#scribbled this gal out FAST

[leori-the-unlearned]

it new year !!

#leoryu #diy blorbos #new year 2023 #leori art moment #scribbled this gal out FAST #it is not actually new year's yet for me btw. im posting early

[theburgessobserver]

Pt.4 The Beuty and the beast

The Alarm went out and once again it was time for me to wake up and embrace the new day.I Went out and faced it.I looked at my cell

“Still here I see” I said slightly soberly to myself looking at my cell walls which were scribbled with my over calculations and other such texts I had written on to them, reassuringly gazing back at me.

First I had my breakfast

It was most satisfactory.I liked porridge,especially when it became nice and rotten,it tasted so well.I asked them to make it like this for especially for me,it was most kind of the staff to comply with my preferances.After that I went around to see how things were going.

When I went to the pool to check out how my collegues are getting on.I saw Link racing Jaromir the Vodnik in the pool,and promptly lost,it was neck and neck. It used to be easy for him to win ,now he is struggling to win in his own element.

After his defeat he went on to talk with some other inmates“C'mon Babe why won't you give me a chance?”Link said asking the Goblin Queen for what I could assume would be some sort of a date

“Because you would be a weak link to me” She said while those were cruel words.but I had to admit there was a grain of truth in it.After that I went back to my cell.

I passed a few other cells.One that held The Gerry the Ghoul of Graydale, a phantom attacker who terrorized his village of Graydale.He gave me a rather unfriendly look,he always was, and still is a Buffon.

After that I passed Morana's cell. She was an alleged“Goddess of Winter”in slavic folklore.But to be honest her powers were often magnified by the fear pertained over her, and her limitless power was a mere myth(Not to say she wasn't very powerful but wasn't the undefeatable all powerful deity she was made out to bee)but she sat there in his extra secure cell,living proof that there was always some truth in legends!

She looked at me with interest and said “Come here you little ugly buggy,don't be scared.I just want to play”She said in a rather spine-chilling tone,but I was no fool.I wasn't going to play her “games” and just went on.

On my way back I met Bob ,he was oozing along at such a pace that it seemed as though something was amiss.

“Bob?Where are you off to in such a hurry?”I asked this brainless being

“Don't know where,But somewhere” he said jovially racing along,he wasnt picky and would just race around at times

Still as happy as he was since he first came here,after all the decades of imprisonment.The Irony of it all,I envied him.This simple-simon was far more joyful and content with this life than I,almost as if I strived for being dumber and simpler and…well…blind.

Later that day I returned to the meeting room and I saw Link had taken interest in Titanica,err Susan.

“Hey babe!”Link shouted at her “Check out my biceps”…he didn't have any really but Susan wasn't the type to rain on his parade.

“Gee…”She said obviously trying to find them

“Hey?Could I take a closer look at you?”Link said to her

“Well,I uh- I don't know becua-”But before She could finish her sentence, Links flippers were going up her legs and he climbed up all the way her head and looked at her close-up.I must admit Link really was behind the times,I tried to teach him manners and It didn't go very well so we gave up on that futile venture.

“Well,I have never seen you up so close,” Link said, looking over her face

I saw her blush and say “Gee. I haven't even used makeup since I came here.”Susan admitted,to be honest .I can't blame her for not doing anything to care for her skin since she came here…not that I had much of a choice though.

“Well you'll need them" Link said ”Your skin has wrinkles and it's so dry.I never knew gals looked so unattractive when they get this big,I guess you really aren't that attractive”He said

Those words must have pierced right though poor Susan.I saw her start to sob,.

She ran as fast as she could to the loneliness of her room.She started crying and I understand why.She must have been thinking to herself that her size would prevent any real relationships or who would want to love her now that every flaw or problem would now be nine times bigger.Or maybe even being grateful for being here so that others would see her.All these problems that came with the change.

…“I'M JUST A STUPID,BIG,UGLY MONSTER”I heard her wail

I felt for Susan,I wanted to go over to her but I twitched in fear, while I am a rational man; the bug part of me has primal fears,which include a fear of being crushed by something giant,like Titanica.

“Come one Jacques!Be a rational man, she wouldn't do it to you!You should know better!”I said it to myself silently and so after that I went forth to face my fears.True some of them were because when she first came here she was afraid of me the "Hideuos Bug-thingy"as she said and tried to crush me in fear.I dont blame her,after her ordeal and being greeted by me and being scared of me but by now she was accustomed to me.

She was still crying lying on her bed,with me trying to calm her down by saying

“Dont take his words like that Susan!Link is very primitive and has no experience with manners or politeness”.In fact I tried to change his ways to no avail,I let it be,after all its natural for him to be like this.

“Do you honestly think Derek will still love me?”She said soberly to me

“Well,he would be a damn fool not to!”I said to her instantaneously in reply.

“Now come on Susan you won't let Link's words get to you,he really doesn't mean it.I said to her I was throughly distraught by her current state and tried to cheer her up.”

“And even so, how can he call you ugly?Just look at me!Two Big eyes,Two antennas I am quite literally on one half a bug!An ugly beast!"I said to Susan,while I don't fancy the Idea of insulting myself, I had to make her realize that whatever was wrong with her was negligible,so she could feel better.

“You on the other hand are a beauty”I said, still trying to lift her spirits.I saw her slightly smile and say “Aw come on Doc,you're not that ugly”She said to me

“Maybe looks aren't all that important” I added

However, despite briefly making her a tad more joyful,it was only temporary.Soon Susan was low again.I realized that to help her regain her confidence, I had to make Link eat his words,so I promptly crawled over to his cell.

I passed by Bob who was throwing his eyeball against the wall and catching it and doing it again and again happily laughing to himself.Blissfully ignorant as always.

Grubzilla was in his usual trance-like state staring at the fluorescent lights in awe as if he were a little boy looking at a hypnotic coin.

Then I was at Links cell.It looked like an oversized fishbowl,it had a castle a treasure chest,some seaweed and some sand at the bottom.Links waterproof television set was on and on it was running a kan-kan show.Link was curled up at the bottom of his tank on his bed sleeping,two inflatable dolls in the form of women floated in the tank,on which Link would practice his “swoon”and “charisma”on.

I was greeted by a sleeping fish-ape and a sing beside the cell which as always read: PLEASE DO NOT TAP ON GLASS

“Link?I Called out to the Fish-Ape primate

“Huh?”My wet friend said,he was clearly only half asleep.

“Please come with me,It's important”I told him

“Fine,fine im coming”he said rather grumpily

He went along with me to Susan and when we got there link finally asked

“What's up Doc?”Link said

“I think you owe poor Susan an apology”I replied

“Ok,Suz If I were free back on some beach like Pismo or Cocoa I would totally kidnap you”Link said smirking a bit and almost begrudgingly”

“Link,that isn't a real apology," I added.I wanted Susan to get a true one to help her get over it.Link had to take it all back!

“Ok fine ,Susan you're beautiful and I'm sorry I was insensitive to you”.Link se begrudgingly

She looked at me and smiled,I smiled back.Enough was said in words and the rest could be told without words

It felt so comforting to see her get out of the rut even if it likely would not last long.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

And It didn't.Soon Susan was starting to descend into desperation,but I came back to try and lift her spirits

“Hello again Madame Susan!Would you fancy asking me some questions ?I can answer them for you,I'm sure you might be curious about something and I am sure that I have an answer”I know this place as well as the back of my antenas after all. "

“Well… when was the last time you saw the outside world?”She Quizzed me

“Well,I think It was about fifty years or so?”I replied

“What?But I you dont look...well young-ish well then again its hard to tell when I dont have any real experience with humanoid cockroach.She said in surprise and I think I could see a her look a bit confused almost disgusted.

"My Cockroach transformation gifted me with many powers,one of which included that my aging process came to a halt.Then again I doubt it matters when im a horrible monster"I said the final lines in a bit of a comedic tone.

Susan Smiled a bit,and i think I heard her chuckle a little

But I didn't want to bring to her further gloom by revealing that her getting cosmetics or the like would impossible.It was a bit of a dilemma for me.As she would likely find it out the hard way eventually.But these were trying times for her,times where she had to keep calm and try to carry on.

This wasnt a mall or anything and I doubt there was any place which had size XXXXXL for her.

I didn't want to make her sad again, at least not now,so I let this charade go on.

I in a way I felt responsible to help Susan after all I knew what she went through she was seeking true companionship.Just like me,I had had some lab partners,Colleagues,some other friends and some family, at time I stay up at night and wonder how long did they wait for me to return.

If any are still waiting(as I just “disappeared” and they don't know anything about the truth)and If those who had not passed on as the years went on,did my friendship with them ever die?Why I didn't even have a chance to say Goodbye.While I usually bury those ties under my work and knowledge.At times I can't help but just feel that I'm missing something.

But this made me think,Susan was missing almost everything, I should demand better conditions for Susan. She has such a bare bones life it was just enough for survival and not for living at all.

Before going back to my cell I put on some music on the radio to try her.”Well met again eh?”Fitting I said and put it on

“Excuse me Madam but I must go now”I excused myself and left

Eventually Monger did come in about 2 hours later.There were no clocks or calendars at our disposal so I naturally built a clock and It measured time precisely and when he did I walked up to him and asked him for a private discussion…alone.

“Monger,Susans has trouble grappling with this change in her life her,you should do more for her”

“Listen, Cockroach, she has what she needs.And It aint cheap to do upgrades for someone her size”Monger said to me

It was clear to me without a shadow of a doubt that I had to resort to reasoning with him “Look, you're scientist gave you strength readouts didn't they?”

“Yes…and they were….very impressive” he said with a bit of awe in his voice

“If you don't tend to her well she might do something irrational as a result of it.Wouldn't it be best to keep her happy?”

“Hmm,well I think we could do a little more for her ,you do have a point,I'll see what I can do” Monger said doubtless he realized how right I was in my statements.

He didn't underestimate my genius,he was amazed by the weapons and vehicles and other inventions I was tasked at designing like the 300 knot fast attack ship,The Unitron,or that 500 Ton flying tank, the sixth generation jet fighter and other such marvels of machinery if I do say so myself.

Thinking about it at times makes me feel guilty of building so many instruments of destruction on the other and I remind myself “Remember the more powerful weapons there will be more fear preventing war and even when it does happen weapons are far from the times of the Napoleonic wars where it could hit anyone in the crossfire,but with this it will only go after the target and nullify unnecessary deaths and the war is over sooner,so in fact I am helping peace” And even if not with such weapons even so I do find fascination and a feeling of accomplishment in creating such things,just the feeling of it all gives me some real purposes and usage of my intellect

I do have a four digit IQ score after all

---------------------------------------------------------

EXTRA

SONG!

Susan had a way of picking up the day.

Maybe it's a kind of magic,the only Giantess can do,

But seeing Susan smile

Made me stop a while and enjoy the moment

She's only a girl name Susan,a girl named Susan Murphy

She just a girl next door,maybe a little more

She's just a girl in every town

The world is full of lots of people her and there and all around.

But people after all,start as being small

and were all a girl named…

Susan Murphy

I am sorry I went on hiatues my old account is inacessible so I continue on HiddenHank

Also I would love to see your opions and comments it makes me just so happy!Especially ones that deep dive into the story and its highs and lows and ideas of improvement...now tell me is this a worhty.

I would love to hear anything and have favourites from this.

continuations(yeah its cherrier but thats how it is we went through a low point now were coming higher.)

SO PLEASE COMMENT NOW!

#dreamworks #rise of the guardians #rotg #rotg jack frost #jack frost #monsters vs aliens #susan murphy #ginormica #dr cockroach #beauty and the beast #beauty and the beats 2017 #giantess #giant women #gentle giant #giant girl #cockroaches #monster girl

[vampsquerade]

oooo you do characters from cod:ww2!?!

do you think you could do a modern au for aiello x female reader where he works for an uncle’s deli and sees her walking by and he just can’t help himself from running out to talk to her? then he realizes he practically ran out of his job and gets embarrassed because he had to take the chance to talk to her and she laughs and says it’s cute and gives him his number? thank you if possible!!!

i do in fact do characters from that installment of call of duty! gonna have to wait til i (potentially) get my hands on finest hour to see who i can simp for and find other simps. thanks for the request anon, it’s really adorable 😭

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aiello x Female!Reader: A Soldier’s Passerby

Trigger Warnings: none, just fluff!

Frank sighs as he leans against the counter of his uncle’s deli. He’s finally back in town after his mandatory training and what’s the first thing his family decides to do with him? Put him to fucking work. New York summers are said to be ones where you make memorable moments and relationships that last; the only memorable moment he seems to be having is what the next guy’s order’s supposed to be. He then begins to daydream about what it’d be like to have his own summer romance; kissing, hugging, cuddling…other things. He quickly shakes his head, dispelling that thought. “No Aiello…if you move too fast you ruin that shit.” He says softly to himself, sighing.

As he continues daydreaming, he doesn’t even realize you’re walking past the deli. He watches you walk by, as if you’re a model and you’re moving in slow motion. Snapping out of it, he then checks to see if anybody’s watching him, and he practically runs outside to meet you. Frank would rather be caught dead than miss his chance to have a good summer, “H-Hey, wait!” He stammers. Thankfully, his call out to you falls upon your ears and you turn to look at him. Seeing your face up close, he can’t help but get a bit nervous and blush, “Name’s Aiello—Frank Aiello, to be exact. Do you…maybe wanna hang out sometime when I ain’t working at my uncle's deli?” He asks.

You giggle softly, giving him a nod. “The name’s L/N—Y/N L/N. Pleased to meet you on this fine day.” you say happily, giving him a wink. You then take out what seems to be a set of sticky notes and a pen. Scribbling down your number, you then hand it over to Frank and he stares at it in disbelief. “I’ll be waiting for a call or text all day, okay? It’d be a shame if you just keep a girl waiting after getting her attention.” You flirt, giving him a wink. Frank flusters at your confidence and you notice this, laughing cheerily. “W-Well don’t wait too long! My shift ends in like…three hours?” he says. “Good. I’ll be waiting then.” You say.

“Hey! Frank! Get your ass back in here you dope! Stop womanizing that poor girl!” Frank’s uncle yells from the entrance of the deli. “I’ll be right there!” Frank yells back before looking at you, shaking his head. “So…in three hours?” he asks. You give him a nod and a wink, “Don’t keep your uncle waiting.” you tease playfully before turning and continuing on your way. Frank then walks back into the deli, giving his uncle a bit of an attitude just because he interrupted his conversation with you. “Keep givin’ me lip and I’ll make sure to shut it for you before you can even think about seein’ that girl. Why the hell’d you wanna talk to her anyway? She looks plain!” your uncle says.

“You tell that to auntie this morning?” Frank jabs, making his uncle hit his side pretty hard. “Hey! If you could say my gal’s boring then I can say the same back to you!” Frank says as he walks back behind the counter. “Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and keep workin’.” His uncle says before going to the back of the deli. 3 hours then pass slowly, making Frank super impatient by the time his shift ends. And the moment he’s off he puts your number down into his phone and calls you, walking towards the apartment he shares with Robert and Drew. He gets a little anxious as he waits for you to answer. Just as it’s about to send him to voicemail, you finally pick up. “Hello? Is this that cute deli guy I met earlier?” you ask.

Hearing you call him cute makes his heart skip a beat as he continues walking, “Y-Yeah! It’s Frank, how ya doin’ right now?” he asks. Though you can’t see it personally, there’s a big dopey smile on his face. “I’m good, just finished making myself some dinner—it’s why I didn’t answer my phone as quickly. Sorry about that.” you apologize, laughing softly after. “It’s all good Y/N, ain’t a single reason for you to apologize for cookin’ for yourself. What’d you make?” Frank asks, genuinely wanting to know more about you. “Nothing too special! Just made a small veggie and chicken rice bowl. I was putting it all together once you called me.” you say.

“Sounds good, and how was the rest of your day?” Frank asks. “Ah, I just spent some of it reading a book I’d recently picked up and then took a nap. Now I’m wide awake and talking with you, cutie~” you explain, making sure to flirt with him. Frank stops in his place momentarily, eyes going wide when you flirt with him like that. “She just called me cute twice now…good God above, please let this be as true as it seems.” he thinks to himself. “Hey! Wanna come over to my place actually? We’ve got a bit of daylight left in the day and I’d love to spend it with you.” you suggest. “Y-You really wanna? Where’s your place at?” Frank says a bit too excitedly.

You can’t help but laugh at his sudden excitement, “You’re just as excitable as a puppy, it’s so cute!” you tease, then give him your address. “Damn…alright, looks like I’ll be making my way over. Gonna have to take the subway to get there. You alright with me smelling like deli meat?” Frank asks as he now begins to walk towards the nearest subway. “Don’t you already smell like meat?” you tease, making Frank blush. “Hey unless you wanna smell like it too, I’ll make sure of it. Got myself a good piece just for you.” he flirts, making your own heart skip a beat now. “Mmm, take a girl out for some dinner first.” you easily flirt back. “Why should I? You already made it yourself—I’ll just be meeting you there!” Frank jokes.

Laughing once again, your smile widens, “Hey, that doesn’t count! It’s gotta be nice and fancy—and remember that I’m the one supposed to be teasing here, not you!” you exclaim. Frank laughs himself, shaking his head as he descends down the stairs of the underground subway. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you do whatever you want, sweetheart.” he says. As a man from Queens, he seemingly doesn’t care once he skips paying for his fare as he joins several people doing the same and stepping onto the train going straight to your neighborhood. “I’ll see you in a couple minutes?” he says. “Sounds good! Cant wait to see you, Frank.” You say, making sure to lower your tone a bit so it comes off a bit more seductively.

Frank’s eyes widen slightly before subsequently hanging up the phone when he hears you take on a more seductive voice. He bounces his leg sitting on the train, eagerly waiting to see you. His heart’s beating loudly in his ears and harder than a drum in his chest. Once the train stops at the next platform, Frank’s more than ready to run out and quickly look for your place to spend as much time with you as he can. It doesn’t take him too long thankfully, as he finds himself standing on your front porch in about 5 minutes. Frank composes himself, regulating his breathing and fixing his hair up a bit before ringing your doorbell.

He stands there, waiting for you to open the door and once you do, a wide smile spreads on his face. “Nice to see you, sweetheart. You look so much cuter in this lighting.” he says, giving you a wink. You fluster at this, rolling your eyes and stepping aside so he could come in, “And you look so cute when you’re all breathless—makes me wonder about…other things.” you say suggestively. Frank raises an eyebrow curiously as he steps in, looking you up and down. “And what would these ‘other things’ be, hm?” he asks teasingly. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?” you tease back and close your front door.

“Yeah, I would love to know sweetheart.” he says in a softer, deeper tone, pulling you close to him. Your eyes widen and you fluster once you’re face-to-face with him like this, heart beating hard in your chest. Not wanting to back down though, you just give him a warm smile and gently walk your fingers up his chest before gently cupping his chin, “Just makes me wonder what you’d look like breathless underneath me. All red in the face, eyes staring right at me…” you say. You pull away from hold and walk towards your couch, sitting down on it and beckoning him to follow. Frank then follows after you, sitting next to you.

He puts one arm around you, causing you to instinctively nuzzle up against him. You sniff him a bit and giggle softly, “You really do smell like deli meat—It’s funny.” you say. “Told ya. Now then, what d’ya wanna do?” Frank says, chuckling softly. “Do you like drinking and watching classic movies?” you ask, looking up at him. “Sure, sounds like a good idea to me. I’ll watch anything if it means spending time with you.” he says. Nodding, you stand up and waltz over to your kitchen and get a bottle of wine, popping it open and getting a few glasses before going to turn on your tv. Pulling up a service, you then click on a movie you’d been wanting to watch with someone for a while.

One you’d been wanting to watch with a potential love interest.

Finding your place back with Frank, he wraps his arm more securely around you. You hand him his glass of wine and hold onto yours, taking a sip. Frank, being the Italian here, will be the judge of the wine you’ve got. Swishing the dark red liquid slightly, he then brings it up to his nose and takes a whiff of it. “This wine French, or Italian?” he asks softly. “It’s French. Why, don’t like it?” you ask, taking another sip from your glass. “Makes sense. Italian wine’s much better, especially when it’s homemade. I’ll ask my nonna for a bottle and give it to you.” he promises. “Oh yeah? How sweet and considerate of you.” you say, giving him a wink before putting your attention back to the movie.

“You French and Italians really are at odds when it comes to wine, aren’t you?” you ask teasingly. Drinking from his glass, Frank makes a slight look of disdain, “Yep. You definitely need some Italian in you. Don’t worry—on our next date I’ll make sure to give you that bottle of wine.” he says. You raise a brow, looking up at him in confusion. He raises his own brow, looking at you with that same look. “Did you not hear yourself?” you ask. “Not really, what did I say that’s got you makin’ that face?” he asks curiously. “You just told me that I ‘need some Italian in me.’ Did you mean just the wine?” you say. Frank’s face goes red as he chokes on another sip of wine, turning away from you to cough.

You become worried, setting your glass down and taking Frank’s from his hands to make sure he doesn’t spill any. “I-I’m sorry if that was a bit inappropriate of me. I hope it didn’t upset you sweetheart.” he apologizes in between coughs. “No, no, it’s okay. I was just wondering if you knew you actually said that to me. Maybe another time, hm? Once we get to know each other better?” you suggest. Frank’s eyes go wide and he turns to you, seemingly recovered from choking. “You mean that?” he asks. Smiling softly, you give him a nod and hand him his glass back, “I mean it. You seem like you mean well, so I’ll continue seeing you.”

Frank smiles softly, leaning forward and giving you a kiss on the forehead, “I’m glad. I was hoping for that.” he says. You smile back at him, grabbing your glass, and clink it with his. “To future love.” you say softly. Frank nods and raises his glass to the air slightly, drinking the entirety of his glass. The two of you spend your time watching movies and drinking wine. The wee hours of the night come along, and Frank wakes up to see your TV still playing a random movie. It’s an Italian classic, one his nonna showed him, and he smiled softly seeing it. His smile only widens once he sees you sleeping on his shoulder.

Gently shaking you, Frank patiently waits for you to wake up. You stir slightly, sitting up properly and rubbing my eyes. “I hadn’t realized I fell asleep…sorry…” you whisper softly. “Don’t worry about it. Need some help getting to your room?” Frank asks softly. You give him a nod, “My room’s upstairs and down the hall…” you whisper, yawning. Frank nods and lifts you up carefully, taking you up the stairs and to your room. “Do you want to stay over?” you ask. “Would you mind it if I said yes?” he asks. “Not at all, stay if you want…” you mumble. “Then I’ll stay—thanks for today, I really enjoyed my time with you.”

Once he’s reached your bed, he gently lays you down and gets on next to you. He covers the both of you with his blanket, pulling you close to him. Despite the smell of deli meat, you can smell a small hint of a cologne you’d smelled one day when you were walking down the street. Maybe you had actually already seen each other before, and didn’t realize it? Oh well, it happens. At least the two of you are spending time together now, and it makes you much happier. Shutting your eyes once again, you nuzzle up to him and drift off to sleep. Frank’s phone buzzes in his pocket the second you’ve drifted off to sleep. He carefully pulls it out and sees a text from Zussman.

Hey, you doing okay? You’ve got College shaking in his boots over here!

Yeah, I’m fine. Came over to this girl’s house after I got her number at work. She’s a real sweet thing, I’ll tell you that much…

Well as long as you’re okay. Don’t wanna have to be the one to save your ass again in the case you got jumped.

Frank rolls his eyes at this and sighs, putting his phone back in his pocket. Shutting his own eyes now, he slowly lets himself drift off to sleep. He’s happy to have found his own summer romance, and now he’s hopeful he’ll get to spend the rest of his life with you.

#cod: wwii #call of duty world war 2 #cod #call of duty #frank aiello #cod aiello #aiello x reader #fluff #fluff fic #modern au

[takonei]

I wanted to draw the 3rd hell gangster gal, and who else should be with her other than Flandre?

This little series will be put on pause for a little while, the reason I could put them out so fast is because I had already scribbled them a while ago, but now I’m out of sketches to polish. Besides, I feel like now I finally have enough of these to actually try and make stickers out of them, tho purely for personal use. If you can’t buy merch, make it yourself, as a wise person (me) once said.

#my art #touhou #yuuma toutetsu #flandre scarlet

[marshmalleaux-draws]

my partner properly introduced me to Pikmin because I’ve never actually played the games so naturally I went “let’s scribble up a little gal about it”

I’d need to do more research on the canon (because he literally blows through the games so fast he skips parts of the story on accident, thanks honey) but the general idea I have for her is that she was part of a group of explorers-in-training and went on what was basically a field trip, and she got separated. After a week of being lost they presumed her dead and left her on this alien planet, and when her rations eventually ran out she ate a strange mushroom out of desperation. The mushroom ended up saving her life by forming a kind of symbiosis with her, eliminating her need to eat and allowing her to breathe in the foreign atmosphere, and now *bill wurtz voice* that’s just where she lives.

I was gonna give her a proper name later, so I called her Cilia as a placeholder, but now I’m starting to like that one. No idea what I’m gonna do with her, but yeah. Maybe I’ll think of something after we start the third game kdjfhg

#my art #pikmin #character reference #oc #self insert #i think? #flat color #sfw

[tainted-wine]

What is Hawks meets someone with a mer-quirk (mermaid-esque)? Like during a small outing to the beach or flying over a pool. I mean birds of prey do eat fish ;).

(What’s the point in a list of headcanons when you’re going to make a hundred and tell a story through them WHY DIDN’T I JUST WRITE A FIC)

Having a permanent mermaid quirk sucks.

What’s that? You have the head of a bug? You don’t have opposable thumbs? Your talons prevent you from wearing shoes? Fuck outta here with that weak shit.

When there’s a fish tail where your legs are supposed to be, you get a loooong list of inconveniences.

Getting around in what’s basically a fish-bowl-on-wheels may sound cool to the kids around you, but it’s really a pain.

Speaking of kids, you still remember that day in your childhood when those bullies pushed your tank over and laughed as you flopped about. Assholes.

So, you’ve grown into a pretty salty lady.

Your house is near a lake. No, it’s not because you want to look like an enchanting beauty. The freshwater is just good for your scales and keeps them from fading or cracking.

You had no idea that the winged hero Hawks even hung out in your area. Maybe he was heading somewhere, and your presence distracted him.

From Hawks’s perspective, the glittering scales moving so elegantly in the water below had put the birdman in a trance.

Not that it’s a valid excuse for him swooping down and snatching you right out of the water.

One moment you were enjoying a refreshing dip after a hot day, the next you were being grabbed by the end of your tail, your world spinning as you’re lifted into the air upside down.

Luckily your screams of terror snap him out of his strange daze, and the sight of you hanging in his grasp instantly makes him let go so that you can gracefully fall back into the lake.

And by gracefully I mean flapping your arms uselessly as you continue to yell obscenities until you make a huge splash.

Hawks takes your rapid fire insults in stride, shrugging apologetically and waiting for you to simmer down.

“Sorry, Ms. Mermaid. I guess for a second there, I thought I was about to catch the prettiest snack.”

You had so many questions. Such as: Why the hell did his dumbass think there are fish the size of people in this lake? What does he mean ‘catch a snack’? Is he really trying to tell you that he hunts and kills his own food?

“Here. How about I make it up to you?” He whips out a pen and something else, scribbles on it, and lowers himself to show you a photo of himself with his signature.

“A free autograph from yours truly.” He looks so proud of himself.

This little bastard…

You answer by whipping around and slamming your tail into the water, soaking him and his stupid picture.

You swim back home without looking back.

At first you’re angry that he returns the next day with a large box in hand. It’s a colorful and mouth-watering sushi platter.

“Thought this would make for a more proper apology. You’re a water gal, so I’m guessing you like seafood?”

You eye him suspiciously. Genuine or not, you’re not going to pass up on such an expensive looking meal.

You both enjoy the fresh fish while sitting at the edge of the lake. You’re trying to not look like a total glutton as you swallow piece after piece with just a few bites.

Hawks watches in amusement as he casually eats his own small portion. He prefers meat that walks on land, but that doesn’t mean he’ll say no to a nice fish.

He tries to explain the incident that occurred yesterday. Turns out that his animal quirk runs deeper than you would’ve guessed. You always assumed that his quirk was only his wings, with no side effects to the rest of his body.

“Sometimes the bird part of my brain gets the best of me, like when I spot a big shiny fish from high up.”

It sounds like a real drag, honestly. You don’t have to deal with any innate fish behavior, just your dumb tail…and the sensitive gills on your neck.

It’s hard to imagine suddenly being overtaken by baser instincts as you try to go on about your day.

Hawks leaves the rest of the platter with you, ignoring your shocked stammers about how much he probably paid for this delicious meal as he takes off.

The visits become regular. Sometimes you share food, sometimes you both just enjoy the view. Sometimes he watches you swim.

Maybe you’re just a simple girl that’s easily won over by food and gifts. Whatever it is, Hawks grows on you very quickly.

He shares the many occurrences over the years, the many times that his primitive urges have endangered him or someone else. Some stories are hilarious, some are rather disturbing.

In exchange, you talk about all of the annoyances you deal with in your life thanks to your fish traits.

The two of you don’t compete or claim that one has a worse time than the other. You just…keep sharing problems.

You’re enjoying Hawks’s company. You stopped denying it when you noticed how much you perk up whenever you see those large wings fly over the lake and towards you.

“You may not be able to walk, but I can help you fly.” He offers it out of nowhere one day. It sounds a lot like a date, honestly, but he shakes his head innocently. “I just want you to see what the skies are like. Walking’s overrated, anyway.”

Hawks wraps his arms around you from behind and pulls you into his chest. The closeness has you so hot and flustered that you might start steaming.

But there wasn’t much time to take that in, because your feet are suddenly off the ground, the ground that is getting further away waaay too quickly.

Hawks feels your panic and slows down to a calm, levelled flight.

It’s scary and exhilarating, being carried so high up. Your tail fin flutters and shines beautifully against the winds as you watch the scenery below you pass by.

 Once he thinks you’re comfortable enough, he speeds up, descending on the approaching city.

Zigzagging past buildings and billboards is the greatest adrenaline rush you’ve ever felt. It terrifies you how close he sometimes gets to crashing into an oncoming structure, only to swerve out of the way at the very last second. But you don’t ask him to stop, the thrill feels too damn good.

Everyone walks. Few people have felt the freedom of flying.

You hear some of the surprised comments below. “It’s Hawks!” “Wow, he’s so fast!” “He’s holding someone! Who is that?” “Is that a big ass fish?”

It makes you smile. You wonder how jealous some of the spectators are. And as the winged hero carries you into the sunset, you wonder how breathtaking the two of you look from below:

#bnha #hawks #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #i'm sorry if you wanted smut #but I was in too soft of a mood with this #i wrote such a long scenario #and they don't even fuck in the end #shame on me

[baepsaesbae]

Pag Lubog Ng Araw || When the Sun Goes Down

Pairing— Jeon Jungkook x reader

Genre— SMUT, Angst, Enemies to Lovers au, Delinquent gang au

Warnings— Oral (f receiving), face riding, explicit unprotected sex, somewhat rough sex, fighting (they engage in fisticuffs quite a bit), swearing

Word Count— 2.4k

Summary— The gang leader of an enemy group has been getting on your nerves. This town ain’t big enough for the both of you. 

A/N— Thank you @dollwithluv for requesting! I hope you like it! I got kinda carried away with this one oops. You can still request drabbles up until the end of the August with this post

“Is that all you got, Jeon?” you spat in his face after blocking a powerful kick.

“I’m going easy on you. Just testing out the waters,” Jungkook smirked before landing another blow, knocking you aside.

Now it’s your turn to show off. With your balance regained, you launched forward to unleash a flurry of fast punches and jabs on Jungkook’s torso. That made Jungkook stagger backwards, but it wasn’t nearly close enough to knock him down. And so the scuffle continued. 

You and your gang of girls ruled this town, striking fear into any man who dared looked your way. Or so you thought. Recently, a rowdy group of boys were looking to expand their territory--directly into yours. Of course, you weren’t going down without a fight. Literally.

“You idiots get lost! We’ve been here for ages,” one of your posse members yelled over your skirmish. 

“Why don’t you ladies just move aside? You’ll be under our protection once we take over. You guys can even continue patrolling like you normally would. The only difference is that you’d be flying under our banner, so to speak. That ain’t too bad, right?” one of the boys from Jungkook’s band of delinquents (you believe his name was Seokjin) tried to reason. 

“Over my dead body!” you screamed as you exchanged blows with Jungkook.

“That can be arranged,” Jungkook gritted his teeth. 

“Get em boss!” underlings from both sides cheered. 

10 minutes later, both you and Jungkook were battered and bruised. Jungkook’s lip was busted and your nose was bleeding. Both sides concluded that the match was a draw.

“You’re tougher than I thought,” Jungkook acknowledged.

“I’ll knock your ass to the ground and beat you to a pulp next time,” you threatened with a menacing glare.

“So feisty,” Jungkook chuckled as he spat out blood.

Back at your gang’s headquarters (an abandoned shack that you refurbished), your friends tended to your wounds. 

“You have no idea how badly I wanted to jump in and smash his skull in,” Nayeon tsked as she bandaged your hands, “But I know you would’ve hung my booty above your fireplace if I meddled.”

“I appreciate the concern. He roughed me up pretty good, but I’m sure he’s licking his wounds right now too. Plus this is a leader to leader thing. You are my girls, and I’m gonna fight for you till the very end,” you gave them a thumbs up with a smug smile.

The girls cheered and applauded for their fearless leader. They know that past your tough exterior, you’re a fiercely loyal kind hearted person. Most of the gals joined your group after you saved them from being harassed or abused by various men. If there’s one thing you hate, it’s misogynists. Or maybe just men in general. 

Both gangs practically tiptoed around each other for the following weeks while their leaders were still recovering. You tried devising plans to run them out of town. Your gang was bigger, so you’d definitely win in an all out war against seven guys. But you quickly brushed that idea aside, not wanting to endanger your crew. 

“We gotta have another showdown,” you concluded during a gang meeting. 

“What?! You got so hurt last time. There’s no way we could let you--”

“Shut up! What ___ says goes. You know that,” Nayeon silenced the complaint. 

“Sunmi, bring this letter to the Bulletproof Boy Scouts. I still can’t believe they named themselves that,” you snickered as you handed her a paper with a formal challenge scribbled on it. 

“Uh, boss, I don’t think we’ll need to send that letter,” someone called out from the back after there was a pounding on the door. 

“Open it,” you commanded.

Standing on the other side of the door was a pretty boy whose smile lit up the room. No one would believe that he’s in a delinquent gang, you barely could. But then again, it seemed like that gang only recruited models with a penchant for violence and mischief. 

“Hey pretty ladies! I’m Jimin. I come on behalf of the leader of the Bangtan Boys. He wants a final showdown. Only him and ___ are allowed in the specified location while they fight. He said the rest of us can brawl outside if we felt like it, but I’ll leave that decision up to the audience. Here’s our official note of challenge,” Jimin handed a crumpled receipt to the nearest girl, “Sorry, that was the only paper we had on hand,” he apologized sheepishly. 

“Sundown two days from now at the vacant warehouse huh? Sounds fine to me. Any rules?” you raised a brow at Jimin after reading the challenge aloud. 

“I dunno. That’s all the boss discussed with us. Figured you two would make it up as you go. In terms of weapons, Jungkook prefers to use his hands,” Jimin answered.

“So practically no rules. I can roll with that. See you boys in two days,” you shooed the messenger away. 

“Are you sure about this? You’re finally starting to recover--”

“Gear up. You’re gonna help me spar,” you interrupted Nayeon. You didn’t have any time to waste before the rematch. 

~The Day of Reckoning~

Your girl gang surrounded the warehouse. They weren’t happy about leaving you alone, but they were ready to keep anyone else from interfering. You tapped your foot impatiently as you waited at the front. 

“Is this heaven? There are angels as far as the eye can see!” one of the boys whistled as soon as they pulled up. 

“I wouldn’t count on that, Tae. These gals would probably stab you in your sleep and steal your wallet or something. Not like you have any money in there anyway,” Jungkook teased.

The group of boys sauntered through the crowd of sneering women until Jungkook stood directly in front of you. 

“Let’s settle this once and for all, you piece of shit. Loser skips town,” you asserted.

“Works for me. I’ll hate to see you go,” Jungkook’s tongue quickly darted to lick the corner of his mouth. The action was meant to be intimidating, but it stirred something inside of you. You tossed the feeling aside; he was the enemy. And you’re about to kick his ass.

The warehouse smelled like mold mixed with wet dogs. It was dark. The only light source was the sun’s rays that shone through cracks and holes in the walls or from the partly torn off ceiling. It was already dwindling. Jungkook loudly slammed the door behind him. You led him to the middle of the building, turning to face him before the fight could start. 

“Hope you enjoyed your time here,” you taunted.

“We did. We like it here better than our own hometown. You sure you don’t wanna just let us take over? I won’t have to ruin that pretty face of yours,” Jungkook offered again. 

“Fuck off Jeon,” you scoffed before throwing the first punch. 

You found yourself locked in a repetitive pattern of offensive and defensive moves. Jungkook’s attacks felt heavier, but you moved even faster. It seemed like both of you had reserved your full strength last time. 

Jungkook’s last punch knocked you off balance. He took the opportunity to knock you to the ground, effectively pinning you under him. He leaned close to your face and smiled maliciously down at you as he assumed that his victory was assured. He was wrong.

You banged your head against his with as much force as you could muster. In a flash, your positions had been switched. Jungkook groaned in agony under you as you tightened your hold on him. 

“Surrender, or I’ll pulverize you,” you threatened.

“Let me tell you something first,” he wheezed.

You reluctantly moved closer to him, but were on guard just in case he tried to headbutt you. 

“Closer,” he demanded.

“No fuck you--”

Jungkook used the last of his strength to repel his upper body towards you to plant a rough kiss on your lips. You looked at him in shock, releasing your grip. Jungkook placed his hand on the back of your neck and pulled you towards him, stopping you just centimeters in front of his lips. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I have a thing for strong women,” he whispered. 

You lunged forward and knocked Jungkook flat on his back as you kissed him ferociously. The taste of blood was tinged with desire as the kiss deepened. No one could deny that Jungkook is a handsome boy. Seeing him all beaten up made him even more attractive to you, especially knowing that he’s tough enough to compete with you. 

“You know, I thought you looked cute with a busted lip,” you said when you broke the kiss.

“I’d look even cuter if you busted on my lip,” he winked, “Ride my face, ___. Please,” he added. 

“What? Right now? I’m all sweaty because we’ve been fighting and--”

“I don’t give a shit. Let me taste you. Unless you’re uncomfortable, of course,” Jungkook showed his decent side. 

“In that case,” you say as you slide off your pants.

You kneel above Jungkook’s face, your clothed cunt hovering inches away from his open mouth. 

“Come. Here,” Jungkook roughly pulled you down onto his mouth. 

He licked wide stripes along your panties, soaking them with both his saliva and your arousal. Ripping the measly piece of material off, he dove nose first into your pussy. His tongue explored your folds, making you squirm. He placed a strong grip on your hips to hold you firmly in place. He moved his arm to let his hand rest right above your pussy. 

Without warning, his thumb began to circle your swollen clit. You whimpered at his touch. The pace of his thumb synced up with his tongue as he shallowly dipped it into you. You could feel something ball up within you. No doubt your climax was on a one way express train pummeling towards its final stop. Destination: All over Jungkook’s face. 

“Jeon I--I’m gonna” you shuddered.

“Lay it on me baby,” he said, muffled by your pussy.

A euphoric high took over your body a couple of intense seconds later. You were tingling from your nose down to your toes as you weakly dismounted Jungkook. He licked around his mouth, savoring your cum.

“I guess you’re right, you do look better after I busted all over your lips. And face. Sorry bout the mess,” you laughed. 

“You could let me fuck you if you really wanna make it up to me,” Jungkook suggested as he palmed his groin. 

“Do you fuck as well as you eat pussy?” you inquired as you sat beside him. 

“Only one way to find out. You down?” he propped himself up by his elbows.

“Fuck me senseless, pretty boy,” you requested. 

“Sure thing, except,” Jungkook pushed you onto your back, “I’m on top this time.” 

Jungkook shimmied out of his pants, revealing his already hard dick. It wasn’t too girthy, but it was long. You had a feeling he’d hit all the right places with ease. You were still sopping wet, so Jungkook slid in without a problem. He took his time feeling every inch of you before finally bottoming out. 

Jungkook began to fuck you harder, making your entire body shake with each impact. Your wanton moans mixed with his grunts as he snapped his hips faster. His hand snaked its way from your chest up to your neck. He placed a harsh grip on the sides and smiled down at you with satisfaction. Normally you’d enjoy this, but not today. Not with Jungkook.

A quick jab at his side prompted him to release you and nearly double over. Before he had the chance to cuss you out, you flipped him over, reclaiming your rightful place. You ease yourself back onto his cock, bringing him back to a blissful state. 

You rode him like your life depended on it. Your hips had a mind of their own as they rocked back and forth. Jungkook groaned with pleasure as he rested his hands on your hips. You began to fuck him with a purpose, changing your pace.

“Whatcha doin?” he moaned.

“Spelling my name on your dick. Now it belongs to me,” you answered proudly. 

“Oh fuck, is that so? Are we dating or some shit?”

“Shut up and we’ll figure it out post nut,” you hushed him.

You brought up your knees and squatted over him with your feet on the ground. You bounced up and down and let yourself get lost in the moment. Your carnal voices harmonized and echoed throughout the abandoned warehouse. The sun had finally set, now replaced by the pale moonlight. 

“Baby keep going, just like that. I’m gonna cum. Wait fuck should we be using a con--uuuggghhhh,” Jungkook didn’t get to finish that sentence.

He exploded into you, his warm seed shooting up into you. You bent over to kiss him once more. What was meant to be a quick peck turned into a heated makeout session. 

“Give me a little bit before I can fuck you again,” Jungkook said once the kiss broke. 

“We have more pressing matters to address. Uh, what exactly should we do now? I don’t know if we can really declare a winner or a loser,” you pointed out. 

“I’d say we were both winners today,” Jungkook nodded.

“Interesting…” you thought out loud.

“What?”

“Are you still open to combining forces? Only this time, we’d be on equal footing. We can make a stronger gang together,” you suggested. 

“I don’t see why not. Everyone is outside anyway right? Let’s go break the news,” Jungkook agreed. 

“We both look like shit. And we smell awful,” you observed.

“Eh, it happens. They gotta respect their leaders no matter what, right?” Jungkook shrugged. 

Both Nayeon and Jimin fell into the warehouse as soon as you opened the door. 

“We weren’t doing anything!” Nayeon said quickly.

“We were just wondering if one or both of you were dead, so we tried to see if we could hear you guys and…” Jimin couldn’t maintain eye contact with either of you.

You pushed them aside and walked out to face the delinquents that were eagerly awaiting the official verdict.  

“Listen up dirtbags! Starting today, we will be combining forces. We are now one gang, and we’re gonna be the strongest gang this country has ever seen!” you announced.

“You hear that boys? We’ll be seeing these angels on the regular!” Jungkook chimed in. 

“What the hell?!” was the resounding response as Jungkook grabbed you by the waist and locked his lips with yours.

Published August 11th, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2020 Baepsaesbae.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #jungkook angst #bts angst #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop angst #paralumanplaylist #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #ksmutclub

[werezmastarbucks]

more like honeymoon [1]

stuck in the prison world together with kai, and it turns out to be awesome

kai parker x reader (ER)

word count: ~4160

warnings: mentions of suicide, suicide, graphic violence, glorification of violence

music: right in the text + darkside by iann dior and travis barker

DON’T WORRY BE HAPPY by Bobby McFerrin segment

You danced, while making sandwiches. This kitchen rocked. They had... they used to have about four hundred types of cheese.

The only thing they lacked seemed to be black bread, so you were forced to make one yourself. Kai was a bit grumpy about it since he wanted to move on to the library, and you got stuck in this hotel. He ended up going without you, while you had a go at making bread, and returned with a hip of books that he threw around in the lobby. He moved all the cozy puffed armchairs together and created a neat nest that didn’t seem to have an end, right in the middle. You were still getting used to how incredibly stylish everything was back in ‘94. The year was absolutely special to you, and you couldn’t have wished for a better year to get stuck in. The best music was already out, the fashion was on its peak, and they already thought of creating relatively skinny jeans - not the kind you enjoyed in the new world, but not the baggy horror of the eighties, either.

It’s been one month and a half that you stayed in the prison world, and it was going very well. So far, it felt to you like a long prepaid holiday with absolutely no restrictions. You were breaking into houses and raided supermarkets, you could visit any cafe and any shop, Kai changed cars every day unless it was a Chevy; maybe there was something dramatically wrong with your head, you had no way of knowing.

You were spreading California cheese on fresh, still warm slice of black bread, dancing goofily to music, and chopping tomatoes.

Kai was resting like a little birdie among the expensive cushions which you knew he’d spot with the tomatoes or the cheese, and you still brought the food out. He gasped, excited, and threw the books away, and you stuffed your faces.

Every day, which was the same day again and again, you discovered the new shades of good in him which was frankly unthinkable before. Kai Parker good; but it seemed like being back in prison either broke him completely, or, more likely, put him back into the environment he knew well. Sooner or later you work out your comfort zone; some people, spending years in imprisonment, learn to live and enjoy the place. Not because they’re weak, but because it’s a survival instinct. Kai’s survival instinct was unbelievably strong.

You listened to music and traveled, and every day you asked yourself when the horror will settle in, and it still didn’t. Looked like, with the right company, and the whole world to explore, the magical prison world could seem like a resort.

COME WITH ME by Phil Collins segment

You were standing on the edge of the Canyon. Kai was holding your hand, clearly thinking about something.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been here before”, he muttered.

You were considering other things.

“Where’s the path again?”

“Right there, where the river turns. There’s a narrow way between the rocks that leads up”.

He looked at you. The sun was slowly going up, climbing over the red mountains, coloring them in insane shades.

“We don’t have to do it, if you’re afraid”.

His face gave a mocking expression as he squeezed your hand lightly.

“I’m not afraid”.

“Then just do it. I gotta say, the first thing I’ll do when we get out, I will marry you”.

You got distracted from your thoughts by this. You looked at him. The rising sun was coloring him, too. Kai had that kind of face which you always wanted to hold. It was just so... holdable.

“You fucking with me?”

He shook his head with a smile.

“No. This place doesn’t even feel like a prison anymore. I love it. Because of you”.

Of course he loved it. He had the whole planet at his disposal, but he wasn’t alone anymore. He still had magic from the merge, and he was high and lovestruck. He was about to jump from the Grand Canyon and fall to death, and then come back and continue his journey.

You’d asked him before which way to die was the most painful. This was about to be your first time dying. Before that, you only witnessed people die.

He said being crashed by a car slowly was probably objectively the most painful. He has never set himself on fire because he wasn’t crazy.

The irony completely escaped him.

Feeling your joints tear, and bones shatter, and all, that’s the worst. But psychologically, suicide was scarier. Knowing that it’s your own hands doing that. Falling from a height like that, there was danger of breaking something and staying alive for a fragment of a second, being horrified by the violent collision with the sharp pieces of rocks, but you wouldn’t probably even notice. Jumping from the Canyon was your idea, and that was why he got so inspired.

You looked at each other. Dying together is fucking symbolic, and this world rocked. For a second there you thought, even if you didn’t know you would resurrect, you would still jump, as long as his hand was holding yours.

You interlocked your fingers not to lose each other too soon, and hopped down. The air whistled and howled in your ears as you fell down. It’s nothing like flying, you thought with disappointment. And too fast, as well. You see nothing but the racing red stone. The feeling of being free is still good, until you crash into the first step of the hard mountain, crushing your skull in several pieces.

The Grand Canyon didn’t hear you two die, it was too big.

It took you the whole day to get out, but it was okay because the next day was the same again.

HEARTS IN FLAMES by Red 7 segment

And the next one. And the next. You discovered something you kinda know, but can’t fathom completely until you actually go there: on the other side of the world, it began with night, because it was the eleventh of May after midnight. Somewhere, the time was going further, and somewhere it was slower.

You rode down the long sandy and stone roads in the deserts, and sped as much as you could, not afraid to crash. You ate at any place you wanted to, Kai showed you the ‘secret’ recipe of making the McDonald’s fries, and he cooked it so well you didn’t see any difference. The process looked disgusting, and you knew, once you got out, you’d never go to McDonald’s again.

Once we get out became a kind of a proverb, a catchphrase you used, hopeful and indefinite, and light-hearted. Neither of you really suffered or felt confined in here; you didn’t know when you’d get out, really, because this time the Mystic Falls gang seemingly made sure Kai never has a chance to walk the earth again. You were just there when they tried to send him away, and you wouldn’t have it.

There are several most important moments in a person’s life, and you knew, in a weird way, that was when you and him got absoultely, ultimately connected. It was your chance to stand up for him for once, and, more importantly, to show him that there is somebody after all who refuses to give up on Malachai. So they sent you away, too. Clutching hands together, as you held his open wound, because Kai kicked and bit better than anybody else you knew, and they had to stab him first, you flew away in a tunnel of white light, didn’t feel anything, and it was ‘94 again.

Once we get out had all kinds of plans you weren’t sure you’d fulfill. Like marrying, and getting a car, and moving away from Mystic Falls. Settling down in New Orleans was yours, and burning New Orleans down to the ground was his, because he didn’t want to live there.

Once we get out was a point in the future very vague and distant, because, three months since you landed in the front lawn of the Salvatore mansion in the past, you had only a spell that was useless without Bennett blood. Somebody, whoever hid the spell, overestimated its importance hugely, and went a very hard way to secure it. Kai found it in Florence, of all places. He couldn’t speak any Italian, and your saying you’re fluent in French only made him chuckle with adoration. Do not let it fool you, his adoring chuckle only meant he thought you were a silly creature. French is no use because it’s Italy, bella, he said. Your ass started arguing that a lot is similar in the languages, and he shut you out with jokes. Then went into the library. You preferred to spend time in the streets, cruising around and remembering everything Anne Rice used to write into them.

The spell was scribbled on the piece of yellow paper and put into The Name of Rose. The backup spell which allegedly could go round the whole blood routine. Kai tried it and nothing happened. You weren’t even that sorry, and you both looked at each other long, promising you would keep looking. But honestly...

The whole world. It was yours.

YOU GOT IT by Roy Orbison segment

You had to carry a big bag with you now with the clothes you ‘stole’ from shops because, even though you could change every day, there were still a couple of things you refused to let go of. Kai was trying to teach you to travel light, but the whole life spent in a usual world still had a hold on you.

You realized you liked sweet life, you liked staying at the big houses where the rich people of ‘94 used to live, with all the rich things they had. The pools were the same, and the mini bars, too. May was warm and sunny, especially so in warm and tropical places, and only in Madrid it constantly rained, again and again.

You realized you still had an overall petrifying respect for the pieces of art, but the prison world was an amazing chance to push your limits. Whatever you destroyed, returned back on its place the next day, because it was the same day. You watched Kai swing a bat at Venus herself. The poor gal didn’t have arms for all you knew. He had no mercy for her. Everything here was like a video game. Kai only did it to show you what it feels like. It seemed like he was determined to use this opportunity to make you completely liberate yourself, but something had a hold on him, too.

You danced a lot, you found it especially romantic to dance in the dim lights of the evening in the hotel lobbies. You could choose anything, anywhere, and yet, so it happened that when you finally got tired of traveling non-stop, you found yourselves in Las Vegas. Kai said, awesome, this city has the best hotels. You really doubted that.

But nothing was better than dancing with him, foreheads touching, in the empty, well-furnished space of the Cesar Palace, and sing to each other. Without other people constantly interrupting, the time and schedules, other faces triggering hatred or anxiety in him, it became so easy to just be with each other. You were high on the free wealth, the opportunities this empty planet provided. You had no idea how much Kai was really enjoying it.

The feeling of closeness was overwhelming, even you felt that. Sometimes you wouldn’t be able to let go of each other for days; Kai kept his journal he understandably abandoned once he got out of here the first time. Now, it was its second go. By the time you have finally had sex to every single song in your 576 songs playlist, it’s been seven months in the prison world.

Las Vegas was cool but it was a desert. However, the desert was simply magical at the end of the day, when the heat settled down, and the dense air cooled a little. You’d drive down the avenues of the empty city to look at the dark and lit buildings. Some of them looked occupied, but there was nobody. You never understood what determined which windows were lit.

CLOSE TO YOU by Maxi Priest segment

“Sometimes I was thinking about killing you”.

You’d be more surprised if Kai had never thought of it. When you love someone, you think about killing them constantly. The one option you never tried before left, which is an absolute no go. The forbidden apple of relationship, the ultimate joy of possession, feeling as the life drains from the one you love. You wondered if it would be scarier than jumping off the Canyon if he killed you. You didn’t know if that was Kai poisoning your mind already, or it was what made you two click in the first place.

“Now you have the chance”, you said. He looked a you, cocking his head, and examined you as if trying to understand if you’re joking.

“You want me to kill you?”

Uttering it was still a little bit too much. You were nervous about falling down that rabbit hole where the whole pushing the borders experiment turns into bloody twisted chaos, and you end up like the children from Gummo. Senseless, pointless violence, filthy, dictated only by lust or ignorance. Kai was far from that still. He was essentially hurt and curious, not filthy. He was bold in the ways he professed his violence. But there’s always this danger of going too far and not being able to pick yourself up anymore.

“I mean, it would be good for you. You know what your cravings do to you if you don’t let the steam off from time to time. Now you can kill me safely and close that door”.

He was thinking about it quietly.

“I’m not interested in hurting you anymore”.

It sounded like a song.

But he listened to you, and listened well.

“By the way, if I can kill you, then you can kill me, too”.

Your head snapped towards him.

“I know you”, he chuckled, “you always wanted blood. But you’ve never killed anybody, have you?”

You shook your head no. Kai was like a serpent playing disinterest, but you could see the tip of his tongue split two ways, showing through his sharp teeth as he spoke.

“It’s a changing experience. Nothing quite like it, a good exercise”.

“Did you actually enjoy hurting others?”

“It felt necessary”, he said simply. “I woud die if I didn’t. Better them than me”.

You looked at him blinking slowly. He was a textbook killer you’ve read about millions of times. The philosophical question of whether that darkness that pushes them towards violence has the bottom and end was still unanswered in the future. You yourself had some gems of unanswered mysteries inside of you. Why were you so attracted to this boy, what made you want to stick with him so much? Why this obsession with being the only one who cares for him? Momma complex much? The saint redeemer? He was just so so cute and murderous and that was it. Maybe you did come from a completely cursed generation after all.

“How would you do it?” Kai asked. You were sitting on the porch of a suburbs house you chose to squat in by the way. It was your ‘pretending like you’re middle class’ week.

“Stab you”, you replied, without thinking. “You?”

“I’ll choke you”, he responded, looking at you. You noted how he didn’t use the conditional, but the future. He has made his mind up.

He took his time, though, trying to intrigue, or unnerve you, perhaps. It’s been about two weeks, or even a month, and you almost thought he forgot about it, which wouldn’t be atypical of him. His thoughts were all over the place.

You really loved this house, resembling any house from a 90s sitcom, with that big family couch in the living room which had the way right into the kitchen.

You finished doing the dishes and put the last plates away. Kai usually cooked, and you did the cleaning, all was fair. He appeared silently, wrapping his hands around your waist, and distracted you with heated kisses. They were heated literally, like he had a fever; you turned to feel his skin, and drowned in the kiss. You felt the itchy hot wave coming up, as his hands slid down your hips, and suddenly, his fingers were on your throat. He broke the kiss, leaving your mouth open, and the next second his face was cold, eyes black like two pieces of coal and you recognized that old Kai whom you met at the Grill. While he was still pretending to be fun, pretending to be nice, before you two got together.

His palms closed on your neck and your brain went in overrun. A part of you knew that was something you had discussed beforehand, and he even chose the right time, just after the sunset, when the kitchen was only lit by the pink-scarlet cloud light. A part of you, the more physical chunk, started fighting him, and the air got blocked out from your throat. The feeling of your own cartilage pressing on your artery was one of the most disgusting types of pain you’ve ever experienced. Your hands flew up, slapping his face, but he could as well be made of stone. The murderousness of Kai Parker was unmatched. Like a bulldog, once he closed his clutch, there was only one way it’d end.

Slowly, as you suffocated, blood throbbing in your eyes, he laid you down, while the darkness was consuming you. Damn, it’s taking so long, you thought with a grudge. You’ll definitely kill this dick back. You knew choking someone takes minutes, but these minutes feel like agonizing hours when it’s you being choked. Just relax and try to enjoy it, your mind said, and you suffocated even further on the inner dying laughter. Your hands were shaking violently as they grabbed his, and you wiggled on the floor. He shook you once, banging the back of your head on the tiles, and you almost blacked out. Your body bent out towards his in a fake desire motion. He put his knee on your stomach to keep you in place and pressed further and you died slowly, confused the hell out, in pain, and a little but irritated.

IKO IKO by The Belle Stars segment

You stood there, looking at the row of knives. A song from the future got stuck in your head, where there were lyrics that went,

that you’ll love me more when I’m dead

Your overall mood has not changed. It was just so good to be together, all the time, like a long, magical [sic!] honeymoon. You did not argue. You weren’t upset. Sometimes you’d get slightly disappointed, entering supermarkets, like this one, and expecting people to be there. After all, you have spent a huge chunk of your life... well, all your life, surrounded by other people.

It was another side of good though, knowing, that Kai is the only other one here. He joked a lot about ‘the last girl on Earth’. He was extremely romantic about it.

One of the knives laid in your palm obediently. It was beautiful: short stirdy grey handle, and the sharp broad blade. You could almost see your own reflection in its perfectly clean steel. There’s something about knives. Something about their inevitability, their thinness. You weighed it in your hand, completely mesmerized. You liked knives and was always the one to chop all the food before Kai could cook it. You were the Chopper in this... family?

You turned to look at him, the tall, lean frame, his black as hell head cocked on the side as he was reading something on a pack of nuts. He never read anything from the packs, so you found it curious. What were you calling yourselves? He was like that demon who slides from below your bed and you hold its cold paw in the dark, questioning, what are we?

The way he looked at you, it really felt like he has reached the end of his path in searching. You’ve never seen him so calm before. And vice versa, he was the only one who ever made you feel like that. It was a unit. He never once called you his girlfriend, and it was different. You never spoke about it, except that one time on the Canyon when he said he’d marry you. He looked very sure about it, but, knowing him, you didn’t think much of it. It was one of the things you’d do once you get out...

You walked up to Kai, and as he turned to you, about to show you something that got him so interested in a plain pack of nuts, you stabbed him in the side of his body.

Kai gasped gently, like it was more of a kick, and, unsure if you’re applying enough force, you pressed further.

His hand didn’t even get down to stop you. Unlike you, he didn’t even begin fighting you. He shot you a short glance, and there was nothing but curiousity in his eyes. He’s died thousands of times. It was horrible to think about it, but he was used to this kind of pain. You asked yourself why you’re hurting him, of all people, but it was cold math. You had to get even, because that’s what you had both decided. Plus, once the blade was inside of him, you couldn’t stop yourself.

You stabbed him again, as he grabbed on a shelf no try and stay on his feet. The second hit went right into his abdomen, and you wondered at the thickness of his stomach; being an innocent child before, you believed that a human body would be like butter, since a knife is sharp and extremely thin. It turned out to be a bit harder than you expected.

Kai fell down and laid on his back, putting his hands aside. You suddenly realized, with bursting heart, that you were the only one person in any world that he allowed to kill him and didn’t even struggle. It was the ultimate demonstration of trust, better than any kind of I love you. The best thing he could ever do.

You sat on top of him, stabbing him again and again, trying different spots. The side proved to be the most vulnerable, and the chest was the hardest to break through because of the ribcage. When the blade got stuck against the bone, Kai was already dead, and your elbow hurt. No matter how much you climbed and how much heavy stuff you carried here, you weren’t becoming stronger, because one day’s excercise does nothing.

The blood was splattering onto his face and yours, and then you got tired, and horror finally seized you. At some point you stopped being curious, and became enraged for no reason, stabbing him blindly, just because he was good being stabbed.

You stopped, panting, and looked into his white face with his eyes open, turned away, drops of his own blood on his chin. Your hands were red as you touched his open wounds, and your own stomach seemed to have sucked on itself with fear.

Why did I do this? What does he like so much about it?

You knew for sure he’d come back. There was no reason for him not to resurrect. But the irrational nervousness grabbed you. You took his chin and turned his face up, looking at him.

I love you so much, and I don’t know why I did it.

His blood was warm and salty. It went well with bubblegum ice cream.

You had no idea that it was invented SUCH a long time ago. You had no hope to find it in ‘94 and felt like an idiot, but a happy one.

You sat on the floor two steps away from him and stress-devoured ice cream for an hour until he finally woke up.

Kai groaned and attempted to get up, lifting his head and looking at the high ceiling for a moment. He then rolled to his side and lifted himself up on an elbow.

“How did it feel?” he went straight to the point.

“Good at first, but then horrible. I think I went a little overboard. I stabbed you about twenty times”.

“I always knew there was something deeply, fundamentally wrong with you”, he said with tenderness. He got up and crawled up to you, attracted by the sight of the half-empty bucket of ice cream.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore”, you said, and felt lonely for a second. “I didn’t really enjoy neither the first nor the second time”.

“Each to his own, I guess”, Kai shrugged, and opened his mouth. You shoved a spoonful into it.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries #vampire diaries imagine #tvd

[kathyprior4200]

Welcome to Wacky Wally Wackford’s World!

Greetings, I say, greetings demons of all ages! The name’s Wally Wackford, an oh so suave man of business! You may not know me, but surely you’ve seen me…pretty much everywhere. Yes, I’ve never been the type to stay in one place for long. Life can be pretty wild at times. But that’s what makes it oh so fun!

 So what’s my story, you say, you say? Well look no further, ‘cause I have a tale to tell.

 I’ve been doing freelance work off and on, laboring at one job, moving onto the next. The jobs vary a lot, but I’m a Wally of many trades. (Yes, I’ve been fired many times as well, figuratively and literally…it is Hell after all.) Early on, I found out that living in poverty is never a lot of fun. I quickly learned how to scam other people…and boy did I enjoy it! It was the only way I could inch toward the top, get some power of my own. I’d make a few deals here and there and then when clients got desperate, I’d say something like, “Oh I’m so sorry but there’s an extra fee you have to pay. Forgot to mention that.” Then I’d point to that small scribbled section on the contract I added in moments ago.

 “I’m starving, sir!” they’d say. Or, “I left my money at home,” or my favorite: “Shove it up your trickster rear!”

 Sometimes they did pay me extra. Other times they didn’t…and those were the ones who soon forgot about everything forever. (chuckles).

 Anyway, moving on.

 Sometimes when my days got long and hard, I’d go to saloons for a nice bottled drink. The emerald colored Greed Mead is my favorite. Twirling my thin black mustache, I’d wink at some pretty imp gals nearby and say, “Hey there. You’ve been in Hell for a long time. Is that why you’re so hot?”

 Most of the time, I’d get a swift punch to the face in response. The glares on their pretty faces, “Take that remark to the Sloth Ring, lazy bootleg fucker.”

 So many aggressive people these days. I could tip my black hat to many imps and they’d either fall to my charms or roll their eyes. I was fine with that. There’s not much else to do in Hell then to live your life and amuse yourself with watching others struggle. In fact, pretty much every sin is encouraged, so why not keep going?

 After stalking around looking for more people to scam, I came across Loo-Loo Land in the Ring of Greed. I’ve always loved that place, its vibrant atmosphere emitting joyful fun and chaotic flair. I walked on over and asked the vendor, “I say, you have any jobs here?”

 “I’ve heard of you, Wacky Wally,” he said at the ticket stand. “You may be a good pick-pocket, but your skills are nothing compared to Mammon. In fact, this whole place is a fucking rip-off of Lucifer’s Lu-Lu Land!”

 “All the more reason to love this place!” I exclaimed.

 “Robo Fizz is putting on another show at 7pm tomorrow,” said the beefy imp vendor. “Made in Mammon’s factory and modeled after the famous imp Fizzarolli.” He then spoke in a low whisper, “It includes some behind the scenes moments for the VIPs…you know, with tentacles and ‘special features.’”

 “Oh that sounds delicious!” I said with a slow grin. “It’d be great to see how his…mechanics work someday…”

 The imp vendor rolled his eyes and flinched at my lighthearted comment. Always know what to say to get that grimace reaction.

 “Anyway,” said the vendor, “We’re running low on staff, so you can go sell those torches over there.”

 The imp pointed to a pink cart with Mammon’s jester face on it. I shrugged and got to work.

 I happily rolled my cart around, selling torches wherever I went. I could honestly stare into those mesmerizing green flames all day.

 “Torches here!” I drawled in my Foghorn Leghorn southern accent. “66% off when you buy four! Parties, decoration, destruction and more!”

 One time on my break, I got to talk to Robo Fizz about money, shows, sex and chaos. We even cracked some jokes together. The robot seemed a little nervous in my presence but then again, he was very unpredictable on a daily basis.

 “A duck, a frog, a demon and a skunk go into a bar. The bartender told them that the drinks were one dollar each. How did they pay for them? Answer: The duck had a bill, the frog had a greenback, the demon had a soul…but the skunk only had a scent!”

 “Hahahaha!” Robo Fizz laughed, sparks flying near him. “Your jokes are much better than Blitzo’s corny puns!”

 “Why thank you,” I replied. “But nothing beats your organ-playing animatronics in your ‘Wonderful World of Evil’ puppet show you did last month.”

 Robo Fizz grinned at the compliment. “You do anything else besides selling torches?”

 “I scam, I kill, I do a little bit of both. Oh and I’m also a great inventor!”

 “How marvelous!” Robo Fizz grinned. “Perhaps if you have enough mayhem in you, you could perform with me at the next Fizzarolli N Friends show!”

 “I say, I’d love that! I’m sure your show will be top notch, copyright be dammed…won’t it?”

 Robo Fizz smiled widely, hiding a strain. “You bet it will!”

 It was during one interesting day when I pushed my cart by a large tent where several Robo Fizz posters were posted. I held up a troch with a hand and called:

 “Torches, I say! I say! Get your inconvenient torches here!”

 Then before I knew it, the robot and a random imp crashed right into the cart.

 “Ow, I say OW!” I cried as the green flames quickly spread around. After getting the flames off me, I ran for the hills out of the burning park. I sat, dejected shortly afterward. So much for that job. Along with figuring out what to do next, I also happened to watch the imp fight off Robo Fizz…and the robot falling into the dragon’s mouth.

 How unfortunate.

 After helping Robo Fizz from the dragon’s insides, (killing said dragon, pulling out said robot, cleaning and making quick repairs), I inched closer to him and said, “You made some new friends, I say.”

 Robo Fizz stood tense with just long wires for his body, a metal skeleton of his previous appearance. “Yes…an old time co-worker of mine. A clown of an imp named Blitzo. He and his sisters were once part of a circus act called “The Amazing Imp Siblings. A bit dowdy if you ask me. ”

 Robo Fizz looked around. “Hahahaha! That was some chaotic fun. But now the park is ruined!”

 “I say, if I were you,” I told him, “I’d do all I could to get this park repaired and back on track. Costs a whole lotta money. The last thing you need is to have your boss disappointed in you.”

 A brief look of fear came on his face. “Oh yes, yes, good idea, Wally.”

 “And your friend…whether you upstage him or what, you’d best be sure Blitzo stays out of trouble. I lost my job and almost my life because of that fight!” My yellow eyes shined in a show of sadness.

 “I-I will not let master Mammon down…not that I have a choice.”

 “Let Asmodeus know what’s up as well.”

 Robo Fizz nodded, spun away and laughed. “Time to find that rodeo clown imp!”

0 0 0

 Later on after leaving Greed, I got a brilliant idea. It was after I saw some old fashioned 1800s snake man in Pride plow down buildings with a metal bulldozer vehicle. That was it! I could start my own business!

 I walked over to 666 News station. “Oh Katie,” I said in my sweetest voice.

 “What is it, scum?” she asked, sitting at a mirror and doing her hair. “Can’t you see I’m preparing for a back to back broadcast right now?”

 “I was considering doing my very own commercial about me exploiting…erm, employing other demons for my new factory.”

 Katie barked out a laugh. “Good luck with that, filthy old man! Now get out of my studio.”

 “Very well,” I said. As quiet as a hell mouse, I snatched a camera with an eye at the center and made my way out the door. The rest of the materials I needed came from a nearby junkyard. (Thankfully I avoided the wrath of some hungry kangaroo parasitic queen demon). I was running out of money fast; with no job around the corner, I figured I’d start my own!

 Even I don’t really know where I got my inventing skills from. Many say it was my natural trait. Others say I learned from other experts in the trade. After all, one of the quickset ways to a man’s wallet is through the latest technology.

 But I, Wally Wackford would not settle for your standard modern devices. No. I preferred to make things…well, wacky.

 In no time at all, I had built myself my own mini studio where I could film my commercial! Now, what to call my company? Hmm…

  The Onceler One In a Lifetime Opportunity? No, not enough Ws.

 Wowing Whimsical Wonderous Wonders? Nah, too many Ws.

 Ah…of course! What is a company if you don’t have your name on it?

0 0 0

“Uh huh, keep going, keep going, keep going!” Blitzo insisted at the I.M.P. office.

 Moxxie switched the channel again. This time, an imp appeared wearing a large black top hat, a white shirt and pants, gray vest, black bow tie and black boots. He held a cane in his hands and he also had a thin curly mustache. A mischievous grin of sharp teeth appeared on his face.

 “I say, I say!” the imp exclaimed, briefly pointing his cane at the camera. “Are you looking to get work making crazy contraptions and goofy gadgets?” “Crazy Contraptions” and “Goofy Gadgets” appeared in bold spiked icons to the imp’s left and right. The imp twirled his cane.

 “Well call me at Wacky Wally Wackford’s Wacky Idea ‘Factory!’”

 He pulled down another screen. The title appeared in bold red, gray and white letters surrounded by pinkish circles reminiscent of classic cartoons. “Factory” appeared in quotations. Wally Wackford appeared again.

 “Where you make the things and I make the money!”

 Wally Wackford then got up closer to the camera with a pleading look. “Please, I’m very desperate!”

 “Bingo!” Blitzo called, shooting and exploding the TV again.

 0 0 0

 It was actually really easy to find where Blitzo was and the new sinner inventors. The killing company of imps had me very curious. If they could start a business, why shouldn’t I? And being in the company of amazing inventors…

 I could almost see the soul dollar bills floating into my hands.

 I snuck up to the building, merged into the floor, eavesdropped on their fascinating conversation…

  0 0 0

Crash!

 A metal plank crashed into the room from above as Moxxie scurried out of the way. Loopty Goopty strolled down the plank. “Blitz!”

 “Loofa!” Blitzo called, saying his name wrong. “We can explain everything. I was…”

 Crash!

 Millie pulled Moxxie out of the way before another metal plank landed in the spot where he would’ve been. From on the floor, Blitzo’s butt was very much in view. Blitzo glanced down at him and remarked, “Oh chill out Moxxie, if you kiss my ass any harder you’ll go right inside me.”

 Moxxie turned beet red in the face and scooted further back. Millie helped him up again.  

 “Thanks for saving me again,” Moxxie said. “I would’ve foamed at the mouth and maybe died again.”

 “Why would you think I would ever ignore you?”

 Moxxie shrugged.

 Just then, the demonic form of a man rolled down the plank. His body was black and spherical, with a mint green head wearing a black bowler hat on top. He had a large bushy light gray mustache and pince-nez goggles with dark red spirals on the lens like Loopty. His grinning teeth resembled piano keys.

 “Lyle Lipton?!” Millie, Moxxie, and Blitzo asked in unison.

 “I don’t understand,” said Millie. “We thought you went to Heaven.”

 Lyle Lipton chuckled. “Heaven?” He rolled toward Loopty Goopty. “You don’t make millions in technological advances in robotics by not experimenting on the poor!” He laughed.

 Loopy Goopty grinned as he unleashed his weapons in front of Lyle Lipton. “Finally! We meet again at last! Now that you’re dead, you have no money to keep from me!”

 “Well, I’m a better inventor than you!” Lyle scoffed. “And I’ll make the most money here first!”

 “Nonsense you no good son of a bitch!”

 “Tie yourself in a knot, loony Loopty!”

 “Roll in your grave, fat shit inventor!”

 “Two robotic inventors?!” called a nearby voice. A steampunk blimp hovered in the air and a well-dressed snake demon appeared from a hole in his ship.

 “Who is that guy?” Lyle Lipton asked.

 “I’m the one and only Sir Pentious!” he declared. Several Egg Bois were steering his ship. The eye on his dark top hat peered at the other sinners in curiosity. “With my dominating machines, I aim to take over all of Pentagram City!” Then he muttered, “The repairs were a fucking nightmare to endure.” He glanced at the leftover cracks and holes on the metal sides of his ship.

 “Oooh!” Loopty exclaimed in admiration. “I’ve only seen such inventions in old time history books. How long have you been here?”

 “Since eighteen eighty eight!”

 “Love the loopy numbers!” Loopty grinned, making three small eights with his contraptions. “I’m Loopty Goopty! Lyle is my could’ve been partner in crime but actually rival!”

 “When you’re rich as me, who needs a dead partner!” Lyle exclaimed.

 “You’re dead too, you know!”

 “Where did you cowardly sinners get here?” Sir Pentious asked.

 “Well we just got here,” Lyle called. “Experimenting on the poor made us millionaires! Just…be careful when messing with anti-aging machines. Made us both old.”

 “A machine that changes one’s age?” Sir Pentious pondered. “That could prove to be ussseful in the future,” he hissed.

 “Oh, you should join us, snake man!” Loopy suggested. “Or me, rather.”

 Sir Pentious briefly glared. “Hmm. While I’m perfectly capable of spreading my constrictive terror on my own…I suppose having some…lackey sidekicks would suffice.”

 “Don’t call us lackeys!” Lyle sneered. “And I’m not working with him!”

 “Maybe if we briefly collaborate as a team…”

 Lyle grumbled in annoyance.

 After a moment, Sir Pentious sighed. “Okay, you may join me, but…”

 He spread out his hood, revealing pink eyes. “Don’t even think about crossssing me.” He pulled his hood back. “Now go gather your contraptions and help me manage those scrambled fucking eggs!”

 A bunch of eggs in top hats and suits rolled out and jumped on the two inventors, who were stunned.

 Loopty then laughed evilly. “Inventors to inventors it is!”

 Just then, I popped out of the ground in the room.

  “Did someone say, I say inventors?! Name’s Wally Wackford, and I am lookin’ for creative new people to exploit! I mean employ.” I twirled my mustache with an evil grin.

 At last, a chance to expand my business of the mass production of robotic Fizzarollis! All of Hell will go crazy when they get a chance to buy all the sex robots, the merchandise, everything...and all to profit ME!

 “Everyone, stop fucking up my walls!” Blitzo yelled. “Moxxie’s gonna have to fix all this shit! Satan’s balls! First we deal with Heaven’s table-scraps, now this?”

 I smiled. “Well I guess you can say, you say, you have a holey operation here, Blitzo!”

 I slapped my knee and laughed at my own joke.

 “Get out,” Blitzo muttered.

 Soon I doubled down on the floor laughing. “Oh! I said, ‘o’!”

 Blitzo yelled, “No, I’m serious, get the fuck out!”

 Everyone in the room looked at Blitzo in shock and surprise.

0 0 0

 And then, that one other time where I helped host the Harvest Moon Festival Pain Games!

 Wally Wackford a.k.a. me…stood on the wooden stage, holding a gray microphone decorated with an eye in the center and small horns on the top. I wore my usual white shirt, vest, white pants and dark boots. I twirled my black cane and tipped my black top hat.

 I spoke dramatically through the microphone.

 “Welcome, I say welcome all to Wrath Ring’s annual Harvest Moon Festival! To kick things up, we have the great prince Stolas-a here to user in this here Pain Games!”

 Stolas took the microphone from me and chuckled in slight embarrassment.

“How kind, Wackford.”

 Stolas then addressed the audience. “Greetings tiny Wrath Ring imps. I hereby welcome you all to another year of celebrating the spoils of your labor that continue to feed the citizens of Hell!”

 A crowd of imps glared at him and several boos were heard. Many of these Wrath imps were impoverished farmers who lived on scraps, meat or good crops if they were lucky. The food they worked so hard to produce was consumed by royalty and those in the other Rings. But the reward for their work was being underfed, underpaid and underappreciated instead. The unbalanced cycle had lasted for generations.

 I, too, stared at Stolas with a glare in my eyes. That rich royal thinks he can parade around, doing whatever he wants. Well unfortunately for him, I have plans of my own. Once he sees what I’m capable of…

 He will know who really rules the roost.

 Stolas obliviously continued. “I’m happy to kick off the start of these games that will challenge the toughest imps to show their skill and dominance.” He did a little wave with his fingers. “Good luck to you all!” He noticed Blitzo in the crowd beside Moxxie and Striker and spoke lower. “Especially that sexy little one there! Yoo-hoo, Blitzy!”

 “Oh fuck me,” Blitzo scowled.

 A gun went off and the games began.

 The first event was the race. Moxxie was instantly trampled by the other racers.

 The second event was the high jump. Striker climbed over the high wooden ramp structure with ease and raced after Blitzo who jumped past him. Moxxie struggled to keep his balanced as he reached the top. He slipped down, trying to use his claws to hold on. He fell with a splash in a small puddle…and was promptly chewed on by a monstrous black and white shark with several red eyes.

 The third event was an event with rope. Striker grinned as he held a tied up Blitzo. Blitzo’s arms, legs and horns were all tied up. Moxxie gulped as a stronger grinning imp tied him up with ease.

 The fourth event was tug of war. The crowd cheered as the two teams pulled hard. Striker, Blitzo and Moxxie were on a team. Moxxie stumbled and fell into nearby water, where the shark attacked him again.

 The fifth event was mud wrestling. Blitzo and Striker grinned as they wrestled each other, Striker getting the upper hand as he held Blitzo down, arms locked. Moxxie was instantly crushed in a football hurdle by a group of imps. As they got off of him, Moxxie sat up. And the shark leaped out of the water and over the fence.

 “Mother fucker!” Moxxie screamed as the shark crushed him. (Moxxie somehow survived all this.)

 I hopped back on stage.

 “I say, I say for the first year ever, we have a tie, for the winner of the Harvest Moon Pain Games!”

 Stolas took the microphone from me again.

 “The winners are…Striker, and my darling Blitzy!” Stolas did a one-legged pose as the crowd cheered.

 “Just say my name right!” Blitzo complained. He muttered “Fucking dick,” as he and Striker walked onto the stage.

0 0 0

After the event, I noticed that I.M.P. and Stolas had left. After sharing an undiscernible look with Striker, we parted ways.

 I soon returned to a special place in Greed, tired but determined. I walked alone down dark hallways, torches burning green flames on either side. I wagged my pointed red tail.

 I pushed open the double doors and came across a marvelous sight.

 Gold. Heaps of it, just shining brightly all around the vast spacious chamber. Gold pillars held up the cavern-like ceiling, a chandelier made of bones and diamonds hung from above. There were chests of necklaces, precious gems, goblets and weapons of every shape and size. Hanging on a far wall, concealed in shadow were angelic weapons…at least half a dozen.

 I stared around in amazement. Even Lucifer would be surprised if he could see this place.

 I raced around and tossed the gold coins into the air. In a craze, I rolled around in a nearby pile of green dollar souls. With a grin, I stood up and stared with pride at the grinning face of the jester printed on there.

 A face confident in his ability to deceive others, pursue wealth and bask in endless entertainment.

 The grinning face was all too familiar…

 …because it was my face.

 Wally Wackford leaned his head back, mouth open in a high pitched shriek as dark magic flickered around him. The imp form fell and morphed into shadow. In the imp’s place, a large black beast with thick fur, razor sharp claws and red eyes decorating the body. The figure stood up on two powerful furry legs and sat comfortably in a giant golden throne that occupied the center of the chamber. Angular jester clothing of red, gold and purple stripes adorned the wolf body. And finally, a large spiked black crown sat atop the dark loopy jester hat with bells at the ends. A white and gold jester face showed sharp white teeth and glowing yellow eyes. Dark clawed hands juggled fresh demon skulls into the air and popped them into his large mouth. He crunched loudly before swallowing every bit.

 My imp disguise was perfect. Literally no one else save for Robo Fizz and a few elites knew who was underneath. And even then, my magic was so powerful it could easily confuse anyone around me.

 Being an imp has its advantages; you can travel anywhere and gather information along the way. You can track imps from a killing company and find out where they’ll likely travel to next. You can affiliate yourself with your own robotic creations, some slave imps and succubi…and then in your own form, work with a fellow Deadly Sin on the next stage.

 A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

 Funny, really. Wally Wackford could easily be a separate being, born into poverty, learning to scam others at an early age and go up from there. I, however, didn’t need to learn anything…deceiving others and attracting material wealth was a natural talent. As was shapeshifting.

 Lucifer might not be happy with me coping his idea of a theme park…but business is business…and in Hell, anything goes.

 That incompetent prince Stolas would be dead soon enough. No more Goetia showoffs to get in the way of my rule and reputation. At least the prince’s wife was rightfully concerned with maintaining tradition that has existed for centuries. Aside from my dear friend Lucifer, I was, and should be, the most powerful being in Hell. I’ll keep exploiting those I choose because money is money.

 Those I.M.P. assassins have no idea who they were dealing with.

 I let out a crazed evil laugh, intermingled with a wolf’s howl. With a single touch of my hand, my nearby scepter turned into gold. I admired its shiny flawless sheen. Asmodeus, Leviathan, Lucifer, Satan, Belphegor, Beelzebub and myself…the Seven Deadly Sins…circus-loving rulers of the Overlords and in charge of maintaining chaotic order in our respective Rings.

  I, Mammon, had much to do.

#wally wackford #helluvaboss #helluva boss theory #mammon

[katymacsupernatural]

A Flash of Blue

Michael!Dean x Reader

1400 Words

Written For: @heavenandhellbingo, @spnkinkbingo

Squares Filled: Angel Tablet (HH), Marathon Sex (Kink)

Summary: During college Y/N is turned into a prophet. Quickly snatched up by Michael!Dean, she helps him with a spell. A spell that doesn’t go as planned.

Warnings: Slight angst, nsfw, 18+, spell driven sex, dub con, marathon sex

With the Angel sitting there, watching you closely, you ran your fingers along the tablet once more, your heart racing. The stone was cold underneath your fingertip, the etchings catching against your skin.

To anyone else, it looked like a bunch fo scribbles, markings carved into a stone that made no sense. But you had been handpicked by God himself to make sense of the tablet. To be able to read it when no one else could.

You were a prophet, a fact that didn’t make you happy. Especially when the Angel Michael had found you, kidnapping you and forcing you to bend to his will.

“Well,” He spoke slowly as he moved to his feet, his long black coat settling like a cape around him. “What have you figured out?”

“I...It takes more time than this…,” you stuttered as he grasped your chin, turning your face to meet those beautiful green eyes of his. Eyes that flashed blue when he was annoyed. Like right now. “I promise, I’m looking as fast as I can!”

His hand moved from your chin, wrapping around your neck, squeezing just tight enough to remind you who was boss. “Look faster. I’m growing impatient.”

He pushed you back into the chair before he vanished from the room, giving you a chance to breathe. Your breaths were shaky, your hands trembled as you tried to figure out exactly what you had gotten yourself into.

You had been in college, studying to become an archeologist when this voice spoke to you. The next thing you remembered was waking up in this room, able to read what he called an Angel Tablet.

You had quickly lost track of days, stuck in this windowless room, shackled to the table with only a small cot and a couple of chairs the other furniture in the room. Michael came and went as he pleased, bringing you food and water, releasing your shackles long enough for you to use the restroom.

He never told you exactly what he was looking for. Just that he needed all the information on that tablet. That he would kill you if you didn’t do what he said. So you swallowed your questions and did as the handsome man asked.

After giving yourself a pounding headache, you had finally deciphered something. It talked of Angels and a spell that could enhance their powers. Or at least that’s what you thought. It seemed simple enough, even though you had never heard of most of the ingredients. Black salt, the finger bone of a smaller saint. The grace of the Angel along with blood from a human. It gave you a chant to say, the words ancient-sounding and hard to grasp.

“Well?” His deep booming voice echoed through the small room, shocking you so you almost dropped the stone tablet. He strode forward, taking the tablet and placing it safely on the table. “Have you figured anything out?”

You nodded nervously, completely overwhelmed by the proximity of the man in front of you. He was tall, towering over you, his wide shoulders trapping you in. You were drawn to him but scared at the same time, and it was so confusing.

“I have this spell,” you spoke up, your voice shaking slightly. “It talks about enhancing powers? For an Angel. But I don’t…,”

“That’s perfect!” He exclaimed. “With a spell like that, I could rid myself of those pesky Winchesters and their stupid friend Cas at the same time. Then this body would truly be mine.”

You wanted to ask whose body it was but smartly kept quiet. But you couldn’t help wondering about what you had just heard. If he truly was an Angel and that wasn’t his body, then who was the poor handsome man that was no doubt trapped inside with him?

Michael clapped his hands together. “Let’s get to work then!”

With a snap of his fingers, all the ingredients were laid out in front of you along with a large stone bowl. “Listen, I’m not sure I can do this,” you whispered. “I was just a normal girl, in college. Planning on what Saturday party I wanted to go to! I have no idea how to perform a spell!”

Within the blink of an eye, he was on you, trapping your body against the table, his hand wrapped around your neck. His thick thighs trapped yours, his hips pressing yours painfully against the edge of the table. You cried out, but he didn’t care. His eyes flashed blue, his lips raised in a snarl. “Listen, I don’t care about your previous life. You’re a prophet now, and as soon as you become useless to me…,”

His words wavered off, but you knew what he meant. As soon as he lost interest in you, well…

Gulping, you reached for your notes. “I can...I promise..,”

He released you and you took in a deep breath. “Good. Let’s get started.”

The spell was rather easy to prepare. The ingredients were ground into the stone bowl. His grace slipped from a small cut on his neck, your blood from a deep slice on your wrist. With everything mixed together, you spoke the words, feeling them deep in your soul, swirling around you like a deep blue fog.

Michael stood in front of you, his arms stretched wide, his long black coat gone, his white sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes were closed as the fog circled him, swirling and wrapping around him like silk. “I can feel it,” he whispered, his eyes vibrantly blue as he glanced down at you. “It’s working!”

As quickly as the fog started, it stopped, and you waited with bated breath for the results. Knowing that you had a hand in creating a monster. A killing machine.

“I feel..,” he spoke, flexing his arms when his eyes widened incredulously. “Wrong. This spell. Are you sure you read it right?”

“I...I think so,” you stuttered. “Why?”

“The only thing growing even more potent is my...lust,” he answered. In a blink he was in front of you, his lips hot against your neck. You tried pushing him away, but your attempt was feeble as you lifted your head to give him better access.

“The spell. What did you do wrong?” He breathed against your neck before nipping at the tender flesh, his hand slipping into your pants, cupping you without warning. You jerked but had nowhere to go as he cornered you against the wall, his body crushing yours.

You should have been fighting against this, but you had been drawn to this man from the start. So instead of pushing him away, you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling his mouth to yours.

His smile could be felt through his kiss, his lips harsh against yours as his palm rubbed roughly against your sensitive nerves. His finger brushed against your entrance, slightly pushing it’s way in before pulling away. “Too many clothes,” he ground out, and suddenly you were naked in his arms.

His movements were a blur, his fingers driving you to the point of ecstasy before pulling away. His lips were everywhere, hot and heavy against your skin, leaving you wanting. It wasn’t until he filled you to the brim that you were able to come undone.

The wall quickly became the bed, the ancient wood creaking and groaning under his thrusts. He came undone while you screamed his name so loud the walls shook.

An hour later you were straddling his waist, his thick cock still deep inside you, your legs shaking as you shook your head. “No, no more,” you pleaded, but his hands were tight on your hips, moving you up and down.

“I...can’t...stop,” he gritted, bucking his hips up to meet yours, and you came so hard you almost blacked out.

You had lost track of time. Michael had laid claim to you on every single piece of furniture in this room. The bed more than once. Your entire body ached, you were chafed and dehydrated. Michael lay across from you, his arm loosely across his naked torso. Scratches covered his chest, and hickeys covered his neck. “Do you...think that...the spell’s worn off?” You breathed heavily.

His green eyes flashed blue, his erection proving your words false. With a growl he was on top of you, ready for another bought of marathon sex. A bought you weren’t sure you would end up surviving.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278  @bebravekeeponfighting  @bi-danvers0 @brindz30 @cap-just-said-language @colette2537   @deansgirl215  @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @justanotherwinchester @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller  @krys198478 @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk  @mrspeacem1nusone @nothinbuttrouble2 @ria132love @ruprecht0420     @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @team-free-will-you-idjiot @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove   @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @cpag7 @chelsea072498  @closetspngirl   @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @esoltis280   @foxyjwls007 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek  @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @imsuperawkward @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean  @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice   @maui137 @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @mogaruke @monkeymcpoopoo @musiclovinchic93  @nanie5   @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25   @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing​ @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes​ @sandlee44​ @shamelesslydean​ @simonsbluee​ @sillesworldofwriting​ @sgarrett49​ @spnbaby-67​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @spnwoman​   @superbadassnatural​ @thatcrazybookwormgeek​   @thewinchesterchronicles​ @vvinch3st3r​ @wecantgiggleitsafandom​ @whimsicalrobots​ @winchester-writes​ @zombiewerewolfqueen​

#heavenandhellbingo #spnkinkbingo #michael!dean x reader #michael!dean x you #katy writes #spn fanfic #supernatural reader insert #spn x y/n

[spiritualgravity]

Spiritual Gravity

The first time I can recall hearing from a spirit is going on 20 years ago while at the gym. I was on the treadmill, early in the morning, stomping away in order to clock a few miles.

Walking at a fairly fast pace, and slowly inching up the incline, while simultaneously holding on for both dear life and onto the handle bars in hopes of not falling backwards…I attempted to skim a magazine.

There was an article about breast cancer awareness in the publication, and suddenly I had the presence of my maternal grandfather with me.

He passed away when I was 8-years-old; I only have a handful of memories of him because we did not live close by.

It was the very first time in my life when I literally knew a spirit was with me, and still, even today, I find it hard to explain this experience as well as all of them that would later happen over the next two decades.

It was as if he appeared out of no where; I didn’t physically see him, but just knew it was him. I was taken back, and quietly in my mind acknowledged him.

“Hi, hello. Umm, did you want to tell me something?”

We went back and forth — him showing me visualizations, as well as audible messages all for my sister, Christine. The messages had to do with urging her to get a mammogram, which I later found out, she had been putting off. He told me that there was nothing alarmingly wrong, but that she needed to be diligent about that screening.

There are several types of ‘mental mediumship’ abilities, ways to communicate with spirit, i.e. souls who are no longer in their physical bodies. I have clairvoyance and clairaudient abilities. 

We are spirtual beings having a human experience.

Clairvoyance is the ability to see a spirit or images (I only see images in my mind’s eye…well, until recently I physically saw spirit for the first time, but I’ll get back to that story later) that are sent telepathically by a spirit. The word has roots in two French words: clair (clear) and voir (to see), so clairvoyance means “clear seeing.” 

According to the book, Where Two Worlds Meet, the most common way mediums see clairvoyantly is through subjective clairvoyance, which is much like the way we see things in our imagination, as mental images.

Clairaudience is when mediums ‘hear’ messages from spirit. For me personally, I don’t literally hear voices — no one is shouting at me from across the room — the messages come across like my own thoughts, but they’re not mine.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been sensitive. And for most of that time, I considered this a flaw. As a teenager, my Mother used to encourage me to “stop taking on others’ drama or issues.” Like a good Mother, she was trying to protect me. I have always tried to be a good listener, and do whatever I can to help loved ones feel better by showing empathy, sometimes to a fault. 

Actually, it was pretty much always to a fault.

I’m currently in the middle of reading Glennon Doyle’s latest book, Untamed, and I had an ah-ha moment when she shared an insightful sentiment about being a sensitive person. She spelled out that the opposite of being sensitive is being insensitive, and that’s - well - a terrible thing to be! I finally realized, at the age of 40, my sensitivity is an amazing gift.

There have been countless stories and circumstances of serendipity over my lifetime. I oftentimes know things before they actually happen. I have hunches, I have feelings, or I just…know. It turns out that all mediums are also psychics, but not all psychics are mediums.

One lovely happenstance of divine intervention was learning about and virtually meeting Dougall Fraser 10 years ago, a renowned psychic and life coach who lives in Los Angeles. While working at a pet products company at the time and handling their public relations, Dougall’s manager and husband David contacted me for a raffle giveaway to be used on Dougall’s radio show. We hit it off, became virtual friends, and I’ve been following Dougall’s work ever since. He can see and feel people’s auras. I’ve easily taken at least six of his remote classes, and one in particular was eye opening for me. His class, Empowering the Empath, helped me to learn how to protect my own energy (empaths are like sponges and can inadvertently taken on other’s energy). 

Light worker. Empath. Healer.

There are many, many names to identify people like me.

I haven’t publicized or publicly shared my ability to communicate with spirit, probably because I didn’t want to be judged. Only closest friends and family know this (very important) part of my life. I try to live my life with integrity, to share my authentic self, and believe that being vulnerable is absolutely beautiful. 

As the years go on, this ability to connect with spirits has become stronger and stronger, and that is because I have become more spiritually grounded and connected with my higher Self. I am a sucker for metaphors and one that I’ve used for a long time to explain this ability is an antenna. When I am practicing self-care, prayer, and in a chronic state of gratitude, my antenna is sky high and consequently hear from spirit more often.

Last night I was on a Zoom meeting with yet another renowned light worker who is also a medium, James Van Praagh. During that experience, I felt an unrelenting nudge to share my ability with the world.

I had no idea why now, all I knew was I’ve come to trust this voice inside of me and I was going to listen to it.

There was a tiny bit of hesitation as I was getting ready to hit “post” on my Facebook page, sharing this secret ability that I’ve kept close to me for half of my life. Not because I thought anyone would judge me (thankfully, I’ve overcome the tragedy of deeply caring what people think of me), but because it would mean I would need to become code red vulnerable, more than I’ve ever been before.

At this point I am not giving readings as a profession. But I’ve also learned to never say never — my heart feels that I needed to come out of the spiritual closet in order to move my life’s greater work forward, which is ultimately and simply to help people.

Several years back, I met a gal who would quickly become my spiritual mentor, Karen. She is a reiki master and a medium. She is truly gifted and has influenced my life in a number of ways. In fact, she is responsible for the title of this blog. During one of my reiki (i.e. energy healing & balancing) sessions, and sharing messages that she received from spirit for me, Karen said, 

“You are the sun.” 

I feel, in the depths of my being, that I’m on this planet, in this lifetime, to spread light — so that message made perfect sense. 

I’m currently in something known as a ‘small circle’ that Karen put together. It means that a small group of people meet every few weeks and we learn from each other — practice healing exercises with one another, we do group meditations, balance our energy fields, and much more. We’ve continued to meet remotely since the pandemic quarantine hit over two months ago and I’m forever grateful for this small circle of like-minded men and women.

After I shared my truth on Facebook last night, a friend asked me what the experience has been like for me — how did this evolution of my gift happen — and is what ultimately prompted me to write this blog post. Since reading that inquiry, I’ve been flooded with memories.

Memories of random spirits coming through while I’m innocently enjoying myself while out to dinner with a group of friends, and friends of friends. 

“Hi, I know you don’t know me and we just met, but I have to share something with you. I think your Mother is here in spirit.” 

Memories of workshops, classes, seminars, group readings, and beach meditation retreats that I’ve attended. Reading Born Knowing, Intuitive Studies, Where Two Worlds Meet, But You Knew That Already, and many more books about this private piece of me, to better understand it all.

Having the ability to communicate with spirit is like knowing how to speak a language, but you don’t actually remember learning how to speak it. You just, speak that language.

Historically, spirit has come through when I’m in an altered state of consciousness. In the shower or taking a bath, working out at the gym, on a walk, or after a few glasses of wine. When we are fully conscious and awake, our brains emit waves of electrical energy that are very different when meditating or sleeping. In normal, awake consciousness, we are in Beta mode — exterior stimuli dominate our thoughts. It involves solving problems, thinking, and taking action. 

To connect with spirit, we need to at least be in Alpha mode, or even Theta. You’ve probably entered Alpha mode without even realizing it. Think about a time when you’ve been driving a car, pulled up at home, and then realized you don’t quite remember the last few miles of driving. Thankfully, our subconscious mind kept the car in the correct lane and took the proper turns to make it home, until the conscious mind returned to the wheel. 

This explains why I rarely ever remember messages from spirit. When they come through, it feels like I’m dreaming, but still awake. I will scribble down notes as I get messages because I know, otherwise, there is no way I’ll remember them in order to convey to the intended recipient. 

Spirits always come to me, without invitation. I’ve only intentionally tried to connect with a spirit proactively one time a few years back. A friend of a friend, who became an acquaintance of mine, wanted to connect with her grandmother. Our mutual friend suggested that maybe I could try...so I figured it was time to take off my training wheels and give it a go.

Before she even arrived at my house, her grandmother was already coming through and showing me signs. My mentor / guru Karen gave me some prayers and intentions to say prior to the “medium sitting” and I felt very comfortable with the experience. But, I haven’t done anything like that since then.

As time has passed and I’ve had countless experiences connecting with spirits, it’s been easier for me to make that connection. My antenna is up, and has evidently stayed up, as my own soul has expanded and grown.

So much so, just last week a spirit appeared to me while I was in my bedroom, hanging out with my daughter after she woke up from her nap. I looked up and in an instant, saw a spirit (remember, I don’t normally see anyone, I just feel their presence). It was a man. It happened so fast, that I was completely in a state of shock. My jaw was literally dropped and I stared into space, trying to wrap my head around what just happened.

Because I typically have to be in a super relaxed state of mind (note: quarantined with a two-year-old is not conducive to a relaxed state of mind), I was mostly surprised that someone could even get my attention while I was totally distracted. The second reason I was picking my open mouth up off the floor was the fact that I literally saw a man. 

Once I got a grip and accepted the fact this just happened, I asked him,

“Hi, hello. Umm…who are you?”

And just like that, the exact same sequence unfolded as it did 20 years ago with my Grandfather. 

I knew who it was instantly.

The man was my friend, John, who tragically died in a car accident when I was in high school.

Mind you, I haven’t thought about him for a very, very long time. 

And just like every other connection that spirit makes with me, I started to hear messages from him, as well as see visuals in my mind’s eye — scenes played out that depicted what the silent messages were conveying. The messages were for his girlfriend at the time of his death. Now, I need to track her down and make the awkward, but important phone call.

Growing up in a strict Catholic household, hearing directly from spirit was never in the playbook for my life. Praying was seemingly a one-way street — I would make requests, give thanks, and have a one-way conversation with my guardian angels, God, His son, and His tribe of saints. But God had other plans for me, to make this journey on planet Earth a two-way street of conversations, and I’m grateful to be a conduit for spreading love beyond the stars.

A consistent message that I’ve been given for my life, is that in order for me to accelerate and fully utilize this gift, I would need to stop taking on and carrying other’s pain — that has been my spiritual gravity barrier, holding me down. I’ve been working really hard on overcoming that hurdle for quite some time, from learning how to meditate, learning how to forgive those who have hurt me, and learning to energetically protect myself — and now, I’m finally ready to turn up the sunshine. 

#sunshine #medium #mediumship #love #lovewins #clairvoyant #Psychic #self love #spiritual #lightworker #healer #energy #reiki

[antiquechampagne]

Absolute Zero - Chapter 3

Within a few days, Angela had a full chemistry bench set up and a mattress on the floor next to it. Fred moved into one of the unused closets off the main room, giving her a modicum of privacy; not that she needed it. All she needed was a place to sleep and a place to work, the rest was of no concern. The Mayor had tried to get her to start a tab at both the local bar and general store, but she declined. Scraps would suffice until her first payday, then she would live on whatever was cheapest. She would save every cap she could.

Immediately she got to work, cranking out the basics as fast as she could. One expense she knew she would need was a secure place to store her caps. By the end of the week, Angela picked out a heavy-duty toolbox. The best part about it was the fact that it had a working lock and it came with two keys, making it a perfect drop box.

Late one night, she went for a walk. Along the way, she stopped to check the laces on her shoe… auspiciously right next to where Chuck was taking a smoke break. With so few people on the street, she was pretty sure no one would notice the key wrapped in a piece of paper she left behind. She also hoped the instructions were clear… that the money had could only be picked up when no one was around to avoid any unwanted attention. She reminded the raiders that she was also keeping careful notes on everything to discourage skimming off the top… not that she expected them to care. There was only so much she could control; she didn’t have the time to worry about the rest. Sure enough, when she came back from dropping off a crate full of Med-X, her caps were gone but the box was still locked tight.

The next day, Angela was elbow deep in cooking up a large batch of Ultra Jet. A woman entered the basement while she was trying to seal a particularly tricky propellant canister.

“Heeeey friend! You’re back!” Fred got up from his seat. “How was HalluciGen? Find me something good?”

The woman dug a handful of strange canisters out of her pack. “I think I’ve found a drug that even you’d think twice about huffing,” she snarked. Money exchanged hands

Angela glanced over. The woman was tall with skin that almost glowed, but her defining characteristic was her near pristine vault suit under her cobbled together armor. Angela had never seen a vault dweller before, the was only one vault near her home and it had been destroyed long before she was born.

“That so? Far out. Can’t wait to start breaking this down in the lab. I got a ton of time on my hands with this new gal helping out. She’s a maniac when it comes to cooking all sorts of goodies!”

The vault dweller turned to Angela just as she felt the persnickety canister pop into place. She put the finished chem down as the woman held out her hand.

“Nice to meet you. The names Nora. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Angela,” The woman’s handshake was strong. “I’m pretty new here.” Angela turned back to her bench. “Sorry, but I have a lot of work to do. I hope you understand.”

“Yeah, I know how it is.”

Fred and Nora chatted for a few minutes before the woman turned to leave.

“Hey… Angela was it? You need to get yourself some decent PPE. Give me sec.” Nora immediately began poking around in her enormous backpack.

“What?” Angela was a bit flustered. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t really have any spare caps at the moment.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Nora pulled out a long white lab coat and a pair of safety goggles. “Here, try these. I’ve got tons. Hallucigen was lousy with ‘em.”

“No, thank you.” People just didn’t give away what they scavenged. There had to be a catch, and Angela didn’t need any more strings attached to her.

“What the heck am I going to do with a dozen pairs of goggles with matching lab coats? At the very least, take the goggles. Your eyes are pretty badly bloodshot already.”

Angela hesitated. Yeah, her eyes stung pretty badly from the fumes, but that’s just the way things were.

“It’s okay, pal. Nora here… she has a heart of gold. Haven’t you been listening to the radio or heard the talk around town? She’s an honest to god hero around these parts!” Fred put a friend arm around the vault dweller’s shoulders as she turned a little red from all the praise.

“Don’t go blowing things out of proportion, Fred. I’m just helping out where I can.”

Angela studied the pair. Fred had been fair with her, sincerely trying to be nice to her when he was around. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who would lie about this kind of thing.

“I suppose, if you are just giving them away.” As Angela tried on the goggles, Nora left the lab coat on the bench. Before she could react, Nora waved a quick goodbye and was gone. Angela looked at the coat and blinked.

“It’s bad mojo to refuse a gift, ya know.” Fred nudged her gently with his elbow.

Angela mused. “I suppose you’re right.” She’d only ever had one ratty lab coat she had scavenged years ago. It had only lasted her a year or so before it deteriorated so badly it offered next to no protection from spills. This coat was nearly spotless, save for a few spots on a cuff, and it was made from a thick canvas-like material that would last a decade or more, even with heavy use. And this random woman had simply given it away… to be nice to a stranger?

What a nice change of pace, thought Angela. Maybe my luck is starting to change?

Putting on the coat, she got back to work. Those caps weren’t going to earn themselves.

After a long day, Angela hung up her lab coat and sat on the mattress. She stared at it for a moment before grabbing her binder. She could feel the lump in her throat grow as she turned the dogeared pages. She stopped occasionally at little stick figure drawings or groups of roughly sketched flowers, her fingers lingering over the childish scribbles in the margins. Finally, she came to the back cover. Stuffed into the pocket she carefully removed a square black and white photograph stashed inside.

Angela turned away from the room, unable to stop the silent tears streaming down her face. The picture held three smiling faces. One belonged to a burly man in his prime, his skin darker from a full season working in the fields. The other faces that beamed back from the thick card stock was that of two jovial children. The trio stood in front of a pile of bloody molerats, the spoils of the girls first hunting trip. It was an old photo, one of a handful Angela ever got the chance to take before the ancient camera gave up the ghost.

“Keep them safe, Ben. I’m working as fast as I can.” She whispered to the picture. She knew they couldn’t hear her, but wished by some twist of fate they could.

#absolute zero #fallout #fan fiction #fan fic #fanfic #Fred Allen #goodneighbor #drugs #nora #sole survivor #ao3

[galoots]

Team Uncle Week 2019 - Day Two: Teasing Donald and his classmate, Daisy, are working on a school project at the McDuck Manor. And these two obviously have it bad for one another. Politely, Scrooge waits until after Daisy leaves to mercilessly clown on his beloved nephew.

Scrooge carefully picked his way through an obstacle course of scattered sheets, uncapped markers, open textbooks, glue sticks, and vials of glitter that littered the floor. His previously pristine living room now resembled the desolate battlefield of some craft-related war. Not that he particularly minded a little mess as long as Donald and his little study partner were getting their project done. Duckworth, however, would surely have a fit if he laid eyes upon this catastrophic mess.

           He reached the couch just as the kids re-entered the living room. Both Donald and Daisy were carrying armfuls of fresh school supplies, backup munitions to bolster their existing armaments. Donald’s greeting was cut short when a stray marker underfoot caused him to lose his footing, sending him crashing to the ground. With an elegant sidestep, Daisy avoided the trajectory of Donald’s fall and watched his supplies spill everywhere.

           “Hello Mr. McDuck.” She greeted him politely while using her sneaker-clad foot to jostle Donald’s prone body, making sure he was still alive.

           His uncle fought back a sigh. Ever since that boy had hit his growth spurt, he’d become an accident waiting to happen. He’d been clumsy before, but puberty compounded his bungling into something extraordinary. A regular bull in a china shop.

           Scrooge suppressed the urge to rush to his nephew’s side to check on him like he would whenever he took a spill as a tot. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass Donald in front of his new objet d’affection. Still, he couldn’t conceal a sympathetic wince when Donald’s chin collided with the hardwood floor.

           He cleared his throat loudly to distract Daisy from the spectacle of a flustered Donald scrambling to collect himself. “So how goes the project, kiddos?”

           “G-good!” Donald was crouched now, trying to play off his fall as if it hadn’t happened and gathering up the items he’d spilled. “We, uh, we’ve been working hard. A+ material for sure!”

           Daisy made a smug little noise at that remark. “I’ve been working hard he means. Donald here—” she flipped his bangs teasingly with her hand, “—keeps zoning out and staring off into space.”

           “Not true!” He stopped cleaning up in order to playfully yank her tied shoelaces undone. “I wrote the whole section about the socio-political fallout that lead to the dawn of WWII!”

           “Hey!” Daisy cried with mock offense at his retribution and bumped him with her hip in response. “Only ‘cause I had to nag you last night to work on it instead of bombarding me with IM’s.”

           A small knowing smile crept on to Scrooge’s face while he watched their cute repartee over the folded edge of his newspaper. They’d only befriended each other recently but almost immediately established a familiar coquettish rapport with one another. Scrooge wasn’t the most perceptive duck in the flock, but even he knew puppy love when it was staring him in the face. He watched their spectacle with subtle attention while the two of them—absorbed in laughter and chatter, shy accidental brushes of the hand, exchanges of coy smiles and glances—forgot entirely about his presence in the room.

           He let their steady banter coupled with the soft scratch of pencil lead on paper serve fade to the background of his focus as he turned back to his reading. The two of them were well-suited for each other it seemed, since they were able to make steady progress on their project despite their flirting.

           Time passed pleasantly as the hour grew later, marked by the steady fading of the light outside. Having noticed the change, Daisy checked her wristwatch and began to pack up her things. “I gotta get home.” She swung her backpack over her shoulder and stood up, smoothing her skirt as she did so.

           “Already?” Donald complaint was tinged with disappointment. No doubt their time together seemed excruciatingly short from his point of view.

           Daisy nudged him with her shoulder. “It’s late! If I stay any later my mom will flip. She’ll think I skipped town with some hunky guy or something.”

           Donald opened his beak to ready a response, but Scrooge intervened, asking Daisy if she needed a ride home before his nephew could utter a word. He knew his nephew well enough to know when he was about to insert his foot into his mouth. It was for his own good anyway—he doubted Donald’s remark about the identity of that hunky guy being a certain teen-aged duck would have been successful.

           Scrooge threw his newspaper onto the couch as he hastily moved to prevent disaster. “So, need a ride home, Daisy?”

           “No thanks, Mr. McDuck. I rode my bike here.”

           “Alright,” Scrooge yielded, “Just see to it you get home safely, alright? I don’t want to read about a reckless driver’s collision with cyclist because of low visibility in tomorrow’s paper.”

           “I’ll be fine, Mr. McDuck. I got those reflective stickers on my bike.” She smiled at him, pleased that he cared enough to worry about her.

           Like the courteous gentleman Scrooge raised Donald to be, he walked their guest to the door to see her out. Scrooge trailed behind, letting Donald hold the door open for her while they exchanged pleasantries. As Daisy took off down their driveway, she waved to them both before finally pedaling out of sight.

Donald waved dreamily at her retreating figure and said, in a voice too quiet for her to hear, “Bye, Daisy.”

           Scrooge smirked at his love-sick nephew. Turning to head back inside, Donald caught his uncle’s smug little grin.

“What?” Donald shut the door behind him, noticing Scrooge’s impish grin.

He didn’t want to tease his nephew about his crush when she was present, but now that she was gone? It was a no-holds barred moosewood stadium freestyle goofing sesh, and Scrooge was ready to bring the heat.

           “Oh, nothing…” He swung his cane nonchalantly in the air on his way back to the living room, eager for Donald to take the bait.

           Donald jogged after him, a perturbed, suspicious look fixed on his face. “What are you smiling about?”

           Scrooge sat gingerly back down on the couch. Hook, line, and sinker. Time for the games to begin. “Can’t a man smile in his own home?”

           Donald eyed him with apprehension, let out a hmph, and bent down to start tidying the mess he’d left on the living room floor.

           Crossing his ankle over his knee, Scrooge tittered to himself. “That Daisy of yours is quite the nice young gal, isn’t she?”

           Right on cue, Donald blushed and stammered nervously. “She’s fine! I guess. Whatever, its not like I like her or anything. I mean, I like her but not like, like-like her. She’s just a girl! Who happens to be a friend!”

           Scrooge hummed, sounding unconvinced. His nephew ducked his head bashfully, focusing his attention on his cleaning efforts.

           He tapped a finger against his chin, peering down at Donald. “You know, Tennyson said Spring was the time a young man’s fancy turns to thoughts of love. I think he may be mistaken; the season’s clearly fall.”

           Dropping his armful of stationery, Donald squawked. “I don’t love her!”

           Chuckling, Scrooge swatted Donald’s head lightly with his rolled-up newspaper. “I was discussing poetry, nephew. You should be the expert. You are the designated poet in this family, after all.”

           Grumbling loudly, Donald started to pack up the arts and crafts supplies even faster.

           “Speaking of, you haven’t given me one of your poems to read in a while. Yet, I always see you scribbling away in that notebook of yours…”

           Donald abruptly stood, eyes wide, and brow furrowed,  briskly walking out the room. Following in quick pursuit, Scrooge wheeled around the corner into the parlor. Donald was already making his way up the stairs, beating a hasty retreat to his room.

           He called after him good-naturely, enjoying the sport. “What’s the matter, nephew? No blason? No sonnets?” Scrooge puffed out his chest, thudding a fist against it, recited pompously, “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…”

           “Shut it!” Donald leaned over the banister, waist against the railing, to shout angrily at his uncle. “That’s not even what that sonnet’s about! It’s a satirical send-up of the poetic conventions of courtly love! God!”

           Scrooge’s laughter echoed up the staircase and down the hall Donald was trying to cross as fast as he could. Motivated, Scrooge ignored the pain in his hip to catch up with his nephew. He swung an arm over the boy’s shoulder, pulling him so close their cheeks were smushed together. “Ah young love! You never forget your first love. It’s special you know.”

           With a violent shrug, Donald escaped from his uncle’s hold and stomped off towards his bedroom, quickly flinging the door closed. He hadn’t escaped the onslaught however, because Scrooge had wedged his cane between the door and its frame before it could close. Donald leaned his weight on the door, trying to keep Scrooge out, but his uncle still outclassed him when it came to strength, and he slid forward as Scrooge pushed the door open. He strolled in like he owned the place, continuing on like he hadn’t just strong-armed his way past Donald’s defenses.“Although I suppose Mickey was your first love. Oh my, he isn’t upset about this, is he?”

           “I’ve told you a million times, Uncle Scrooge! We were friends! We were never together! I don’t even like boys!” Donald squeaked out through the thick of his embarrassment.

           “Ah, is that why I found you two locked in a passionate kiss that one time?”

           Donald covered his bright-red face with his hands and, with a phrase now commonplace in their household, whined, “It wasn’t what it looked like!” He whipped around shoving fruitlessly at his uncle’s back. “Get out of my room! Go away!”

           “Oh no,” Scrooge melodramatically exclaimed, throwing a hand to his forehead in an imitation of a faint. “I feel weak, Donald!” He leaned his weight against Donald’s hands.

           “No, you’re not! Leave me alone!”

           “Donald, m’boy, my body’s growing heavy. I can’t seem to move at all! How curious!” Donald was supporting his uncle’s weight now as Scrooge went limp. His arms shook with strain as he protested.

           “If you don’t love me, Donnie, I do believe I’ll expire right here on the spot!”

           “No, you won’t! Cut it out!”

           “I’m dying…” Scrooge slumped completely against Donald. “I’m dead…” They flopped onto the bedspread as Donald’s arms gave out, and Scrooge sat on top of his nephew, pinning him to the bedspread with his weight.

           “Get offa me!” Donald struggled, kicking his legs and waggling his arms, but couldn’t break free. Frustrated, he buried his head in his duvet, grumbling furious remarks into the fabric.

           Well that wouldn’t do, Scrooge thought. He wanted a happy Donald, not a grumpy one. Fortunately, he knew the perfect solution. Scrooge grabbed the boy’s ankle, confining his leg between his arm and his side, and started tickling the underside of Donald’s foot. Immediately, Donald burst into hysterical laughter, his body shaking with his guffaws while he squirmed to try and get away.

           It didn’t take long for Donald to yield, crying, “Uncle! Uncle!”

           Unfortunately for him, Scrooge loved a good pun. “Yes, I am your uncle. What of it?” Scrooge grinned with devilish glee at his own joke.

           “I mean I give! Lemme go!”

           Finally, Scrooge ceased his efforts, watching Donald’s slight frame shake with residual laughter. He freed him from his hold, moving his weight off the boy and onto the mattress so the lad could catch his breath. When his breathing had evened out, Scrooge looped an arm around Donald’s neck, pulling him into a loose headlock so he could noogie him. By then, Donald had given up trying to escape his uncle’s little wrestling match. He was too tired to fight back anymore and chose to lay limply in his uncle’s grasp like a dead fish.

           “You’re so mean, Uncle Scrooge.” Donald’s complaint had no bite behind it just the fond exasperation of a child dealing with a parent.

           “Oh, come now, I only tease because I love you, dear.” He planted a gentle kiss on top of Donald’s captive head.

           “Yeah, whatever.” Donald apathetically replied, before adding, in a quiet, rushed voice, “It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything but, um, Iloveyoutoo.”

Scrooge said nothing, smiling down happily at his nephew, who returned his loving gaze with a small shy smile of his own. It was a perfect moment—the kind you’d like to freeze in its tracks so you could tack up the memory in your mind like a snapshot. But time flowed on, and the peaceful little bubble was popped by a warbling cry of despair of a posh British voice that rang from downstairs. What happened to my living room?!”

           “Uh oh. Puppa sounds mad,” Donald mumbled, realizing with a gasp why. “We forgot about the mess!”

           “Woops.” Scrooge replied with dry dismay.

           They exchanged a look, communicating wordlessly with one another. We’re really in for it now.

#duckverse #disney ducks #duck comics #donald duck #scrooge mcduck #teamuncleweek2019 #day two #loots duck universe #LDU

[daddyfuckinlonglegs]

I’m catching up, I swear!

I’m behind, but I’m back on the kinktober train. Preston/Sturges for day 7′s Praise Kink. "Nice shootin', Tex!" Nate slapped Preston's shoulder, swinging his rifle to his back, crouching to stuff the raider's few useful possessions into his pack. “Right through the bastard. You're not just a pretty face after all.” Preston rolled his eyes, but he could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks. “No sir, not at all. I leave that to those better equipped for the job.” “Nonsense, Garvey. That last place, Tenpines? Gal there at the gate was more than interested. Shame that you're a... confirmed bachelor, and all. She was pretty.” “A what now?” Nate stood up, grinning. “Confirmed bachelor. A man who's not, uh, interested in getting married. For his own reasons. Usually another man.” “Oh.” Preston sighed. “I guess that's...” “Between you and me,” Nate leaned in towards him, “I don't think she was looking to marry you.” Preston laughed, blushing. “Well, with all due respect, sir, one of us has got to keep his pants on.” Nate laughed, and set off down the trail. “You ever let yourself live a little Garvey, you come my way, okay?” Preston shook his head muttering. “I don't think I could keep up with you, even if I was as, uh, motivated, as you are.” Nate shrugged and called over his shoulder. “Suit yourself.”

* The road back to sanctuary was shorter with company, for sure, and with Concord almost picked clean, it wouldn't belong before the town was up and running to rival Diamond City. Sturges was hard at work, slaving over a refrigerator out back of Mama Murphy's place, and he dropped his tools, wiping his hands on his overalls as the two men approached. “Well if it ain't the boys in blue. Brought me anything good?” Preston dropped a duffel bag to the floor, it clanged and rolled to one side, and Nate tossed his pack to Sturges. “Fill your boots, buddy, quite a haul today. Not much left except the roof tiles. Definitely enough to get that water pump up and running again. With power this time.” Nate rolled his shoulders, stretching them out now he was free of his pack. “Your man here sure knows his way around that musket.” Sturges caught Preston's eye, and smiled. “He sure does. Few other things to boot.” Preston looked at the floor, ignoring the comment. Sturges winked, and Nate chuckled and nodded his head towards the rest of the town. “You seen Piper around anywhere? Not to be crude, but I could use a little R&R, and, well, we got some catching up to do.” Sturges smiled broadly and nodded. “Yeah, last I saw her she was hovering around that Vault-Tec guy, mouth going a mile a minute. You'd be doing him a favour if you found her something else to do.” Nate smiled wickedly. “With her mouth? I'm sure I can think of something.” They laughed, and he saluted the two men vigorously, and sauntered away to find Piper. Sturges looked at Preston, raising an eyebrow. “He sure is in a good mood, huh? Almost feel bad for that girl.” Preston nodded, almost rolling his eyes. “He's... he thinks... he's got it into his head that I'm some sort of prude, all because there was a woman in Tenpines Bluff giving me the eye. And I wasn't interested.” Sturges leaned against the wall, close to Preston, dusting off the man's shoulder with one hand. “A prude, huh? And am I to take it you didn't tell him otherwise? You ashamed'a me or somethin'?” Preston shook his head, laying his hand on Sturges' broad waist. “Not at all, babe. It just didn't seem right to... lay it all bare like that, just to get him off my case. He's only teasing.” “Of course he is. I don't think you got anything to worry about with him, Preston. Saw him out back of the bar with that mercenary not two weeks past, and unless “hired gun” meant somethin' else pre-war, they were gettin' a lot closer than what I'd call professional.” Preston hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, you're probably right.” “No probably about it, sugar; he was on his knees in the mud, and that gunner boy ain't exactly quiet.” Preston blushed. “Oh. Well.” Sturges leaned close to his face, sweeping the lieutenant's hat back and drawing his thumb across Preston's cheek. “Can I get a little kiss now, or is that too much to ask?” Preston leaned forward, offering a chaste little peck on the corner of Sturges' mouth. He sighed, looking at Preston through raised eyebrows. Preston smiled and leaned in again, pressing their mouths together firmly, Sturges running a calloused hand around the back of Preston's neck and holding him tight. They pulled apart, and Sturges untucked a rag from his back pocket, wiped a smear of grease from Preston's chin. “See? Once you get past the oil, I ain't that bad.” “No, babe,” Preston shook his head, smiling softly, “you ain't.” * The night rolled in thick and fast, and Sturges curled next to Garvey's warmth, on the sofa inside their little room in the bunkhouse. The town was quiet, the lights out in most houses and the soft puttering of generators and turrets chirped through the air like stiff nocturnal birds. Sturges pushed a hand into the folds of his pocket, pulled out a little scrap of paper, examining it in the lamp light. He tugged a pencil out of the front of his overall and licked the tip, scribbling little check marks against a scrawled list, and Preston leaned his head against the mechanic's shoulder. “You just never rest, do you babe?” Sturges smiled, squeezing Preston close. “Can't, can I? Not when you work so damned hard all the time.” “Not much I can do about that, there's always someone who needs help.” Sturges shifted to face him. “It don't always have to be you that saves 'em, y'know. You ain't hardly around here anymore,” He feigned a little sob, “I been getting real lonely without you. “

Preston chuckled, kissing Sturges on the cheek. “I miss you too, y'know, but we've gotta keep going. The commonwealth isn't gonna fix itself.” Sturges sighed. “You're too damn good for this world.” He settled his hand on Preston's thigh, and let his own knees fall wide apart. “Maybe you could spend a little time fixin' me? I'm getting' kinda tired of being the...” he paused, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “...the handyman around here. Could use a second pair of hands.” “I can go one better, babe.” Preston laughed, sliding from the sofa, kneeling between Sturges' feet. * Sturges pressed his feet to the cold floor, wrapping his hands behind Preston's head and stroking the back of his neck, as the man pulled his mouth slowly up the length of Sturges' dick, sucking softly around the head and letting it slide from his mouth. Sturges shuddered, and Preston smiled, planting a little kiss on the inside of his thigh, climbing carefully onto his lap. Sturges whispered against his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “Goddamn it sugar, I'm a lucky man.” He pushed his hips forward, teasing with the head of his dick pressed up against Preston's ass. “And you're the most beautiful thing I ever saw.” Preston blushed, Sturges continued. “Beautiful, and talented, and brave to boot. Where'd I get off, hitting the jackpot huh?” He buried his face in Preston's neck, bright warmth against his lips as Preston blushed harder. “Tell me how pretty you are, sugar, and I'll give it to you.” “Babe, don't make-” “C'mon, I'm asking nicely. Be good for me huh? Tell me how pretty you are.” Preston laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, you think I'm pretty. There, let me have it.” He ground down on Sturges' dick, and the mechanic pulled his hips back. “N'aw, that doesn't count, come on,” he squeezed Preston's hips, “you gotta tell me like you mean it.” Preston rolled his eyes, and shuffled nervously, wrapping his arms around Sturges' neck. “Babe, this isn't fair.” Sturges shook his head. “Just tell me, and it's all yours.” Sturges pushed his hips forward to emphasise the point; Preston leaned his face on Sturges' shoulder, groaning, rocking his hips slowly. “Mmm, okay...” he whispered, “I'm... pretty.” “That's right sugar, now say it again.” His dick was hard against Preston's ass, and his hand stroked slowly along Preston's dick. “I'm... pretty.” he mouthed breathlessly, Sturges' hand rough and tight around his sensitive skin. “Keep goin', baby...” Sturges pushed up into him in a slow, fluid movement, arching his hips off the sofa and closing his eyes for a second. Preston was tight, and Sturges moved slowly. “...you're pretty on top of me.” Preston gasped – this wasn't gonna take long, the hard length of Sturges' cock pushing deep into his ass, the hand wrapped in his hair, the hot flush of embarrassment across his face and chest. “I'm.... pretty, on top of you.” he mumbled. “And you're pretty around my dick.” Preston blushed harder, Sturges found his rhythm, pleasure rolling through them both in a warm wave. “I'm pretty around your dick...” “And you're pretty with it in your mouth.” “I'm pretty with it in my mouth...” “And you're pretty with it in your ass.” “I'm pretty... unh- pretty with it... in... oh go...in my ass.” Sturges hand moved faster around Preston's dick, wet and warm and tugging him firmly, rough fingers tight below the head, and it felt good, oh, so good. His face was warm, and Sturges kissed the redness of his cheeks. “Oh, baby, does it feel good?” Preston nodded, quietly. "You're so pretty when you're blushing.” Preston laughed “Babe, c'mon, give me a break...” “Say it sugar. I wanna hear you say it.” Preston grit his teeth and screwed his eyes shut. “...I'm pretty when I'm blushing.” Sturges kissed him, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and pulling gently, sending nerves sparkling through Preston's body, then pressed his face back to Preston's neck, concentrating on his hips, bucking and thrusting into him, eager and close to the edge. “You're so pretty when you're getting fucked, darlin'.” “I'm pretty when I'm gett- unh, yeah – when I'm getting fucked. Oh, babe, right there!” His hands clasped hard on Sturges shoulders, Preston's guts clenched, the rolling, twitching pleasure in him building to a climax, his ass full and Sturges deep inside him,and his hand felt so, so good, wrapped so tight, and- and- “You gonna come, sugar? You know I like to watch you come for me.” His hips thrust up hard, Preston melting against his hot skin, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Sturges whispered. “You know you're just... so... pretty... when you...” Preston cried out, his orgasm breaking over him, Sturges voice in his ear, warm, white cum spilling across the mechanic's tight, rough hand, and he curled up, knees pressed under Sturges' shoulders. Sturges held him tight, cooing in his ear what a pretty, pretty sight he was, but didn't stop; steady, measure thrusts giving way to hitching, bucking curls of his hips, and Preston's soft, muffled, sounds in his ear, and the sticky, warm wetness of Preston's cum running slowly down onto his dick, and that was it, he slammed up into Preston and came undone, gritting his teeth, eyes closed, holding his breath, letting a little puff of air escape his mouth, holding Preston silently as he filled his ass with cum. He shuddered, and looked at Preston, their eyes meeting, soft and satisfied, still wrapped together. “Dammit, sugar, we don't gotta leave it so long next time.”

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fanfic #preston garvey #sturges #kinktober #Smut Season #I wrote this

[haledamage]

OC Interview: Liv Ramsey

a slightly more different interview with Liv XD @captainofthefallen​ open tagged and I didn’t need any much encouragement, so here you go. Gonna put most of it under a cut because it got really long. 

I want to do this with Kira, too, but I couldn’t decide which romance route, and since some of the answers would obviously be different depending, I decided not to. (if someone wants to reply to this and tell me which Bravo Boy you want to see Kira awkwardly pretend she isn’t attracted to, I’ll do this for her as well :))

Rules:

1. Choose an OC.

2. Answer as that OC.

3. Tag 5 people to do the same  I was gonna say I’m not tagging anyone, but I’m gonna actually tag @queen-scribbles​ for one of her Wayhaven Detectives because I love them :3

1. What is your name?

“Raphael.” She grins playfully, as sharp and bright as a blade. She’s fidgeting restlessly with what looks to be a 9mm bullet. You’re unsure if it’s meant to be a threat or if she just needs something to do with her hands. “Okay, not really. I’m Liv. Olivia Ramsey. Charmed, I’m sure.”

2. Do you know why are you named that?

“I don’t know for a fact that I am named that. It’s just what they called me, and I decided to keep it.” She slips the bullet into some hidden pocket in the simple, well-tailored black suit she’s wearing and leans back, picking absently at her chipped blood-red nail polish. “As for Raphael, that’s my rank. Like a callsign, you could say. Or a nickname. I’ve got pretty attached to it in the last month or so.”

3. Are you single or taken?

She scowls. “I never liked to phrase it that way. ‘Taken,’ like I’ve been kidnapped or somethin’.” She pauses, studying your face like she’s trying to figure out how much to tell you. “But I assume you’re askin’ if I’m in a relationship, and I guess I am. Sorta. I’m pretty sure.” 

She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh. “I am in love with a man who is also in love with me and that I sometimes share a bed with. That I share a lot of things with. He’s also technically my boss, and if anyone knew about it, they’d try to use me to get to him. I’d be tortured and killed and that’s if I’m lucky. So it’s, y’know, a bit complicated.”

She leans forward in her chair suddenly, all the kindness draining from her face. “This stays between us, right, sweetheart? I’m not gonna let you put Gabriel in any danger over this.” She sits back and just like that her smile is back. “And before you ask, no. I haven’t seen his face. Everyone always asks me that. It’s not safe yet. No tellin’ who else might be watching.” Her smile softens into something fond, almost sweet. “I can wait. He’s worth it.”

4. Have any abilities or powers?

“I’m a good sweet-talker. Good at gettin’ people to tell me things or makin’ ‘em listen. I prefer to do it with a smile, but,” she pauses, a shadow of something very dangerous in her pale eyes, “well, sometimes people are stubborn. I got other ways to make ‘em talk, too.”

“Besides that, I move fast, I can be real quiet when I need to… or real loud, if that’s what’s called for instead. Pretty good at patching up wounds. Less good at causing them, but hey, no one’s perfect.” She shrugs one shoulder.

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

She laughs, loud and joyful and maybe a little unhinged. “Oh, I fuckin’ wish. You know what’d I’d do if I had super powers and shit?” Her laughter quiets, but she keeps chuckling. “Maybe it’s better if you don’t.”

6. What’s your eye color?

“Blue. Not much to say about it, really. Lotsa people have blue eyes.”

7. How about your hair color?

She tugs on a strand of her long hair, currently falling loosely around her shoulders and down her back. “It’s red, right now. I change it sometimes, when the mood strikes, but I like red. I think only Mouse and Gabriel know my natural hair color, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.” She taps her index finger on her thigh, thinking. "Maybe Michael knows. I dunno how much Gabriel tells him. I don't think he'd really care about somethin’ like that. Bigger fish to fry and all."

8. Have any family members?

“I mean, I’ve got the Archangels. Beyond them, no. Don’t need anyone else.”

9. Oh? How about pets? 

She brightens suddenly. “I have a kitten! Her name’s Ruby. Here, I think I have a picture.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and scrolls through it for a moment before holding it out to you. On the screen is a picture of a kitten, about three or four months old, with fluffy gray fur and curious blue eyes. It seems to be laying on what looks like a black hockey mask. “Raquel’s probably still a little pissed at me for keeping her, but… well, it did kinda save her life.”

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now, tell me something you don’t like?

“I don’t like being shot at,” she says dryly, then she smirks. “I don’t like when people threaten my friends. If I had a dime for every time someone threatened to hurt Mouse in order to get me to talk, I could retire somewhere tropical.” She laughs to herself, one quick, amused ‘ha!’. “I’d like to see them try. He may be little, and quiet, but I don’t recommend underestimating him. It’ll be the last thing you ever do.” 

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

“I’m an artist. You’ve probably seen some of my work, if you’ve ever been to Manhattan. A couple of them were even done legally.” Her smile is warm, and there’s still laughter in her eyes. “I’m a painter. I mean, when I have time. I got lots of sketchbooks I fill up when I don’t have the time to put things on canvas or concrete. I’m also a pretty good chess player.” Her smile turns a little wicked. “Ask Rook how good I am at it. I wonder if he’s still sore about losin’ to me. I don’t think Bishop’s ever gonna let him live it down.”

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

“Are you kidding me?” She laughs. “I have hurt people in any way you can imagine and several ways you probably can’t. I don’t like to do it… well, just between you and me, sometimes I do like it.” She straightens the light blue tie she wears. “But either way, it’s part of the job. And I'm very good at my job.”

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

“Oh yeah. Plenty of them.” She shrugs, like she’s not bothered at all by it, but she won’t quite meet your eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, they were bad people. Probably. Most of them were, at least.” She smiles warmly at you, the tension in her expression gone like it was never there. “Don’t worry, we don’t kill innocents or civilians. Even nosy ones.”

14. What kind of animal are you?

“I dunno. Probably like a coyote or somethin’. One of those animals that can survive in almost any environment. The ones that stubbornly refuse to die.”

15. Name your worst habits?

“I run off at the mouth, especially if I’m scared or hurt or nervous. Not, like--” she pauses, as if looking for the right words “I don’t give away information or anything like that. I’m not a snitch. I just… I’m a bit of a smartass, and a bit of a flirt, and in situations where I should probably not be talking, I’m doin’ one of those instead. Michael says it’ll get me killed one day. Sometimes he says he’ll be the one to do it.” She grins. “He doesn’t mean it. He adores me. Don’t let him tell you different.”

She slouches back in her chair, crossing her legs at the knee. “Besides that, I can’t sit still worth shit and I always forget to do the dishes. Also, don’t hand me any important paperwork because I will draw on it.”

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“Nope. Never really had anyone to look up to. Well, maybe…” she pauses, her eyes distant. “Maybe Kaidan. Never had anyone take a chance on me before he did. He’s the reason I’m here now. The reason I’m an Archangel. He’s kinda my… mentor, in a way.” She smiles to herself. “Him and Gabriel. But I can’t exactly say I look up to Gabriel, y’know? That gets into weird territories, when you consider my relationship with him.” 

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

“Are those my only choices? ‘Cause those are not the only sexual orientations out there, sweetheart. I’m pansexual.” She spreads her arms out in an inviting way. “I’m an equal opportunity gal.” 

18. Did you attend school?

“Sure. New York public schools. I even graduated. For Mouse, more than for myself. If I dropped out, he woulda done so too, and I didn’t want to drag him down with me.” She looks down, sadness in her eyes for a moment. “Guess I did anyway. Some best friend I turned out to be.” 

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“I don’t really care one way or the other about marriage, but if I ever have kids they’ll be adopted. I wanna give some kid the kind of home, the kind of family, that I never got to have. Unconditional and all that shit.”

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

“Obviously.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder dramatically, then laughs. “Nah. If people know who I am, I’m not doin’ my job right, and if people are out there bein’ fans of the Archangels, then it’s Michael and Gabriel they’re swooning over, not Raphael.”

21. What are you most afraid of? 

Her face goes abruptly blank and cold. “Being abandoned. Being alone. I’ve been there before… before Mouse, before the Archangels. I’ll burn this whole fuckin’ city to the ground if that’s what it takes to keep them safe. I’m not ever going back to that. Not ever.”

22. What do you usually wear?

“Usually?” She looks down at herself. “Oh, you’re askin’ about the suit! It’s standard Archangel uniform. Black suit, blue tie, mask.” She pulls a hockey mask out of the inside pocket of her suit jacket. It’s black and has what appears to be a cascade of red roses down the right side of it. “You like it? I designed it myself.”

She puts the mask back away. “When I’m not working, I like layers. Tank tops and flannel shirts and leather jackets. Skinny jeans or leggings or skirts and tights. Dresses short enough to stop traffic. Red and pink and yellow and black. A bit of Archangel blue sometimes, too, these days.” She tugs on her light blue tie again. “Rook told me I looked like a ‘punk rock supermodel’ once. Nicest thing he’s ever said to me.”

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

“Gabriel bakes the best fuckin’ cookies you will ever eat. There is a small chance I fell for those cookies before I fell for him.”

24. Am I annoying you?

She waves a dismissive hand. “Nah. I’ll take any excuse to talk about myself.”

25. Well, it’s still not over!

She smiles that knife-sharp grin again and runs her tongue over her bottom lip. “So when do I get to ask you questions, sweetheart? I’ll make it worth your time.” 

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

She tilts her head to one side thoughtfully. “Y’know, I have no fuckin’ idea. I live in a pretty swanky apartment right now, but I don’t own it. I have a decent amount of money squirreled away, but most of it’s stolen. All of the above, I guess. I’m a homeless kid who lives in the penthouse suite.”

27. How many friends do you have?

She stops to think for a second. “Fourteen.” She looks surprised and clearly is counting them again in her head. “Wow. Fourteen. Huh. You know, two months ago the answer to that question was ‘one.’ Even if we’re just talking close friends, the answer’s still eight. I’m not… I got no idea what to say to that.”

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

“I prefer cake, but I don’t mind pie either. Just don’t ask me to bake one. And if I do, I don’t recommend you eat it.”

29. Favorite drink?

“Tea with milk and sugar. Pretty sure it’s Mouse’s fault. That’s how it works, right? Blame your tea-drinking habits on your British friends.” She laughs lightly. “I’ve got too many fuckin’ British friends.”

30. What’s your favorite place?

“I like Father Murdock’s. I like the juxtaposition of it all. Church upstairs, black market downstairs. Nuns carrying AKs. It’s just ridiculous enough that it almost doesn’t seem real.” She sighs and her smile slips a little. “Favorite place used to be the Mill, but I guess we can’t go back there now. Gotta find a new base of operations.”

31. Are you interested in anyone?

“Why, you hopin' you got a shot?” She looks you over slowly, a playful smirk spreading across her face. “I mean, you've already asked me if I was 'taken'. Since I am, it obviously means I'm interested in someone. Or are you asking if I'm interested in someone else?” 

She stops to really think about it. “These days, I'm surrounded by a lot of gorgeous, interesting people. People that, in a different situation, I’d probably be real interested in. But if Gabriel's in the room, the rest of the world may as well not exist. He’s magnetic. It doesn’t make sense for a man to be so goddamn attractive when the only part of him not covered is his eyes and even that’s only sometimes, but I know I’m not the only one drawn to him. I’m just the lucky one.” She chuckles, and that fond smile is back, the same one she wore last time she spoke about Gabriel. “I always thought that 'I only have eyes for you' thing was a bit sappy, but damn if it isn't true.”

32. That was a stupid question…

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” She waves it off like she’s already forgotten about it, then smirks at you again. “If you’re actually interested, though, I got a few friends I could introduce you to. We can talk about it later.”

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“Ugh. I hate swimming. I’m not really a, uh, outdoorsy type.” She taps a fingernail against her bottom lip, thinking. “I guess a lake, if I had to choose. Less sharks and shit.”

34. What’s your type?

“You sure are askin’ a lot of questions about my love life, sweetheart. I guess it’s lucky for you that you caught me at a time I actually have one.” She chuckles and sits back in her chair, staring at the ceiling while she thinks. 

She’s quiet for a long moment, then leans forward suddenly, her pale blue eyes intense. “You know what’s the most attractive thing a person can have, regardless of gender? Competence. There is nothing sexier than someone who knows their shit and does it well. That confidence someone has when they’re really good at something and they know it.”

She sits back again, some of that intensity draining away. “I’ve never had anything specific physically that draws my attention. Lucky for Gabriel, I guess, since I was already long in love with him before I really saw any of him. He’s got real good shoulders, though, y’know? Broad. Strong. Stubborn.” She laughs at the last one.

35. Any fetishes?

“Dunno. Most of my sexual experience has been pretty vanilla so far. Might be fun to find out.”

36. Camping or outdoors?

“No thanks. I did enough sleepin’ outside when I was homeless for a few months. No way in hell I'm sleeping outside on purpose. I’d prefer a roof over my head, if it’s all the same to you.”

She waits for you to ask another question, but when you don’t she just nods. “All right, good talk. This was fun.” She stands from her chair and straightens out her suit, then offers you a hand to shake. Her handshake is strong and confident, her skin warm. “You need to find me again, go see Father Murdock. Tell Greg you’re lookin’ for Raphael. He knows how to get in touch.” She walks away, steps fast and purposeful and almost silent, and you follow her outside.

She pulls a black ski mask out of her pocket and puts it on, covering her face except for her eyes and mouth and tucking her hair underneath it, then pulls that hockey mask out again and puts it on over it. She takes out a pair of black leather gloves and pulls them on too. When she looks back at you, there’s no sign of the woman underneath except for the pale blue eyes; if you hadn’t just been talking with her, you’re not sure you’d even know she was a woman, the suit and masks erasing any signs of personality or identity.

She waves jovially. “If I were you, I’d find someplace to lay low for a little while,” she says, and even her voice is different: colder, harder, her slight New York accent gone like it had never been there. “It’s not safe around here at this time of day. All kinds of dangerous people around.”

As if on cue, a black SUV pulls up nearby. The passenger-side front window rolls down and the back door opens. Inside, there are four other people wearing the same black suit and blue tie, their faces all covered by hockey masks. There seems to be no theme or color scheme among the masks. You wonder if any of them are the Gabriel that she spoke so highly of.

“Heya, boss,” a friendly, Welsh-accented voice calls from the front passenger seat. “You get what ya needed?”

Liv doesn’t reply, instead just pulling herself smoothly into the open seat in the back next to one very large man in body armor with a shotgun in his lap and one very small man with an open laptop in his. They both nod at her as she sits down, and she puts a friendly hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. He must be Mouse, you assume.

The driver calls out to you, and he also has a Welsh accent. “Might be best to forget you ever saw us.”

“And ya best hope you never see us again,” says the front passenger. Her accent and cadence of speaking are so similar to the driver’s you’re pretty sure they’re related.

Liv nods to you once more, then closes her door. You see the large man hand her what you’re pretty sure is some type of submachine gun. The driver gives you a jaunty salute and then they drive away. 

You stare into the space where the SUV had been for a long moment. You should probably ask your boss for a raise; there’s no way you’re getting paid enough to interview Archangels.

#olivia ramsey #I ended up with a little bit of a fic at the end just because I like the idea of this being a Real Interview #with one of the most dangerous people in a vigilante crime syndicate #where you just casually ask her about her relationship with the Archangel's second in command #who may ACTUALLY be the most dangerous person in the city if not the country and maybe even surrounding countries #like the 3rd street saints in SRTT level of PR #(none of the people in the car were Gabriel btw in case anyone's curious) #(it's Mouse Kaz Anna and Charlie because that's Liv's crew) #also everyone should go play breach: the archangel job so I have people to talk about it with

[definitely-not-an-alb]

Under this cut are 1,4k worth of tumblr!fic based on @beatrice-otter‘s If Peter Grew Up In The Folly AU that started with a single addition about how Peter being a nerdy teen around the Folly would have influenced/modernized it earlier. Only very slightly edited (because I’m drunk and it’s late).

Peter bullies Nightingale into buying a home computer ‘for work’ when he’s still a teen (‘Why can’t you use the ones at the library like everyone else?’ - Peter, taking a deep breath before launching into his prepared 10 point argumentation in favor of modernizing and digitizing the Folly - ‘No, of course I won’t put it on the web, I’ll put it on these disc. Yes there’s a diff- look. Once I’m done transcribing these, you can just put in one of these discs and key-word search whatever you need.)

Thus, ironically, and thanks to one overly nerdy teen living in the station, the Folly becomes the most technologically advanced department of the Met for a short time

(Postmartin doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be delighted or horrified, but Peter seems to know what he’s doing there, security wise, and he wouldn’t want to dampen the youth’s enthusiasm about archivism)

Turns out, Data Input doesn’t bother Peter after all, as long as it’s something he cares about, like architecture, or magic. Even if he keeps getting into forum fights with that one other guy working on the ‘Victorian Architecture’ entry. Historical brick making details aren’t extraneous!

Thomas’s not at all sure about this whole World Wide Web-Thing, especially after he had to comfort Peter over that ‘crowd sourced’ (whatever that means) encyclopedia … thing the boy likes to work on because Peter didn’t want to tell his mum someone put up an internet page full of what basically amounts to lies about her and his dad

‘It just makes me so angry, you know, because I could change it - I should change it, really, because it’s all wrong what it’s saying, but i can’t -’

He really should have seen all of this coming, then

‘How did you break a Nokia?’, Peter asks him, the first time it happens, as if brands and manufacture tell Thomas anything about how possible or impossible a feat that is. ‘Give it here, I might be able to fix it - but you did charge it this time? - How the hell did you get sand in there?’

There’s a certain relief in having Rose back him up on the ‘No Magic (At All) Before You’re Old Enough To Drink’-Rule, because Thomas knows from experience Peter doesn’t listen to him. Ever.

So Peter ropes him into his magical experiments involving proper protocols and the old lab equipment and an army of tiny calculators.

Peter’s A-levels are better in this AU, but maybe he still can’t draw, or he’s good, but not quite good enough (Uni waiting lists were invented by the devil) so he spends a year of so actually employed by the Folly as an ‘Independent Data Management Contractor’ or something ridiculous like that.

Also he might be seriously reconsidering that whole Architecture-thing. He might have prepared his application for Hendon already, actually.

‘You wanted to be an architect since you were six, Peter. Six.’ - ‘I also told you I want to be a wizard. Let me be your apprentice. Please.’

Thomas doesn’t know how to explain that what Peter was thinking of when he was six isn’t what being a wizard is, and that whatever he’s thinking of now isn’t it either. Never will be.

He tries to explain that it isn’t up to him, but to the commissioner, and that he’s doing just fine on his own.

‘Well, accidents happen?’, Peter says ‘What does the Met do when you’re not there for once?’, and Thomas can’t tell him how much he worries about that too. ‘And you’ve been working more! You said I shouldn’t try to learn because it’s all going away anyways, and now you’re working so much more then you used too.’

Thomas wants to argue that’s not true, but Peter made a graph. And what is he supposed to say when faced with that thick red ‘Number of Major Falcon Incidents per year’ line curving upwards sharply, it’s prognosis well on it’s way to a number last reached before the war.

‘It’s still not up to me.’, he says, somewhat helplessly, and with a sigh, ‘Are you sure?’

Thomas, remembering all those evenings spent reading out loud (because, damn him, he still thinks that’s a family bonding activity for all ages) of watchmen and selfish witches and truth, justice, freedom, reasonably priced love and a hard boiled egg, thinks that he really, really should have seen this coming.

So Peter spends a frustrating week or two desperately trying to create a werelight - Thomas will be damned if he lets him join up without ever proving that he’s not the rare case of absolute incompetency. But he succeeds (impressivly fast, even thought Thomas would never tell him that).

Also, turns out Peter hadn’t told Rose about his decision before already making Thomas say yes. There will be words, about that.

For now, he has two years to convince the Commissioner and the Homeoffice. He takes Peter’s charts with him.

There’s accusations of nepotism, never officially, of course, but Peter makes a game out of how many pints it takes until someone asks him if he’s really the weirdo DCI’s bastard or some such. He’d think it would pass around that he’s not, but alas, no such luck. He figures it’s the least annoying thing people can pester him about, in the end.

Peter’s not yet 22 when Thomas has to take him to the Commissioner for his pledge, and for a second there when Peter stumbles about the cloth-part (they practiced, of course, but he still always does) Thomas can’t help but think how painfully young Peter still looks to him.

Peter isn’t his boy, of course, never will be, and Thomas knows Rose made sure he knew about his dad, knew what really happened, but still he can’t shake the feeling -

He’d been scared Peter wouldn’t be up to this, but now he’s more worried he won’t be.

But Peter takes well to magic, and surprisingly even better to policing - maybe not in the way he or Neblett would like, but certainly in the way he’d scribbled a thin blue line for ‘Reported Minor Intracommunity Conflicts - DemiMonde’ into his charts and graphs from the beginning. He gets along with the Rivers, most of them, and with the Other generally in a way Thomas never could

(never, he has to admit to himself with some shame, cared too. He’d like to say Peter is just young enough, new enough to fly under their radars, but he has to admit, that’s not it. And he certainly didn’t expect this, with Peter’s history. He finds he’s glad it didn’t turn out differently.)

And when they are standing for the first time together on a deadly quiet doorstep there’s little apprehension in Peter, past the obvious tension appropriate to the occasion. And whatever there is in his eyes when Thomas hands him the phosphorous grenade, it’s not anything Thomas has to be worried about.

He’s more relieved, that evening then he’d like to admit.

Then there’s that shout, the big one. They’d had ‘big ones’ before, Major Incidents, but in retrospect, Thomas has to admit (shamefully, again, always shamefully) that he should have seen that this one was different. And the number it did on Peter. He definitely should have seen that.

But in the beginning, it’s just Abdul with a body for Peter to look over (’Yappy Dog’, he tells Thomas on the phone while heading from the morgue to the plaza. ‘One hell of a supernatural yappy dog’) and a maybe magical portico beheading and an interview with a talkative, surprisingly autonomous ghost, that pegs who exactly Peter is halfway through the conversation and starts to clamp up.

Just as well, seeing as there’s a scrappy PC yelling ‘Oi, what do you think you’re doing? This is a crime scene!’ at him while marching full speed across the plaza.

PC Lesley May is the kind of gal he’d probably be best friends with had they come up together. ‘I asked Neblett about her, says she’s a great copper. Incredibly perky.’ - ‘Oh, I’m sure she is’, says Thomas when Peter tells him about her later that week over kebab, making him sputter. ‘No that’s not - not like that! I mean everyone’s saying she’s going places, you know.’ - ‘You think so, too?’ - ‘I guess? Doesn’t matter, really, she wouldn’t recognize magic if it smacked her in the face, and Seawoll already called dips on her, apparently. Had her assigned to his murder team, and so I thought we might make her our liaison.’

‘And the case?’ - ‘Yeah.’, Peter says. ‘Definitely one of ours.’

#rivers of london #my fic #tumblr fic