what they have. “Okay,” he agrees after a moment of tense silence. “I’ll see if I can get him to tell me what’s going on. In the meantime, you should go home and get some sleep, you look like hell.”

“Gee thanks,” Peter says wryly, but he heads toward the door anyway. He pauses right before leaving though. “You’ll tell it to me straight if it’s,” He pauses and blows out a breath, “If it’s not something I want to hear, you’ll still tell me, right?”

Surprised, Chris tilts his head at him. “You’re worried this is something with you? That he’s changed his mind?”

Peter looks annoyed at his own vulnerability, but he nods curtly.

“I don’t know what’s going on with him, but I don’t think it’s that, okay?” It’s not natural to be reassuring Peter, but the man looks so lost all of a sudden, so ready for the other shoe to drop, that he can’t help himself. “You know our boy. He doesn’t do anything by halves.”

“True,” Peter says, smiling a little. “Thank you, Christopher.”

#steter #stargent #polyamory #WIP Wednesday #my writing

[bidisasterevankinard]

Oh man, I wanted to request every single one tbh 😂 but if it sparks joy will you write 21 for buddie please? 🖤

Hi, Dj 💙💙💙💙😘😘😘You can ask about as much as you can🫂🫂🫂

Here is Eddie insecure about his scars (btw I have idea for Buck's one. Want to be tagged if I will write it?) My hand is slipped so it's like really angsty, but don't worry Buck takes care about Eddie

…on a place of insecurity. From kiss prompts

show me your scars (so i can love them too)

(oh what it is ? another title I made myself?)

buddie / T / 1085 words

Eddie never was insecure about the way he looks. He knew he was attractive. He knew people would find him hot. Shannon always made comments about how he could easily make a career in modeling or acting just because of his look. The thing that he liked to work out helped too. 

He also had pretty much a lot of things to be insecure about, more meaningful like being a bad son, not mature enough, not masculine enough, not a good husband, awful dad, and so on. So Eddie never felt insecure about his body.  

Until one day, a month after he was shot on the street in LA, he looks in the mirror and sees two very similar scars on the shoulders from bullets. And he knows on his back he had another two. It makes him run away from the mirror and throw up everything that Buck made him eat in the morning. He looks awful, disgusting, but most importantly weak. He’s just so weak. Can't even protect himself, let alone protect his family. By a miracle, Buck was not injured that day.

Eddie doesn't understand how Buck can still be around, and look at him as before, when Eddie literally wears evidence of his worthlessness on his skin. All the things his parents told him. He drags Chris and Buck with him into the darkness. 

Eddie continues to sit by the toilet, trying to calm his breathing, beginning to doubt that it is knocked down only because of vomiting. He doesn't hear Buck coming home and going into the room looking for him, but he hears Buck coming through the door, which he left open when brushing his teeth in front of the mirror.

“Hey, are you Ok? You need something?” the gentle but very worried voice of his boyfriend comes to Eddie and he tries to stop the tears, but loses the fight and feels like tracks of tears are rushing down his cheeks, and there are real oceans in his eyes. 

He sits down leaning into the bathroom, pulling his knees up his chest, and trying to hide. He wants to run away so far to hide all the pain and self-hatred that is in him from the best person in his life. A man who loves him, but Eddie doesn't want Buck to see him like this, he doesn't want Buck to be disappointed in him and leave.

But Buck just sits with him and lets him cry as much as he can, hugging him tight. They sit like that in silence, Eddie cries his eyes out, and Buck hugs him. When Eddie is done, he gets to his feet and washes his face with cold water, feeling the look of Buck, who also got up and stands behind him, but he is afraid to approach, touch, to do something wrong. Eddie hates himself a little for upsetting Buck.

“Will you tell me now what’s wrong? Is that something with your shoulder? Your doctors called you? Something is wrong?” Buck plies him with questions as soon as Eddie turns to face him.

“Nothing is wrong, Buck,” Eddie hopes that's enough. He can't and won't tell the truth, the truth will push Buck away, show how much he deserves more than Eddie, and Eddie egotistically wants Buck to be only his.

“People don't have breakdowns in bathrooms when nothing is wrong,” Buck says and Eddie puts up with the fact that he won't back down. After all, it's Buck. He never gives up. That's why Eddie loves him, but now he really hates this trait of his partner a little. 

“Please, Eds, tell me what’s wrong. We had a good morning together, all three of us. I took Chris to school and when I came back home you were crying near the toilet. It makes me scared, babe, please,” Eddie sees how blue eyes are getting red and wet and breaks.

“I saw my scars. From Afghanistan and from the sniper. They are almost identical. Four scars from two bullets which makes me feel sick because I was so fucking weak. I look weak. I’m weak. And look disgusting.”

“Don’t say that,” Eddie tries to stop Buck and his attempt to calm him down. “No, shut up, it’s my turn to talk. Your scars are not disgusting. They don’t show your weakness. They show what …” Buck is crying and his breathing is erratic, but he continues.

“They show that you two times were so close to dying because people are awful and like violence. They show a little boy who was too young to be in the army but he tried his best to support his family and a still young man who cared about the little boy he met once too much to come to rescue him. They show that you were so fucking strong and two times fight death to come back to life. This one,” Buck points to his shoulder, which still has a fresh scar from a sniper's bullet, a scar that Buck saw how was inflicted, “this one shows that you fought to come back home to me. And that I was fast enough to save you. Don’t say they are disgusting,” Buck walks up to him and looking into his eye leaves an insanely tender kiss right on the scar. 

“Don’t call yourself disgusting,” another kiss. “Or weak,” another kiss. “Because you’re not. You’re not. Please believe me you’re not,” more kisses around his scar.

Buck then joins their foreheads and gives Eddie the right to decide what he wants to do next. Eddie hugs him tight and tries to convince himself that Buck's words are true. Maybe he needs help. Hell, he probably needs therapy, but he's willing to do it if it lets him one day see his scars the same way Buck sees them.

A year later, sitting on the beach on their honeymoon, Eddie takes off a T-shirt that hides his shoulders. He is proud to know that he has scars from the time when he fought for his family as best he could. But he feels even more proud of the scratches from Buck's nails all over his back. He wants them all to be seen and envied. And well, Buck blushes so sweetly every time he looks up to look at them. Eddie can't wait to get back to the room. In the end, you can sunbathe in LA. That's not what he's on his honeymoon for.

#it will be on ao3 as soon as it works #my fics #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #911 #911 abc

[thorniest-rose]

🎷🐛 hi! This is like my first time ever asking anything here on tumblr, but i was wondering wich kinks do you think Steve and Eddie has? Personally I belive that Eddie like tie up his partners cause it gives him a sense of power and also the idea that the other person trust him enough to be vulnerable

In other hand Steve is so deep into praises, he needs them, like he is always putting himself down so other person telling him "you are doing so well" or "you are so pretty" makes him enjoy it even more

And also being take care of, like, his parents are never in home so I assume he pass a lot of time alone and that the fact he always take care of the kids gives me "i give you what i want" vibes, so the idea of some one taking care of him makes him so overwhelmed

Plis tell me what you think! Also, sorry for my english

omg hi!!!! Thanks for the ask!!

So the show has confirmed Eddie is a top and is into S&M so of course all I have to do is extrapolate from there hehe 😉. I definitely think he'd love to tie Steve down on his bed and take his time working him over. Like I think it would be a huge thrill for him to have this beautiful boy who used to be the most popular guy at school and who never even *noticed* Eddie back then be laid out on his bed and begging for him, his dick so hard and pearling wet at the tip with how badly he wants to come. But Eddie doesn't let him, because he wants him to be on the brink of crying when he finally lets him. Not because it hurts but because of how *good* it feels. He wants Steve to beg and cry and say he'll do anything Eddie wants if he just lets him come, which is a huge rush for him.

I also think Eddie would get off on marking and clothes sharing. So Eddie loves it when Steve has visible hickeys on his throat. Like really dark possessive ones, so everyone knows Steve belongs to someone and it deters girls from flirting with him. And he likes when Steve wears more of his clothes too, so not just the denim vest, but his leather jacket and his band t-shirts too. He just loves all these subtle but obvious signs that Steve belongs to him.

And for Steve, I like the idea of Steve discovering kink through Eddie and that he loves being submissive. Maybe he's a bit scared of it at first because he's always taken charge with girls he's dated and maybe he's scared that being submissive or masochistic means emasculating himself. But Eddie makes him feel so good and practically worships his body when he ties him down, telling him how gorgeous and beautiful he is. And like you said, Steve has a huge praise kink, so Eddie doing this would press all his sweet spots. Especially as a lot of people always describe Steve as a bit vacuous and a bit of an airhead, so to be told how amazing he is just makes him feel so special.

Plus the two of them are so touch starved! Steve is from growing up with parents who are never around and Eddie is because he's lived with his uncle his whole life. And I hc Eddie as having been in and out of juvie as a kid, so he's pretty messed up. So they make up for all of that wasted time and are one of those couples who are always kissing and touching. Obviously not in public as they can't, but always behind closed doors and around their friends. They'll be on the couch making out and someone like Robin throws a cushion at them and tells them to get a room already so they don't have to watch!! And they wind up getting up and giggling as they leave the room, going out to one of their cars to make out there instead 🙊

also tagging @motocrossed to see if she has any kink hcs for them too 💗

#asks #steddie #steddie asks #bottom steve #sub steve

[heliopauseentertainments]

Unorthodox Recruitment Strategies

For MegaStar Week 2022

Day 1 Prompt: AU / Fave Incarnation

Continuity: General/Unspecified Rating: Teen Relationship: Megatron/Starscream Characters: Megatron & Starscream AU: Role reversal, canon blending Warnings: Brief, graphic depictions of violence. Suggestive themes/content. Please see AO3 entry for full applicable tags.

Summary: In which Starscream, a minor noble, pays off a gladiator’s debts.

Crossposting: AO3 | DreamWidth | Pillowfort

Fic chapter under cut

“Surely there have to be more suitable venues than this hole in the ground—“ The complaint was cut off with a wave of Starscream’s hand.

“Shut up, Thundercracker.”

Thundercracker slumped down into his seat, crossing his arms. At least in this private box, the chairs weren’t covered in paint transfers from mechs who couldn’t afford fixative.

Though, Starscream thought, Thundercracker had a point.

Vosnian aristocrats weren’t generally common visitors to arenas of this caliber: small private boxes, poorly maintained, filthy, thick with the smells of spilled energon and oil. The stands below were packed with grimy mechs who either worked for a living or gambled or plied arguably legal trades. They jostled each other, screamed, laughed, and traded money when they weren’t spilling their cheap engex.

Starscream could still remember a life like that, struggling to get by and finding entertainment when and where it could be found, quality being of little import.

A roar went up from the crowd as a pair of minibots, one with drills in their arms and the other with some sort of ground-shaking equipment, brought down a mech several times their size. Energon, still activated, flowed out of the wounds as he fell to his knees.

A good show. A shame about the circumstances, dying for entertainment, but that mech would have died whether or not Starscream was looking. Might as well.

As expected for mechs of his current station, Starscream would be expected to patronize fancier coliseums, such as the hovering arena in Vos, with valorous champions and money bet for pleasure, not income. But not this one, not this literal pit in the ground with the dressings of a legal mutual combat establishment.

The one in Kaon was known for neither glamor nor honor nor fighters there of their own free will, most being either prisoners serving out their sentences or desperate indentured servants trying to earn winnings to pay off their debts to the pitmaster. The only socially powerful mechs who came here were the local senators and the aristocrats who claimed to oversee the provincial settlements out beyond the city’s walls. The duke at Kolkular didn’t even come here, even though the arena was quite the tourist attraction.

All of that was precisely why Starscream had come here.

Landless but with a title—barely—and a few resources, he had seen an opportunity in the social discontent. He was certainly closer to it than his so-called “peers.”

He’d been granted his dignity (and a luxurious apartment) as a reward for alerting the Winglord of Vos to an assassination plot that he had obviously had nothing to do with and had been so loyally and conveniently nearby to overhear. Before that, he, along with Thundercracker and Skywarp, had always been a wire’s breadth away from being just like the poor bastards in the arena below. Now, however, he had his foot on a rung of the ladder and he had no intention of letting go.

Thundercracker grimaced in his seat next to Starscream, turning his head away but not attempting to cover his optics.

“I don’t see what’s so fun about this.”

He had always had less of a taste for gratuitous violence than either Starscream or Skywarp. But they all knew that when push came to shove, he would fight just as fiercely as the rest of them.

“We’re not here for fun,” Starscream reminded him, idly checking his hand for chipping paint as the crowd cheered for the victors on the fuel-soaked sand below.

The announcer, already barely audible at best, was drowned out by the din.

The minibots were escorted off the field and the defeated combatant was hauled off to… wherever they hauled the bodies. He doubted they had a proper morgue on the premises. They would probably just scrap the loser for parts and melt down whatever was left.

If he could just… tap into that wellspring of discontent and harness it.

And he knew just how to do that.

The announcer called what was probably a name for the next bout. The only way Starscream could really be sure who was coming out was to look, especially as the crowd roared again. The regulars likely recognized the vague mumbling as something intelligible, but he had no intentions of coming back here after today.

There was one specific fighter that Starscream had come to see.

He had already sent Skywarp down to the pitmaster to negotiate paying this fighter’s debts. Skywarp was, for all of his flaws, a cutthroat negotiator and Starscream was glad to have him on his side.

Hopefully soon he would have yet another powerful force in his corner.

The hulking shape of what was visibly a manual class mech, despite the missing hazard paint, walked out of the tunnels that fed into the arena floor, seemingly unarmed.

Bold.

Especially since the arena staff were pulling a pack of very agitated lupanoids out of the opposite tunnel.

He was either being punished or showing off.

Leaning forward, his elbow on the railing for a better view, Starscream couldn’t wait to see which it was. Hopefully his investment would be worth it.

The last of the lupanoids crumpled to the ground after its head came loose from its body.

Megatron tried not to wonder whether the lupanoids had been actual mechafauna or “domesticated” beast-formers. Both options were equally likely and similarly cruel.

Regardless of the circumstances that brought him his opponents, his own choice was limited to either killing or dying… and so far, he had not considered dying to be a particular viable way forward.

He was yet another cog in the machine designed to crush the lower castes. Even if after the revolt he had escaped his originally assigned role and the striped paint that used to mark him, he was still stuck here, keeping the machine alive and well. For all of his pacifistic political activism in the past, for all of his controversial, inflammatory polemics, this was where it had gotten him… indentured servitude and the same choice every single day.

Kill or die.

He threw the dripping head, limp tongue lolling out, away as the crowd above cheered the death.

It bounced on the sand before rolling away, leaving a trail of sticky fuel in its wake.

At least he would get to walk away from this fight with a small measure of money in hand, after the pitmaster took his cut of the winnings.

Tomorrow, Megatron knew as he followed the staff back down into the dark bloodworks, he would do it again. Some other unlucky opponent, be they mech or beast.

Kill or die.

Megatron hadn’t expected to be called to the arena entrance, after the crowds had dispersed.

He had just barely had time to get all the lupanoid fuel off his plating.

Gladiators were usually left alone between fights unless “rent” was due. The meager lodgings and rations at the arena cost him most of what was left over after the pitmaster took his “share” of the winnings. Megatron, while not particularly caring for most aspects of his current employment, did enjoy the almost complete lack of supervision.

The pitmaster, Outback, a tall, scarred, elderly mech with heavy armor who had once been a gladiator himself, looked incredibly pleased with himself. Quite the feat for someone who had a visor and face mask to obscure his features.

Then again, he was holding what looked to be his favorite thing: the datapad he used for processing transactions.

If not for the ever-accruing debt of lodging, he would have sought refuge elsewhere. The “rent” fee was only ever a fraction of what was actually owed as part of his “contract” and he could put more of his personal money towards the principal of his debt. The amounts were just so astronomical that signing on was essentially selling oneself until either death or a miracle.

Still, it had been better than starving in the street. No one else was willing to hire a large ex-miner on the run for starting a revolt. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, after all.

That, and Outback had been willing to buy off local authorities who might have wanted to haul Megatron in… on the grounds that he kept winning, of course.

Megatron also hadn’t expected the pitmaster to be standing there with three mechs, slender with broad wings and beautifully embroidered jacquard, colored to complement their paint, hanging from their wings. Vosnians, wealthy ones, if he could guess by the clothing.

Fragile snobs.

Given the drapery, they likely almost never flew.

Well-to-do wastrels then.

Had he managed to somehow offend them? Were they offended on behalf of the lupanoids?

“I assume there’s a reason you called me out here,” Megatron said, approaching the group.

He half-expected the Vosnians to back away, but they didn’t. All three stood their ground.

The blue one stood stock still with a straight back, arms folded professionally behind his back. The black and purple one ignored him, swiping a card through the reader on the pitmaster’s datapad, purchasing… something. Or maybe getting a refund—No, Outback wouldn’t have been nearly so pleased about it in that case.

The third one, predominantly red and white, grinned at him. No, perhaps not “grinned.” It was too sharp, but not quite a smirk. Decidedly not “friendly.”

“Yes, Megatron, you’re out of here.”

“What?” He turned to face the pitmaster, shoulders hiked up. “What reason do you have to throw me out? I still—“

“Oh, no, no, you misunderstand. These nice Vosnians have cleared your debt.” Outback brought the datapad up to his visor, his eyesight not quite what it used to be after sustaining an injury to the face years ago. “And then some. Your contract is complete and you are free to go.”

Free to go and get arrested or murdered in a back alley.

“And since you don’t have any personal possessions, there’s nothing you need to clear out from downstairs so… off you go.”

Megatron opened his mouth to protest about what in the hell he was supposed to do now, but the Outback had already started walking away.

“You’ve been a champ but money makes the world go around, you know. If you ever find yourself down on your luck again, you know where to find me.”

And just where to stick a blade, he thought, watching the door slam shut behind the old mech’s back. If he came back, it wouldn’t be to sign another one of Outback’s predatory contracts.

Then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Outback had always loved money more than his own array, so why would Megatron, desperate and on the run from the law, be of any higher value?

Jaw set, Megatron turned back to face the Vosnians. They had a lot of explaining to do, wealthy or not.

The blue one remained unchanged, though perhaps there was a flash of worry in their optics. The black and purple one smirked like he knew a secret. And the last one, whom Megatron presumed to be their leader, stepped forward, unafraid.

“Now, I suppose you must have a great many questions—“

“Why did you pay him off? I cannot be bought!” Megatron pointed an accusing finger right at the mech’s nose. “Even if you’ve cleared my debt and gotten me thrown out, you cannot buy me!”

“Buy you?”

The mech scoffed, putting an affronted hand to his chest before ducking right around Megatron’s arm to draw close. He even placed his other hand right on Megatron’s arm, sliding along the length to move the arm away. It was as though he had no sense of the danger he could be in.

“Nonsense. What I want… is to hire you.”

The transport had already been… modest in size, but now that they had stuffed a huge manual class mech in the cabin, it was practically claustrophobic. Skywarp and Thundercracker had vacated the interior to ride on the driver’s bench on top. Thundercracker was given command of the controls as Skywarp was terrible at avoiding collisions.

That left Starscream alone with their new… “friend” inside the transport.

That was fine. Perhaps a little privacy would put the tetchy oaf more at ease.

Megatron hadn’t agreed to anything yet, of course, but had consented to getting in the transport and hearing out their offer after a brief introduction. He still seemed none too impressed with his liberators, but that was to be expected. Mechs from the lower castes were understandably mistrustful of those above. Plenty of reason to be. He probably only got in the transport because it was safer than dodging the authorities on the street for however long this little ride would last.

That was fine.

Starscream knew he would have the deal sealed before long.

If only Megatron would stop silently glaring at him.

“I imagine you’d like to know just what I want to hire you for,” Starscream said, crossing one leg over the other at the knee while he reclined against the cushioned backrest of the transport.

It was cheap as far as private transports went, but it had been within their budget when they had purchased it second-hand. It probably still looked like a lavish luxury to Megatron, who seemed unwilling to relax into the comfort around him.

“I’ve been waiting for you to spit it out, yes.” Such venom. That could be useful later.

Starscream grinned.

“Good.” He made sure to flash his polished teeth, showing off the points of the purposefully sharpened ones. It was street mechs who commonly sharpened their teeth. An edge to defend oneself if otherwise disarmed. Starscream had kept up the practice, a link to his more humble origins. “We have a lot in common, you and I. I think we could get along.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed at him, scrutinizing, but he said nothing and did not move from his stiff posture.

“You see… I wasn’t always alt-mode exempt. I wasn’t always so blessed as you see me now.”

So far, so good.

“You see, that sort of thing—rising above one’s ‘Primus-given station’—can attract enemies. I wanted to hire you to protect me.”

Megatron scoffed but remained otherwise rigid. Disciplined. Very good. Starscream could use that.

“No, no, don’t be so quick to judge. It’s you specifically I’ve sought out and not just for your… martial prowess.” Starscream wagged a paternalistic finger at him, as though scolding a misbehaving new-build. “I’ve read your writing and, you see, I agree. What I want is to help other break their chains like I have, like you have. I need your help.”

Freeing the masses would earn Starscream their undying love and adulation. He would have power and resources… and no one would be able to oppress or control him again.

“I see why Sentinel Prime is so frightened of you, rightfully so, but he won’t come for you in Vos. He can’t stand the Winglord.”

He watched as Megatron’s optics shifted, from a stern glare to wide in confusion, like he hadn’t expected this, not from a comparatively wealthy aristocrat.

“If you help me, if we help each other… we can make that happen. While I have resources, you have the sparks of the downtrodden.”

Starscream’s grin grew wider, knowing that his words were sinking in.

Any moment now, Megatron would realize what was being offered: everything he could ever have wanted.

“I want you to be my second-in-command, but before that can happen, while everything is still put into motion… there is an intermediary position available to hold us over.”

He sighed theatrically and dramatically slid down the seat of the transport, throwing the back of his arm against his forehead in faux dismay.

“My beloved bodyguard died in a tragic accident last month and I’ve been inconsolable ever since.”

For many upper caste mechs, a “bodyguard” was often synonymous with a “lover,” in addition to the expected protection duties. It was a sneaky way to find an official posting for a partner that wouldn’t have been socially acceptable.

Starscream, having ensured that he had spared no expense on personal grooming today specifically, hoped that wouldn’t be too off-putting. After all, who could resist the lightly perfumed wax he had used? Or how it made his natural paint colors shine with a glossy finish?

Besides, he was sure even a paintless guttermech like Megatron could clean up nice too… or he could stay covered in the spilled fuel of their enemies like a ruffian if he really felt like it, if the mood called for it. The lupanoid fuel at the end of the day’s match had been quite charming in its own… homey way. It reminded him of his own days of fighting for his next meal, though it was more keeping it from thieves rather than for public consumption of glorified violence.

Starscream was flexible.

Either way could be fun.

Of course, that would all be voluntary aside from maintaining the pretense in public. Though it needn’t have been a pretense.

“I’m afraid it keeps happening. The poor things drop like flies. I may be cursed to perpetual sparkbreak, but surely… surely that won’t happen to you? I certainly hope it doesn’t.”

Starscream winked, hoping Megatron was clever enough to pick up on the ruse.

A cover story, an official narrative.

All so convenient to explain why a towering mech with a reputation for skilled violence would be dutifully following Starscream around. While Starscream didn’t really need “protection” as he was sure Megatron would doubtlessly soon see with his own optics, it was the story that mattered, for the public eye.

All he saw, however, was Megatron skeptically raise an optical ridge.

Ah, yes.

The benefits.

He would want those, an essential part of any self-respecting job offer.

That was probably the source of the hesitation.

“Of course, you’ll receive a regular stipend, with included in-house room and board, and access to the finest medics in Vos.”

Still reclined, he waved his free hand in the air.

“And if you’re feeling a little pent up, you might find your duties could include some voluntary late night shifts. Flexible ‘scheduling’ is one of the perks.”

Starscream flapped his wings enticingly—as much as he could while practically lying down anyway—to underscore the point, the jacquard smoothly sliding across his polished plating.

Megatron finally moved, leaning away as though insulted at the insinuation that interfacing might be expected of him in exchange for his freedom.

“I’m not a buymech—“

“No, no, of course not,” Starscream interjected. “Entirely optional and has no bearing on your compensation, but with you as my personal ‘bodyguard,’ it will be assumed by outside observers.”

He finally sat up, shifting a little to keep his legs crossed for comfort.

“So what do you say? Do we have a deal, tough guy?”

There was a reluctant sigh from the other side of the transport.

“Very well, you have a deal.”

“You see, I knew we could come to an understanding.” Wings canted high with pride as he stretched out a hand in a wordless offer to shake on it. “I look forward to seeing how you perform. You can start immediately.”

#fic #one shot #maccadam #megatron #starscream #megastar #megastarweek2022

[nachfo]

Heya!

I go by Nachfo but you can call me Nach! I have been dubbed silly by my friends.

14 | he/him | Asexual ♠️

In this blog I mostly post art about what I am interested in at the moment and reblog stuff that I find amazing and from my mutuals!

My sona is just a silly lil creature. They live rent free on my head. (I genually don't know what they are. They just exist, and i am happy with that)

Here you can find my sona ref!

I am very open for conversation so go ahead and ask me anything if you want! I would like to make lots of friends and mutuals!

feel free to use my art for personal use if you want but as long as you credit it

Info about tags and art/asks below:

•Asks:

My asks are always open so dont hesitate to send me anything, as long as it doesnt break any rules. I love getting asks and i would love to answear all of your questions or see what you have to show/say to me!

•Art related:

commissions : closed

art trades: open (I will literally draw anything for you if you draw something for me)

requests: open (only sketches or doodles)

•my tags:

#silly rambles - is for any post that I make that is text only

#art of the silly!! - Everything I make is taged by this

#mind scaps - Is for a story i am creating. This isnt the final name and is prospect to change

#eating this! - is for my favorite posts!

#my fren!!! - is for posts where my friends are in!

•explanatory tags:

- #asks

- #reblog

- #insp

- #sona

- #oc

- #doodle

- #sketchbook

- #gifts

•extra fyi:

- #mutuals

P.S. I haven't been adding tags recently when reblogging cuz it's very time consuming so plis forgive me.

Basic DNI criteria

Please tell me if I ever break into your comfort zone.

I am very new to having social media and interacting in fandoms so please be patient with me

My native language isn't English, so please correct me if I say something wrong!

I am so normal about void creatures with white eyes. Even more normal if they are fluffy!!!

I like drawing and experimenting with clothes and accesories

My favorite video game/media is Oxenfree

#tag navigation -> #silly rambles #art of the silly!! #mind scaps #eating this! #my fren!!! #asks #reblog #insp #sona #oc #doodle #sketchbook #mutuals #gifts

[sofiamantegafan110]

NEW X-MEN EPISODE 6

EPISODE 6- MURDER MYSTERY AT XAVIER'S

THE USS O’HALLAHAN IS A SUPER YACHT, USED TO HOST THE FAMED CHICAGO SINGER AND SEDUCTRESS, CESSILY O’HALLAHAN’S MOST EXCLUSIVE SHOWS. RIGHT NOW, IT PLIES THE WATERS OF LAKE MICHIGAN WITH A BEVY OF EXCLUSIVE CLIENTS ABOARD.

CUT TO THE MAIN PERFORMANCE HALL, A LAVISH AND SPLENDID ROOM WITH A SPARKLING CRYSTAL CHANDELIER THAT HANGS ABOVE THE CENTER OF THE ROOM WITH DINETTE TABLES LITTERING THE FLOOR, ALONG WITH SEMI-PRIVATE BOOTHS ALONG THE EDGES. THE VIPS ARE ABLE TO SIT UP IN BALCONIES PLACED ABOVE THE OTHERS WITH ALL OF THIS, OF COURSE, FACING THE ORNATE STAGE WITH ITS HEAVY MAROON CURTAINS AND ROBUST MOOD LIGHTING. FRAMED PORTRAITS LINE THE WALLS AND THE TABLES ARE SET WITH REAL SILVER AND CRYSTAL.

CUT TO THE BACKSTAGE OF THE THEATER, WHICH IS A BIT MORE SUBDUED. A ROW OF MIRRORS AND VANITIES LINE ONE WALL WITH ONE IN PARTICULAR BEING LARGER AND SET APART FROM THE OTHERS, DECORATED WITH THE FLOWERS OF CESSILY’S ADMIRERS. HER PURSE SITS ATOP IT, ALONG WITH A FEW DRAWERS, SOME LOCKED, SOME NOT, THAT HOLD THE THINGS A SUPERSTAR NEEDS TO GET READY. A RACK OF COSTUMES IS LOCATED ON THE OPPOSITE WALL, AND A FEW TRUNKS BENEATH THEM.

CUT TO THE HALLWAY, RATHER SHORT AND NONDESCRIPT. IT HAS SOME PAINTINGS HERE AND THERE ALONG ITS LENGTH, AT LEAST ONE OF THEM WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN GOLD. BEYOND THAT AND THE PLUSH CARPETING, IT MOSTLY JUST CONNECTS ALL THE QUARTERS AND STATEROOMS ON THIS LEVEL, AS WELL AS THE ENGINE AND ELECTRICAL ROOMS, WITH A STAIRWAY THAT LEADS UP ON DECK AND THE BRIDGE.

THE CREW’S QUARTERS CONSIST OF EIGHT BEDS AND A LOCKER AT THE END OF EACH. A SMALL DOOR LEADS TO A LITTLE STATEROOM FOR THE SHIP’S CAPTAIN, WHERE THE BACKUP NAVIGATIONAL PLOTTERS ARE STREWN ACROSS THE DESK. THERE’S A SMALL BOOKCASE THERE, AS WELL AS A LOCKED STORAGE TRUNK AND A LOCKER WITH UNIFORMS IN IT.

CESSILY’S STATEROOM IS LARGER THAN ANY OTHER LIVING SPACE, NATURALLY. THE MASTER SUITE CONSISTS OF TWO ADJOINING ROOMS. THE FIRST ONE LEADS INTO A SMALL OFFICE AREA WITH A DESK NEATLY ARRANGED WITH PAPERS, BOOKS, AND LEDGERS, A FEW COMFORTABLE CHAIRS AND A COUCH PLACED ALONG ONE WALL. THE SECOND ROOM IS THE BOUDOIR WITH A LARGE SOFT BED, A SPACIOUS CLOSET, A LITTLE BATHROOM ON THE SIDE AND SOME PERSONAL PICTURES AND SHELF SPACES IN THE BEDROOM ITSELF.

THE CABINS OF THE GUESTS ARE ALL PRETTY SIMPLE, AND THERE’S ONE FOR EACH GUESTS. WHAT SECRETS HIDE WITHIN THEM? WE MAY NEVER KNOW! EACH ONE IS TASTEFULLY DECORATED WITH A SMALL LOCKER FOR PERSONAL EFFECTS, A SINGLE, BUT COMFORTABLE, BED, A VERY SMALL SHELF, AND A READING LIGHT.

CUE INTRO AND CREDITS

THE XAVIER SCHOOL FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS PRESENTS… A MURDER MYSTERY PARTY: MURDER ON LAKE MICHIGAN! IT ALL BEGINS ONE CALM AND STARRY NIGHT…

NAMELY THE ROARING TWENTIES, ABOARD A CRUISE SHIP ON LAKE MICHIGAN NEAR THE TAIL-END OF PROHIBITION.

ALL THE PARTICIPANTS ARE DRESSED IN PERIOD-APPROPRIATE CLOTHING, AND YET LOOK OTHERWISE LIKE THEMSELVES IN THE PERFORMANCE HALL OF THE CRUISE SHIP. AT THE CENTER STAGE IS CESSILY O’HALLAHAN HERSELF, LOOKING A LOT LIKE CESSILY KINCAID IF SHE HAD A 1920’S COIF AND SHORT CURLY HAIR WITH BICEP-LENGTH OPERA GLOVES AND A KILLER DRESS THAT SHIMMERS IN THE LIGHT WHENEVER SHE MOVES.

SITTING FARTHER AWAY FROM THE OTHERS IS TALIA RICHEAUVILLE (PLAYED BY NOCTURNE), WHOSE EXPRESSION SHIFTS TO SOMETHING VERY MYSTERIOUS. SHE HAS AN EYE PATCH OVER ONE EYE, EVEN THOUGH SHE DOESN’T NEED ONE, AND SHE’S DRESSED IN A LONG BLACK COAT WITH AN ELEGANT CANE THAT SHE HOLDS CONFIDENTLY IN ONE HAND.

GREEN-SKINNED AND MUCH TOO YOUNG TO BE A SHIP’S CAPTAIN IS VICTOR STANLEY (PLAYED BY ANOLE), WHO WATCHES THE PERFORMANCE WITH CURIOUS EYES. HIS CAPTAIN’S HAT IS TUCKED UNDER ONE ARM AS HE CUTS A PLEASING FIGURE IN HIS WHITE UNIFORM, THE EPAULETS AND TAILORED WAIST ACCENTUATING HIS CASUALLY SCULPTED BUILD.

BRIAN NICHOLS (PLAYED BY TAG), DRESSED IN BEIGE SUSPENDERS AND A STRAW BOATER HAT, KEEPS HIS FOCUS ON THE SILVER-SKINNED SINGER AS SHE PERFORMS. THOUGH HER VOCALS TUG ON THE HEARTSTRINGS OF SEVERAL GUESTS, HIS ATTENTION IS PURELY PRACTICAL AS HE GRADES EVERY NOTE, ALLOWING HIMSELF TO SMILE WHEN SHE FINISHES.

ROXY SINERO (PLAYED BY BLING!) SPORTS A SLEEVELESS BLACK FLAPPER DRESS THAT REACHES TO ABOUT HER KNEES. THE STEREOTYPICAL IMAGE IS SLIGHTLY RUINED BY THE AMETHYST SKIN, BUT SHE MAKES UP FOR IT BY CASTING A GRUMPY FROWN IN RANDOM DIRECTIONS. SHE’S NOT PARTICULARLY HAPPY TO BE HERE, BUT HERE SHE IS.

A CIGAR IS CLUTCHED BETWEEN THE INDEX AND MIDDLE FINGERS OF CLARICE LUCIANO (PLAYED BY BLINK)’S RIGHT HAND, AMIDST A SELECTION OF RINGS MADE OF SILVER, GOLD, AND DIAMOND. A FEDORA IS TUGGED DOWN OVER HER EYES, HER PERFECTLY TAILORED GREY PINSTRIPE SUIT HAVING BROADER SHOULDERS THAT ONE MIGHT EXPECT. HER HAIR IS CUT SHOULDERLENGTH FOR THE OCCASION AND A LILY TUCKED INTO THE LAPEL OF HER SUITCOAT, ALONG WITH A KILLER GLEAM IN HER EYES.

THE ALISTAIR SISTERS (PLAYED BY THE STEPFORD CUCKOOS) ARE WATCHING THE SHOW AND ALMOST SILENTLY MURMURING AMONGST THEMSELVES. WHAT? THEY’RE NOT JEALOUS. YOU ARE JEALOUS. OF THEM. BECAUSE THEY’RE GONNA BE STARS! DRESSED IN SLIGHTLY IDENTICAL EVENING WEAR, THEY SIT AT A TABLE NEAR THE STAGE, BIDING THEIR TIME LIKE LIONS CIRCLING THEIR PREY.

JOSHUA SILAS (PLAYED BY ELIXIR) IS CLAD IN A CRISP PINSTRIPED NAVY SUIT WITH PLEATED PANTS AND A SUIT JACKET WITH A CLEAN WHITE SHIRT BENEATH AND A CRIMSON VEST. HIS BLACK TIE IS UNDONE AND A WIDE-BRIMMED HAT MATCHES HIS SUIT AS HE WATCHES IN A SURLY FASHION.

MEGAN MATTHEWS (PLAYED BY PIXIE) DOESN’T TURN TO HER NOTEPAD ON HER TABLE, WHERE SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO TAKE A RECORD OF CESSILY’S PERFORMANCE. HER STYLED CLOCHE HAT IS ANGLED JAUNTILY, AND SHE WEARS A METICULOUSLY-CONSTRUCTED OUTFIT THAT EVOKES A MONASTIC ROBE. GOLD GREEK KEY WEAVES OVER HER BLACK SHEATH DRESS AS RAINBOWS PIROUETTE HER SHARP-LOOKING WINGS.

JULIAN BRICKMAN (PLAYED BY HELLION) IS HERE WITH A PURPOSE. PEOPLE BUY MONEY FROM HIM, PEOPLE GIVE HIM THE MONEY BACK. HIS INTERESTS ARE ON THE LINE TONIGHT AND HE WANTS HIS COMEUPPANCE. DRESSED IN A FINE BLACK TWO-PIECE SUIT ACCOMPANIED WITH A BLACK VEST AND EVEN A POCKET WATCH, HE SITS AT A TABLE IN THE CORNER, KEEPING HIS EYES ON ALL INTERESTED PLAYERS.

SOFIA LORDER (PLAYED BY WIND DANCER), THE MAYOR OF THIS LITTLE OPERATION THEY CALL A TOWN, IS DRESSED IN A WHITE UNISEX SUIT WITH THIN-TIPPED BOOTS, A FIGURE-HUGGING VEST, A LONG-TAILED SUIT, AND A WESTERN-STYLED TIE AS SHE LOOKS FIERCE AND DEFIANT. LORDERS HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO GO FANCY, SENDING THEIR CHILDREN OUT OF TOWN TO STUDY IN THE BIG CITY WHERE THEY LEARN AMONG THE BIG SHOTS, BUT SOFIA HAS RETURNED HOME EARLIER THAN EXPECTED WHEN HER FATHER PASSED AWAY, ALSO EARLIER THAN EXPECTED. SHE SURVEYS THE AREA WITH IN-CHARACTER COLDNESS THAT HIDES OUT-OF-CHARACTER GIDDINESS.

FINALLY, THE SHOW ENDS AND CESSILY SASHAYS BACKSTAGE WITH A HAND ON HER HIP. IMMEDIATELY, ROXY STANDS AND FOLLOWS HER, WITH TALIA MAKING HER WAY TOWARD THE EXIT, VICTOR GREETING PASSENGERS WHILE USING OVERLONG WORDS AND OCCASIONALLY SLIPPING INTO AN UNCONVINCING ENGLISH ACCENT, BRIAN MOVING TO MEET CESSILY BACKSTAGE BUT UNAWARE OF ROXY, THE ALISTAIR SISTERS STORMING OFF WITH MEGAN TRYING TO GET AN INTERVIEW FROM THEM, AND JOSH MEANDERING NONCHALANTLY TOWARD THE HALLWAY AND THE OUTSIDE DECK BEYOND WITH JULIAN FOLLOWING THE GRUFF BOOTLEGGER TO GET A WORD.

SOFIA TURNS TO DON CLARICE AND SAYS THAT SHE’S SURPRISED TO FIND HER ON THE UPPER DECKS AND NOT BETTING ON THE ONGOING BLOODSPORTS AT THE FURNACE. CLARICE SMIRKS, SAYING THAT BLOODSPORTS ARE ONE THING, BUT SHE WANTED TO HEAR HER GAL SING A LITTLE TUNE. SOFIA NODS BEFORE MOVING BACKSTAGE TO DO THE HANDSHAKES AND CONGRATULATIONS SORT OF THINGS THAT GOOD MAYORS DO.

MEANWHILE, CELESTE TURNS AS MEGAN ASKS HER IF THEY WERE THE ONES DOING THOSE JAWDROPPING VOCALS AT REHEARSALS EARLIER TODAY. SHE NODS, SAYING THAT THAT WAS DEFINITELY THEM AS THE OTHER SISTERS HEAD BACKSTAGE. MEANWHILE, TALIA TRIES TO STIFLE A LAUGH WHILE IN THE HALLWAY AS SHE REMEMBERS CLARICE’S CIGAR AND FEDORA. AT ANOTHER PART OF THE HALLWAY, JOSH TURNS TO FACE JULIAN AS VIC JOINS THE CONVERSATION, TELLING THE GOLD ENTREPRENEUR THAT HE DOESN’T WANT ANY TROUBLE ON HIS SHIP.

MEANWHILE, CESSILY IS SITTING IN FRONT OF HER MIRROR WHEN ROXY ENTERS. SHE TELLS THE CRYSTAL GIRL THAT SHE’S SURPRISED TO SEE HER BEFORE SAYING THAT SHE SHOULDN’T BE THERE. ROXY FOLDS HER ARMS ACROSS HER CHEST, ASKING IF SHE REALLY SHOULDN’T BE THERE OR IF CESSILY DOESN’T WANT HER THERE. SUDDENLY, BRIAN AND SOFIA ENTER AND CESSILY TELLS HER MANAGER TO ESCORT ROXY OUT BEFORE NOTICING SOFIA AND TELLING BRIAN TO FETCH HER A DRINK.

SUDDENLY, THE LIGHTS GO OUT. THOSE BACKSTAGE HEAR MOVEMENT, A SCUFFLE, AND SOMETHING HITTING THE GROUND AND SHATTERING. THERE’S A GASP, PLEADING AND PLAINTIVE, AND THEN A FLESHY THUMP AS CESSILY LETS GO OF SOFIA’S SHOULDER AND SOMETHING HITS THE FLOOR.

SUDDENLY, THE LIGHTS FLICKER ON AND SOFIA, ROXY, AND BRIAN STAND AROUND THE CORPSE OF CESSILY O’HALLAHAN! BLOOD POOLS ON THE CARPET AROUND THE KNIFE PUSHED INTO HER BACK. MINDEE AND PHOEBE GASP AS THEY ENTER AND THE LATTER SCREAMS THAT THERE’S BEEN A MURDER, AND ROXY LETS OUT HER BEST DAMSEL-Y SCREAM AS SHE DROPS TO HER KNEES AND ASKS WHY THE DEAD SINGER COULDN’T LOVE HER.

EMMY AWARD WINNING ACTRESS, ROXY IS NOT.

NEARBY FLOATS A BLUISH, SEMI-TRANSPARENT CESSILY KINCAID, WEARING THE SAME CLOTHES AS HER CHARACTER, BUT GHOOOOOOOOSTLY~!

SOFIA: SINERO! HOW COULD YOU?!

YES, SOFIA THROWS ROXY UNDER THE BUS. ROXY, MEANWHILE, ROXY SAYS THAT IF ANYONE DID THIS, IT WAS PROBABLY HER. BRIAN TELLS ROXY TO GET AWAY FROM THE BODY, AND ROXY YELLS AT HIM TOO, SAYING THAT HE DIDN’T CARE ABOUT CESSILY AND JUST WANTED TO MAKE MONEY OFF HER.

GHOST CESSILY: YES. YEEEEES. TURN UPON ONE ANOTHER…

IN THE HALLWAY, JULIAN AND JOSH GASP UPON HEARING THE SCREAMS OF MURDER. VIC TELLS THEM THAT HE KNOWS THEY WERE BOTH THERE WITH HIM, SO IT COULDN’T HAVE BEEN ONE OF THEM. SUDDENLY, TALIA APPEARS OUT OF SOFIA’S STATEROOM AND VIC TURNS TO HER, ASKING WHAT SHE WAS DOING IN THERE, AND ALLOWING JOSH AND JULIAN TO RUN BACKSTAGE. TALIA SAYS THAT SHE JUST GOT A BIT TURNED AROUND AND TELLS VIC THAT SHE’S GOING OVER TO HER ROOM NOW. SHE THEN HEADS OFF INTO ANOTHER ROOM THAT VIC SAYS ALSO ISN’T HERS.

VIC STARTS TO WALK OVER IN TALIA’S DIRECTION AS SHE SLIPS INTO JOSH’S ROOM, BUT HE PAUSES BRIEFLY, GLANCING UP AND DOWN THE HALLWAY. VIC THEN LEAVES JOSH’S DOOR AND JOGS OVER TO CESSILY’S ROOM, OPENING IT WITH THE MASTER KEY AND RUSHING INSIDE. CLARICE FOLLOWS HIM, SAYING THAT SHE THINKS THEY BOTH HAVE THE SAME THOUGHT HERE.

BACKSTAGE, JOSH, JULIAN, CELESTE, AND MEGAN JOIN THE GROUP BACKSTAGE. JULIAN SHAKES HIS HEAD IN PITY WHILE SOFIA TELLS ROXY THAT THEY ALL KNOW CESSILY LEFT HER AT THE ALTAR. WHILE ROXY WAILS TO THE MAYOR OF MURDERVILLE THAT SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT THEY HAD, SOFIA MOVES OVER TO ONE OF THE MIRRORS AND PULLS CURIOUSLY, REVEALING A SECRET DOOR BEHIND IT. JULIAN WASTES NO TIME GOING DOWN THERE, REQUESTING A WORD WITH BRIAN IN THE FUTURE.

ROXY: NO WAY AM I GOING DOWN THERE TO GET STABBED LIKE POOR CESSILY, THE LOVE OF MY LIFE! SOMEONE NEEDS TO MOVE HER SOMEWHERE PRIVATE! WE CAN’T JUST LEAVE HER LIKE THIS!

STEPFORDS: WE CAN’T MOVE THE BODY! WE SHOULD… YOU KNOW… INVESTIGATE! SURELY THERE ARE CLUES UPON HER PERSON!

WITH THAT, CELESTE TELLS PHOEBE TO EITHER GET FINGER PRINT DUST OR GATHER UP EVERYONE ELSE. PHOEBE NODS AND STYLISHLY STALKS OFF WHILE SOFIA TELLS ROXY TO STAY CRYING OVER HER BELOVED OR COME DOWN AND AVENGE HER. SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE WILL DO AND DECIDES TO FIND THE CULPRIT, FOLLOWING JULIAN DOWN THE SECRET PASSAGE. ROXY GLARES AT HER, ASKING WHAT GOOD AVENGING WILL DO IF CESSILY’S DEAD.

BRIAN: YOU THINK YOU’RE SPECIAL BECAUSE YOU HAD A THING WITH CESSILY?! JOIN THE CLUB! SHE’S SCREWED HALF THE SHIP! I STUCK BY HER THROUGH IT ALL! SHE WAS MY GREATEST ACCOMPLISHMENT!

ROXY: CESSILY AND I HAD SOMETHING SPECIAL!

ROXY THEN LEAVES THE BACKSTAGE IN TEARS (SHE’S NOT ACTUALLY CRYING), WHILE BRIAN, JOSH, MEGAN, CELESTE, AND MINDEE BICKER AMONGST THEMSELVES.

AT CESSILY’S STATEROOM, VICTOR HUNCHES OVER THE RECENTLY DECEASED DIVA’S DESK. JUST AS HE NOTICES SOME KIND OF CONTRACT, HE LOOKS OVER AT CLARICE, SAYING THAT HE SUPPOSES THEY MIGHT HAVE THOUGHT ALONG SIMILAR AVENUES. (HE TRIES TO PRONOUNCE ‘AVENUES’ IN A SORT OF FRENCH ACCENT AND FAILS HORRIBLY) AND LOOKS BACK AT THE PAPER, SAYING THAT CESSILY SEEMS TO HAVE INTENDED TO CUT HER MANAGER OUT OF THE CONSIDERABLE PROFITS FROM HER REMARKABLE TALENT.

MEANWHILE, ALONG THE SECRET PASSAGEWAY, JULIAN NOTICES A SHIMMERING SOMETHING. HE LOOKS CLOSER AND SEES THAT IT’S A NECKLACE. HE THEN REACHES THE END OF THE PASSAGE AND PUSHES OPEN THE DOOR AT THE OTHER END, COMING INTO CESSILY’S STATEROOM WHERE DON CLARICE AND CAPTAIN VICTOR HAPPEN TO BE. CLARICE WONDERS WHAT HE’S DOING THERE AS SOFIA STEPS IN BEHIND HIM.

SUDDENLY, THE LIGHTS GO OUT. TALIA CAN BE SEEN STROLLING OUT OF JULIAN’S ROOM BEFORE THEY DO, BRIAN SUDDENLY MUTTERS THAT HE HAS TO GET OUT OF THERE, AND ROXY GIVES HER BEST HORROR MOVIE SCREAM BEFORE FLEEING TO THE DECK OF THE SHIP.

WHEN THE LIGHTS COME BACK ON, MEGAN MATTHEWS, ACE REPORTER, IS CLUTCHING HER THROAT ON THE GROUND, RED RUNNING BETWEEN HER FINGERS AS SHE STRUGGLES AND GASPS FOR AIR. BRIAN’S HAT LIES NEXT TO HER BESIDE THE KNIFE USED TO STAB CESSILY.

THE MURDERER HAS STRUCK AGAIN.

GHOST-CESSILY SCREAMS IN HER BEST ‘NOOOOO, JENNA!’ VOICE AS A TRANSLUCENT PIXIE ‘GHOST’ RISES FROM THE DEAD BODY. SHE WRAPS HER ARMS AROUND MEGAN IN A BIG HUG AND SQUEEZES HER EYES SHUT WITH A GRIN.

GHOST-CESSILY: OH, OUR POOR MEGAN MATTHEWS! SHE WAS ONTO THE HOTTEST SCOOP OF HER LIFE! WOE! WOOOOOE!

MEANWHILE, TALIA HEADS OVER TO THE CREW’S QUARTERS, MAKING HER WAY OVER TO THE ONE THAT READS CAPTAIN VICTOR STANLEY’S QUARTERS. AFTER COMMENTING THAT THAT’S A STUPID ASS NAME, SHE OPENS THE DOOR AND HEADS ON IN.

BACKSTAGE, JOSH DEMANDS EVERYONE (BASICALLY JUST THE CUCKOOS) SHOW THEIR HANDS AND THE SISTERS STARE AT HIM. CELESTE ASSUMES THAT THE KILLER WAS PROBABLY ONE OF THE PEOPLE WHO RAN OFF AND SAYS THAT FROM WHAT THEY’VE HEARD, CESSILY WAS GETTING AROUND LIKE SOME SORT OF TAWDRY BICYCLE. GHOST CESSILY GETS OUT A NOTEPAD, WRITING ‘DON’T FORGET THE BLOOD SPLATTER!’ WITH A FEATHER PEN.

MEANWHILE, TALIA LEAVES VICTOR’S QUARTERS WITH A TAP OF HER CANE. SHE WALKS OUT AND SEES PHOEBE HEADING BACK TO JOIN HER SISTERS FROM HER ERRAND, HOLDING A MAKEUP KIT AS THE ONLY THING SHE CAN FIND FOR FINGER-PRINT DUST.

IN THE STATEROOM, JULIAN NOTICES BRIAN IN THE HALLWAY AND SAYS THAT THEY NEED TO HAVE A WORD WHILE CLARICE NOTICES SOME PAPERS ON THE DESK AND SMIRKS, SAYING THAT IT SEEMS LIKE THEIR CAPTAIN HAS A CRUSH. SHE THEN SHOWS A SERIES OF LETTERS ADDRESSED TO CESSILY BY VICTOR AND ASKS HIM IF HE DIDN’T WANT ANYONE TO SEE THEM BECAUSE HE TOLD HER HE’D KILL EVERYONE ON THE SHIP FOR HER. SOFIA ‘OHS’ SLIGHTLY AS VIC LOOKS AT THE LETTER IN HIS HAND AND LOSES IT, HIS FACE GOING DARK GREEN.

HE THRUSTS THE LETTER AT CLARICE AND SAYS THAT THERE’S NOTHING ABOUT MURDERS. HE DOESN’T KNOW THAT FOR SURE AND SHE’S SURE AS HELL NOT GONNA CHECK. SUDDENLY, TALIA LEANS IN AND SAYS THAT VIC WAS KISSING CESSILY BEFORE THE SHOW BEFORE HEADING BACK OUT INTO THE HALLWAY. VIC DEMANDS TO KNOW WHO SHE IS WHILE GHOST CESSILY BURSTS OUT LAUGHING, SENDING A TELEPATHIC SIGNAL TO VIC THROUGH THEIR PSYCHIC LINK SET UP BY THE CUCKOOS, SAYING THAT SHE DIDN’T KNOW VIC WOULD BE THE CAPTAIN.

SOFIA ARCHES HER BROW, COMMENTING ON THE TITILLATING SITUATION.

MEANWHILE, ON THE DECK OF THE USS O’HALLAHAN, ROXY LOOKS UP AT THE MOON, IGNORING THE SHOUTS AND CALLS FROM WITHIN THE SHIP.

ROXY: THE MOON SPLIT IN HALF AND STARS CRUMBLED. FALLING LIKE FIREWORKS INTO THE SEA. I WATCHED THE WORLD FALL APART, ON THE DAY THAT MY LOVE LEFT ME.

TALIA STOPS SHORT ON HER WAY UP TO THE DECK TO HEAR ROXY’S MONOLOGUE AS THE BLACK-CLAD CRYSTAL GIRL CLIMBS OVER THE RAILING OF THE DECK, YELLING TO THE STARRY SKY THAT SHE AND CESSILY WILL BE TOGETHER SOON.

THEN, SHE JUMPS OVERBOARD, INTO THE LAKE, NEVER TO BE HEARD FROM AGAIN.

TALIA WATCHES THE SITUATION BRIEFLY BEFORE GIVING A SHRUG AND HEADING RIGHT BACK DOWN THE HALLWAY TOWARD ROXY’S ROOM, ON HER OWN AGENDA.

IN THE STATEROOM, VIC ASKS SOFIA TO READ THE LETTERS AND TELL THEM OF THE APPARENT SCANDAL BEFORE INTERNALLY GRUNTING A BIT WHILE GHOST-CESSILY TELLS HIM THAT SHE GOT THOSE PASSAGES FROM THE FINEST OF ROMANTIC LITEROTICA. CLARICE JABS A FINGER AT VICTOR, ACCUSING HIM OF MAKING THE MOVES ON HER DAME BEFORE SAYING THAT SHE DOESN’T THINK ANYONE IS KILLING FOR LOVE HERE.

CLARICE: MOST PEOPLE KILL FOR MONEY. AND THE PERSON WHO STANDS TO MAKE THE MOST MONEY OUT OF ALL THIS? MY DAME’S MANAGER!

CESSILY CHUCKLES BEFORE TURNING OVER TO THE DRIPPING WET ‘GHOST’ OF ROXY. SHE LAUGHS AND HUGS HER GIRLFRIEND, SAYING THAT SHE’S TOO MUCH WHILE ROXY SAYS THAT IT’S ALL PART OF THE ACTING PROCESS. YOU HAVE TO BE DRAMATIC TO MAKE IT MORE INTENSE.

MEANWHILE, JOSH WALKS OUT OF THE BACKSTAGE ROOM TO FIND CLUES WHILE PHOEBE CHASES HIM, SAYING THAT HE CAN’T ABANDON THREE ELIGIBLE BACHELORETTES TO A MURDER. CELESTE HEADS TOWARDS THE STATEROOM WHILE MINDEE RUNS OFF DOWN THE HALL IN VAGUELY THE LAST DIRECTION SHE SAW ROXY GOING.

IN THE STATEROOM, AS SOFIA CONDUCTS HER OWN INVESTIGATION, VICTOR SHAKES HIS FIST AT CLARICE, SAYING THAT SHE ALWAYS TOOK CESSILY FOR GRANTED. CLARICE GLARES AT HER, SAYING THAT CESSILY CHOSE WHO SHE WANTED IN THE END AND IT WASN’T HIM BEFORE VIC EXPLODES IN FAKE MELODRAMA, SAYING THAT CLARICE ONLY WISHES THAT SHE COULD HAVE LOVED HER LIKE HE DID AND NOW SHE’S LOST HER CHANCE. AS THEY ARGUE, BRIAN AND JULIAN WONDER WHO THE HELL TALIA’S SUPPOSED TO BE AND WHY SHE KEEPS GOING IN PEOPLE’S ROOMS. JOSH HEADS TOWARD THE HALLWAY WHILE THE STEPFORDS TRY TO GATHER EVERYONE.

GUESS WHAT?!

THE LIGHTS GO OUT.

A LOUD BANG COMES FROM THE STATEROOM FOLLOWED BY A THUMP. WHEN THEY COME BACK ON, DON CLARICE LUCIANO CLUTCHES HER CHEST, A REVOLVER LYING ON THE FLOOR. SHE WAS SHOT WITH HER OWN GUN! AND CELESTE IS STANDING IN THE DOORWAY, HAVING HEARD EVERYTHING VIC SAID.

GHOST CESSILY: J’ACCUSE! WHO COULD HAVE DONE THIS?!

AS GHOST CLARICE ENTERS, ROXY GIVES HER A SHOVE FOR STEALING HER GIRLFRIEND. ROXY LAUGHS AND ASKS IF THERE’S GHOST POPCORN AS MEGAN HIGH-FIVES HER. BEING IN THE ASTRAL PLANE (IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY GUESSED), CESSILY CREATES A JUMBO TUB OF EXTRA BUTTERY POPCORN AND HANDS IT TO CLARICE.

IN ROXY’S ROOM, TJ ASKS CESSILY IF SHE WINS AT SOME POINT. SHE SAYS THAT SHE FEELS LIKE PERSONAL GOALS ARE BEING MET HERE AND SHE FEELS LIKE IT’S TIME TO HOP ON HER JET SKI AND RIDE INTO THE SUNSET. CESSILY TELLS HER TO JUST JOIN THE SHENANIGANS, REMINDING HER THAT THEY DIDN’T REALLY HAVE ANY JET SKIS IN THE 1920’S, BUT SHE COULD PROBABLY STEAL A LIFE BOAT.

MEANWHILE, JOSH AND PHOEBE JOIN CELESTE, VIEWING CLARICE’S BODY. SOFIA BENDS DOWN BESIDE HER ‘DEAD’ GIRLFRIEND AND COMMENTS THAT SHE WILL MISS HER STUPID ACCENT. SHE CLOSES THE MAFIA DON’S EYES BEFORE GRABBING HER RIFLE AND POINTING IT AT VICTOR, TRYING TO ACT PARANOID.

SOFIA: THAT IS ENOUGH! I WILL NOT BE GOING DOWN WITH THIS PROVERBIAL SHIP! WHOEVER DID THIS BETTER COME OUT RIGHT NOW AND WE CAN DISCUSS TERMS, OR I WILL START SHOOTING! *TELEPATHICALLY* CESSILY, IS THIS WHAT YOU WASTE YOUR TIME ON WHILE YOU’RE ON THE INTERNET?

JULIAN AND BRIAN WALK IN ON SOFIA BRANDISHING A GUN AS MINDEE AND TJ JOIN THE GROUP. THE TRIPLETS HOLD THEIR HANDS UP AND PHOEBE ASKS HOW MANY BULLETS THE GUN HAS. SHE DEDUCES THAT WHOEVER DID THIS HAS A SECRET TO HIDE ABOUT CESSILY AND THEY MURDERED MEGAN BECAUSE SHE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO COULD FIGURE IT OUT. MINDEE THEN ACCUSES BRIAN OF KILLING CLARICE SINCE SHE WAS THE ONE WHO FIGURED OUT THAT HE WAS THE KILLER.

TJ: EH, IT’S PROBABLY THE BOOTLEGGER OR THE LOANSHARK. BOTH OF ‘EM. I DUNNO. I’VE BEEN BUSY.

JULIAN: ME? THE MAYOR IS THE ONE WITH THE GUN!

BRIAN QUICKLY TRIES TO DEFEND HIMSELF AGAINST THE TRIO’S CLAIM BUT JULIAN AND JOSH BOTH AGREE WITH THEM, SAYING THAT CESSILY INTENDED TO FIRE HIM. IT’S POSSIBLE THAT HE COULDN’T HANDLE IT AND DECIDED TO KILL HER TO EARN PROFIT FROM HER DEATH. IN THE BACKGROUND, VIC TRIES TO GRAB THE GUN FROM SOFIA AND GETS HIS HAND BITTEN IN THE PROCESS. AND OF COURSE, THE CASPER CREW IS JUST EATING THIS UP, WATCHING AND EATING THEIR GHOST POPCORN.

IN THE END, THEY REACH A LOGJAM. THEY CAN’T DECIDE WHO DID IT, BUT EVENTUALLY DECIDE THAT BRIAN, THE MANAGER, HAS A VERY CLEAR MOTIVE, AND PROOF OF SUCH. PLUS, HE WAS PRESENT OR NEARBY FOR EVERY MURDER. NOT TO MENTION POOR MEGAN WAS HOLDING HIS HAT AS SHE DIED.

WHEN THE POLICE ARRIVE THE NEXT MORNING, IT’S A TENSE STANDOFF OF GUESTS BRANDISHING KNIVES, CANDLESTICKS, AND AT LEAST ONE GUN AT EACH OTHER. BRIAN IS CARTED OFF INTO CUSTODY WHILE VIC IS TREATED FOR HIS SOFIA-INFLICTED “BITE WOUNDS”.

ROXANNE SINERO’S BODY WAS NEVER FOUND…

AND THE KILLER… WALKED FREE.

WE THEN ROLL FAKE CREDITS THAT SHOW THAT THE SCRIPT WAS WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY CESSILY AND THE SETTING WAS PROVIDED BY THE CUCKOOS THANKS TO THE ASTRAL PLANE. THEY ALSO SET UP A PSYCHIC LINK SO THE GUESTS COULD GIVE CESSILY THEIR FEEDBACK. WE THEN CUT OVER TO THE END CREDITS SCENE.

SAW-ESQUE FLASHBACKS SHOW THE STEPFORDS IMMEDIATELY STORMING OFF TO THE HALLWAY AND CESSILY’S STATEROOM. CELESTE WAS STOPPED BY MEGAN LEAVING MINDEE TO HEAD TO THE ELECTRICAL ROOM TO TURN OUT THE LIGHTS WHILE PHOEBE SNUCK IN AND MURDERED CESSILY O’HALLAHAN THROUGH THE SECRET PASSAGE THEY LEARNED ABOUT FROM CELESTE’S AFFAIR WITH CAPTAIN VICTOR.

THE GIRLS THEN RUSHED BACK TO THE SCENE OF THE CRIME FROM THE HALLWAY WITH MEGAN, WHO WAS NONE THE WISER. IT WAS THEN THAT THEY SENT PHOEBE OFF TO ‘GATHER FINGER-PRINT DUST’, ONLY FOR HER TO ONCE AGAIN SHUT OFF THE LIGHTS SO CELESTE COULD SLIT MEGAN’S THROAT AND MINDEE COULD PLANT BRIAN’S HAT ON HER, SINCE THEY’D DISCOVERED THAT IT WASN’T CESSILY THAT SUNK THEIR BUDDING CAREERS, BUT HER MANAGER, AND THEY KILLED THE WRONG PERSON! TO GET THEIR REVENGE, THEY PLANNED TO FRAME BRIAN.

ROXY OFFED HERSELF, LIKE A TOTAL BASKET CASE.

THEIR THIRD AND FINAL VICTIM WAS CLARICE. ONCE AGAIN, THEY SPLIT UP, PHOEBE HEADING OUT TO SHUT OFF THE LIGHTS AGAIN WHILE MINDEE SHOT THE DON, WHO WAS LOUDLY HEARD ACCUSING BRIAN JUST BEFORE HER DEATH! ONCE AGAIN, THEY ATTEMPTED TO FRAME BRIAN FOR THEIR CRIMES…

…AND IT WORKED.

WE THEN CUT OVER TO CESSILY’S ROOM AS CESSILY ASKS THE GROUP WHAT THEY THINK. THEY IMMEDIATELY GIVE OFF VARIOUS SOUNDS OF APPROVAL AS CESSILY TURNS BACK TO HER LAPTOP AND ADDS THE FINISHING TOUCH;

MURDER ON LAKE MICHIGAN

BY CESSILY KINCAID AND THE XAVIER SCHOOL THEATER DEPARTMENT.

A XAVIER’S SCHOOL PRODUCTION

~FIN~

#new x men #cessily kincaid #sofia mantega #clarice ferguson #megan gwynn #julian keller #josh foley #talia wagner #victor borkowski #brian cruz #murder mystery

[avitus-ostrander]

5 comfort characters & 5 tags

Thank you @sonderlativ​ for the tag

#1 - Varis zos Galvus (Final Fantasy XIV) 

Many of my favorite characters are not necessarily comforting. I do not handle character death exceptionally well. After being brutally emotionally tortured by Blizzard for years as they slowly and agonizingly character assassinated and killed off a character I loved (who at the time was a comfort character, helping me recover from another character death), I was left unable to get attached to anyone. 

Enter Varis.

I remember finishing the ARR MSQ and seeing him show up and thinking “ooh the new emperor is really attractive…” and that was kind of fun. I hadn’t experienced that sort of instant pull to a character in quite some time. It still took an act of will to allow myself to actually get attached to him. And then, after some agonizing, I decided to ship my player character, Aurelien, with him. This was the most self-indulgent thing I had ever allowed myself to do. 

He also got me back into drawing after a multi-year hiatus. If anyone wants to see some random shipping pics, they can be found here. 

He’s a serious, dedicated, deeply flawed person, and I love him immensely. Also, his relationship with my OC is possibly the only ‘healthy’ relationship I have ever written. 

#2 - Millions Knives (Trigun)

This will come as a surprise to (probably) no one who is following me here. 

So I’d been having a pretty difficult time and was struggling a lot. I’d pretty much given up on being alive and was just mindlessly counting down the days. 

Then my best friend suggested we give Trigun Stampede a try. I was skeptical, because reboots often burn me and Trigun was something I loved from my childhood, but I figured if it sucked we could hit the bricks. 

When Knives showed up and announced his presence by playing the piano, I completely lost my mind. I instantly felt something I had not felt in SO LONG. I regained the will to live. I felt EXCITED to be alive again. 

I really tried to fight it for a few days, but I couldn’t. I gave myself an undercut. I smiled uncontrollably at any mention of anything even tangentially related to him. Hearing a single note from a piano made me feel like I was going to faint from joy. Finally, I confessed to my best friend that I was deeply obsessed. 

The reason he does not make the number 1 spot is because this fixation has come with some serious emotional upheaval, as I evaluate some of my unresolved issues that I see reflected in him. And also, Varis is such a minor character that I just didn’t see that much negativity about him. Knives is in the spotlight a lot more, so it can be more challenging to just casually indulge without running into people who hate him. 

No one has to like him and I can see why some people wouldn’t, but he brought me back to life and sometimes I just want to be able to feel happy about that.

[Honorable mention here goes to Legato for helping me through my Knives-based angst when it comes around. He was my favorite from Trigun in my youth and one of two characters I built a character shrine for (if anyone remembers those).]

# 3 - Erwin Smith (Attack on Titan)

This one is a bit more obscure in its reasoning. Levi was actually my favorite character in Attack on Titan, but I wrote this figure skating/hockey AU where Erwin is arguably the best figure skater in the world and, just before he can prove this in competition, he gets injured and has to give up his dream. 

Years later, a bitter and aimless Erwin discovers Levi, who is participating in underground murder hockey tournaments, and decides to take him under his wing. Erwin regains his sense of purpose. Levi stops risking life and limb on a daily basis. And I got insanely attached to Erwin while working on this crazy AU. 

There was a comic I was working on for the prologue for it, but I only got 3 and a half pages in, because I couldn’t figure out how to render the climactic scene. (for those interested: pg 1, pg 2, pg 3) 

#4 - Yuri Plisetsky (Yuri!!! on Ice)

I swear I don’t exclusively like angry blondes… 

But I might (almost) exclusively have them as comfort characters. 

Yuri on Ice is in general one of my comfort shows. I’ve loved figure skating since forever, so an anime about figure skating was a dream come true! It doesn’t hurt that the main characters are adorable. 

But this mega grouch was my favorite. He is angry and standoffish, but really soft on the inside. And he’s an incredible skater. What more could I ask for? 

(Everyone should brace themselves for the potential that everyone on this list will be drawn skating at some point, if they haven’t been already) 

#5 - Malokh Skullsplitter & Auralion Duskwither (World of Warcraft)

So these two are OCs. As such, I don’t have any great color pictures of them. I started coloring this one, but it’s stuck on a tablet that needs fixing. All of my other pictures of these two are even more outdated, so this will have to do.

I haven’t played WoW in ages and am not sure I ever will again, but I still love my characters dearly. 

Aura is a Blood Elf shadow priest. Malokh is an Orc warrior. 

Anyway, Auralion has been my absolute favorite OC for about… 13+ years now? Like everyone else on this list, he is an angry blonde. He’s also a (very slightly) older twin. When I don’t have a current obsession, I draw/write stuff about him. This is not his proper hair. This is his hair growing back after he was nearly incinerated. Here is a picture of how his hair normally looks. 

While Aura embodies a lot of my struggles and I channel a lot of my angst into him, Malokh embodies a lot of the things I feel like I need. It’s about to get kind of personal here so feel free to skip to the end… 

As a little kid, I had the misfortune of simultaneously finding out that death was a thing and that it could be violent and terrible, and I never felt safe again. My parents comforted me by telling me that I was not important enough to murder, and my takeaway was “these people won’t and can’t defend me.” So I decided I would be the person to defend the family. I became a very aggressive, very cruel person because I didn’t feel safe unless I was the worst person in the room. 

But really, all I wanted was for someone to say they would protect me. 

Malokh embodies all the things I wanted as a kid. He is fiercely loyal, compassionate, intelligent, patient, and he would absolutely wreck anyone who threatened the people he loves. 

I have loved orcs since I was a little kid and first played the original Warcraft RTS game. There was something very comforting to me about being so big and strong that you didn’t really have to be afraid of humans. 

I ship him and Aura in the red quadrant (because I do Homestuck style shipping for some of my OCs). 

And Malokh has black hair, so he breaks the pattern!

Anyway, tagging: @skuppycake​, @dragonofeternal​, @evilgeometry​, @setsuntamew​, @arahith​

No pressure if anyone does not want to do this or doesn’t have time! I tried to message everyone to make sure it was okay, but I am not sure if all of the messages got through. I was getting a lot of ‘message not sent’ errors and lately when I try to comment on posts it takes multiple tries for anything to show up.

#5 comfort characters tag thing #Not going to tag anyone mentioned because it would not be useful for anyone in the tags #I want to reiterate that this isn't necessarily an ordered list of favorite characters - just comfort characters #There are some characters I am deeply attached to that did not make this list. It was a tough decision.

[aejeonghae]

I posted 3,026 times in 2022

That's 1,162 more posts than 2021!

155 posts created (5%)

2,871 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@teamteerayus

@machikeita

@fiddlepickdouglas

@pharawee

@gabrielokun

I tagged 3,025 of my posts in 2022

#queue - 2,303 posts

#drama: thailand - 1,801 posts

#kinnporsche - 1,355 posts

#me - 366 posts

#drama: korea - 205 posts

#self rebagel - 114 posts

#mile phakphum - 107 posts

#apo nattawin - 99 posts

#cutie pie - 86 posts

#edits - 83 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#this coloring is inspired by pantone's mint julep for no reason other than i saw it and thought hmmm i have never done a green themed edit

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

See the full post

754 notes - Posted May 12, 2022

#4

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760 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

#3

upon a less hyped rewatch... porsche was definitely vibe checking tf out of vegas and the little pick me didn't pass. he's so different to vegas now vs when they were riding the bike together. /porsche was also wrapping kinn around his finger once he realized pete was sending intel back to their boss on any and all interactions porsche had with vegas.

now i could totally be putting too much thought into this but i think the drinking was an act. the entire episode we got porsche hesitating with drinks and i definitely think he's wiser now about accepting drinks. but after vegas made it known he knew things about porsche he had no right to know, porsche shifted, changed, to me. he wanted to sus vegas out and he needed to play a part and so he "drank". (arm and pete being plied with booze and then suddenly sober when porsche disappears with vegas also caught my eye.)

porsche goes with vegas. he stumbles, barely able to walk. he slurs his words. he wants vegas to talk, because he knows vegas was never far from him, always watching him. he knew vegas liked talking to him. his face when vegas was taking off his shirt, the look vegas didn't see, was sober. calculating. and then vegas kisses him and suddenly he's not drunk anymore, he's fucking shocked. that wasn't part of his dumb plan (or maybe it was in the back of mind, a test to see how vegas would go. kinn told him vegas was obsessed with things that kinn had.)

but do you know what was part of his plan? pete reporting back to kinn. he knew he was safe in this hostile environment because kinn would come for him the way he snuck out of the hospital to find him when he couldn't sleep. which is why he smiled when kinn showed up.

sure he absolutely miscalculated with vegas, hell he probably had no clue what he could get vegas to say but he wanted to help kinn, but he KNEW kinn would come for him.

and then kinn's fury also wasn't part of the plan and porsche definitely doesn't slur when he says he shouldn't have fallen for an asshole like kinn and he definitely doesn't stumble when he goes to leave.

he's trying so hard to fit into this dark underbelly he's found himself in. does he fuck up? yes. is he doing his best? yes.

843 notes - Posted May 21, 2022

#2

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873 notes - Posted July 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

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1,262 notes - Posted July 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#2022 has been an incredibly difficult year but i am so grateful for leila nick and kinnporsche making this year more bearable #kinnporsche #tumblr2022 #edits

[koosc]

cambiare (m.yoongi x reader)

warnings/tags: idol!yoongi x florist!reader. lovey dovey yoongi getting ready to propose :D , yoongi reminiscing about his precious buttercup and fluffy stuff :(

genre: fluffyyy~

words: 686 words

a/n: ik no one listens to the song recommendations i put but pLIS for the love of yoongi, listen to me after you by paul kim.

-

Yoongi can’t figure out when things have changed. He doesn’t know when your coat made home next to his. He doesn’t know when small succulents and delicate flowers made their way into his apartment. His kitchen cupboards used to be filled with bare necessities and now he’s treated to a feast everyday.

Yoongi hates change.

He hates the way it abruptly shifts his peaceful life to a harrowing one. He isn’t fond of its ways, often letting out his frustrations about the topic through speedy raps. Yoongi surprises himself, looking forward to the changes you bring him everyday. He got used to your never-ending chatter, which to him, is true music. Your sweet voice, along with your nimble hands and gratifying smile and to top it all off, your pure and kind eyes. He always asked you how your day was, just to hear your voice. Whenever you asked about his, he would try to reply with a smile all the time because he knew you loved his smile. You both understood each other easily and fit like a perfect puzzle. You were, quite literally, a precious flower in his sight.

You.

Yoongi wasn’t in the right state of mind, as he likes to put it politely, when he met you. He stumbled across your shop when running away from overbearing fans. He had run in and shut the door when he heard a lilting “may i help you?” he whipped his head to find the source of the voice and found you with an arrangement of tulips and pansies in your hand. “just for a while, okay? how do you lock the door?” he said gruffly, irritated that he couldn’t even take a walk for peace of mind. You slide from behind the counter and lock the door behind him. Your floral fragnance isn’t strong, Yoongi notes, somehow not even minding the closeness. He looks at you, your lips moving, talking to him it seems. “…bit of tea perhaps? i know the shop can be a bit overwhelming, sometimes?” He blinks and says surprisingly, “i’d like some tea, please.”

Smiling fondly at the memory, Yoongi focuses at the task at hand. He arranges the flowers in the vase, hoping you’d like it. Tulips and peonies, you had told him one day, was your favourite arrangement. “they symbolize perfect or deep love,” you had said when putting a simple bouquet of tulips on his desk, “a love like ours.” Yoongi fixes the position of the peonies and smiles. When he had asked you about the peonies, you simply said, “love,” looking at him among the vast ocean of flowers in your shop.

He places the elderflower cake on the table and places a tiny, heart-shaped candle on it. He looks around, giving the place a once over, ready for it to become one of your best memories.

Min Yoongi has changed, happily. He loves change because it brought you. He loves how his drab and grey apartment has now changed into a lively one, traces of you all over. He sits, waiting for you and looks around, happy with what he’s done with the place. He’s happy. After he met you, he’s been everything that associates with happiness. He’s happy when you understand his bustling mind, giving him his space. He’s happy when you both have misunderstandings because he understands your intricate mind more. He’s happy he’s able to love you like he wants to. He wonders, more often than not, if you’re happy. You always dismiss the doubt, always finding various ways to show him that you’re happy and content.

Because of him.

He’s grateful for the times you hold him when things don’t go right. When everything’s awfully wrong. He’s grateful for your constant reassuring and back rubs, he likes to admit proudly. He’s changed, for good. He smiles and leans back on the chair and hears the front door opening. He gets up and looks at you lovingly, “hey buttercup.” You look around and smile, “i like what you’ve done with the place. something special?” Yoongi smiles, your favourite one, “yeah, something special.”

[popentertainment-interviews]

Ciro Dapagio

From the Web To Cinemas, MobKing is a Name to Reckon With

by Brad Balfour

With a name like Mike White one might assume he's a pretty bland character — one who might blend into the background. But like so many things that seem to be background-able, there's much more to the story. 

Rather than being a simple everyman, White's a "rehabilitated" gangster who has distinguished himself as a man of honor — a standup guy.

But once he's released from a lengthy prison sentence, he finds himself a target. Miami's most notorious criminal organization wants him dead and silenced.

This has been the premise of both MobKing — the web series — and the recently wrapped film which is based on it. One of the key reasons the online MobKing project has garnered millions of loyal followers from around the world, has been because of the authenticity that its creator Ciro Dapagio brought to the table. 

A fascinating personality in and of itself, the Miami native did his own time in prison as well. A former participant of Florida's organized crime network, he too served a considerable amount of time in prison for RICO violations. After being released, he pivoted, shaping a film and television career from his life experiences. 

As Dapagio explained, "Spending a considerable amount of time in prison can go a very long way in changing your perspective on your life's course and how you should live your life. There's nothing cool about a life of crime. I wanted to do something in this life that my kids can be proud of. I want to create a better second half of my life than the first half." 

With that in mind, he joined forces with award-winning director Jorge "Jokes" Yanes, who first worked on The MobKing web series and then co-wrote and directed the film. Growing up a first-generation Cuban American in the dirty south of Miami, Yanes was given the moniker "Jokes" from his graffiti artist tag. Eventually, he put down the can and started moviemaking. He had his breakthrough success as the creative director of The Roof, a prime-time Latin Urban music show on Telemundo's MUN2 where he became the first to program Reggaeton on US television. 

In the early 2000s, Yanes made videos for artists such as T-Pain, Plies, Mike Jones, and Slim Thug. He directed one of YouTube's first viral videos, "GroundHog Day" by Mayday Ft. CeeLo Green. In 2009, Jokes won an Emmy for editing Gabriel: Amor Immortal, the first American style-miniseries done for Spanish TV. After his success in the music and television scene, Jokes turned to narrative film debuting with the feature Eenie Meenie Miney Moe (2013) which premiered at the Miami Film Festival and received worldwide distribution. In 2013, Jokes started working with the Mark Wahlberg Youth Foundation to create philanthropic films on such subjects as addiction. Since then, he has directed and produced countless works for clients such as HBO, Complex, Universal Music, Atlantic Records, and Rolling Loud.

MobKing also stars a mix of established names such as James Russo who was in Donnie Brasco. Russo transformed into the role of Dominick "Dom" Sasso, the Capo di Tutti Capi of South Florida's Sasso crime family — a respected yet ruthless leader, necessary when it comes to protecting his family interests. 

Also in the film is the heavily tattooed veteran character actor Robert LaSardo — seen in many series such as Burn Notice and in films such as Clint Eastwood's The Mule. Then there's Paul Borghese, a familiar face in mob movies such as Martin Scorcese's The Irishman. Rounding out the cast is noted up-and-comers such as Stelio Savante (Acre Beyond the Rye), Antoni Corone (We Own the Night), Elisabetta Fantone (Big Eyes), Bruce Soscia (Gravesend) and fresh faces such as Oksana Lada, Artie Pasquale, and Anthony Caliendo.

In order to make his idea a reality, Dapagio joined forces with Krystal Harvey of Tiger Shark, Inc. who serves as a producer and represents Anthony Caliendo of MAINMAN Productions, Inc. as well as Ciro Dapagio Films, LLC. Caliendo is an Executive Producer as well. With Caliendo, he has formed Button Man Films, LLC for future film and TV endeavors. 

In order to elaborate on his evolution from ex-con to executive producer and creator, Dapagio spoke about turning his life around after several years in prison for RICO violations as a former member of organized crime in Florida. 

What did you learn through the success of the web series MobKing?

What surprised me the most was how well the web series was received by viewers. Their amazing response is what generated millions of views and created such an incredible fanbase for the MobKing brand. We had no expectations, so its success is truly remarkable. 

What unique challenges did you face in turning the MobKing web series into the feature film — MobKing. 

Oddly enough I didn't see any challenges. In my opinion, the process was remarkably easy. It flowed naturally, from the storytelling to the production of it.

Describe the character Mike White who you play In both the web series and the film.

Mike is a hard-nosed family man. He's not afraid to push buttons to go after what he wants and needs to do in order to protect his family. He has to dig deep and find the inner power to maneuver through all of the conflicting elements in his life and come out on top. 

The authenticity that you bring to these projects has stirred quite a buzz. This is in no small part because you're transparent about your past as a former participant in Florida organized crime where you spent a serious amount of time in prison for RICO violations. 

I'm transparent about it because I feel it's important for young people to realize that crime is a dead end. There's no such thing as easy money or a fast buck because its repercussions are ten-fold. You end up broke, locked up and away from your family. And that's if you even manage to survive the racket in the first place. So, in the film, I get the beats right about organized crime which is hard to do in movies. In my opinion, the reason so many mob movies fail is their lack of authenticity. They all seem to be stuck in the "Soprano-esque" cliché mode of "I'd better get my money." In MobKing, I put a completely different, original spin on a classic mob tale, based on things that I may or may not have seen in my lifetime. 

Copyright ©2022 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved. Posted: May 27, 2022.

Photo ©2022. Courtesy of Ciro Dapagio Films, LLC. All rights reserved.

#Ciro Dapagio #2022 #Actor Interviews #MobKing #Brad Balfour

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Happy 40th birthday, Josh Groban!

I just want to thank the fans for saving me in so many ways. I hear from so many of them how the music has meant so much to them and their lives, but it goes both ways. We need each other, and especially now. To have an outlet, a place to express and to have willing and patient listeners…it’s everything and I’m grateful. My message is: thank you for following me down every road. Lets keep paving.

#Josh Groban #Happy Birthday #February 27th #here we go again #plis show in tags

[skzflix]

[201128] hyunjin | all in

#hyunjin #stray kids #skz #bystay #hwang hyunjin #*skz #*gifs #*hyunjin #please show up in the tags plis plis plis #also look at him he is ethereal #flashing tw