#that we have been asking for the same fucking things for the last fifty years. they've had time. no more excuses

[umanta]

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, S3E12 Past Tense, Part II

this episode is about an anti-governmental revolution in 2024 btw. just in case anyone was looking for ideas

#star trek ds9 #ds9 #ds9 past tense #benjamin sisko #remember when they say it takes time for change #that we have been asking for the same fucking things for the last fifty years. they've had time. no more excuses #also for those of yall who haven't watched the episode -- its a stall tactic to send the swat teams in

[krashoutluv]

Arkham Knight Relationship HCS !! <3

( light nsfw, mostly SFW tho!! )

literally my wife ( i made this pic idc abt creds i just wanna talk abt it)

SFW !! <3

dying on this hill when i say basically any red hood would be soo yummy with a civilian or just someone who is extremely balanced.

im a red hood needs more fucking normalcy in his life TRUTHER.

relationship starts off slow, romantic and platonic, you need to be patient with him long enough for him to get over his mental dilemmas to feel ANY-TYPE of way towards you.

more then like 6 months lets be real yall

his way of bonding is quality time. ill die on this hill, especially at the start of the relationship. Nothing huge maybe just spending a couple extra minutes around you before leaving.

next is probably gift giving, esp with early relations, probably just gonna order you food or put fifty bucks on your countertop. you dont even notice until you realize you find a fifty around the last place he was standing. expect deliveries from R.H whenever he feels bad for something.

doesn't like being around for too long, feels like he's messing up something. ruining your day by keeping you up late (he was there for fifteen minutes), ruining your mood, (there was an awkward silence for like 30 seconds.)

not a overly conscious thought process though, he feels physically he isn’t supposed to be there. for whatever subconscious thing he picked up on, a awkward silence, or hes been there 15 minutes too long or something

well sometimes he'll mentally beat himself up.

he spirals a lot, needs someone to pull him out of that.

i think when he needs to be grounded, its not just comfort its making him feel alive in the present moment. he's never gonna truly forget about his traumas but maybe for just an hour or two; running around an arcade, walking around the city. just making him feel normal, yeah you BAGGED his ass quick.

he needs someone patient, really patient, someone whos very attentive and empathetic. (but not a complete push- over def needs someone to set him in line still)

i think if you move to quickly, he'll get super snappy and ghosting you,, ong put ur hands on him too early and he's left hooking you.

yeah you're waking up and the first thing your hearing is "Its been 12 years..."

second thing you hear is "you've been in a coma for.. 12 years."

third thing you're hearing is, " we think a bus hit you...”

obviously not touchy, even when he is settling down. hes just not sure how to .. or where to .. or why he wants too.

please his mental gymnastics get so crazy, just sit down with him and put on some silly ass movie so he stops

when he’s settled he cant pry himself off you though.

a lot of his expressions can definitely be told by his body language, naturally hes tense but theres certain habits he has when he's maybe thinking too much, or fustrated/irritated.

but he does all of the same for you, comfort, love, as much as he can he tries

Very attentive, has a mental list of 'shit you do when somethings wrong' or 'shit you like.'

doesn't consciously make any of these mental list, he just knows.

"didnt they say they liked this?" He pauses "shit ill just leave it at their window."

so he's like canonically smart as shit.

you have too much work from your boss or professor? hand it over its done in less then two hours.

literally buys you groceries and pays your bills (fucking lover boy.)

arkham knight finally figuring out how to ask for a hug (hes been dead silent for 5 minutes) (link) <— insta reel

HES A CHEM/HISTORY NERD FOR SURE

NSFW !! <3

probably- A FUCKING VIRGIN !! HES A NERD !! GETS AWKARD AS SHIT. WITH RAGING COMMITMENT AND TRUST ISSUES !! (will still die4you tho)

AGAIN, not in a "my soft squishe potato always been scared of sex" way but in a ‘oh my god hes so unsocialized’ way.

yall ever see a big ass dog just..standing.. literally him (hes dissociating)

genuinely dont believe that when he was arkham/training to be, he was sexually or romantically involved with anyone. the last thing that was on his mind was actually pursuing a sexual or romantic relationship.

along with his trauma, he just wasn’t comfortable with any of that.

ghosted so many people..

couldn’t flirt for more then five minutes, just stopped feeling it or got uncomfortable .

I AM ANTI ARKHAM KNIGHT BEING A SEX GOD

not that he’s horribly awkward, but he’s noticeably a bit more quiet for first times.

ofc this man has watched porn n’ shit but hes smart enough to know thats not what its really like.

he’ll still figure it, what makes you tic, what you love, what makes you most comfortable.

kinda shitty at dirty talk, just makes him buffer.

he gets better at it tho, too damn good

gets so snarky and confident about it too uuhgrr

late relationships hes smirking and chatting your ears off cause you know hes gettin you turnt.

he has a love-hate relationship with his scars. 95% they remind him of his past, but 5% hes alright with them because they’ve shown what hes been through.

deep, deep, deep, deep, deep down, he knows hes fine as fuck. TRUST YALL.

again, super observant and attentive. really pays attention to what you enjoy.

I genuinely don’t believe hes into super hardcore/painful kinks or anything.

Sex for him is definitely a way of showing his trust and intimacy with someone!! Let him show you how much he loves you and how much he wants to make you feel good! Do the same to him !!

mmm tell him how good hes doing and hes a absolute mess!!

praise him! PRAISE HIM *im yelling from the hospital bed im strapped down on*

wouldn’t let you ride for awhile, but once he’s comfortable with it ,, he’s actually obsessed.

cant see him bottoming , just wouldn’t be comfortable with it

my brain is getting messy so im stopping here! feedback and comments would be cool if you wanna drop some!

#jason todd #jason peter todd #jason todd x reader #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight #arkham knight smut #jason todd smut #jason todd headcanon #arkham knight headcanon #jason todd hc #red hood x reader #red hood smut

[romanoffsbish]

Don’t Worry, I’ve Got You

GN!OC (Rio) x F!R

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request | Natasha had planned to sweep you off your feet when she returned from her mission. But it seemed someone else had beat her to the punch… | WC: 5,144

Warning: Domestic Violence - Abusive OC | Mentions of Sexual Coercion | Petrified R | Violence - Blood - Gory OC Death | Happy Ending 😀

Smut: Somno (Consented)-Oral (R) | Tribbing | Overstimulation | Sweet/Soft | Mommy (N)

When Natasha exited the Quinjet she was in a state of disbelief to find Yelena stood there. It'd been a year since she'd been home, and it wasn't the compound she looked to, it was you. Not only was it strange that you were missing, but Yelena being there was truly worrisome.

The sisters loved each other endlessly, but they never wanted to seem vulnerable enough to the others by showing their concern outwardly. For you and Kate though, they'd always be there, and in turn the two of you'd always show too.

"Where's Y/N?" Natasha couldn't hide the fear in her voice, but her face remained neutral.

——

Yelena cringed at the mention of you, it didn't take a rocket science to know what happened.

The blonde wanted to help you the first time she saw you with a busted lip, and a bloodshot eye that wasn't simply from crying. Then you flashed her a nervous smile, and she knew that she would only make it worse. You were oddly attached to this asshole—she understood.

Not to say she didn't help in her own ways, she was fond of you, not the same way as her sister, but enough to want to protect you. There was a very specific reason Rio was sent on an influx of lengthy missions this year by his CO, Yelena, (and it wasn't the hopeful rank bumping).

As a former widow she knew that being under another's control is something you become conditioned to respect over time. Sometimes you're even to the point of defending your abuser, for her they doubled as her captors, she reasons it's the same for you in this case, but regardless the reaction all worked the same.

You wouldn't leave unless you felt safe, and you wouldn't feel that way until Natasha returned.

Which is why Yelena is here now. "Natasha, we need to talk yesterday, fuck the reports." The blonde knew the walls had eyes and ears so she pulled her confused sister off to her bike, then drove her fifty miles out to a quaint diner just far enough from the city that Natasha wouldn't sprint back to immediately avenge you.

It was the right thing to do, she didn't want you to see just how scary Natasha could be. The last thing you needed was to be startled into seeing any part of them inside of your Natasha.

"I'm going to kill them!" Yelena smirked over her stolen coffee mug as they'd moved to the dead fields just to the left of the rest top. The circumstances weren't amusing, but seeing that her sister shared her sentiments elated her.

"This is funny to you?" Natasha questioned, her fist shot out at the blonde with the quick reflexes, landing in her open hand. "Why didn't you help her Yelena? Sh-she was my..."

"Lyubov'," Yelena quietly finished for her, she dropped her fist and wrapped her arms around her trembling body. "I never got to tell her what it meant, she always asked, but just as I was about to tell her I had to go. I never..."

"No!" Yelena reprimanded her, "You are not to blame here Natalia. Neither am I. If I helped her alone it would have been worse. Doveryat'."

(Trust)

Natasha nodded, and for a few minutes they stood there, Yelena thinking over what weapon she will use on Rio, and Natasha mourning through sobs the loss of your perfect start.

Everything in both of your lives had been deeply rooted in pain, and now this would be too. Natasha dreamed of more, she wanted the silly first date where she fumbled over her words, that came with the reward of a kiss.

She wanted to enter into a relationship with that period where you dressed up for each other to go out on the town that slowly faded into lazy nights in wearing matching pajamas.

Natasha adored you wholly, and wanted to make every little thing as special as she could. Up until she left she had already been doing so, but still she feels like she failed you. Maybe if she had just staked her claim more outwardly then Rio would've never taken you as theirs.

They would have never been able to hurt you...

Deep down she knew all was not lost, and she could make it right with you. Natasha also knew Yelena was right, it wasn't her fault, but that didn't mean she didn't carry the burden.

All she ever wanted was to keep you safe, and this failed instance will forever haunt her.

"Go pay the bill, I need to make a call." Natasha handed over her card, and as Yelena walked away she dialed in a favor, "Afternoon Hill."

With an urgent need for reaching you the redhead had swiped her sister's keys, and drove them back with a practiced elegance in her every illegal swerve. Yelena grumbled about the likely wear and tear, but there was no genuine anger with her concern, and the redhead couldn't hear her over the racing of her nervous heart, or the harsh wind anyways.

Every second counted, she couldn't risk letting Rio do anything further to you, and she worried that her return might've sparked something in the devious agents voided chest.

"Meet me at the underground cells in an hour," she coldly said to her sister as she tossed her the keys to her bike before she sprinted off. The rooms were spinning when she ran through the compound doors, and it continued to do so until she finally managed to spot you.

You were sitting with your back to the entrance of the communal kitchen, your frame hunched over and your body was lightly shaking. It was clear as day to her that you were sobbing, even if you tried to muffle the sound with your hand.

Natasha wasted no time approaching you, and in her hurry she failed to announce herself. It broke her heart when you jumped away from her touch and skidded across the kitchen.

"I-I'm sorry, I promise I will never mention her again, but please don't —," you cut your shaky pleas off the moment you looked up to see it was a frowning Natasha and not a seething Rio.

Natasha saw the exhaustion in your cloudy eyes, and the rest was painted on your face. Your worry lines were more prominent from when she last saw you, and you looked small. You were once a strong, well built agent at the top of her game, with a ranking higher than her own, but now you looked like a weak prisoner.

There was a scabbed over gash of sorts on the apple of your right cheek, and scratches and bruises all over your upper arms that you tried to conceal with your sleeves but she saw them. The eyes of a spy were a curse just as much as they were a skill to the woman. Because seeing your skin marred broke down her resolve.

"D-don't cry Natty," you yourself said over a sniffle, she smiled sadly as she approached to give you the comfort you were trying to offer.

You whimpered as her strong arms wrapped around your tense shoulders, but your entire body couldn't help but to relax as you smelled the familiar floral scents of her cologne. It was like the world returned to normal for just a moment. All you needed was her touch and suddenly the tears were flowing unendingly.

"It's okay moya lyubov'," she coo'd, and you whimpered once more hearing the familiar words that always brought you comfort. You held onto her shirt beneath her leather jacket for dear life, and she gently swayed your form as you freely sobbed. "You're safe now."

Natasha grinned over your shoulder as her eyes met those of your sleazy partners. Rio's fists were clenched as they stood outside the room, their gaze held contempt as they scowled. They hadn't a chance to interrupt your moment as Maria stopped them in their tracks, and swept them away—if only they'd known of their fate...

"I am here," she whispered, "They are not."

It didn't matter that you knew what her words meant, the meaning was clear; Rio was gone, and you were nothing short of relieved.

Natasha watched as you removed the ring on your finger and dropped it onto the counter in a hurry as if touching the metal harmed you. It was self motivated, but it still left her hopeful to see you denounce them before her own eyes.

The redhead wordlessly pulled you out of the kitchen and you ignored the smell of Rio's musty cologne as Natasha took you straight to her bedroom, a place where you always found yourself sneaking off to when they were out.

While you sat on her bed silently pondering the fact that you were free from this last years terror she ran you a soothing bubble bath. It helped to ease the remaining tension in your body, the warmth of the lavender water helped to soothe the marks atop of your battered body.

Natasha did her best to respect your privacy, giving you her room as she stood outside of the door until you came to collect her. The redhead beamed as you cracked the door and beckoned her inside, seeing you wearing her clothes filled her with a sense of pride, it made her want to remember the way you looked in this moment.

"What can I do to make you feel better?" You smiled softly, and silently nodded towards the bed, she nodded her understanding and laid down with her arms wide open for you to crawl into like you'd always done in the before times.

"I missed you," you croaked, and she pressed her chapped lips against your temple, leaving a firm kiss against the skin and for a moment the persistent ache in your head from the earlier scuffle with your spouse seemed to fade away under the soft affection of your desired lover.

"I missed you too Y/N/N," she sighed, her arms gently tightened around you in emphasis. "Every day I found it harder and harder to stay away. I'm so sorry I was gone for so long, and.."

You shook your head and kissed the side of her neck as your lips were rested there. "Don't."

The redhead sighed, and relented on pushing you beyond your limits. Even if she felt sorry, she still should keep that to herself. It's unfair to ask of your forgiveness, when you were the one who had to endure the cruelty of another. All she was meant to do now was hold you close, and never let this ever happen again.

Once you'd slipped into a state of unconscious that had you snoring the redhead cautiously shimmied out from beneath you. She hated taking the comfort of her embrace away from you, but she had somewhere to be in ten. So with a final kiss to your cheek she left the room, securely locking her door as she did.

"Sestra, welcome to the party!!!" Yelena greeted her sister, "You are just in time."

Natasha took the brass knuckles from her sister's extended hand with a smirk, but before using them she decided to punch Rio square in the nose with nothing but her bare hand. A reminder to the crooked agent that she didn't need anything more to harm them efficiently.

Blood gushed from the asshole's nose and the sisters rejoiced when the pitiful excuse for an agent began to cry. "Seriously? Already crying? What a joke." Natasha snorted at her little sisters taunting, then she turned her malicious attention back to your sobbing ex. "Too bad you're not the funny kind. Just the pathetic."

Rio knew better than to plead for their life. Maria escorted them here and handcuffed them to a chair. Yelena menacingly stood watch over them before Natasha entered. It was clear to the criminal of the hour that their fate was sealed the moment they took your hand in theirs and abused your loving nature.

"Snyat' s nikh naruchniki," Natasha dryly said as she slid the brass knuckles over her fingers.

(Uncuff them)

Yelena obliged her sister, and with unnecessary but warranted strength she shoved them from the chair. "Wh-what's happening? Can I go?"

Natasha chuckled darkly, "Oh please, you are simply being granted a chance to try and throw one of your little punches at me. Show me the inexcusable power you used against her."

Rio smirked, then lunged at the redhead with a confidence they were sure to lose in seconds. Natasha cackled as they punched her nose just as she did theirs with literally no damage done.

"God damnit you're fucking weak!" She cackled as they stumbled back in shock, looking at their fist in confusion as if it betrayed them. "You're going to regret ever laying a hand on her!!"

A taunting smile adorned their face as they challenged Natasha with a tilt of their head. If they were going to die anyways, they decided it would be best to torment her back. "Not only did I smack her around, but I gave her my —."

Natasha socked them in the jaw, cutting their disgusting words off at the source. Only cries of pain left them as the bronze over her knuckles had effectively broken their jaw into sections. Blood mixed with their drool and dripped down their chin along with a chunk of their tongue, and that made Natasha smile wickedly.

Yelena watched with a glint in her eyes as her sister tossed the buff excuse for a human being around as if they were a weightless rag doll.

"Pozvol' mne povernut'!" Yelena eventually whined, and Natasha scoffed, "Imet' eto."

(Let me have a turn / Have at it)

While the blonde tormented Rio with her sharpened knife Natasha chose to discard her weapon and stared at the blood on her hands. Observing as it dripped onto the cold cement of the cell floor, staining it red; her ledger gushed. 

"Natalia!" Natasha shook her head free of the distraction of her dark, self destructive thoughts, and looked up to see a bloodied Rio on their knees, body swaying as they fought to keep their loose grip on consciousness. It was time to deliver the final metaphorical blow.

"Y/N's mine," Natasha growled while holding their disfigured jaw in her hands, her nails dug into their raw skin and they hardly winced as the life force left within them was dwindling. "She was never going to be yours, because she loved me, and she was far too good for you."

"Fut yuh," they spat incoherently, and Natasha grimaced as their blood spluttered onto her face. "I'd bless you, but we both know you're not going to make it to heaven," she teased, smile mocking as her hand lowered to wrap around their neck. Her stony glare of the black widow was the last thing the abuser saw before their lights officially went out. Yelena looked at her, and Natasha smiled weakly at her sister.

"Ready for cleanup," she muttered tiredly into the speaker of her phone, then left the room as fast as she could. The weight of the situation had finally gotten to her, the realization that she could have lost you to that weak fool had her crying the whole way back to her room.

She heard shuffling, so she stood with her head pressed against her door until her breathing regulated, and the tears had come to a stop. Only then did she enter her room, and headed straight for the bathroom to take a shower.

You were flat on your back now, your midriff exposed as the shirt you wore rose up and the plush blanket she left was kicked off the bed. Natasha admired you fondly as she walked out with her towel wrapped around her nude form.

When you finally awoke she was drying her hair in front of her body length mirror, she now wore a pair of biker shorts, and a sports bra. The sight of her flexed abs, and swell of her perfect breasts through the mirror made your mouth even dryer than the amazing sleep had.

The redhead turned around with a soft smirk on her lips, the teasing gesture was however overwhelmed by the distant look in her eyes. She watched guiltily as your eyes filled with recognition when you saw her purple hands.

"Natty?" The redhead sighed softly, "Don't." You nodded in understanding, and patted the bed besides you, and she stalled briefly as she walked into the closet to grab her shirt, as well as her favorite leather jacket for extra layers.

She didn't want to seem like a temptation, even if she only had to exist before your eyes to be.

You honestly couldn't restrain yourself, seeing the physical proof that she'd used her assassin skills to defend you turned you on. It was odd, the way that her violence didn't turn you off. It was perfectly understandable though, knowing that she loved you enough to chose to defend you was the most attractive characteristic.

You were down bad, and Natasha gulped as she saw the way your eyes bloomed with swirls of palpable lust. It took all of her not to pounce on the moment that presented itself to her, but she stood no real chance at abstaining here. In a matter of seconds you were straddling her lap and lifting her bruised knuckles to your lips.

"Y/N," she gasped, a subtle warning in the way her hand trembled in yours, but you cupped her cheeks and smiled warmly before saying: "I want to feel your love Nat, please show me."

Both of your hearts beat out of rhythm, but the jumbled thumps were however in sync. She surveyed your eyes for a brief moment, then she kissed you breathless as she lifted you both up off the mattress. Setting you down on shaky legs she smiled at the way your eyes took time fluttering back open. Her hands settled on the hem of your shirt, "May I?" You nodded, a bit emotional as she sought your permission out.

Natasha was incredibly gentle as she disrobed you, a muffled sob left you as you cherished the unfamiliarly soft touch. It had been such a long time since someone regarded your body this way. Every partner you'd been with since you moved into adulthood had been callous; rough around all your edges and cruel to your curves.

Your parents were just the same, the redhead had given you hope for a brighter future. Then she was gone, no longer present to keep that shadowed figure from exposing themselves.

Rio was never someone you regarded as a threat until the day when they introduced themselves, cocky grin on their face as they asked you out on the date you'd be at later.

It was never a question, it was a veiled prison sentence that you would fall into the trap of.

You were naive enough to believe it friendly, everyone knew you were unspoken for, but the whispers echoed that you were Natasha's girl.

Which you were wholeheartedly aligned with.

Rio disregarded the claim, showing you the empty finger that they shoved a ring onto a month into your assigned arrangement. It devastated you being with anyone that wasn't her, they never physically forced you down, but they used their venomous words to coerce you.

"Moya lyubov, are you sure?" You felt this wave of warmth tingle beneath your skin, and felt as her calloused thumb wiped away your tears. "We don't have to do this yet detka, or ever if-."

"Natasha no," you whimpered, nails dug into the nape of her neck as you feared being left sexually frustrated. You needed her more than you ever thought humanly possible, "Please."

Natasha's arm wrapped around your bare waist, she guided you back towards the bed and kissed your lips the entire time she spent cautiously lowering you onto the mattress. It was like she was in a trance as she took her time kissing away the pain of your scars.

It was her intention to make this moment one full of love, her lips gently kissed over the skin of your stomach and she felt the way your entire body tensed in anticipation. Yet she didn't take the bait, she instead continued to lick the salty sweat from every bit of exposed skin she could, and her kisses continued to drop all over, like into the crook of your knees and elbows, and the apex of your thighs.

You whimpered in need for nearly an hour, but she never heard you as she was determined to feel every last bit of your skin beneath her now numbed lips. Soft snores finally pulled her from her trance, she gazed up at you, her lips stalled on the skin beneath your belly button.

She grinned against your pelvis as she caught a whiff of your abundance, her eyes closed as she felt her mouth salivate in an instant. Her body shuffled until she could eye your cunt, it oozed like a waterfall and seeped into the grey sheets.

With the tip of her nose she nudged your lips apart, then slid up to bump at your clit as her tongue followed the trail with a firm lick. Natasha groaned against your sensitive nub as she truly tasted you for the first time. Her face was absolutely coated in arousal in seconds as she ate your pussy like it was her last meal.

If she goes down for her crimes today she would actually request you as her final meal.

Muffled whimpers left through the part in your lips instantaneously, your hips shifted, then all of a sudden your upper torso arched off the bed and you moaned yourself into consciousness.

You were enthusiastic as your hand wove into her hair and you loudly vocalized her praise: "O-oh my god, don't stop—fuck, never stop!"

Natasha purred against your pulsating clit, a clear indication that she shared your thoughts. Dangerously so honestly, because she made you release on her swirling tongue alone four mind blowing times before she took a break.

While you grappled hazily with the functions of time and space the woman merely watched you in amusement. You were adorable as you came down from your repetitive sequence of highs, yawning obviously and smiling contentedly.

Moments later you finally stared down at the woman whose body was pressed into yours. Natasha smiled up at you lazily, with her slick cheek smushed into your thigh, you returned the gesture and her heart skipped a million beats. You took her breath away every time she saw you, but this time was different, it was even better than she dreamed. She finally had you in every sense of the word, before she left you were already hers in totality, but it was never the right time to take that leap together.

Or at least you'd both thought that you needed the time to be right, but now you knew to stake your claims and to never let each other go.

The redhead needed to be closer to you, so she left the oh so comforting heat radiating from between your thighs behind and began to kiss up the center of your body, a snail trail left in her lips wake with each sloppy press of them to your sweaty skin. She relished in the way you'd shiver as the breeze from the window solidified your essence and had your heated skin chilled.

She smirked once her lips pressed into your cheek as you tugged at her clothes and whined.

"What is it moya lyubov'?" She chuckled, then prohibited your response as she pecked away your pout. Her tongue licked at your bottom lip and you allowed her the moment of distraction. Savoring the taste of you on her tongue as she kissed you breathless, your body pushed back into a needy state as your arousal soaked into her shirt, and she was reminded of your prior whining as you had just tried to undress her.

Natasha shook her leather jacket off of her arm, keeping her body raised on the other like it took no strength at all. She never once broke the kiss, managing to suck your soul from you, she even kept her balance as she threw it off. For her remaining clothes she had to pull away, but you didn't feel her absence for long as she moved rather speedily, almost like a cheetah.

"What does it mean?" You shakily asked as she lowered her cunt atop of yours, a carnal groan then left you, "Fuck, Natasha you are so wet."

She hummed teasingly as she began to rub her aroused cunt against yours, her plump lips hovered your ear as she whispered her secret words: "My love." You felt the warmth of her sigh tickle the skin of your collarbones, and it spurred on a flurry of goosebumps across your body and burrowed deep into your heart. "I'm only ever wet because of you Y/N, every time you'd kiss my cheek goodnight I'd be drooling."

"Oh god," you moaned as her lewd confession was huskily spoken just as her clit brushed over yours, the stimulating touch caused Natasha's arms to nearly give out as she was overrun with pleasure, but her impressive strength won out.

"You've always been mine Y/N," she murmured the truth you both vehemently aligned with as she kept up a breathtaking pace with her hips, it wasn't rushed though which was new to you.

The painstakingly raw jut of her hips left you feeling dizzy, her teeth grazed across the skin of your jaw before her lips latched onto the bob of your throat as your body arched into hers.

It was made worse when she pulled away from your neck and hovered you once more, her lovesick gaze locked on your hazy one, and you were surely a goner as the words as sweet as honey left her saccharine lips: "I promise to cherish your body for a lifetime if you'll let me," her pace sped up just as fast as your heartbeat had, and your eyes brimmed with tears of pure joy as you came in sync with your soulmate.

Whispers of yes and please left your lips in between the moans of her name, and the world stopped when you hoarsely cried out mommy.

Natasha collapsed into you, her arms giving out as her warm arousal gushed from her already dripping cunt onto your thighs as she came again from she's sure your words alone.

"You did such a good job for mommy," she pecked your cheek then pressed her lips to yours and satisfied your needs to kiss her luscious lips as you basked in the aftershocks of your highs in a bubble of undeniable passion.

"Get some rest now detka," Natasha rolled off of you and pulled your limp body into hers. "You're safe with me Y/N, I promise you this."

"I know Natty," you mumbled over a yawn while burrowing your face in between her soft, rounded breasts. The redhead smiled and happily admired your relaxed face, she wore a proud grin as you drifted off, trusting her to keep you safe with the same hands she'd used to wring the neck of your spouse this evening.

You knew deep down that Natasha didn't let them go like you’d thought when she said they were not here. Apparently she was foreshadowing their looming demise. You didn't question her for a meaning when it came to the bruises on her hands, you just accepted it because she loved you enough to bloody her ledger. Though they surely deserved it, she still had to consciously take a life, and even though they were wretched, she still felt the loss.

Good or bad, her heart still cared too deeply.

The world was a safer place, you'd pointlessly reminded yourself of her humanity, as if she would ever lay a harsh hand on you. She who hummed softly, and ran a gentle hand up and down your back even after you'd slipped off into a middle ground. Your mind was still aware but your body was slumped into hers, but you heard her whisper clear as day as her lips faintly kissed your hairline. "I love you Y/N Romanoff, I promise I'll put a ring on your finger soon, I just have to unpack the little box from my suitcase and threaten a judge is all."

You involuntarily giggled softly and her hands teasingly tickled at yours sides, "You sneaky minx," you could hear the smirk in her voice, and you knew then she'd known all along that you were still conscious on some plane. "So, tell me Y/N, will you be my runaway bride?"

"It depends," you yawned out exaggeratedly, "Where will we be running off to Natty-kins?"

"Wherever you want sweet girl, I can make a home anywhere in the world if you're there."

"So romantic," you giggled, your lips brushed over her racing pulse and you left a tender kiss there to try and calm her, but it only made it beat out of sync as it sped up then slowed back down. "Of course I will marry you, just as soon as I can get this crock of fibbery annulled."

"Fibbery?" Natasha chuckled and you whined a little too honestly, "Don't make fun of me, I'm tired, and have a lingering minor concussion."

The redheads breath stalled, her body tensed but you tiredly lifted your head and kissed her chin before you whispered, "It's okay, I'm safe now in my favorite persons arms. Like you said, nothing can hurt me if you're around."

"Damn straight," she said as her grip on you tightened, and you sighed. Natasha's hold was expectantly possessive, which briefly felt too familiar to another's, but the way Natasha kissed the skin beneath your hairline, and continued her prior humming soothed you.

This wasn't the start she dreamed of, but she also couldn't prevent the smile that adorned her sleepy face as you nuzzled even further into her embrace, your clear trust in her meant the world to her and even eased some of her guilt.

You both knew it would be a long while before you were truly yourself again, and you knew from experience that her patience would never waver, and that alone would be enough. One thing was rather clear as you slipped off to sleep—you were safe, and loved just as you'd always deserved to be in your home's arms.

——

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x you #yelena belova #gxg #marvel fanfiction

[rogueddie]

The Final Campfire T | 489 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is a fire that never goes out

Steve and Eddie had a little tradition that has built up over the years; whenever they're both able to get a week off of work, they go camping together.

For a week, they are alone and together.

They haven't been able to go camping for a while now, but it isn't because they don't have time off.

"It's a bad idea," Steve points out.

"One last time," Eddie pleads.

Eddie's hands shake slightly as he takes hold of Steves. They didn't know why his hands sometimes shake, but the doctors had reassured them that it was fine. It was a common thing that comes with old age.

"We can go to one of those tourist type ones so people are close by if we need anything," Eddie adds.

Steve's face scrunches up, emphasizing the wrinkles littering his face. "No. We just... won't go as far into the woods as we used to."

It takes them longer to get ready than usual, but that's mostly because they need more now. Steve's meds alone need their own little bag.

"You remembered to tell Dustin and Suzie?" Eddie asks, as they get in the car the next day.

"Yeah. They said they're gonna tell their little Steve all about it so, if we need help, he'll be ready to come save us."

"Good."

The woods of Hawkins used to be a scary place. The first few times they went camping, Steve had a rough time of it.

After fifty years, it's hard to feel that same fear. They both have too many happy memories amongst these trees. Too many times where they laughed, cried, played.

"I missed this," Steve admits, reluctantly sitting while Eddie sets up the campfire.

"Yeah, I did too." Eddie pants, finally pulling the last twig down and sitting next to Steve with a groan. "Didn't miss how much fucking work it takes."

Steve laughs, gently batting his arm. "That's nothing new."

Eddie lights a small branch on fire with his lighter, placing it amongst the smaller twigs and dry leaves, slowly setting the campfire alight.

He leans against Steve's side, whilst they watch the flame build, resting his head against his shoulder.

"I love you," Eddie mumbles.

Steve hum, grinning, bringing a hand up to play with his grey hair. "I love you too."

"It's hard to believe that it's been so long."

"Really?"

"Nah. More that, like... I didn't expect you to stick with me this long."

"You remember what I said? First time we were out here?"

"Back when we were dumb and cheesy?"

"Yeah."

Eddie is quiet for a moment, before whispering, "yeah, I remember."

Steve presses a gentle, lingering kiss to Eddie's forehead.

They both quietly sit, watching the flames of the campfire dance, Steve's words from so long ago echoing in their heads.

"I don't think I'll ever stop loving you. My love for you will burn long after our fires are extinguished."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm #day 26

[citrusses]

AO3 Wrapped 🎁: Drarry Favorites Published in 2022

Featuring eighth year and fuck-or-die fics that were instant classics among classic tropes, steam and suds, mind-bending non-linear narratives, and character studies that made me consider anew the protagonists with whom I’ve spent so many years. 

January

Finely Drawn Lines by @the-sinking-ship (E, 61k) 

Draco doesn’t consider himself an artist (though the dozens of sketchbooks lining his shelves might suggest differently). Yet ever since Potter returned to Hogwarts, accepting a teaching position alongside Draco, his drawings have taken on a rather singular focus.

February

The Things We Need by @kbrick (E, 25k)

Three hundred and fifty-three days out of the year, Harry is in a monogamous, fulfilling relationship with Draco Malfoy.

Then there are the other twelve days.

Lateralus by @shiftylinguini (T, 2k)

The world after the war was so big, and so untamed. Magic spilled out of every corner, creatures never seen before watching from nooks that never used to exist. There were colours in the air, in the morning dew drops on the leaves―indescribable, and new. Otherworldly, and pulled from a spectrum that shouldn't be visible in their world.

March

Heartlines by @sorrybutblog (T, 22k) 

Just as Draco Malfoy's life seems to be getting back on track, the magic at Malfoy Manor is spinning out of control. Auror partners Harry Potter and Angelina Johnson are assigned to the case and quickly find that nothing about the situation is obvious. The flare ups are unpredictable at best, downright dangerous at worst, and why has a Hogwarts first year gone missing at the same time?

April 

​​Heal Thyself by @astolat (T, 47k) "Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.”

“What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th.

“Oh, I thought you might,” she said. “Well, goodbye.” And off she wandered again in her addled way.

any day now by @oknowkiss (E, 17k)

The rehabilitation centres were the Minister’s idea, or that’s what the Prophet said anyway. Their stated objective is simple: to provide a safe space for low-tier Death Eaters and high-tier sympathisers to reconsider the entirety of their life choices. All guests–because no one is a prisoner here, the literature brags–are to be provided with shelter, food, clothing, and the guided support of a Mind Healer via a programme they call “ideological restructuring,” which is, of course, mandatory. 

Lovesick by @corvuscrowned (T, 8k)

People keep spiking Auror Harry Potter with love potions. Healer Draco Malfoy keeps having to pick up the pieces. But it's getting harder and harder for Draco to watch Harry fall in love with everyone except for him.

The Only Magic Left Between Us by @lqtraintracks (E, 24k)

Harry goes to the market and ends up having to save Draco Malfoy’s life with sex. He saves Draco’s life with sex and ends up with a husband. The last thing he expects in all of it is to fall in love.

Once More With Feeling by InnerLilith (E, 29k)

Draco is dosed with a consummation-compelling potion, with Harry Potter as his intended. It’s a cruel irony, because he’s wanted Potter for years. But not like this.

May 

Not Nineteen Forever by @sorrybutblog (E, 6k)

A rogue charm hits on a mission and suddenly, Draco is nineteen again. Harry is still thirty-five and doing his best to look after his de-aged Auror partner (and forget about his long unrequited crush) until St. Mungo’s can brew the antidote. Only, Draco insists on wandering around Harry’s flat wearing nothing but Harry’s pants, flirting like his life depends on it and in the end, Harry’s only human after all.

June 

An Emerald In The Sky by @corvuscrowned (M, 7k) 

The hardest part about shagging an Unspeakable is that they’re not allowed to speak of anything. All Draco knows is that Harry works in Time. Harry works in Time, and while he’s out there in all of that time, it is as unforgiving to him as it is to anyone.

July 

Two to Lie and One to Listen by @fluxweeed (E, 85k)

It’s weird when Hermione announces that she and Ron have broken up. It’s weirder when this is followed by the revelation that she’s already moved on—and the new object of her affections is Draco Malfoy.

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not by @sleepstxtic (T, 6k) Astoria watches her husband fall in love with Harry Potter.

August

The (Third) Worst Year by TheFrancakes (E, 20k) 

Draco Malfoy has one year to fall in True Love with Harry Potter or be turned into a Dragon. And he knows that is never gunna happen. This is going to be the worst year of his life.

Well, minus that whole having to kill Dumbledore or be killed by Voldemort thing.

Second worst year.

Oh, but there was his whole 7th year while Voldemort was using his house as a home base for Death Eaters and making him torture his fellow students. That one was pretty bad too.

Fine, this is the third worst year of his life. Hoppípolla by @moonflower-rose (E, 21k) Falling in love was as easy as jumping in puddles, and Draco Malfoy was completely drenched.

September

The July Tree by @oknowkiss (E, 52k) 

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail… nor well-meaning friends, nor questionable communication skills, nor seven years of hating each other’s guts can keep Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from falling in love. OR: It’s Eighth Year, and Harry Potter has detention. What else is new? Well, since you asked: Greenhouse Four and the Tree of Life, for a start, and then there’s the new shared Eighth Year common room, and Harry’s sexuality, and these pesky dreams he keeps having about a blond man pushing him into things…

Pack by @rockingrobin69 (Not rated, 1.4k)

It was cute when they were in school, the whole rivalry thing. 

What Makes a House a Home by @writcraft (E, 27k)

Ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts Draco Malfoy wakes up in an unfamiliar house owned by none other than Harry Potter. Even stranger is the snow in September and a night sky without any stars. Naturally it’s a matter of life and death, because isn’t it always?

The Unspeakable by @the-sinking-ship (E, 24k)

Healer Draco Malfoy took the job at the International Department of Mysteries for the paycheck and the prestige.But what he got was Unspeakable Harry Potter and the most fascinating curse he’d ever seen.

October

The wrong sort by @vukovich (Not rated, 1.6k)

Draco half-rolled, half-fell onto his back, his skin sweaty against Harry’s sheets.  He licked his dry lips and exalted the plaster ceiling with, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Howl by @tackytigerfic (M, 9k)

After an encounter with a vicious werewolf, Draco Malfoy wakes in a field hospital with a mangled shoulder, a furry little problem, and an inconvenient crush on Harry Potter. Potter, meanwhile, is still trying to save the world, only this time he wants Draco right there with him while he does it. Taking part in a rebellion against a corrupt regime isn't always glamorous, but at least sometimes there are organic farmshop pastries and fancy hotel bedsheets. Just don't ask about that smell of burning.

November

Under Giant Mountains by @wolfpants (E, 34k) 

Harry doesn't know where he's going. Everyone else has their life paths figured out; he doesn't even know where his map is. Who'd have thought Draco Malfoy bathing in a Norwegian forest would be the guidepost Harry needed?

but first, we fight by @nv-md (E, 8k) 

Fighting with Draco Malfoy has never been quite this thrilling...or this frustrating. Harry's always horny, Draco's in denial, and there simply isn't enough time in the day to fight crime and watch your ex-archnemesis wash his arse.

December

Tapestry by @kbrick (E, 51k) WIP

In 2017, Harry is on his way to Pansy and Luna's beach house. He’s a bit terrified of seeing Draco, to be honest. It’s been a while, and then there’s the little matter of Draco having married someone else in the interim.

In 2001, Draco is drunk, wearing Pansy's mother's ermine coat, and afraid to walk into the Leaky because someone might throw a curse at him. So, of course, he runs into his ex-nemesis and hopeless crush, Harry Potter.

The Same Sweet Shock by @xiaq (E, 17k) WIP

One day, Draco Malfoy is going to get his life together.

One day, he will be a respectable citizen. He will have a respectable job and his last name will no longer be a scarlet letter and people will no longer try to hex him in the street. One day, he is going to live a good, honest, ordinary life.

Today, however, is not that day. Because today, he is driving a stolen police car and will likely be responsible for murdering Harry Potter.

Accidentally, of course; not that the papers will care.

#drarry fic recs #citrus recs #drarry 2022 #i played fast and loose with publish dates for some of these because i wanted the months to be kind of *balanced* #there are lots more 2022 fics on my TBR (hello Erised) #and I'm sure I forgot some great ones I did manage to read this year #so the list itself is a work in progress.

[andorerso]

A YEAR IN FICS - 2023

I'm a little late this year but I wasn't gonna miss out on my favorite tradition. Here we go!

you fit me better than my favorite sweater: Jyn has a gift for Cassian for Christmas, but she's worried about his reaction. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain Trees exchange

give me a lifetime and then fifty more: Cassian comes home after a prolonged trip and only wants to see his family. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain Trees exchange

i think i'm falling back in love with you: Twelve years after the last time they saw each other, childhood best friends Jyn and Cassian cross paths once more... (1/1) Modern AU.

Blood Red Rose: 1920, London. An unknown creature dubbed 'the Beast' is terrorizing the streets at night. Vampire hunter Jyn Erso and recently turned vampire Cassian Andor might just be the city's only hope to catch the monster... (23/27) chapter 23 written in 2023

let the cat out of the bag: Jyn's cat really likes her new fuck buddy. Jyn's not quite okay with this. (2/2) Modern AU. chapter 2 written in 2023 for a prompt

don't say you love me: Jyn's been in love with Cassian for eight years, but she never thought he felt the same. Right? Things get a little interesting when he asks her to be his fake girlfriend for a weekend... (3/6) Modern AU. Written for the Rogue One Crew exchange

objection, your honor: Cassian Andor hasn’t lost a case in two years, but what he doesn’t know is that neither has she. And Jyn decides he needs to be knocked down a peg or two.It’s so much more satisfying to win as the underdog. OR, Jyn and Cassian are rival divorce lawyers who also sometimes hook up. This can only end well, right? (1/2) Modern AU.

but will you return? i came looking for you: She didn’t need a weapon, she would slaughter them all with her bare hands. She just needed a location. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

fear conditioning: There was something wrong with Cassian. Something that made him look at her like she was a monster. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

left behind: Rule number one: you didn’t fight a horde. You ran. (1/1) Zombie AU. Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

tragedy in your blood: If she pretends it’s not happening, if she pretends she’s somewhere else, safe and warm in Cassian’s arms, it’s not real, right? (1/1) Major Character Death warning. Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

Amas Veritas: Jyn's a young witch who's just trying to keep her head down. But when Orson Krennic returns to town years after he allegedly killed her father, she can't help feeling like this is her chance to get some payback. What's supposed to be a harmless hex quickly turns deadly, and Jyn must now make sure no one ever finds out what she did or risk going to prison. But the pull she feels towards Cassian Andor, the private investigator the Krennics have hired complicates matters, and it doesn't help that she's sworn off love years ago due to a nasty love curse that sits upon her family. On top of it all, Krennic's ghost might be haunting her... This Halloween is shaping up to be the worst one Jyn's ever had. (6/7) Practical Magic AU. chapter 6 written in 2023

so much for stardust: Nobody would be surprised that Galen Erso’s daughter and Director Krennic’s ward liked to do things the unconventional way. OR, Jyn grows up on Coruscant but that doesn't mean she won't fight the Empire (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain Secret Santa exchange

Prompts, requests and drabbles:

College AU

I told you that I’d never leave you; I’m not going anywhere

Total works: 15 (12 new ones)

Total wordcount: 72 494

Yeah, not as good as in previous years, but I was expecting that. Still better than I thought it would be so I'm quite satisfied! These little fandom events helped tremendously <3

#my fics #rebelcaptain #a year in fics

[fortheloveofwonderland]

🎵 Scarlet’s Milestone Concert Celebration 🎵

To celebrate reaching another milestone I am inviting you all to Scarlet’s Concert 🎵

As most of my fics are named after songs, I have complied a list of some of my favourite songs. Send me a pairing and a song lyric and I will gift you a little fic. Lyrics with gender specific pronouns can be changed at request. Come join the concert! 🎵

🎵 Pairings 🎵

Spencer x Reader

Spencer x Luke

Luke x Reader

🎵 Song lyric prompts below the cut! 🎵

🎵 I’ll admit I’m impressed by your vanishing act. Place your bets on your best guess of when you’re coming back - Swan Song by Set It Off

🎵 “Just give me a chance,” she said as I packed my things. “But I already did four times, don’t you remember?” “I won’t blow it again,” she said, with her fingers crossed. But she forgot about the mirror behind her - Plastic Promises by Set It Off

🎵 Pick up the phone, I know I’m drunk again. And you know my intentions ‘cause it’s 2am - Ancient History by Set It Off

🎵 And tomorrows now misunderstood, ‘cause it’s reading “outlook not so good”. If these signs would point to “yes” she could maybe feel the same - Magic 8 by Set It Off

🎵 I got your letter and the poetry you sent me, postmarked in December of last year. I really hope you’re doing better, all your friends close by your side, one step closer to recovery - My Reply by The Ataris

🎵 Out of every girl I meet, no other can compete. I’d ditch them all for a night with you. I know you don’t believe you mean this much to me, but I promise you that you do - I Won’t Spend Another Night Alone by The Ataris

🎵 But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all? And if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you’ve been here before? - Pompeii by Bastille

🎵 I wish that we could save today, but I know we can’t stay the same. And I keep pushing you away, don’t wait for me - Home is Such a Lonely Place by Blink 182

🎵 A little drunk, waiting on your phone call. A little numb, maybe I can’t feel at all - I Really Wish I Hated You by Blink 182

🎵 Isn’t it messed up how I’m just dying to be him? I’m just a notch in your bedpost but you’re just a line in a song - Sugar, We’re Going Down by Fall Out Boy

🎵 But you didn’t have to cut me off, make out like it never happened and that we were nothing. And I don’t even need your love, but you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough - Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye

🎵 I’ve got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck than any boy you’ll ever meet sweetie, you had me - Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off by Panic at the Disco

🎵 Can we forget about the things I said when I was drunk? I didn’t mean to call you that. I can’t remember what was said or what you threw at me, please tell me - My Own Worst Enemy by Lit

🎵 I’ve been trying to call, I’ve been on my own for long enough. Maybe you can show me how to love, maybe - Blinding Lights by The Weeknd

🎵 If I go crazy, then will you still call me superman? If I’m alive and well will you be there and holding my hand? - Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

🎵 I’ve found a reason for me to change who I used to be. A reason to start over new, and the reason is you - The Reason by Hoobastank

🎵 Tried to be so strong, but you see through the cracks. My defence is gone, come take me home tonight - Home by Goo Goo Dolls

🎵 I don’t mind spending every day out on your corner in the pouring rain. Look for the girl with the broken smile, ask her if she wants to stay a while - She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5

🎵 You kiss me like an over dramatic actor who’s starving for work, with one last shot to make it happen - Slow Down by The Academy Is

🎵 You’ve been broken into fifty pieces, today is gone, I’m the only light that you see. You need someone, I know all you needed was me - Sunshine by All American Rejects

🎵 You’re the cure, and your eyes have dug me out of my grave more times than I could ever count. You’ve always been the one to breathe me back to life - The Cure by The Movielife

🎵 Why don’t you find someone who will love you the way you deserve? The way you deserve, never puts you down and comforts you when it hurts - The Way You Deserve by New Found Glory

#milestone celebration #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #luke alvez

[of-twilight-and-moonshadow]

Not Even If You Tried - Darby x Emery

I alluded to this last night. Here it is.

My heart-wrenching dream-turned-chapter that spiraled at the beginning into something else (thanks to the Bucks).

Part of my series ' Dark Angel of the Bullet Club '

Word Count: 3,802

Warnings: Swearing, dark thoughts and spiraling/depression-like moment (briefly). Matt and Nick are assholes. Darby's precious. And tooth-rotting fluff at the end. (as demanded by Kat to make up for the tears this will probably cause ya'll)

Also, I allude to another chapter that I am currently writing -- ironically, another Darby x Emery one -- where he helps her get control over the Dark Angel and Sinister Angel personalities. Obviously, it worked. lol There is also a part I allude to Emery having previously hurt Matt and Nick? It's a part of the same fic (as mentioned above, Darby x Emery) where it explains that. Basically, it was due to Sinister having come out-- and Sinister doesn't care if friend or foe, she'll fuck shit up.

Tag List: @katries @rainries @mrsmatt @summertimefun1982

(divider)

To say she was lost was an understatement. No, make it the understatement of the year- and for fucks sake, it was only March. Lost, hurt, confused – even a bit angry. Those were the emotions swirling about Emery, especially over the last month. With everything going on between her friends—and people she thought were her friends—there was zero time or room for her to focus on her own matches. Now sitting at a record of 2 wins and 3 losses, Emery was almost certain she wouldn’t see a title picture any time soon.

Strangely enough, it didn’t bother her too much. Not having to worry about a title shot left her with time to worry about her friends, and lately, that was a full-time job itself. But the more she worried about them, the more she wondered if that was the right thing to do. With the building worry over those she held dear, the more her anxiety and panic rose. Thankfully—with Darby’s help—Emery had been able to successfully keep control over both Dark and Sinister. Now, she need not worry about one of those personalities taking over her soul and she could go about her life, her matches, her own way.

“I need some air,” Emery sighed, standing up from the table in catering. Kris and Willow looked up at her, faces full of worry.

“You gonna be good?” Kris asked.

“Want us to come with? We totally can-“ Willow offered, giving a soft smile.

“No, no—I—“ Emery breathed, wrapping her arms around her midsection, “I’m okay, don’t worry. I just need a moment to collect my thoughts…”

“Alright,” nodded Kris.

“We’re here if you need us,” Willow added.

Feeling the lump in her throat, Emery could only give the two a brief nod before turning and walking through the back halls. As much as she appreciated their kindness and worry- right now, Emery just desperately wanted her friends. Her familial friends. Ones she had relied on since she came into the business. Ones that—

“Emery! Just the girl we were looking for.”

Speak of some of the devils.

Slowly turning around, Emery watched as Nick and Matt walked up to her, clad in some new outlandish colored suits, ridiculous hats to match.

“Something I can do for you, Nick? Err—Nicholas.”

The pointed glare from both of them at the name usage quickly morphed into almost forced smiles as Matt waved his hand dismissively.

“We won’t hassle you about the name thing—this time,” Matt winked as if it were some joke between them.

“But now that you asked—yeah, there is something we need,” Nick smirked deviously, “Coffee. You know what we like. Here’s a fifty. Get yourself something while you’re at it, our treat!”

“Yeah, those bags under your eyes? Looks like you could use the caffeine,” Matt continued, laughing along with his brother.

“You’re turning me into an errand girl? For some---coffee?!” Emery asked incredulously, her hands falling to her sides.

“Um, yeah? Look—we’re busy here, trying to improve the show- the company. It desperately needs it, too. So do us a favor—get the coffee,” Matt shrugged, throwing in, “Maybe, when you get back, we can discuss putting you in a Champions Eliminator match. See if you can even win that.”

Emery was at a complete loss for words. These two were like brothers to her. They had been there since the get-go. Helped train her--- after Kyle, of course. Not once had they ever used her as an errand girl or a bag handler.

“We’ll be in our office when you get back,” Matt said as he walked off, sliding his hands into his pant pockets.

“Try not to take too long,” Nick chuckled, reaching up with his hands and gently patting her cheeks a few times, before following after his brother.

He did not just---

Emery stood there, shaking as she felt the anger in her rising from her toes all the way to her head.

I can take care of them, whispered Sinister, who clawed at the opportunity to come out and play.

Shaking her head, Emery balled up her fists—the fifty dollar bill in her right-hand crumpling.

No. Matt and Nick were still in there. They were still the guys she loved. She would not hurt them—not again.

No.

Quickly, without thought, Emery turned and bolted down the halls, heading to the only person she had left right now.

Darby.

Despite all the shit that had gone down the last two months between the Bucks, Darby, and Sting- Emery was relieved that Darby still let her into his life. It would have been all too easy for him to turn his back on her, the “Bucks Little Sister” as she had become known over the years. The thought reminded her of when Yuta had turned his back on her and it sent a sharp pain through her heart. Shaking it off, Emery rounded a corner and saw the locker room that he should be in. Upon knocking, though, and a quick peek in, she saw it was empty.

With a sad sigh, Emery looked down at her hand where the money was still crumpled up.

“Guess I’m going for coffee.”

Thirty minutes later, the brunette walked in through the parking area, holding a to-go container with three coffees. Maybe Matt was right. Maybe the coffee would help her. With everything going on, it had been difficult for Emery to get a decent night's sleep. Usually, she’d snuggle up to Kenny or Hangman- or Riley, if he was ever in the same town as her. However, Hangman had been having his own issues with Swerve as of late and completely losing his mind. Kenny—with the injuries and emergency surgery…. Well, Emery didn’t want to bother him too much. Plus, she was constantly out on the road while Kenny was back home. Even her best friends (aptly named) Orange and Chuck were cuddle buddies of hers, but they, too, have had a lot going on. Emery had debated messaging them a few times, but each time she would be about to hit the ‘send’ she’d hesitate, feeling like she was bothering them. The messages would end up deleted, and Emery would suffer another night of restless sleep.

Lost in thought, Emery wasn’t aware of the pale blue eyes on her- until he stepped in front of her path, cutting her off with a soft smirk.

“Hey,” was Darby’s simple introduction.

Stopping short so that she didn’t run into him, not wanting to spill the coffee all over his shirt, Emery focused her attention and looked into his eyes. The second she did, giving their eyes a moment to read each other, his smile fell as he picked up on something wrong.

“Hardy said he saw you come to my room a bit ago— sorry I wasn’t in. Had to go to the ring to do a promo. You good?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah- yeah, no. I’m…. good.” Emery nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat and looking away from his gaze. A gentle finger hooked under her chin and brought her eyes back to his as Darby studied her closely. His thumb gently brushed her cheek, his own way of showing her affection. A brief moment of silence passed between them until he pulled away and looked down at the coffee in her hands.

“All for you?” Darby questioned, raising an eyebrow, “Thought you needed to take it easy on coffee—the shakes and shit that caffeine was giving you?”

“Yeah, no—uh…. This one is mine… decaf,” Emery told him, carefully shifting her hands to use a thumb and pointing to one of the cups.

“And the other two?”

“M-Matthew and Nicholas gave me some money to get them—”

“They sent you on a fuckin’ coffee run?” Darby interrupted, raising an eyebrow once again, before rolling his eyes with a scoff, “Fuck that shit.”

Darby reached up and pried Emery’s cup out of the holder before easing the four-cup holder out of her hand and replacing it with her cup of coffee. Wordlessly, he turned around and walked over to the large garbage can in the hall, unceremoniously dropping the two coffees into it with a satisfied smirk.

“They can get their own damned coffees—just like they used to,” Darby said as he walked back over to Emery, who stood there with a shocked expression on her face. As upset as she wanted to be—looking at him to scold him for the waste—she found herself gently smiling instead, catching the look of mischief written across Darby’s face.

“Now that you’re not laden down with extra coffee—you wanna come out to my place this weekend? Planning to do a bonfire, probably do some skate stunts – and I could use a beautiful model for some new Hoodlum merch,” he smirked playfully.

“You shameless flirt,” Emery chuckled, “Your honeyed words won’t work on me that easily. What else you got?”

“Mmm, playing hard to get, eh? Okay---” Darby licked his lips, “The puggles would love to see you again. Pretty sure the lil’ guys miss you more than they do me.”

“Bonfires and puppy dogs!? Sold!”

“Oh- so you want to see the dogs and not me, eh? I see how it is,” he recoiled playfully before turning solemn and adding, “At least I know that they’ll be cared for if something happens to me next month.”

Instantly, the blood ran cold in Emery’s veins as she realized what Darby was alluding to. His climb on Mount Everest.

“Darby—do you really have to do this? I mean—you’re pretty banged up—”

Before Darby could respond, though, his eyes flickered over Emery’s shoulders as distant voices got louder.

“—when that would be--- Ah! Emery, there you are!” Matt’s voice rang out, stopping just behind her. She could tell by Darby’s narrowed and emotionless eyes that the Bucks were staring him down. A tense moment passed before he looked at her again, giving her an apologetic shrug.

“I’ll catch ya later.”

With that, Emery felt the brief warmth she had gained five minutes previous leave her as Darby walked away. The further he walked, though, the more her thoughts began to race, and she could feel the panic starting to tighten around her lungs, her heart beginning to race.

What if he doesn’t come back? What if he gets on that plane to go to the Himalayas but doesn’t get on the return plane? What if something comes up and she’s not able to make it to his place this weekend—and she can’t see him next week on the show—and this is the last time she sees him? What if---

“—our coffee?” Nick’s distant voice was asking, but Emery wasn’t able to pay any attention to the words. The cup of coffee that was in her hand was plucked out of her grip, to which she was barely aware of. The snapping of fingers in front of her face finally brought her out of her spiral and as she turned around she saw Matt’s look of disgust as he spat out the sip of coffee he had taken from her cup.

“Eck, that’s terrible!” he exclaimed, before tossing it in the same garbage can that Darby had dumped theirs.

“We see you got coffee—what happened to ours?” Nick asked her.

“Sorry it… spilled… on the way here….”

“Spilled?” Matt questioned, disbelieving and with a look of disappointment on his face. “So you didn’t go back and get a replacement?”

Emery’s mind was still reeling with the thoughts of losing Darby, so she couldn’t even muster up an answer to him.

“Jeez Emery,” Nick rolled his eyes, “Worst intern ever.”

“Yeah—forget about that championship eliminator match,” Matt waved his hand as if shooing away a bug.

“You know what, Matthew? I’m feeling a little peckish,” Nick stated, looking at his brother.

“Now that you mention it- I could use a bite to eat. Emery—”

“Get it yourself.”

The simple statement that fumbled from her mouth stopped both brothers in their tracks.

“Excuse us?”

“Do you remember who you’re talking to here? We’re the EVP’s—”

“Oh my God—shut up—just SHUT UP!” Emery exclaimed, finally fixing her gaze on them. Both of their eyes had gone wide in shock at her outburst, but something in her had snapped. Emery didn’t care, though; she was done.

“What the hell happened to the two of you, huh?! You go away for a couple of months and then come back all high and mighty—” Emery gestured towards them and their suits, “—I am your Goddamn friend—the person you claimed as a sister as far back as 2017—and you’re treating me like absolute shit right now! Don’t you see I have enough going on right now?! I don’t need this! My whole life—for the past 6 months—feels like it has been slowly crumbling down around me, and two of the people that are usually always there for me have been nowhere to be found!”

The longer she vented her frustrations, the more her eyes welled up with tears that she desperately tried to hold back, but at some point, it became too much, and they began to roll down her face.

“I don’t know what has gotten into you two—but I can NOT deal with this right now! I—I’m done—I--- Find someone else to fetch your damn food and your damn coffee. Hell—find--- find someone---” Emery felt her throat trying to close up, a part of her begging her not to say the words she was about to, but they still fell from her lips, “—Find someone else to be your sister—!”

A ragged gasp of air escaped her throat as she turned on her heels and blindly raced away, the tears falling freely from her eyes and clouding her vision. The Bucks stood there, flabbergasted at what had just transpired.

“Matthew—”

“No, no. It’s okay. She’ll be fine, Nicholas,” Matt shook his head, trying to convince not only his brother but himself, “Just… give her some time.”

Maybe she would be better off without them, a part of him wondered before they turned in unison back down the hall and disappeared.

Two hours later, Emery sat in the shower stall of her hotel room, knees up to her chest as the water cascaded down around her. Kris had found her outside the arena, leaning against a brick wall, cheeks stained with tears- and wordlessly helped her up into her rental. All Kris asked her was if she needed a doctor- to which Emery slowly shook her head no.  Upon getting into her room, she had aimlessly stood in the center for a while before slowly peeling off her clothing and getting into the shower.

Her mind felt like it was racing—but it was blank. Painfully blank.

She had attempted to clean herself, but all the energy had left her, so instead, she slumped down to the floor and just sat there.

She had no one now…..

Everyone was gone…..

For the first time in ten years, she was alone…..

Her thoughts began to turn dark and she could feel herself crawling towards that dark rabbit hole. A familiar feeling…. A painful…. Scared feeling….

Call…. Call them….

Call who?

Matt and Nick?

They didn’t care…. She had burned that bridge now….

As she sat there, the water began to soothe her in its own tranquil way. A single image flashed across her mind. One person.

Go.

“I--- I cant…. Lose him…. I—”

Go.

The persistent desire and need to be near him started to slowly uncloud her mind. Her arm slowly reached up and turned off the faucet. Carefully, Emery pushed herself off the slick tile floor and reached for a towel. The more she focused on him, the clearer she began to think—which let her think back to all the small moments shared between them. He was chaos and untamed fearlessness- but at the same time, he calmed her racing mind, brought peace to her dark thoughts. He helped her be a better person—made her want to be a better person.

Without him…. Where would she be?

Twenty minutes later, hair still dripping wet, Emery stood in the hall outside of another hotel room. It was mostly silent around her—and for a moment, she thought perhaps he had already gone to bed—but then in the near distance, she heard the soft sounds of water shutting off.

Pausing for only a minute longer, Emery finally reached forward and gently knocked on the door in front of her. Movement could be heard from within, before the sliding of a lock and then the door slowly opening.

“Hey, out late---” Darby began to smile, but it faltered as his eyes raked over her. Wordlessly, he reached out a hand and took hers, gently pulling her into the room with him, shutting the door behind Emery.

Darby’s mouth opened as he attempted to say something, but what could he say? He didn’t want to say the wrong thing and make whatever was wrong worse.

“H-how can I help?” he finally whispered.

Emery looked up from the floor, finally looking into his eyes as her own teared up once more.

“Hold me,” she choked out as the tears fell down her face. Without hesitation, Darby reached out for her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. The warmth from his shirtless chest brought a wave of calm to her. Laying her head in the crook of his neck, her arms folded up between them as his drew soothing circles on her back. It was everything she didn’t realize she needed.

“I—I’m here.”

That simple phrase, meant to help soothe her—actually broke her heart more, and she pulled away from him. Confusion crossed his features as he looked at her with his blue eyes.

“…. But you won’t be….. You’ll be gone…. Climbing a mountain….. a dangerous…. Life-taking mountain….. Why? Why do you have to do this?”

“Why not?” Darby responded, “Mer—you know me. You now how I am. I do dangerous stupid shit all the time. You watched me drive a small ass trike with a fractured arm. It’s just…. Who I am.”

Emery wrapped her arms around her abdomen and walked past him into the room, trying to hold back more tears.

“I just….” She whispered, a few stray tears falling down her face, “I don’t think you understand…. how scared I am of losing you….”

Darby felt his lungs constrict as he looked at her, an unfamiliar lump forming in his throat.

“I—I’ll be back… before you know it. Besides, you’re not here alone. You’ve got friends to keep you busy.”

“Do I?!” Emery questioned, her voice breaking as she spun around to face him. The look of pure heartache he saw in her expression hit him hard.

“Darby--- you…. You are all I have right now. Kenny’s out for who knows how long…. Hangman has done lost his mind—the Bucks have turned into people I don’t recognize anymore--- Wardlow’s turned into someone I don’t know….. Adam’s changed--- Kyle’s got no return in sight…. Yuta’s---” Emery’s voice broke upon bringing up her one-time friend; squeezing her eyes shut briefly, she continued, “Orange and Chuck will be out with their injuries for a while…. Britt’s been gone for a while with no return in site--- You. You are all I have--- and…. And I’m terrified I could lose you…. Permanently. I don’t…. I don’t think I could stomach that--- I’d be lost…. Without you…. In my life.”

The tears were falling freely once more- and for the first time in a long time, Darby was completely lost for words. To think he had this kind of impact on anyone… wasn’t something he thought would ever happen. He closed the distance between the two of them, one hand wrapping around Emery’s waist, the other going behind her head, his fingers threading through her hair. Without thinking about it, her arms snaked around him and pulled him close—but she felt him tense up and a small huff of air leave his nose.

That’s when she realized.

“Shit��your stitches—!” Emery cried apologetically, attempting to pull back from Darby, but he held fast to her, not letting any space come between them.

“I don’t fuckin’ care about the stitches, Mer—” he breathed out a chuckle, “I care about you. Wrap your arms around me. Now. Tonight. For the next couple weeks. Remember me.”

Shakily, her arms gently wrapped around his back once more, as he leaned his head down into the crook of her neck; his warm breath tickled her as he spoke.

“Everest…. It’s a beast—I know the risks, believe me, I know. But this is something I have to do.”

“I—I know there’s no changing your mind… and I don’t want you to resent me for making you stay…. Just, please—promise me…. Promise me you wont do anything reckless on the climb? Just--- carefully climb up, get to the summit, and carefully get back…..”

“I can’t promise that I’ll come back—not alive,” Darby whispered, and as he felt her about to interrupt, quickly continued, “BUT—I can promise you I won’t do anything too reckless while I’m there. Especially…. Especially since you’re waiting here for me to come back…..”

Emery nodded as much as she could against him, before feeling him chuckle against her.

“Besides…. Pretty sure that if I did die up there—you’d hunt down my frozen corpse and kick my ass for doing something reckless.”

As much as she didn’t want to, Emery felt herself let out a few soft laughs of her own. Darby pulled back from her just a few inches and looked into her eyes.

“I don’t care what I have to do—or how I have to do it—I’ll fight tooth and nail to come back. That I can promise you. You ain't getting rid of me, not even if you tried.”

“Good,” Emery softly smiled, leaning into his hands as they cupped her face. His thumbs began to wipe away the tears that had fallen before he leaned in and gently kissed her lips.

“Stay the night?” Darby asked her, a small smile crossing his face at her nod.

That night, Emery slept soundly as she lay curled up in his embrace.

Peacefully.

Her mind was at ease for the first time in months.  

#aew #imagine #all elite wrestling #fanfiction #dark angel of the bullet club #oc emery #original female character #Darby Allin #Emery x Darby

[dameronology]

i have never sent an ask so i'm not sure how this works

'honey, i'm home' starter for din djarin

maybe him coming home after a particularly hard mission seeing his s/o and grogu cuddled up together in the cockpit just waiting. maybe he decides he also needs some tlc to forget the hard mission 🤺

domestic din is the air i breathe <3

obligitory "sorry this took me fifty years to write" message and SAME bc those few domestic scenes we got in s2 fuckin got me mate i need more. also i changed honey to cyar'ika because it felt more din-like oops

You hated waiting for Din to come home.

His missions could last anywhere from two days to week three weeks and it was hell not knowing. It meant that you never wanted to stray too far from the Razor Crest, just because the idea of Din returning to an empty ship hurt your heart. You knew that the only thing getting him through the longer bounty hunts was having his family to return to. It had been a loose term at first - family, clan, whatever - but he knew now in his heart that the three of you belonged together. The urge to protect you and the kid was the driving force behind everything he did. In return, you felt the innate need to look after the Mandalorian whenever he would let you. Love went both ways and it took him a little while to accept that. He did now though, and with open arms.

It was early in the morning when Din finally came back from a two week hunt. Moving silently as always, he entered the hull and ditched his armour in a pile - the need for a helmet was long gone now. The kid had seen his face and so had you. You'd never broached the subject of whether that meant you were married now. It was kind of a grey area. You both knew this was a long-term thing, so what difference would it make?

He came through the hull and up to the cockpit. It was barely 7AM, so you were still asleep. You'd pushed the pilot's seat back as far as it would go - it didn't feel right to sleep in your makeshift bed without Din. Grogu was dead to the world on your chest. He was still wearing his towel - a little poncho style one with a hood - which told Din you must have both accidentally passed out the night before after bath time. He couldn't blame you: spending time with the kid was draining as it was, let alone when he screamed and cried in objection to his nightly wash. You'd both told him a thousand times that covering himself in frog slime would only result in needing to be bathed. Did he listen? Like fuck did he listen. He took after his father in that sense.

"Cyar'ika, I'm home."

Din's voice roused you. The kid was moved aside in seconds - gently enough so that he didn't wake - so that you could hug your Mandalorian. His arms wrapped gently around your waist, lifting you ever so slightly off the ground as he took you in his embrace. He smelt of blaster fire and smoke - it must have been a rough few days.

"Hey," you breathed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Din - what the hell happened to your face?"

It was littered with scratches: nothing major, but any injury was enough to freak you out. Din had come home with broken limbs and busted ribs before, so really, this was nothing. It still made you sad to see him injured though.

"There was a fight," he murmured. "I got off lightly."

"Is that your way of saying you should see the other guy?" you teased.

He smiled. "I suppose so."

"C'mon, let's head downstairs. I'll clean you up."

Picking up the kid in one hand and taking yours in the other, Din followed you down the ladder and into the hull. He placed Grogu in his little hammock and quietly shut the door - he'd be out of it for a few more hours if you were lucky.

Din sat down, arms flopping to his side as you pulled out some bacta wipes and stood between his legs. When he had the energy, he would always insist that he did it himself; you figured that some part of him always assumed that needing your help equated to asking too much. However much you insisted that wasn't the case, he was stubborn about it. It was different when he was tired - he'd spent so long looking after himself that sometimes, it was nice to have someone else do it. It was also a symbol of how much Din cared about you and trusted you, because this was the same man that would hide a fucking stab wound from a medical professional in fear of being vulnerable.

"There we go," you muttered a few moments later. Pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, you tossed aside the medkit.

Din reached out his arms, wrapping them around your waist and pulling you closer. He buried his head in your stomach - instinctively, your hands came up to hold him, one tangling in his hair whilst the other rubbed soft circles on the back of his neck. It was clear that the mission had been a difficult one, but you knew he would only talk about it if he wanted to.

"I love you," Din murmured.

You gave him a soft smile. "I love you too."

#asks #din djarin x reader #din djarin reader insert #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #din djarin x you #din djarin fan fiction #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian reader insert #mandalorian imagines #mandalorian x you #star wars imagines #star wars x you #star wars fluff

[robmacz]

My Friend Eric

Part 7

It was several weeks before I was allowed visitors, but as soon as I could I wrote to Eric to ask him to visit me. He came the week after. It wasn't the first time he had visited me in prison. He came to see me once a month during my first sentence. I think he always felt a bit guilty about that. After all he could have been doing time with me.

On the day he came I was excited, happy to be seeing my old friend again. I was collected from my cell by one of the guards and taken down to the visiting area. There I was told to go and sit by window 12 and to await my visitor. As I sat down Eric appeared on the other side of the glass. We each picked up one of the telephone receivers.

'Hello Robbie! How you doing?' Eric looked like he was doing well. He was tanned and wearing a navy blue t-shirt which accentuated his arms and upper body.

'I'm not doing too bad, all things considering.'

'Good. Have you got a good cellmate?'

'Yeah, he's okay actually. We get on. Can't ask for much more than that.'

'That's good man.'

'I guess I really fucked up this time Eric. I can be a really stupid sonofabitch. If only I had been with you rather than chasing after other guys. Bit late saying that now'.

'Well yes. You know Robbie you could have taken a different course, you could have had a relationship with me and I would have taken care of you. But instead you ignored me back in high school and in college and even after you got out of prison the last time. I was there for you, you could have had me any time you wanted. But you were too busy chasing after pricks who would never love you back. Like Andy in high school. You fucked him in jail, but do you remember the way he looked at you at my 25th party?'

I was shocked. He had never spoken to me like that before.

'How did you know I fucked him in jail? He swore me to secrecy'.

'I had a drink with him a few years later, he got pissed and the whole thing came out.'

'And you never said anything all this time?'

Eric just shook his head.

'There is a lot you don't know, Robbie'.

'Such as?'

'All in good time. And speaking of time, I think it's time for me to go now. I'll be seeing you real soon. I said I'd take care of you and I will.'

'How do you mean?'

'I'll see you soon Robbie'.

Eric started to get up.

'Hang on, one last thing. Whatever happened to Andy? Not seen him since that party'.

'He's in here, Robbie. Turned to drink after his wife left him. She found out he was fucking men behind her back. Ended up getting a string of DUIs, and then a hit and run. Some poor bastard is in a wheelchair for life because of him. He got ten years, he was lucky - could have been a lot more’.

I spent the next few weeks trying to identify Andy, but no luck. In a prison full of thousands of men all dressed the same and all with naked domes, most of whom don't care to be stared at, it's not easy trying to find someone. Besides, what was the point. It's not like we had anything in common anymore. What played on my mind more was what Eric meant when he said there was a lot I didn't know. In prison you don't have too many distractions, so you play these things over and over again. The more I thought about it the more worried I became.

I comforted myself with remembering that Eric said he would take care of me. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that or how he could do so while I was in prison, but Eric was ingenious at times. He had always taken care of me. It was me that fucked things up just like that last job I had.

After I had left prison the first time I went to stay with Eric. I had nowhere else to go. My apartment in New York had been sold as had my car and virtually everything else. Eric had taken care of it all and invested what was left over so that I had some money to come out to. That wouldn't last long of course and I needed to get another job. I thought I was destined for something menial, but at a party one night Eric introduced me to Doug. Doug was a good looking fifty something who had just set up his own investment business. He and his partner Adam were looking for someone to manage their sales team. Eric had known Doug socially and had hyped up my experience from when I worked in New York. It wasn't really the same at all but Doug asked me to visit the offices the following week to talk more.

I went along not expecting much to come from it especially once they knew about my record. But the meeting went really well and Doug had said that Eric had explained everything to him and that it really wasn't a problem. Adam was younger than Doug and immensely attractive, but it was immediately obvious that this partnership was not one just founded on business. Adam didn't say much but he clearly liked me and before I left that afternoon I had been offered the job of Sales Manager.

The job was everything I had hoped it would be and as the business grew so did my salary. I was soon bringing in six figures again and after a while Doug and Adam made me a junior partner. I couldn't believe how my life had turned around. Just a few years before, I’d been doing time.

A year or so later I got a call from Doug one Friday evening to say that he and Adam were going down to the Cayman Islands for a few days. They needed to do some business down there but would stay on for a short break. He asked if I wouldn't mind holding the fort. This wasn't that unusual, though it had never been at such short notice before.

On the following Monday I went into work as usual. Driving into the office in the new top of the range Mercedes convertible that I had bought just a few weeks before, I parked in the underground lot before riding the elevator up to the eighth floor where our office was located. It was already busy as I walked through the open plan wearing my black Armani suit and Gucci loafers, heading for my office. I liked to wear expensive clothes at work, people noticed these things and it made me feel important. As I neared my office I saw Aaron, the cute assistant sales manager, who was all too eager to please, rushing to ask if I wanted coffee.

Literally as I sat down at my desk I heard a commotion in the outer office. As I got up my door burst open and there was a detective with two uniformed officers.

'We have a warrant to search these offices in connection with an investigation into fraud. We also have a warrant for your arrest together with those for Douglas Gibson and Adam French. Turn around and place your hands behind your back'.

I assumed the position, which was coming to me quite naturally now. The handcuffs snapped around my wrists and I was led out into the office that I had walked through just a few minutes before as king of the world. Now I was humiliated in front of my junior staff.

I had no idea what this was about and hoped that Doug and Adam would be able to clear it up before long. But of course Doug and Adam never returned. They were long gone. It seemed they took another flight from the Cayman Islands as soon as they landed and headed off to somewhere in the Middle East, In the meantime I stood trial. My attorney tried to cut a deal with the DA, but he wasn't interested. It seemed a lot of people lost a lot of money and he wanted a show trial. Even that little twerp Aaron testified against me to save his own skin. He also said I sexually harassed him too. The little shit!

Just another time I screwed up in spite of Eric's help.

Still . . . After six months in the pen without another word, I had all but given up on Eric. Perhaps he had given up on me too. I couldn't blame him if he had. But it left me feeling all alone. I got into a routine, as you do in prison, and soon you start to think of little outside your small world inside the walls.

Then one day as we were assembling for work detail I was pulled out of the line. I had been working on washing the prison vehicles, which was actually quite a cushy number compared to some of the work that prisoners had to do. So I was worried when I was pulled aside. I hoped I wasn't going to be sent on a hard labour detail. I was told to stand to face the wall while the other prisoners were sent on their way. One of the guards approached me and told me to put my hands behind my back. He cuffed me and produced a pair of shackles and snapped them around my ankles. It was the first time I had been restrained like this in prison and it made me quite nervous.

The guard took me by the arm and escorted me out of the cell block. He didn't say anything and I dared not ask. He walked quite briskly, which made it difficult to keep in step. The shackles bit into my ankles even though they were secured over my pants. Eventually we arrived at the administration block. It was a brand new building, completed only a couple of months ago. We had watched the comings and goings of the builders when we were washing the prison vehicles. Some of those guys were very hot indeed. If only I had been a free man.

But now I entered the building. It was clean and bright. Reminded me of the office I had worked in only the previous year. The guard went up to the reception desk and was told that he was expected. He took me to the elevator, where he made me stand with my face to the wall, and we went up to the second floor. When the elevator door opened I turned and entered into a large open plan office with a dozen or so people working on their computers or on the phone. Most were civilians but some were in correctional officer uniforms. The guard marched me through the office, some of the staff turned to stare as they heard the chain of the shackles rattling on the floor.

At the end of the open plan we turned left into another corridor where we passed a series of office doors, each with a plaque indicating the job of the person inside: Head of IT, Head of Personnel, Senior Correctional Officer, Deputy Warden, and finally Warden. We entered this last door, where there was an outer office and a prissy young man, wearing a white shirt and bow tie, sitting behind a desk with a name plate which said 'Executive Assistant to the Warden'. He looked up as we entered.

'He's expecting you, go in’ he said in a rather camp voice that just didn’t seem right in a prison.

The guard turned to me and told me to stand to face the wall. I did as I was told and then I heard him knock on the door and he went in and closed the door behind him.

What the hell was happening? I wondered whether they had caught up with Doug and Adam and decided to release me. Or had I done something I needed to be disciplined for? My mind was racing, you know how it does, when you know something is going on, but just not what. All logic told me it couldn't be anything bad; they wouldn't have brought me to these nice surroundings if I was going to go to the hole. The only logical thing I could think of was that I was going to somehow be released. Perhaps Eric had come up trumps - how could I have doubted him!

I heard the door open. The guard barked for me to turn around and follow him in. I shuffled forward and entered a swanky corporate office that wouldn't have been out of place in Wall Street. I turned to face the desk, and sitting in the Warden's chair was Eric.

To be continued…

#arrest #jail #prison

[archvillain-fandom]

response to barry lyga’s un/edited

Not sure what this is. A book review, maybe. A creative writing exercise. The ramblings of a madwoman. Whatever it is, it had to be written.

We’re sitting in the backyard of my childhood home, on our butts, on the grass, on top of the hill. It’s not the backyard as it is now, years after we sold the house and the new owners remodeled it, but it’s not the backyard from my first memories. The treehouse that my dad built for me at age 10 is in the avocado tree, and the giant eucalyptus has been cut down. I stare at the stump, big enough for a little girl to use as a table for her dolls.

“Who am I?” my indefinite companion asks.

“You’re Kyle Camden,” I reply.

“Oh.” Kyle looks at his body, which is suddenly a lot clearer. “From Archvillain?”

“Sort of,” I say. “You’re a version of Kyle that I extrapolated from Archvillain. You’re close to the character that was written, but not exactly the same. You’re a subversion of the real thing.”

“There is no ‘real’ Kyle Camden,” Kyle says.

“Touché.”

“So what’s different about me?” he asks.

I sigh. “Who knows? Maybe you’re less snarky. Maybe you have more empathy. Maybe you’re really me, when I was twelve. Who knows?”

“You said ‘who knows’ twice in the last paragraph,” he points out.

“I’ll get it when I edit,” I shrug. “Or maybe I won’t edit this. His book is called ‘Unedited,’ after all.”

“It’s called ‘Edited,’ too,” Kyle says. “Doesn’t that mean you should edit?”

I sigh. “Don’t be a smartass.”

His eyes widen. “Wait, we can curse in this?”

“Sure,” I say. “This isn’t a Scholastic book. This is a blog post on a blog with fewer than fifty followers. Nobody’s going to care.”

He laughs, long and loud. “FUCK!” he yells. And then, not as loud, but just as exuberant, “Fuck, that felt good! I’ve been wanting to fucking swear since I was fucking created.”

I laugh too. “I’m glad I can offer you that much, at least.”

“After all I’ve given you?” he says dryly.

“Well, fuck, Kyle, don’t act all self-important now.”

“That’s the character,” he says. “That’s the original character.”

“I guess,” I say.

He furrows his brow. “If what you say is true, though… I’m not the original character. I’m an approximation, based on your interpretation. Which means that I clearly mean a lot to you. Which means that I’m not being self-important. So there!”

“You’re being a smartass again,” I say.

He shrugs wordlessly. We both stare at the eucalyptus stump.

“You know,” I say, finally breaking the silence, “I don’t think I ever used that stump as a table for my dolls. I think I just said that in the first paragraph to evoke memories of a rosy childhood, playing in the backyard without a care in the world. In real life, I think I was too anxious about getting my dolls dirty to take them outside.”

Kyle turns to look at me, but doesn’t say anything.

“Or maybe,” I continue, “I didn’t make that up. My sister convinced me to bring our dolls outside, and I went along with it to make her happy. I don’t remember.”

“You have a sister?” Kyle says.

“Younger,” I say. “Three and a half years apart.” I nod in the direction of the stump, at the bottom of the hill. “When that was a tree… the lowest branch was level with the second story of the house. It looked like a hundred feet up– maybe it was. My dad hung a rope swing from that branch. No fucking clue how he got it up there. But he hung a rope swing with a hundred feet of rope– well, there were two ropes holding up the swing, so I guess it was two hundred… hmm…”

“Focus,” Kyle snaps.

“Anyway,” I say. “My sister was a climber. Climbed everything vertical. And so she decided to climb the rope swing. There were no knots or anything, just straight rope. But she took her shoes off, rubbed dirt on her hands, and started climbing. She was seven or eight. And she climbed up, almost to the top. And she made eye contact with my mom, through the second-story window.”

“And then your mom screamed, and your sister panicked, and lost her grip, and fell to her death,” said Kyle.

“No,” I say. “My mom kept her cool, and ordered her to come down. My sister made her way back down the rope, endured a lecture, and is now a student at the same college that I went to.”

“That’s a bad ending,” Kyle tells me. “There’s no payoff. We learn nothing.”

“I have a fear of heights,” I tell him, although that seems kind of redundant. “Now you’ve learned that.”

“I don’t have that fear,” he grins. “I can fly.”

“I know.”

“It’s kind of weird that you have a fear of heights, but love a story about falling,” he says.

“Falling?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Archvillain is about falling.”

“What do you mean by that?” I ask, but he only shrugs.

I wait a moment, before I say, “You don’t sound like the real Kyle.”

“I told you, there is no real Kyle.”

“Original Kyle, then. The non-bastardized Kyle.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re writing me,” he says.

“Probably,” I agree.

He says nothing, and so I add, “The tree story is my running-in-front-of-a-car-to-get-an-action-figure story.”

He throws his hands up. “Oh, now we’re talking about the book!”

I shrug. “If you want, we can.”

“If I’m Kyle Camden, then I must be, in some way, partly Barry Lyga. And if I’m partly Barry Lyga, then I must want to know what you thought of his– my– book.”

“I think the part of you that’s me is placing much more weight on my opinion than the part of you that’s Barry Lyga really would.”

“Fuck, that’s confusing,” says Kyle.

“I got confused writing that sentence,” I say.

“But seriously, what did you think of the book?”

“It was…” I try to think of some adjective, and fail. “It was. It existed.”

“Seriously?” Kyle says in disbelief. “That’s all you’ve got? Aren’t you supposed to be a writer?”

“I’m a writer,” I say. “I never said I was a good writer.”

“‘It existed,’” Kyle mocks. “Wow. Put that on the cover of the second edition. ‘It existed,’ signed Amanda P———, owner of one of the most obsessive Tumblr blogs in existence. That’ll sell more copies.”

“It–“ I sigh. “Isn’t that a compliment? In a work of metafiction, where the characters are grappling with their existence, under an author-god grappling with his own creations, under the real author grappling with his publisher, isn’t it enough to say it existed?”

“No,” says Kyle.

“You’re infuriating,” I say.

“It’s why you like me,” he replies.

I exhale. “The truth is that I don’t get this book. But this book gets me. You follow?”

“No,” he says again.

“It’s just–“ I take a breath, and try again. “It’s just that when I read it, something clicked. Details lined up. It was like it was written for only me.”

“It wasn’t, though,” he says.

“No, you’re not getting it. I had like, a God moment. It was the same feeling that I had when I first read your book.”

“Didn’t you read my section in Unedited?” Kyle says. “God isn’t real. It’s a coherent 13-dimensional waveform–“

“Alright, I don’t feel like typing the whole rant out,” I say. “I get it. I’m not special.”

“Whatever details you thought ‘lined up’ were just coincidences. Common human experiences.”

“You’re starting to sound like Lyga’s Kyle again,”

I say.

“If you’re to be believed, that’s who I really am,” he says. “Or maybe your bastardization has stuck. Maybe, in his mind, a part of you has embedded itself in his conception of me.”

“Or maybe that’s just my ego talking,” I say.

“Maybe,” he says. “I think you have a bigger ego than he does. Which is saying something, considering he wrote a book where he’s both God and the Devil.”

I put my head in my hands. “Fuck this shit. Can’t we just go back to sitting in the backyard?”

“Sure,” says Kyle. “It’s nice here.”

We both sit.

We both sit.

We both sit.

I say, finally, “I did like the book.”

“You only read it to see me,” he says.

“Well, yeah, at first,” I say. “But then I couldn’t stop. Screwed up my whole day at work because I couldn’t get my mind off of it.”

“You work?” Kyle says.

“I’m twenty-two,” I say. “A college graduate. Of course I work.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a government drone,” I deadpan. Kyle chuckles. “I work for my city. For now, possibly forever.”

“It’s funny,” he says. “I never pictured you working.”

“You’re a fictional character,” I tell him. “You can’t picture anything.”

“I can picture as much as he can picture,” he says. “Or, well, as much as you can picture that he can picture.”

“Well, I was fourteen when I first read Archvillain,” I say. “I wasn’t even a babysitter back then. And now–“

“Now it’s been, like, eight years,” Kyle says.

“Nine, nearly.”

“Jesus. That’s a lot of time to be devoted to one book series.”

“I have other interests,” I say. “I have stories that are really mine.”

“But they’re not Archvillain,” says Kyle.

“Yeah,” I say. “I guess it ties back into that ‘first love’ theme.”

“A book series is not a first love,” Kyle says. “Enough of me is you that I know Archvillain was not your first love.”

“I had Archvillain before I had her,” I say.

“Her?” Kyle says. “You’re gay?”

“Bi,” I say. “Maybe. Or ace. Or gay. Or straight. Does it matter? I loved her the way Mike loved Phil. The way you love Mairi.”

“That’s not healthy,” he says.

“No,” I agree. “That’s why it ended.”

“Do you regret it?” Kyle asks.

“I hate her some days,” I say. “Most days. I hate myself for blowing it up, too. It was really my fault that it ended. If I hadn’t freaked out when she set a boundary, we’d still be friends.”

“You weren’t together?” he asks.

“Nah.”

“Damn.”

We sit, until Kyle says, “I’m gay too. I think.”

I laugh. “I was never sure whether Barry Lyga always intended you to be gay, or whether he just did that to make my teenage self happy.”

“Guess you’ll never know,” says Kyle.

“Guess I’ll never know,” I say. “Although, you and the Mad Mask…”

He groans. “It doesn’t matter. When the series ends, the young Mad Mask is hell-bent on revenge, and the old Mad Mask is lost to time. It’s not happening.”

“Then, you and Mike…”

“It’s not happening,” he says again.

“If I were writing the series…” I start.

“But you’re not!” he interrupts. “It’s not your series. It’ll never be yours.”

“And yet you’re partly me,” I say.

He looks down at his blue-gloved hands. “Yeah, well. Sometimes stuff sticks.”

“Yeah.” I pause, and then I say what’s been on my mind since I read Edited. “Do you think the email is based on me?”

“Email?” He furrows his brow. “What email?”

“In his book. George writes an email to Gayl Rybar, or maybe Barry Lyga, telling him how important his work is. That he kept him from killing himself, because of his writing.”

“I liked George,” mused Kyle. “When I met him.”

“When I was sixteen, I emailed Barry Lyga. I told him how important his work was. I didn’t say it kept me from killing myself, but that was what I was thinking. Do you think that part was based on me?”

Kyle frowns. “I doubt it. He probably gets a lot of teenage emails.”

“Maybe,” I say.

“I think it’s stupid to think that anything in that book is related to you. Maybe Barry Lyga put an Archvillain section in knowing that you’d enjoy it– maybe. But I think you’re just desperate for connection, as a new adult in a remote job, and are leaning back on your old favorite series for comfort.”

“Maybe,” I say again. “You sound like his Kyle.”

“I only sound like Lyga’s Kyle when I’m making you uncomfortable,” he says.

“Maybe,” I say, for the third time.

“You thought that email was written by George?” Kyle asks.

“When I read Edited, I did,” I say. “George is a fan of Gayl Rybar. It makes sense.”

“But he isn’t a fan in Unedited,” says Kyle. “So he can’t have written it, since Lyga wrote that book first.”

“Yeah, I guess I can’t really know,” I say. “It’s all fictional, anyway.”

“Never stopped you from wondering before.”

“You’re very aggravating,” I tell him.

He raises his hands in defense. “Hey, you’re the one writing me.”

I pick my legs up off the grass and hug my knees. “I can’t believe I’m twenty-two.”

“You’re young. Don’t complain about it,” Kyle says.

“You’re younger than me. You’re twelve.”

“I’ve been twelve since 2010. Technically, I’m older than you.”

“In Barry Lyga’s original outline of Archvillain–“

“Oh, shut up!” Kyle exclaims. “Nobody cares about that but you. There’s not going to be any more Archvillain– no books, no short stories, no cartoon. You need to get over it, and grow up.”

I glare at him. “Can I finish my fucking sentence?” He rolls his eyes, and I continue, “In the original outline, Kyle gets visited by his future self in Tomorrow Today. I was fifteen or sixteen when I learned that, and I thought, okay, how old is future Kyle? And I settled on twenty-two.”

“And now you’re twenty-two,” he finishes.

“Exactly. And I keep thinking of going back in time, of talking to my younger self. Of what I would say.”

“What would you say?”

“I don’t know. That it gets better? That I shouldn’t feel so guilty all the time? That I should keep writing? I doubt I’d listen. I doubt you’d listen to your older self, if that book had ever been written.”

“I think you’re thinking about this a little too much,” says Kyle.

“Okay, that definitely was the Lyga part of you.”

“You’re still writing me,” he says. “And I’m sure Barry Lyga, the real one, doesn’t see me as half him, half you. I’m all his, in his mind, and you’re a deranged fan who needs to find a hobby.”

I accept this. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m a genius,” he says.

I smile. “I did kind of kidnap your series.”

“That’s a good way of putting it,” he says.

“I’m writing a book about that now,” I say. “Kidnapping. Murder. Real dark shit.”

“That’s a departure from the middle grade stuff.”

“Yeah, well,” I shrug. “You gotta write what you gotta write.”

“Like this piece?”

“Yeah.”

“You know, for a book review, we didn’t talk about the book that much,” Kyle says.

“Yeah, well, if he wants an actual review, he can look on Goodreads. Anyway, I’m going to call this a response, not a review.”

“Very English major of you.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a compliment.”

“If I was a real English major, I would know how to end this,” I say.

“There we are, tying back into the book!” Kyle exclaims.

“It wasn’t intentional. I think that endings are hard for everyone.”

“Oh,” says Kyle. “But it has to end sometime.”

“I guess it does,” I say. “How would you end it?”

“I’m guessing that people hailing me as a true hero isn’t an option?” he says. I shake my head. “I don’t know. Sitting here is nice. We could just keep doing that.”

“That’s a bad ending,” I say. “There’s no payoff. We learn nothing.”

He shrugs, for the final time. And we sit.

#archvillain book #barry lyga #kyle camden #unedited #writing

[calisources]

DANIEL MOLLOY SENTENCE QUOTES. quotes taken and spoken by daniel molloy from amc's interview with the vampire (2022). you can change pronouns and names as you see fit for your muses. mind you all of these are mostly sarcastic so beware.

It's not an interview; it's a... it's a fever dream told to an idiot.

 I've been fired from three papers, hired back at two of them, third got gobbled up by Knight Ridder. So to be clear here, I'm a goddamn reservoir of dos and don'ts.

Yeah, well, mortality beats a heavy drum.

Whole planet's having a moment, I'd say.

Here's another question: That's the sun out there; where's your coffin?

So you played docent to the gentleman vampire?

Perfect cover for a vampire.

I'm assuming you only met at night.

 It was a good place to score. I did what I had to.

That'll make a great blurb.

Mention vampires in one of those ,readers tend to call bullshit.

Things didn't end well last time, so forgive me if I'm a little nervous.

Maybe your story wasn't worth telling.

I ask the questions, you answer the questions. Anything that can't be verified, I send to my researcher.

Memory is a monster. We forget. It doesn't.

'(name)' Never heard of him.

Don't expect every reader to swallow that one.

Blissing out post-priesticide.

Fifty years later, you talk like he was your soulmate. Like you were locked in some fucked up gothic romance. Why?

You were the prince of your district.

1917 doesn't sound like it was such a bad year.

For a killing machine, I kinda like her.

A band-aid for a shitty marriage?

Poor dear. She wasn't held enough between ritualistic murders.

Look, Charlie Manson wrote a couple of beautiful songs. Still, he was Charlie Manson.

Won't matter what your intentions are. It's the world out there now.

Once you put it out there, they decide what it is. It can get away from you.

Context. Sure. Warn the world about a forthcoming apocalypse. 

 I keep waking up just before you ask me back to your shitty apartment.

'He only beat me the one time, Officer. It's not his fault.' Classic Stockholm, eh, Doc?

Legal dope makes me constipated, but the wit flows like a river.

 In the eyes of a 20-year-old, you were wasting the gift.

Yeah, well, he lived in a dump the last time we did this.

 I want to interview you.

Can an immortal meet immortality?

Cold, calculating and on mission.

You aimed at the navel, seduced the seducer.

Well, isn't that neat and tidy?

Not exactly the adventure of our lives feeling i'm feeling.

There's a feeling that she hated your guts there for a while.

Murder, what murder? It was an act of mercy.

You spared him, out of some fucked up idea you had about love.

She recorded his last words in his own blood.

The girl did not have a fucking problem tossing him on the grill, okay?

You chose (name) over her, time and time again.

This is the same shit that happened in San Francisco.

#rp meme #sentences memes #meme call #roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. ) #rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #roleplay meme

[barry-j-blupjeans]

@taznovembercelebration - Dome

The Starblaster had taken a lot of beatings in the past but the last cycle, Davenport thought, might have been the final straw. There were only so many times they could repair and fix up the ship before it inevitably came apart. For the past year, the Starblaster had taken hits from all directions- the weather, enemies, Magnus flooding the bathroom yet again- and if he had a choice, he would have put the ship into retirement.

But that wasn't exactly an option considering, y'know, the ship was the only thing keeping them alive. Or the bond engine? They still weren't too sure what exactly was bringing them back every year. The most Barry and Lup could science out of it was "that's just a thing that happens now, I guess!"

Still, the Starblaster was shaky. Davenport landed as soon as he could when they entered into this new cycle, number fifty-four. They were in a grassland that spread out for miles in each direction. First things first, of course, Barry and Merle did their yearly check to see if their location was safe. And then, Davenport got to work right away.

Or tried to, at least.

"We're not adding another dome," Davenport said, scrubbing off the half circle Lucretia had drawn onto the top of the ship. The base would stay pretty much the same but Davenport was at least going to try to make the inside more space efficient. It had been fine for a two-month trip, but over fifty years? They needed so much more room than they had.

For her part, Lucretia drew back and didn't say anything. That didn't mean she wasn't giving him her Look. The "do you even care about the aesthetics of your creation" look. Yes, Lucretia, he did care. But if he was going to be running from the Hunger for another fifty years, adding a second glass dome on top of their ship would not be helpful. The one for Merle's greenhouse was damaged nearly every cycle and Davenport would just take it off if that suggestion hadn't offended Merle so much.

"I don't know," Lup said, leaning over his design. "I feel like we could use another dome."

"No," Davenport said.

"A small one," Lucretia said.

"A tiny one," Lup said. "So tiny. You won't even notice it's there."

"And what is it there for?" Davenport asked, tapping his pencil against the table.

"To look rad as hell," Lup said, at the same time Lucretia said,

"Fisher."

Davenport took a deep breath.

"One," he said. "Would it look rad as hell? No doubt." Lup opened her mouth. "But-" Lup shut her mouth. "It would just be adding another weak point for the Hunger to get in through. Do you want to spend every reset cleaning up more glass, Lup?"

"...No," Lup said.

"And for Fisher?" Davenport asked, turning towards Lucretia. "What- I mean, what would they do with it? It's a dome. They have no purpose for a dome, unless you know something I don't."

"I'm sure I know lots of things you don't," Lucretia said. Lup sniggered from behind him. "But, uhm, no, they wouldn't really use it for anything, it's just for fun. Like getting a dog house."

"They have a tank," Davenport said. "That they barely use."

"That's because it's in my room and not Magnus's," Lucretia said. "I can't help that Fisher plays favorites, Captain."

"No domes," Davenport said. "That's final. I'm asking you want we need, not what our floating pet jellyfish might enjoy."

Lucretia was silent for a moment. Lup was leaning back on the back two legs of her chair, her feet propped up on the table. Davenport's design was fine. It was practical, it was efficient, and it wouldn't change too much of what they already had. If asking Lup and Lucretia was going like this, Davenport was afraid of what might happen if he asked Taako, or, god forbid, if he asked Magnus.

"LED lights," Lucretia said finally. "On the bottom. For, uh, for aesthetics. Please."

"Ohhh," Lup said, slamming the chair back to all fours. "Fuck yes. Dav, we gotta get some LEDs."

"See, that's a good suggestion," Davenport said, sketching that down on the bottom of the ship. "That's what I wanted to hear."

"In the shape of a dome," Lup said, spreading her hands as if she were imagining it. "Picture this: We try to land. All we have to do is look down and match the circle of LED's with the gap we conveniently carved into our parking spot so the dome won't break-"

"No," Davenport said. "No, uh, you've made it worse again, actually."

#taz nc #taz november celebration #davenport #lucretia #lup #taz #taz balance #mine #ise cube writing

[wild-wombytch]

I learned from "Punk Santa", the punk who gave me the CDs today -and who happened to have known my father- that someone I knew died last week. I'm not taking it really well.

(under the cut because it's a long vent of many many messy thoughts and also tw moid, you don't have to read about men, and tw child abuse and death)

It's fucked up because I'm aware I'm likely idolising him and that maybe if I saw him again before he died I would now find him as awful as the next man...but he was oddly extremely dear and important to me, because he was the one normal and not creepy adult I had when I grew up. By being normal he was the anomaly of my world. The one kind man I ever knew growing up, way before my middle-school teachers. He saw me with my curly hair and patiently listened to me enthusiastically talk about insects and horses and videogames for hours, asking questions and stuff, joking, encouraging me to express my views and emotions, explaining things to me wisely, defending me when my father belittled me and made me cry and scolding drunk other guests who would have inappropriate vocabulary or discussions around me. He was younger than my parents but much more responsible and caring than my father ever was. He was Yugoslav. The man born in a country that didn't exist anymore. He had six younger sisters he raised with his single mother. He was into drugs and shits but that's why he never had a partner that I ever heard of, because he said he knew he was a walking problem and his life sucked and didn't want to drag someone into this. He never said he was feminist like all these libfem men, he just respected women. Or at least he seemed so to me as a little girl who grew up with the worse examples of men around, including men pissing with the toilet door open. Even my mother said she wished she saw him again and that he was a green flag. One of my doggo who died two months before my father was the baby of his dog. I remember playing with her pups in the backyard of this man. I was the one who taught them how to respond to whistling.

One day, to cheer me up after some verbal abuse from my father that made me cry, I don't remember the exact context, but he said jokingly he'd marry me (in a very non-creepy way, that wasn't serious at all). I believe it was after some shit my father told me about being so gross or temperamental as a person that nobody would ever want me or some shit (when I was like. Five).

We stopped seeing him after he called out my father on his bullshits in my and my mother's defence, because my father likely "blacklisted" him from his circles then. We never really knew the whole story. Maybe it was also sickening to him to be powerless about the situation my mother and I were in. He was genuinely sorry for us.

I don't know. I missed him. I've been thinking about him this year and for months I was frantically searching for him, asking every gutter punk about him, asking an acquaintance if by any chance the guy with the same name he mention could be him...I really believed it was a question of time before our paths crossed again. I dreamt about him and me going to a travel together 2-3 weeks ago, with him listening to my enthusiastic talk about horses and being happy to catch up after I was confronted with weird monsters...I never dreamt about him before. I should've known.

It's hurting maybe more than losing a family member in a way. Apparently he was sick or something like that and didn't go get treatment. He died alone. Not long after his dog, who birthed the one I had. I don't even know this man's family name. His exact age. His birthday.

I feel sick. It's not my fault or responsibility, yet I can't help but wonder...what if I met "Punk Santa" three weeks ago? He knew about this man, he could've told me where he lived. I could've seen him one last time. Maybe kick his ass to go to the hospital. Maybe he wouldn't have died. He was at most in his early fifty. He had so many years before him. I can't believe it was his time yet. I missed him by one week and now I'll never see him again. I quite literally do not care about anyone who was around me when I grew up, if they die painfully (except "Punk Santa", grandpa's cool), in all honesty, they probably deserve it, but this man...I don't know if it's because I'm not in a great place psychologically but it's really messing me up. My actual self doesn't feel much connection with my past self due to the severe depersonalisation, derealisation and ptsd I experience, so I'm numb, but when I think of the little girl who is still somewhere inside of me, she's absolutely devastated and heartbroken and suddenly I can't stop crying. And there is this obvious fracture inside of me where all of these emotions mix up and are so hard to identify and deal with. It's unfair. Of all those awful men, he was the one who least deserved it.

I don't know why, but I needed to see him again. My soul needed it. One week...it's cruel. Very cruel. What even happened there? I can't stop thinking about this man and the little girl inside of me. Caring and looking out for each others and failing. It's like a tragedy from a fictional story except it's real.

I don't know, maybe I'm too sappy and probably cringe right now...I'm a big mess. It's like another bridge to my past violently collapsed and with it a pillar that saw my construction as a person.

And I'm hurt that I was invited to exactly one wedding in my whole life, yet I buried almost all the people I ever cared about. My maternal grandparents when I was four and six. My maternal great uncle when I was 14. My father when I was newly 19. My favourite paternal uncle a few months later. My dog who's been with me since I was 6-7. Now this kind man.

Now I just have two uncles, my mother, my paternal grandmother who I die to see but can't due to lack of transportation. Two brothers who don't care about me despite how much I try to heal our relationships, fucked by our father. Aside from my brothers, my left family is aging fast and badly and won't stay around for long. When they're gone, I'm alone. Completely, utterly alone. And homeless. But mostly alone.

I live with death. I die more everyday I live. I see it as fair and transformative, usually. I'm not afraid if it. Sometimes I seek it. Sometimes I feel less alone in its arms. I look at it in the eyes and accept it as a part of nature. Raw, indiscriminate, merciful. I don't see it as cruel, except this one time. This was unfair. Why?

And I'm tired. It's like trying and failing to wash again and again a cloth that keeps getting bloodied like the kannerez noz. My infinite task that I'm trapped with is grieving others and swallowing the pain. It hurts that I know more of death than joy. It hurts that I simply know that my life won't be super awful but also won't ever know major joys. I'll just keep burying people. Put band aids emotionally. Move on. Wait and see who's next. I'll continue reading the death records carefully every time I open a newspaper. Sometimes I'll recognise a name vaguely and wonder who it was to me. Sometimes it will be strangers and I will imagine their lives based on the informations.

...I don't even know what happened to the body of that man. I hope his sisters took care of it well. I wish I could've attended the funeral if there was one. Maybe it would've helped. But right now...it's awful.

#Tañ ha Gerioù #tw death #tw moid #tw child abuse #tw negativity #vent post

[aetheternity]

I promised a post about Mika and how Hoyoverse fucked him up forever ago but I was trying to finish like fifty other wips. I'm nearly done with one at the time of writing this so here's the Mika post absolutely no one asked for.

Let me start off by saying I think this little munchkin is adorable. He definitely has the same kind of things going for him as every other playable character up until this point. A lot of random accessories like tassels, belts etc. And the symbols on his clothes feel very Mondstadt. I enjoy characters the most when they have very aesthetically pleasing outfits. (Venti and Aether are the best examples of this for me). So Mika's outfit was automatically very eye catching for me.

However I do believe he does not look like he belongs in this game. I've noticed other people saying it too but for me personally he just feels so oddly disconnected from the other PC's (I'm just gonna write PC's for playable character instead of spelling the whole thing out over and over and over again.)

Like every PC is automatically noticeable and obvious if you stand them in a group of NPC's but for Mika he's got this brighter color scheme that clashes with character's like Jean and Kaeya who when he stands next to them have darker colors on their outfits. So he stands out more than they do. Maybe if he stood next to like Venti it'd be less noticeable. His hair also is so so bright and most Mondstadters have darker hair or natural looking hair colors except for Sucrose, Klee and Diona (even perhaps Bennett and Razor.)

Like seriously look at him in comparison to everyone else in this shot. He's almost more of an eye sore than Traveler. I'd actually argue that he is more of an eye sore than Traveler. But to be fair Traveler's outfit has gotten two years of time to get used to in comparison. But you know what enough about that let's discuss why Hoyo fucking hates him.

Not only did they give Mika the Scaramouche treatment. Which btw is far far worse for Mika seeing as he is the second to last introduced Mondstadter. He was also dropped right in the middle of: Cyno's first banner (a character people have been excited for for two years). The second part of the Sumeru archon quest, Scaramouche's reintroduction and backstory drop and in an event that already had so many beloved characters that we are already extremely accustomed to/love!

This event will also be gone in a couple more weeks (at the time of writing this.) So people who start playing after 3.1 aren't even going to completely understand how egregiously Hoyo fucked this poor baby up. He's had no mentions literally anywhere before this and was thrust upon us with no warning in the worst way possible. Funny that a post I made like a month or two ago is relevant again. The part where I said Hoyo screws their four stars with shitty writing tactics.

He's supposedly a character that was on Eula's exploration team and they made him feel like he was just created a couple weeks before the update dropped. Why has Eula never mentioned him before???? In fact no character has mentioned him before now. They threw in some random voicelines for him from a couple of the knights and called it a day.

Idk maybe this wasn't their fault and they were forced to include him for some behind the scenes reason but this is the worst character introduction they've had so far.

The worst part for me is that he has nothing to even stand out now that he does exist. He's a cryo polearm apparently so he's gonna automatically be outshined by Rosaria game play wise. Not to mention we one hundred percent didn't need another polearm user.

They gave him far too little screen time to really judge his personality which means we've gotta wait till he shows up again and lord knows when we're gonna get another Mondstadt event. Because I highly doubt they're going to drop him into any story quests any time soon. And who knows if/when he's getting a hangout because the Sumeru four stars are definitely getting their's first. This is definitely the most frustrated I've been at a character introduction in this game.

Also I had no idea where to put this. But his weird little ponytail thing annoys me a little. It reminds me of when I was in high-school and a girl would offer to put a boy's hair in a pony tail. But his hair would always be too short so she'd tug the tiny near nonexistent strands into a hair tie and it'd end up looking similarly to that.

Like it's so stupid just cut that part off or let those hairs roam free it's so weird looking 😬 anyway. I'm done ranting if you read this far I'm kind of shocked actually but regardless thank you. This is such a random post but I needed everyone to know how frustrating Mika is to me.

I still want him though. I just wish Hoyo didn't fuck him up like this.

#genshin impact #mika schmidt #genshin 3.1 spoilers #of ballads and brews #genshin event

[kobblefort]

Daarunbay Detevay 1

Before I finish up with Rushsly, I'd like to do something a little different and dig through Legends mode for a bit to see the ancient history of our world, Daarunbay Detevay, the Dimensions of Portent. I know it might seem kind of like a pacing killer to pull back right before the end, but I'm going to want to get into my next fortress after Rushsly right away, and this stuff will be relevant far beyond the peaceful retirement (or total destruction) of Rushsly.

Along with the in-game Legends mode, I'll be using Legends Browser 2 to navigate the fucking 4gb XML file that Dwarf Fortress spat out at me when I asked it to export all the legends information. Obviously, we're not going to go over everything, that just physically isn't possible. But trying to wrap up all these little events into a brief(-ish) history of the world interests me, so that's what we're going to do, and there's no better place to start than at the beginning of time.

Well, Dwarf Fortress does put some events before the calendar starts, just to make sure that you can have stuff like forgotten beasts and titans who aren't literal babies if you try to start the game at too early of a year. But as you can see, among the myriad births of many civilizations, there's us!!! The Comedy of Sweating, first led by Otsu Trailedspurted. And there's the very first kobblefort before any others: Landsswallow!

Otsu's accomplishments are... well, few. She fell for another girl right after setting out to Landsswallow - a stockkeeper named Dicr, and their relationship had a bump or two, but by the time they died, they seem to have patched it up. We can't even know how old she was when she died, due to so much of her life taking place before the recording of time, but we can learn about what killed her!

One of the first known forgotten beasts - Gronane Kupaanugos - Divedmenace the Evil Moistness - lmao - a great one-eyed chicken with a poisonous bite. The kobbles of Landsswallow were not hardy like the ones of Rushsly; one has to wonder if they ever even learned steelworking in their limited time on earth. The record of Divedmenace's life shows it facing almost no resistance, besides just two warriors who came to confront it.

It has been dormant since the year 80, but in addition to its fifty-four notable kills, it did away with sixty-three creatures. What happened to Landsswallow?

170 years after its tragic destruction, just around the time that Rushsly started, a few outcasts settled in its long-abandoned ruins. But let's go back to the early days.

If Landsswallow was the only fortress, we would have never been kobbles, and thus never have settled our kobblefort. There were two more, Plantershred and Phlegmsunders. How long did those last?

Plantershred, a hillocks that kept livestock and apparently ran quite a decent tavern which let in ratfolk and gnolls, made it a good 32 years before being destroyed by a single hill titan, a great humanoid made of coral with massive mandibles called Yssyushu Rocktufts. Their sacrifice was not in vain - the beast never fully recovered, and just two years later was defeated by another kobble. Also, I don't know where else to put this, but I really like how one guy tried to settle in the ruins of Plantershred and just got fucked up by a bronze colossus, not even the same hill titan, just some other overpowered bastard showed up to ruin his day.

But what of Phlegmsunders? Well, this might be exciting after those last two: Phlegmsunders still exists! Well, almost.

Though it survived agonizingly close to our own time, it was unfortunately taken over by a group of ratfolk necromancers, The Doomed Muds. Actually, 237 was a great year for the ratfolk, and thus a terrible one for us.

That's five entire settlements that were taken over by The Doomed Muds, all too recently, and thus explaining the modern hostilities between ratfolk and kobblekind - the wounds of war have barely even started to scab. The strangest thing about The Doomed Muds is that they are not even ruled by a ratfolk: their first leader was a Stella Elf named Tarus Orangerelief, and once she was captured and sealed away by a different group of ratfolk, ones who weren't quite as keen on necromancy, the position was changed over to a human necromancer, Ismir Glistenedclustered. And while evil is always evil, it's not always banal - the story of Tarus is an interesting one.

Once a humble soap maker, her first love was a nine-year affair, and her second was ten - this only seems to make sense, as her lifestyle seemed quite nomadic. In the midst of it, a strange vanity overtook her: one that made her feel she could not age, could not die, that it would not be acceptable. So she trained under a necromancer, changed her name, moved away and became a butcher - possibly so that she would have an ample stock of corpses to practice with - and took on her own apprentices, along with a third husband. She even wrote a book at one point to try and spread the necromantic arts!

Two years after she penned it, she began the string of vicious attacks that would greatly damage The Comedy of Sweating and kick off what came to be known as "The Fell War" - which continues to this very day. Speaking of wars...

Our first lasted 55 years, against a splinter group of kobble necromancers. Our second was the aforementioned Fell War, which continues to this day against the ratfolk necromancers. There was one war that lasted only a year and was in fact made up of only a single battle against the humans, with 86 casualties: The Squeezing War.

Just a few months after, they accepted a peace offering from the kobbles, but it only lasted 11 years before tensions flared up again. And as of just a couple years ago, we have been embroiled in The Conflict of Wars against a ratfolk civilization known as The Nightmare of Tunneling. They have been around as long as us, and changed warlords 21 times in that length. The current one, who menaces us now, is named Vakeek Malignreason.

Once a humble planter in a peaceful hillocks, at least when she was not out raiding and pillaging, Vakeek was standard-order rank-and-file cannon fodder, with something of a talent for bonding with her comrades. But as far back as 78 years ago, after already putting literal hundreds of battles beneath her, she began dreaming of taking an artifact for herself: The Conflagration of Sport, an iron spear made by a lapine 71 years before she made up her mind on it. Knowing how long it might take, she became obsessed with immortality in order to make sure she could not be stopped from her goal even by death.

For a time, she was even enslaved by a group of gnolls known as The Ace Seductions, and made to work as a butcher before apparently earning the privilege of working as a poet, authoring three poems before escaping to become a scout back with her kin, The Nightmare of Tunneling, taking a husband and finally settling in the NoT hillocks Shockedhate after blowing her cover as a necromancer once more in Plaguejuices. For twelve years after that, though she was nominally a "gelder" at home, all she did was fight. Joining and eventually leading assaults, sometimes upon the same place over and over until the ratfolk could finally take it, she was finally crowned warlord in 241 and settled in the fortress of Towermaligned. Her life since then has been nothing but battle and training, and no doubt she has some hand in the many ratfolk attacks Rushsly must weather, along with the many other Comedy of Sweating outposts, towns and fortresses. The martial nature of Rushsly is no outlier to the world, especially not The Hill of Scars where all these warring factions live, but is simply a reaction to it; an extension of it.

What does all this mean? Well, nothing, really, but nothing "means" anything. All of this is just a series of random "events" generated by a computer with no real rhyme or reason besides a certain pre-programmed internal logic to what can and can't happen. Without someone to interpret it, it is literally just garbage data, and it has taken me the much better part of the evening just to scry even this little bit of meaning from the four gigabytes of literally just words that were generated so that I could play a funny little computer game.

But when you do play that funny little computer game you get to imbue the garbage data with meaning. Our pattern-seeking human brains find narratives and extract stories from the endless spaghetti of code. We learn things that were never actually taught and understand things that never actually made any sense because that's what we like to do. Life is also a bunch of random shit happening with no real consistent logic to it besides certain rules we know as "physics" or "causality" that are so iron-clad they may as well be computer code too. In our time alive we can only ever really be one person, or well, only ever inhabit one body, and so the easiest way to pull out strands of meaning from the swirling ramen broth of the universe is by focusing on characters.

We can try to see things through Alsrta Moltenend's eyes, a vagrant who had the job of caravan voice randomly thrust upon her as a matter of convenience, whose only real material contribution to the world was a nice wooden bin, whose eldest son was killed by a were-beaver, who tried to have a random kobble put to death for not making anvils or necklaces or whatever for her fast enough.

We could look at it with the perspective of Zhasrca Foldcounselled, an otherwise completely unremarkable miner besides the fact that he is one of the only Yekal worshippers in Rushsly.

After all, his life just might be about to get vastly more interesting.

#dwarf fortress #kobblefort #legends mode