#I almost never see this take in the Tumblr circles I run in so that’s good

[anxiouspotatorants]

This whole «Lorelai is evil and so is Rory and Emily is the real MVP of the show» shtick is getting on my nerves.

Like don’t misunderstand me, I love Emily and Richard. They are interesting and complex characters with strengths and weaknesses and a whole lot of baggage (like almost everyone in Gilmore Girls, except maybe the Town Troubador). But they aren’t this perfect well meaning couple with an ungrateful daughter who refuses to accept help and grow up.

Lorelai is not perfect either by any stretch of the imagination. She’s presumptuous, stubborn, used to getting her way and struggles to see things from more than one angle, but she’s also kind, hard working, supportive and able to strike a balance between being open and setting boundaries. She’s a complicated, flawed person, like all good protagonists should be (as opposed to heroes). And she doesn’t fight with Emily or cut her parents out because she’s being immature, she’s doing it because they genuinely hurt her several times.

Imagine if things had gone exactly like Emily and Richard wanted things to go. A 16 year old Lorelai would be married against her will to a guy who would likely then spend the rest of his life under the thumb of his parents for the «mistake» of having Rory. Her social life, her work, her education, all of it would be heavily monitored by Emily and Richard, as they would insist she only engage with what they deem respectable work and social circles. Lorelai in the DAR, Lorelai running charity functions, Lorelai staying married to a Hayden. So much of what makes Lorelai herself would be gone: the inn, her friendships with Sookie and Michel, cooky hobbies and a band of semi-adopted misfits and Luke.

Certain people (not many but still some) seem to forget exactly what it is Emily and Richard ultimately criticize Lorelai for, because it’s not her childish remarks at Friday Night Dinner. They criticize her for her lack of university education. For her lack of a high status job even though she runs a successful inn that she co-owns herself. For her terrible pick of men - not because of how they might be as lovers but because they’re not high society and not the kind of wealthy guys who could let Lorelai retire to the life of an affluent housewife (like did we forget that one of the times Lorelai cut them out was because they refused to accept LUKE?). Hell, they usually don’t criticize Lorelai for reasonable issues with how she raised Rory, they criticize her for not controlling Rory’s love life more.

I do think Emily and Richard love Lorelai and Rory, and that at the end of the day they want them to be happy (otherwise none of these characters would fight so hard to stay in each other’s lives). But time and time again they let their love of status and fear of a bad reputation stand in the way of recognizing their daughter and granddaughter for what they love and for what make them happy. Dislike Lorelai all you want, Rory too, but don’t come here and tell me that Emily is the one in the right.

#I almost never see this take in the Tumblr circles I run in so that’s good #but there seems to be a lot of it almost everywhere else #so I felt like screaming into my personal echo chamber for a while #also I didn’t get too much into Rory or how Richard specifically does this too #because they deserve their own posts #but yeah people do this to Rory too #and Richard isn’t an innocent bystander which is why I write him in with Emily as a unit #gilmore girls #the potato rants #Gilmore girls discourse #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #emily gilmore #richard gilmore #not tagging anti because again I am not anti

[achelouise]

Lies, mysteries, and tricks

Fandom: Honkai Starail

Pairing: Sunday/Gen!reader, MENTIONED Gallagher/reader

Warnings: Spoilers for 2.1! Very toxic, from both sides, I think? Maybe OOC Sunday.

Summary: You learn about Robin's death, and rush to console Sunday. He isn't the thing you should be worrying about, though.

A/N: It's been a while! Came back to write this, because I couldn't stop thinking about this idea. It's rushed, and it's not really well-written, and it's short. Please forgive me~ (I am obsessed with Gallagher rn, so if anyone has any ideas I would love to hear and write about them :D (I still don't know how to properly use tumblr btw))

“Sunday? Are you in there?”

No answer. You drum your fingers against your sides nervously.

“Sunday, can we talk? Please?”

Still no answer. Your heart beats widely in your chest.

You ignore your thunderous heart as you slowly push the doors of the mansion open. The creaking doors echo and bounce along the empty halls, revealing a giant room, devoid of any light. A luxurious bed, dorned with lights and gems and painted with beautiful colors, is tucked away at the very side of the room. Sunday’s bedroom.

The factions had established that, other than the man himself, Sunday’s blood-related family, along with his spouse, would have access to it. Sunday himself had no permission to grant access to anyone, so you are surprised when the bellhop simply glanced at you and let you in without protest.

You could only guess it was because you two were close friends, and they were used to seeing you enter the Pavilion as children. Still, to enter his bedroom must be a breach in security…

But he wasn’t in any other room you could find. Time was slipping, lives were being lost, and you needed to find him. Fast.

You’re not exactly in the know. Most things you know, only Gallagher has told you. But you know full well that Sunday needs support.

“Sunday, please. I know I haven’t visited in… a while. I know what happened, and I’m sorry. Let’s work this out together. Don’t run away. Please?”

Only your echoes answer.

You were rambling to yourself at this point, desperation climbing further and further up to your chest. You have seen what Sunday does when he loses those he loves- and you want to help him. You don’t ever want to see him like that again. Never again.

You glance at the papers scattered on his desk. Maybe they have some information on where he went. He likes to rant in diaries.

You close your eyes, and pray to whatever Aeon you follow.

Forgive my sins for ever trespassing privacy to this extent. 

You don’t exactly have a clear mind when you start to rummage through the papers that endured wear and tear. You start to read some.

How could she do this?

It’s fine. It’s fine. Itsfineitsfineitsfineitsfineitsfine

Robin. Dear Aeons, Robin. 

When I find the traitor I will make them pay in blo o d 

Please don’t leave me please

Please please please please pleasepleas  e 

Your stomach drops. Poor Sunday.

Something else catches your eye, though. A soft reflection of a photo, pinned at the corner of the widespread desk. You lean over to take a good look at it.

You bite your lip so hard it nearly breaks skin. But even that dulls in comparison to the piles and piles of photos- all of them just you and Gallagher.

There are a wide range of those photos; from you two sitting across each other in the Dreamjolt Hostelry, to your hands linked together, faces flushed and smiles bright. All of them, with Gallagher’s face crossed out with glaring, red circles.

How dare he HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE

HE DID IT  HE KILLED HER   HE TOOK HER   I WILL MAKE HIM PAY

The words are jagged and rough, as if he had barely managed to carve it out with his bare hands. It is a gigantic contrast to the sweet and elegant cursives he writes in his letters to you. It almost made you believe it wasn’t even Sunday who wrote this.

But you’re not stupid. You swallow the bile down your throat as your stomach churns with heightened fear and uncertainty. Sunday is a clever man, which makes him infinitely more dangerous.

Admittedly, he is far more unhinged than the public understands. You’ve never had a problem with it- only crazy can recognize crazy, and that was probably how he uncovered the plan of that gambler.

This doesn’t work in your favor, though. You don’t want to know what it means when he directs this insanity towards you.

You turn to leave.

“Ah, you found me.”

A hand shoots out to grip your arm, and you have no time to react. Shock, as quick as it comes, is slow to settle down. You try to scream.

“Oh Triple-Faced Soul, please seal this traitor's tongue and palms with a hot iron, so that the traitor will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.”

No.

Your whole body goes cold. You feel it- the soft waves of Harmony pulsing in your head, trapping your tongue and seeing through your eyes. You had seen its effect- seen how it slaughters and breaks those who disobey. But to receive this kind of treatment yourself…

You finally process the dangerous situation you’re in, and wrench free from his grasp. You regain your stance as you stumble backwards, a question on the tip of your tongue. “Why?”

Sunday looks… off. His clothes are askew, his eyebags more apparent without the illusion of Harmony, and a smile, out of place and out of his mind. He chuckles, far too gentle, so much so that it sends shivers down your spine.

“You know how this goes, don’t you?” he coos, berating and condescending. “Answer my questions truthfully, or suffer the rejection of the Harmony.”

“Why would I ever lie to you?” you ask, “What is there even to ask?”

His eye twitches. His voice drops an octave, laced with poison and jealousy. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

He breathes in, regaining his footing as the questions begin. “Are you interested in Gallagher? Is he interested in you?”

You think of him. A few hours ago, he insisted he came along to find Sunday with you. You’re starting to regret that decision. “Yes- and, I… I think so.”

Sunday tsks. “Do you know what he is? What it is?”

You cross your arms. “No. He is not human, but I am not exactly a young damsel in distress myself.”

“Do you not understand? That that man is nothing but a memetic entity, with thousands of truths woven together as a lie? Do you not know that the man you hold hands with killed Robin in cold blood? Why would you want to be with a foul beast like him?”

You are taken aback at the venom in Sunday’s tone. He isn’t even hiding it anymore. His breathing is ragged, and his eyes are blown wide.

“I… didn’t.” you admit, far too overwhelmed by his genuine frustration to confirm the validity in his claims.

Sunday suddenly withdrawals, as if sensing he has taken you off guard. He draws himself to his full height, casting a shadow with the light outside in the halls. The pulses in your head die out, as if they were never there.

“You are being tricked, dearest. He is not the man you think he is. He is a monster, a murderer, that serves under a shameful stain. Join me, in the pursuit of the Watchmaker. We can make all of them pay in blood.”

He rants, and you feel your heart sink. He is unstable because of this recent loss, but he has clearly not lost his mind. There is still rhyme and reason to what he does.

“My past? Hah, let’s not get into that just yet. I’ll tell you- someday.”

You glance down at the hand he offers you. His gaze is tender, but far too fragile. His lips are quivering, a silent plea.

You want to reject him. You want to scream at him, punch him, and run away, as far as possible. Gallagher had promised he would explain himself one day, and you had not mentally prepared yourself to know.

But given the unstable state he was in, it is unwise to simply respond with violence.

You reach out for his hand- only for a blade, dark and violet laced with gold, piercing from his stomach. Blue liquid pours from his gut, and this time, you truly do scream.

You don’t hear anything. The withdrawal of the blade is defeated by the look of despair and shock in Sunday’s eyes. He reaches for your hand, in a blind desperation- only to dissipate at the softest graze into a sea of bubbles.

Your heart thunders in your ribcage. A silent dread washes over you, and you hear your breaths grow shorter.

A lighter goes out.

Strong, warm arms envelop you. 

A voice, low and gruff, tells you that it’s going to be okay. The voice hovers over your ear, gentle and sweet, almost fabricated to ghost over your ear in a way you can’t refuse. You don’t respond, though, as you feel a sharp cut to your neck, and you’re out like a light.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr gallagher #hsr sunday #sunday x reader #sunday x you #gallagher x reader #gallagher x you #hsr gallagher x reader

[prodshima]

love language scenarios 𖤐

warnings: i wrote this a couple months ago and i just realized that it doesn’t really fit their languages but i’m too caught up to rewrite the whole thing :(

pinned: just cute scenarios of 2 of my baby boys that’ll hopefully get me out of writer’s block :) also, is haikyuu tumblr still alive? lol :p

click here for: part two

ATSUMU MIYA - physical touch.

“baby, where are you? i’m home” atsumu drowsily calls out from the front door, kicking his feet out of his shoes before hastily hanging his coat on the rack when he hears you call out his name

with fast strides, atsumu rushes to the bedroom and shoves the door open, his heart immediately melting at the sight of you all cozy in his shirt. you look so cute and he just can’t help but jump on you to bury himself in your warmth (which he’d been looking forward to since he left for work at 7 in the morning) —oh how he missed you so so much.

“hi there my baby, how was work?” you ask him as you run your fingers through his hair gently, untying the knots in the process before bursting into muffled giggles when he lets out a groan

“ ‘s okay but i missed ya” atsumu whispers and glares at you teasingly when you tell him that the both of you just spent the whole weekend together, he knows it’s true but he doesn’t care.

as a comfortable silence envelopes the bedroom, atsumu peppers feathery kisses on your jaw, soft sighs leaving his lips when your gentle hands stroke his cheek in circles, suddenly feeling overwhelmed after facing a lifeless computer for almost 16 hours

“wanna have dinner, tsum?” you ask him after a few minutes of silence, suddenly remembering that you prepared a small meal for him to eat because you figured he hasn’t eaten yet

but you’re weirded out when silence envelops the room so you look down and there welcomes you your boyfriend lying on your chest who’ve never looked so fragile with his head resting on your chest, his legs tangled with yours, and his arms wrapped around your waist

“i love you so much, tsum” you whisper as you feel your own eyes closing as well, the both of you left to enjoy each other’s warmth, finally letting the night past.

TSUKISHIMA KEI - quality time.

for someone like tsukishima kei who’s used to always spending his free time studying before he came across you, he cherishes every moment the both of you spend together because he knows he’s not good with his words— whether it’s spent on little dates, staying at his dorm and snuggling while watching cliché movies, or even just listening to music together, it’s a thing he’ll never admit it though.

“tsukki, wanna walk me home?“

tsukishima turns around to you batting your eyelashes in attempt to “lure” him to walk home with you— he thinks it’s kind of stupid though because you know he’ll do even if you don’t ask him to, he’d never make you walk home alone this late in the afternoon especially knowing that you’re tired from all the lessons you had to take in 

and of course also due to your hectic schedules kicking your asses these past few weeks as finals come to a close, the both of you don’t see each other much in campus except during lunch breaks

“of course i have to, i don’t trust you enough to walk alone” tsukishima says with a fake sigh as he looks forwards, avoiding your eyes, but you decide not to tease him any further about how he just won’t admit that he wants to be with you just a little longer but instead, enjoying this side of him

as the both of you walk together silently with his earphones shared, listening to the playlist he made for you, well that he denied making, his hand suddenly grabs yours hastily, but still somewhat gentle and buries it in the pocket of his hoodie, catching you by surprise and pulling you closer to his side

you can’t help but smile at him sheepishly, that of course goes unnoticed by the tall man, judging, he looks at you with an eyebrow raised all while trying to keep his own unfazed aura because he knows exactly what’s running on your mind

“what are you looking at? hurry up, we still need to study when we get home” he scoffs softly, attempting to remove your hand from his but you don’t budge, gripping his hand tightly as you gaze at him in surprise

“huh?! are you staying with me today? you’re not going back to your dorm, tsukki? tsukki? tsukki !” you whine, swaying your hands together as he grins widely, turning around to leave a quick peck on your lips and pinching your cheeks together

“yeah, i am so get used to it because i’ll be doing it a lot more”, he admits and you tug his arm lightly, smacking him as you repeatedly ask what he meant by that

this is perfect, he thinks.

yeah it is.

© all works belong to @prodshima — don’t plagiarize, copy, modify, or claim my works as your own.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x you #tsukishima x yn #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x reader #atsumu x y/n #hq atsumu #atsumu imagines #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #tsukishima scenarios #atsumu #haikyuu fics #haikyuu fic #tsukishima fluff #atsumu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu!!

[tiddygame]

You give me goose bumps

(repost because Tumblr was being Funky on my end-- sorry!)

Ao3

Summary: Ghost sat there, trying to figure out how in the hell he had gotten himself into this situation: Lying on the floor of the safe house with a massive werewolf using him as a teddy bear. Honestly, the sequence of events wasn’t too complicated.

Tw: violence, nightmares, and a smidgen panic

It was a few days before a full moon and Ghost and Soap were on a simple, low-stakes mission. All they needed to do was find some flash drive in a building that had been abandoned. Ghost really didn’t even need to watch soap from his vantage point.

The mission was intentionally simple. Having a task force composed almost entirely of monsters did have its downsides. Every full moon, one of those disadvantages reared its ugly head.

In general, when it came to the werewolf side of things, Soap had a pretty good grasp on staying in control and not involuntarily shifting or going berserk. The amount of control he had over both forms was honestly impressive.

Full moons were a different story. In the days leading up to them, instincts always got a bit harder to defy and shifting at will would sometimes go out the window entirely. It’s why they were here, at an abandoned building. A low-energy mission to not trigger a shift, but something that needed to be done and a good outlet for pent-up energy at the very least.

Ghost watched from his perch outside as Soap methodically searched the building, occasionally catching glimpses of him through windows. Soap didn’t need his help, he was just watching the exits, making sure no one went in or out. That didn’t stop Soap from complaining to him the entire time.

“This place gives me the creeps.”

“Is that your official assessment, sergeant?”

“Oh piss off, you’re outside in the middle of the day. I’m in this creepy shithole looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Focus, Mactavish.”

“I am! You might be different, but I can talk while doing something.”

Ghost didn’t grace that with a response.

“Any clue why they vacated?”

“Negative,” he tried not to think about how if it had been anyone else, he would’ve chewed them out for unprofessionalism three comments ago.

“They left in a hurry, some poor sod didn’t even finish his coffee,” it was said in a joking tone but Ghost could hear the genuine unease behind it.

“Just find the flash drive and get out. Sooner you’re done, the sooner we can leave,” he replied not unkindly, he might enjoy teasing the man but that didn’t mean he didn’t trust his instincts. If Soap felt like something was wrong, he’d take his word on it.

Ghost repositioned slightly, watching the floor Soap was on, looking in the windows through the scope. He was barely able to see his sergeant, just in view of the window. He saw when Soap stopped in the middle of the room, and turned in a circle, definitely looking for something but not a flash drive.

“Soap, sitrep. What’s going on?”

“Something’s wrong,” he’d never seen his sergeant so spooked. He wanted to be angry, wanted to use his lieutenant voice to tell Soap to get a move on, but he couldn’t ignore the dread that was overwhelming him as well.

“Ghost, I don’t think we’re alone here,” well fucking Christ, did he have to say it as creepily as possible?

“Johnny—?” he wasn’t sure what he was going to say, whether to tell him to continue or to cut and run, but it didn’t matter. It took him a few moments to realize that the windows were slowly being covered by a black fog. He could see the wisps of smoke curling towards Johnny.

Soap noticed it too, “For fuck’s sake, I hate dealing with wraiths.”

Soap wasn’t too concerned, but Ghost was. He quickly abandoned his perch and booked it for the building. There wasn’t much a sniper could do against a cloud of smoke.

“I’m on my way, don’t die,” he hoped it went through but the way the radio was crackling didn’t fill him with hope.

“Aff—m—ve,” he was barely able to hear what he said, the radio now spewing a high-pitched ringing as if his tinnitus wasn’t already bad enough. He had to agree with Soap’s earlier comment, he hated dealing with wraiths.

If he didn’t already know the right floor, the unmistakable growl of a pissed wolf and loud crashes would have been a dead giveaway. He climbed through the stairwell as fast as he could. He burst through the door to the fourth floor, the open office space giving him a clear view of the confrontation.

His sergeant, obviously having shifted, in the corner, growling with his teeth bared. In front of him, a wraith stalking him, trying to find a weak point. It looked at him, deciding that between the two, Ghost would be the easier victim.

Ghost felt deep within him when the thing turned Its full attention to him. Wraiths were born of pure misery, torture, and dread, and they were intent on making everyone else suffer an even worse fate than they did. (For several, several years Ghost was convinced he was doomed to become one too, until a certain Scotsman entered his life, at least.) This one was strong, as It stared at him, he could feel all his happy memories turn necrotic.

The two of them stalked towards the other, Ghost’s boots stomping heavily on the ground and the wraith imitating him despite Its floating. It lunged, only becoming tangible when Its hands wrapped around his throat, trying to cut off his airway. As utter dread washed over him, he stabbed at the thing but it turned back to smoke before it could connect. They had entered a fatal tango, though It seemed to have forgotten that there was another involved.

With the wraith distracted, Soap pounced. The tricky thing with fighting wraiths was their ability to become intangible at will. Standard protocol for dealing with one involved lengthy planning and strategizing, wearing them out before—

Oh, good god, It was already dead.

Soap ripped the thing apart in the same way a dog would its favorite chew toy. He had the thing’s neck between his teeth and was shaking It back and forth, the wraith trying to claw at his snout. It was clinging to life until the final tendons gave way and Its body dropped with a heavy thud. Ghost couldn’t find it within himself to feel bad for the thing.

While Its body was now detached from Its neck, Soap still wasn’t done. He put one paw on the thing's head and kept going, not stopping until the wraith had been separated into three parts.

Soap grabbed the throat and happily trotted to Ghost, wanting him to put his hand out.

Uncomprehendingly, he did. Soap dropped it in his hand and barked, his tail excitedly wagging away.

He realized as it was nudged towards him that it was a gift. Soap had gifted him the throat of the creature that tried to kill him. He really couldn’t tell if that meant he was lost in his instincts or if it was Soap being Soap.

“Thanks,” he was touched either way.

The werewolf barked and spun in a circle, having too much energy for such a large thing in such a small space.

“Let’s find that flash drive and get out of here,” Ghost had to fight to keep the baby talk tone he normally used when talking to dogs out of his voice. Werewolves weren’t domesticated dogs and it was beyond rude to treat them as such, regardless of which form they were in or how far in their instincts they were. Still, Ghost couldn’t help but compare the way Soap was jumping around to that of a puppy that didn’t know its size. He was far from an expert in them but he knew Soap was rather large for a werewolf; it was a miracle he fit through the hallways.

They went on to clear the building, eventually finding what they were after a few floors above where the wraith had attacked. Ghost still didn’t know what to do with the esophagus he had been given, so he just… held on to it. What was werewolf etiquette for being gifted a body part?

He remembered the whole thing with cats bringing their owners dead animals because they thought that their owners couldn’t hunt and internally groaned. Please, please, please do not tell him he is expected to eat this?

He hadn’t wanted to set it down because if Soap was in control and had knowingly given it to him, that would just be a dick move. And really, the same applied for if he was lost in his instincts, it would still be mean to simply toss it aside. Maybe he was just overthinking this.

Can you overthink being given the throat of your enemy? It seems like it might be one of those things that you can only under-think.

His pondering was interrupted by Soap stopping and sniffing the air. He let out a rumbling growl, sniffed once more, and then began herding Ghost to the exit. He wanted to ask what was wrong but it wasn’t like the wolf would’ve been able to answer. Regardless, just like his instincts earlier, Ghost knew to trust Soap’s senses.

As they made their way to the ground floor, he could hear engines in the distance.

“Ah, shit…” Why now did they have to return to reclaim their stupid building?

He looked around the perimeter and saw an abandoned truck near the fence. Ghost got Soap’s attention and gestured to the vehicle, both running for it.

When the door didn’t open, he didn’t hesitate to smash in the window. As he hotwired the car, Soap started pacing back and forth, clearly unhappy at the fact that he wasn’t able to help in some way. When the werewolf heard the engine start, he perked up and ran towards the driver’s door, spinning in circles.

Ghost stepped to the side, wanting to let him in before he got behind the wheel. There was shouting coming from in front of them, some poor guard trying to get their attention who likely didn’t realize he was staring at the people who just stole incredibly valuable information right out from underneath their noses.

The guy, somehow not noticing the werewolf, approached, talking about how Ghost shouldn’t have access to the truck. He had the advantage, already holding his gun. They needed a distraction.

Some men stormed out of the exit of the building they had just fled through, gesturing wildly with their hands, shouting, “Something already killed the wraith!”

When eyes turned to the truck, Ghost had already gotten in and put it in drive.

If the guard hadn’t realized earlier, then it probably dawned on him as he had to jump out of the way to avoid getting run over. Some others tried to stop him, but there was a reason Ghost never got a driver’s license. He had spotted a locked chain link fence gate that looked just right for their grand escape and floored it. He laughed at their panic when they realized he wasn’t slowing down but tried not to be disappointed by the lack of sudden speed bumps. Soap had his fun earlier, why can’t Ghost have his?

They cleared the gate with ease and were speeding down old, back country roads in no time. Soap had moved to the backseat (the front being nowhere near big enough for him) and pawed at the window. Ghost, still riding the high of almost running people over, chuckled and let down the window, looking in the rearview mirror as Soap stuck his head out.

Knowing him, he was probably still mostly there and was enjoying having an excuse to be even stupider than usual. Ghost tried not to watch him, but he was happy to see his sergeant so happy. Besides, he’d seen enough shifts gone wrong to know that they were lucky he was still in such high spirits after a fear-induced shift.

He felt something by his foot and glanced down at the floorboard, seeing the throat still sitting there from where he had dropped it to hotwire the car. Huh. Seriously, what in the ever-loving fuck are you supposed to do in this situation?!

When he could safely say that no one was chasing them, he pulled over and got out, Soap following, running around to get out energy that was still pent up. He radioed Price, updating him on the situation. Luckily, there was a safe house nearby. Unluckily, it was a shithole.

It looked like the military saw a house going into foreclosure, bought it, then left it to rot. Even from the outside, he could see that the roof looked one more storm away from collapse and the windows had been boarded up with plywood. The only thing keeping the walls up was the structural support from how much vegetation covered the outside. How homely.

The front door wasn’t even big enough for Soap to fit, they had to go around and find a sliding back door that opened wider (he didn’t chuckle at the fact that the front door was too small for the behemoth of a werewolf, definitely not.) It didn’t take long to clear the house, the only hostile he found was some mold growing in the corner that could probably start another strand of the bubonic plague.

Ghost went back to the main room and picked through their MREs, preparing them while Soap sniffed every nook and cranny of the house. The novelty of such a large thing in such a small area had yet to wear off, and he still silently laughed at Soap having to squeeze through the doors. The wolf continually let out annoyed huffs and Ghost knew that if he still had human vocal chords, he would be prattling on and on about how stupid the door frames were.

Once Soap had checked the house himself, he made his way back and shoved his snout in Ghost’s way, both to see what he was doing and to be a nuisance. Ghost laughed and shoved his face away, knowing Soap was about to start a campaign to make sure the lieutenant wouldn’t be able to prepare their dinner in peace.

His left hand being designated as the ‘shove Soap away’ hand, he was able to continue setting up the heating element one-handed. At some point, Ghost stopped pulling his hand away and left it on his forehead, pushing as needed. And, because Ghost’s main talent is ruining things, it evolved into his left hand scratching Soap’s ears, apparently having forgotten the most basic rule when interacting with werewolves.

“If you wouldn’t do it to a human, don’t do it to them. You wouldn’t walk up to a stranger and start petting their head, would you?”

Ghost stopped and pulled his hand away, muttering an embarrassed apology that wouldn’t come close to making up for treating his sergeant like some random street dog. Throughout the petting, Soap’s head had dropped low, likely having feared retaliation if he protested the ministrations and just deciding to grin and bear it.

Soap growled, shoving his head towards his chest.

“I know, I shouldn’t have done that. It was just…,” just what? Instinct to dehumanize the person who just saved your life?

“Just… nothing. Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.”

This time Soap whined and dropped his head in Ghost’s lap, staring up at him sadly.

“I know,” this time even quieter, “I’m sorry.”

By some saving grace, the MREs were ready. He set Soap’s next to him before subtly inching away, not wanting to force the poor man to eat next to him.

Soap huffed and nudged his food closer to Ghost before plopping down practically on top of the man and digging in. Ghost was frozen for a second, staring at his sergeant, before he too relaxed and began eating. It didn’t take long for them to finish up, both inhaling their food as fast as they could. Soap doing so from the increased appetite brought on by shifting, and Ghost hoping that he wouldn’t have to taste whatever the military considered edible.

Within no time Soap was stretching and yawning while Ghost situated himself at the window.

“I’ll take watch while you sleep,” he didn’t even bother trying to lie and pretend that he would wake Soap up to take shifts. No human vocal cords meant no arguing. He got comfortable, moving the curtains to just the right angle for him to see out while keeping the view from outside obscured.

Something was tugging his sleeve. Maybe the werewolf was further in his instincts than he thought.

When he looked, as expected, he saw Soap trying to gently pull him away. Ghost chuckled again, Soap always had to be careful watching his strength when shifted. He pulled his hand back and went to ruffle Soap’s ears before aborting the motion short. He’s not making that mistake again.

“Go to sleep, I know you’re tired from shifting. I’m the one that can still operate a gun.”

Soap growled. Ghost rolled his eyes and turned back to the window, “Go to sleep, sergeant.”

Soap backed away and, for a foolish second, Ghost thought that was it, that he had won.

He tried to lean back against the window frame but his shoulder wasn’t even able to make contact with the wall before something was latching onto his wrist, pulling him towards the corner that their bedrolls had been tossed to.

“Mactavish, that is enough,” he put as much authority in his voice as he could while being yanked around by a very stubborn werewolf. Ghost tried to pull his arm away but, unlike before, Soap’s grip tightened. It wasn’t enough to hurt, at least, so long as he went with Soap it wasn’t.

Soap growled. Just like the grip, before it had been playful, but not now. Ghost went with him, mostly out of shock. It was the first time the wolf’s ire had been directed towards him.

As he was shoved towards the makeshift bed, he gave in, “Alright, alright, I fucking get it.”

He laid down but didn’t remove any of his gear, as soon as Soap was asleep, he would be taking point at the window.

To his great frustration, Soap already seemed to know his plan and was biting at his tac vest. If Soap was far in his instincts, how would he know why Ghost kept his gear on? Was Soap, of sound body and mind, actually throwing a tantrum over who took watch?

“For Fuck’s sake, sergeant. Pull yourself together,” even as he said it he gave in to the repeated nips and growls and removed most of his gear, save for a gun holster and a few knives.

Soap seemed pleased and pushed his head into Ghost's chest to make him lie down again. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling, knowing he wasn’t exhausted enough for sleep’s mercy to grace him. It was bad enough on base, but on missions, his inability to sleep was somehow worse.

His misery was interrupted by something walking in front of him.

“What the hell was the point of making me lie down if you’re not going to watch either?”

Soap didn’t answer, just turned in circles getting ready to lie down. Until he saw Ghost moving to get up. Then he switched gears and dropped himself on top of him so he couldn’t get up and paid no mind to his gasping.

“Johnny, you-,” he shoved at the wolf and let out a wheezy breath, “you heavy bastard, move.”

Soap did no such thing and stared down at him from a sharp angle, noses less than two inches apart. As Ghost got used to the weight, he was able to breathe fully, finding most of Soap’s weight was dispersed enough that he wouldn’t be dying of crush syndrome anytime soon.

He also knew he wasn’t getting out of this anytime soon.

Ghost sighed to the best of his ability and reached for his radio.

Soap, as expected, growled.

“I’m just grabbing my radio to tell Price we aren’t dead. Is that alright with you?” the sarcasm in his tone was heavy but Soap just huffed and dropped his head back on (and completely covering) Ghost’s chest.

Price is a traitor and he revokes any positive comment he has ever made in regards to the captain. When Ghost informed him of his predicament and the fact that Soap had trapped his superior officer, the cruel bastard just laughed.

Price told him that Soap would hear someone before Ghost could see them with a scope and that he should enjoy the break and sleep. When he complained more, Price had the audacity to wrinkle paper and tell him the signal was dropping. Bastard.

He dropped his radio on the floor and readjusted himself. Chances were, he’d still be able to shrug off Soap once he fell asleep, it would just be a bit more difficult. Johnny was leaning into him and somehow managed to snuggle closer.

/\/\/\/\/\

Simon awoke with phantom images of blood on the carpet and the echoing of screams ringing in his ears.

He was still lying there, trapped underneath his sergeant who he seemed to have woken up with his sudden panic. Thankfully, the wolf moved and let him sit up, still trying to parse through his memories (real, fabricated, and embellished) and unable to get his breathing under control.

Something was tugging his sleeve.

He couldn’t see much beyond his blood-stained hands but recognized the sensation of fur under his fingers as he grieved once again. How many fucking times would he have to go through this? He pushed himself so his back was to the wall and closed his eyes.

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.

And yet they're still dead, aren’t they?

There was a weight in his lap. It was something heavy. He felt it and felt the same fur from before. He clenched his eyes tighter and tried desperately to breathe. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8.

He lifted his hand, feeling like he had to rip out his hair, but Johnny noticed and rooted around, getting his nose under Ghost’s hand. Ghost moved his hand away but Soap just shoved his head back under it. Simon began very hesitantly scratching his ears. In for 6, hold for 9, out for 10.

He allowed himself to relax, if only slightly, and even brought his other hand up to scratch his other ear. Simon buried his head in the fur in front of him. In for 8, hold for 11, out for 12.

Simon cried. He hated doing it, especially in front of others, but he could hear Johnny admonishing him, telling him that crying was healthy, that it was just as necessary as laughter. He always hated the weakness and vulnerability it brought, hated the idea of people knowing he was upset, but Johnny was always the exception, wasn’t he?

After an embarrassing amount of time, he leaned back and wiped his eyes. He saw Johnny’s head resting in his lap, stupidly blue eyes watching him with care. The rest of the room eventually made its way in, light trickling in through cracks in the roof and an early morning chill settling around them. Later, it would likely be so hot that the ice of hypothermia felt desirable, but as for now, Simon shivered.

Johnny wormed closer and curled around him. Unlike last night when it was meant to make sure he would stay down, this time it was to make sure as much of him was covered as possible. Simon felt bad for forcing Johnny into the role of service dog and weighted blanket, but Johnny’s not-quite-snores were rather helpful in assuring him that the wolf enjoyed their current position as much as he did.

Simon continued scratching his ears and muttered a quiet, “Thank you.”

Johnny huffed happily and nuzzled closer.

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #soap x ghost #werewolf au #werewolf!soap #my writing

[st4rfckerz]

Hi nai I finally came online after depriving myself of tumblr for a lil 😛

Okay I have two thoughts (one is so cute and the other is absolutely nasty).

1. Comforting ani after he has another nightmare.

He wakes up, gasping and looking around in a panic. When he sees you beside him though, it seems like the screaming in his head quiets down. Running your fingers through his hair, rubbing circles into his shoulder, all of it helps to ground him. Imagine him leaning up against you, fully trusting you and relying on you for every bit of comfort he can manage at the moment. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but having you here is enough for it to all be okay.

2. Giving him head until his actually quaking and crying.

His hot tears falling down his face, the saltiness of it reaching his lips as he whimpers and whines.

“S’too much, ah-“

But his hips keep bucking and his muscles tense in that way you know he’s about to cum again, and you know he loves it. He also hasn’t used the safe word, so if he really wanted to stop he would’ve by now. It’s almost pathetic, sobbing and whining but his dick twitches every time you tell him to give you one more. But you can’t complain, he is a pretty crier.

-🪩

your brain wtf

ok so with the first one, i feel like comforting anakin during a nightmare would actually help him so much because he left his mom at such a young age so i guess he never really experienced a lot of affection or nurturing growing up, so it would definitely ease his nerves within seconds.

then with number twoooo.....oh boy. this has AOTC anakin written all over it. he'd be complaining about how he can't take it, but his body would be telling you differently. you can clearly see his abdomen tensing and his legs shaking and then, just like you expected, he cums again. when you lean back and get a good look at him, you can see just how worn out he is. his sweet face all pink and wet from his tears, you just have to kiss him because he did so good for you.

#hayden is such a pretty crier don't get me started #anon🪩 #nai answers! #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen #st4rfckerz

[cookiesupplier]

Say My Name - Part Two (nsfw)

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x ofc

cw: oral sex (f receiving), fingering, P in V, unsafe sex (wrap it up folks), D/s undertones.

18+ Minors DNI

summary: Nicholas Ruffilo has been a fixture in Kaia's life for so long she couldn't imagine it without him. Even after he left for LA and his life of stardom took off.. the only problem, she never got the nerve to tell him how she felt about him. Could one more tattoo change everything?

words: 2209

author’s note: Part two, I promised the smut... I have no idea how good it is.. I.. yea. I tried lmfao. In my head it was fun lollll All unbeta'd, reader beware lol.

ALL COMMENTS ARE WELCOME!

Any replies to this post will be replied in a reblog because tumblr is a butt and for some reason wont let me reply to posts.. if anyone knows how I can fix it (I've done everything all the help suggestions have said) lemme knoowww.. cause support hasn't gotten back to me yet...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I want you to say my name like that again.”

Hearing those words from Nick left Kaia in a state of shock for a moment, her eyes widened as she stared at him, his hands warm on her leg, rubbing gently as if to sooth her, like he thought she was a wild animal about to start running. Another moan slipped from her lips however when she realised that that wasn’t what he was going at all, his hand on her inner thigh was rubbing those circles up over the paper stencil of the tattoo higher up her leg, creeping up higher, and higher.. She shuddered as she felt those gloved covered fingertips stroking the line at the edge where her skirt barely was tucked into her underwear..

“Ky, when I’m done with you Sweetheart, you won’t be moaning anyone else’s name like that. Ever, again.”

And fuck, she’d never thought Nick would exactly be the possessive type, he was so very chill and easy going, but damn, if seeing the way his eyes were staring at her as he tugged her shirt from her underwear and proceeded to pull his hands away so he could remove his gloves, that was the hottest thing she had ever heard come from him.

He never had to worry though. Not that she managed to get those words out, that would mean being able to put thoughts together right now. Instead, now, as she saw Nick’s gloves come off, she was peeling the tattoo stencil from her leg and carefully discarding it aside, time for the tattoo was done, as much as she had been looking forward to this tattoo time with Nick, oh, the feeling of his hands on her, the thrill of those words, the possibilities that he was presenting to her, even for just one moment? She couldn’t pass that up.

Just one moment. One moment to bask in the sun.

He had turned away to shift his things away from the couch he’d set her on. If they were in the store, she wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable, and maybe she should think twice before she lifted her sun dress over her head and just dropped it to the side. When he was looking back to her, she swore she saw his eyes darken as they racked down her body, taking her in.. all the artwork, so much of it his.. Her bare form exposed, left in nothing but her bra and underwear..

“Damn, Sweetheart, you are something else.”

Nick had seen almost all of her in one way or another.. Almost all of her tattoos had been done by female artists, for obvious reasons, which he understood, while she loved him, she was a private person with body issues and having the man she was in love with tattoo intimate parts of her body… even just her thigh today was pushing it! Still, looking at her here and now, and seeing her before him, Kaia watched the way he took her in and she couldn’t even imagine what was going through that talented mind of his.

“Nick…”

Breathless as she watched him stand up, he was lifting his shirt over his head, next came his belt, and his pants and boxers were falling around his ankles leaving him in nothing, completely nothing. She unclipped her bar from her back and tossed the cage for her breasts aside happily, not that she had much to her curves, it always made her a bit self conscious actually, but when she went to slide her underwear down her legs,

“Don’t.”

Kaia looked up to Nicholas, his soft voice commanding as he moved to kneel on the couch. Moving over her, his hand running up her legs, bare, without his gloves this time, leaving her to shiver in an entirely different type of anticipation. Nick had always had a way about him, quiet, unassuming, but whenever he spoke to her, she couldn’t help but listen, and so everything he told her to do, like a zing running down her

“Let me Sweetheart.”

His fingers hooked at the lacy material to the sides of her hips, of course, she’d worn one of her best pairs, why wouldn’t she when she knew that he was at least going to catch a flash of them at some point today. The last thing she was going to do was wear a pair of granny panties to a tattoo appointment with the man she’d swear she’d been in love with since middle school! Sliding the material of her lingerie down her legs, ignoring the stickiness left from the stencil transfer, she didn’t care, the tattoo was so far from her mind, all she cared about was this man, and his hands, where every inch of his skin was in contact of hers as he leaned over her and turning his head pressing a kiss to her clean inner thigh, earning him a soft whimper slipping from her lips.He was going to kill her before the night was out. He was.

“Nicholas.”

There it was, he’d wanted her to say his name like that again, and he’d gotten it, only the breathy moan was slightly louder this time, pleading with him for a little more, and she watched as his lips curled into a smile as he pressed another kiss a little higher along her thigh.. And the next.. Until he was spreading her thighs and his tongue was pressing deep into her pussy, and she was gasping loudly in surprise as he was feasting on her like a man starved.

“Oh fuck, Nick!”

Never in her life would she have thought that today would have her ended up here, would she have thought that the latest in a long line of tattoos from her friend, one of her best friends.. Even if she barely saw him anymore, that never changed for her, would she have thought that just another tattoo would have his tongue licking deep inside her. Moaning out his name, reaching for his hair as he his lips found her clit, sucking as she tugged and his man bun was spiralling undone so her fingers could thread into his hair.

When two of those gifted fingers that she’d seen work his guitar slid into her body, playing her instead, curling inside of her, cried out in pleasure, her fingers tugging harshly at his hair as she fell over the edge into the abyss, clenching around his fingers as she orgasmed. Shaking, he didn’t stop though, he kept going, until she had to push him away with a whimper, his mouth and chin glistening a little with her cum, fuck, he looked divine like that.. But god..

“I’m not done with you yet Sweetheart.”

Oh, god, she hoped not.

Looking at him, her eyes flickering down his body, he was slim, and gorgeous, and his cock was jutting out and hard.. But she saw him pause.. Considering what came next as she sat up a little, he knees cradling his hips there in front of him..

“I’m safe.. Nick, I-”

“I know.. So am I, but I don’t have any-”

“We don’t need one.”

They’d talked so often, Kaia knew that Nicholas didn’t sleep around with fans all the time on the road, he’d rather hang out with his friends, crew and the band on the buses while on tour than find random chicks along the tour route while they were away. Sure she knew he dated over the years, neither of them had been celibate, but she was certainly single now, had been for months. Last date she’d heard about for him, she didn’t even want to think about. She honestly didn’t care, and the thought of feeling him inside of her, watching as he stroked his cock, rubbing his thumb over the head to smear the pre-cum over and her breath caught, he was so fucking beautiful all over..

“Look at me Sweetheart.”

Her eyes flew up to meet his, and that soft knowing smile on his lips, she’d been caught watching him, her cheeks flaming..

“I want to see your eyes as I feel you for the first time.”

First time, fuck.. The gasped that escaped her had nothing to do with the way he was dragging the head of his cock along her slit and over her clit drawing a soft whimper out of her, and everything to do with the thought of this being the first time and not a one time. Reeling him press into her, as his hips hitched forward, pushing into her warmth, wrapped in her heat, and fuck, the moan that he pulled from her when he was completely inside of her. His hands hooked her thighs around his hips as he rolled them forward so he was flush with hers, skin to skin.

Kaia’s hand that wasn’t still greedily fisted in his hand, she was not giving up those lock dammit, they were all that was keeping her grounded right now, was wrapped around his back as his whole body was pressed against her. His lips claimed hers in a kiss that she swore felt like he was trying to steal the oxygen from her lungs.

Then he started moving.

That first thrust and she had to tear her lips from his, arching under him with the force of the thrust and fucking crying out with the pure pleasure, god, Nick, had always been quiet. Even now he was demanding anything, he wasn’t loud, he wasn’t commanding, but he had her completely enthralled and at his mercy. Each thrust of his hips and she was shuddering in pleasure as, reaching between them, those talented fingers reaching between them for her clit and rubbing,

“You going to cum for me Sweetheart, cum all over my cock like a Good Girl?”

His voice was so soft, so gentle with the request in them, wanting so badly to please him, so badly to please Nick.. How he did that to her she didn’t know. One second she had been on the verge of screaming out in pleasure, and the next she was whimpering and nodding, his brow pressed to hers..

“Yes, yes, I’ll be your Good Girl, please.”

Lips curving in that smile,

“That’s my girl, go on, cum.”

As his fingers rubbed harder at her clit, even if he hadn’t said it, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to hold back anyway, as her thighs started to shake, clenching around his cock, moaning as she fell over the edge, cumming apart as he groaned.. Nick thrust into her a bit harder then, fucking her through it, it, pushing her to the limit, and letting her take her pleasure until he was filling her with his own, fuck, feeling his warmth inside of her was something else.. And she didn’t think she could go back. First time. He’d said, first time.

Lifting her head she brought her lips in a kiss that was a little desperate, she’d admit it.. She wanted this to be the first time, the first of so many to come..

As the kiss broke though, and their bodies stilled, laying there in each other’s arms, hearts racing, breathless wrapped up on a very too small couch for two grown adults..

“What now?”

Kaia has to ask. She’d never dared ventured to any subject close to this before, not with Nick, not about anything that could do with them, but she’d also never dared to sleep with her best friend before, this was a day for firsts, and if she was going to get her heart broken, she wanted it to be done now before she got her hopes up too high.

“Well I know it’s a bit backwards Sweetheart, but maybe we could try dinner, a date might be nice next?”

She shook her head, right, and he was being obtuse, as if going on a date was so simple and going to solve everything.

“Nick! You’ll be going home.. Back to LA.. you have the band.. More tours, more music.. Who knows if you’ll meet other girls…”

The last part came out oh so softly. It was always her fear, always that ache in her heart, that the day would come that he’d meet someone else, someone that he’d sound so smitten by that she’d just know. Kaia would know that she’d lost him. Then again, she worried every time Noah told him he was out on a date, it felt like the bottom of her stomach dropped out. Sometimes she swore Noah knew, with how quiet he got on the other end of the line, but he didn’t say anything, he’d just quickly change the topic and they’d start talking about the latest anime, or game he was playing, music they were listening to, just to distract her a bit until she more herself. She was grateful for that.

Right now, she was pulled from her thoughts of those moments, those girls, but a a press Nick’s lips, his eyes searching hers,

“You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

#bad omens #nicholas ruffilo #nick ruffilo #nicholas ruffilo x ofc #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo smut #smut #fanfiction #fan fiction #bad omens band #bad omens cult #ofc #nick ruffilo fanfic #nick ruffilo fanfiction #smut prompts

[renlyslittlerose]

Last week was the one year anniversary of me posting my first obikin fic, and over the last year being a part of the fandom has brought me so much joy and happiness and enthusiasm once again. Some of you knew me before 2019 and were aware that I was working on my Masters in the Classics, which included a massive thesis. While working on the thesis I was also working part-time at the museum, as well as battling a few chronic illnesses - some of which still affect me today - all of which drained me physically and emotionally. When I had finished my thesis and graduated from the program I was well and truly burnt out. 

 2020 was rough for everyone, and I was contented to just exist without doing much of anything that could be seen as creatively productive. But then 2020 came and passed and I thought maybe I should get back on the saddle, and started working on my own original story. I fell off of social media, didn’t interact in fandom, and tried to grind out a story that wasn’t working like I had hoped it would. 2021 and I still wasn’t ‘feeling it’; I had gone from writing about 1-2k words a day to 500 words a week - if I was lucky. A part of me wondered if I was tapped out for good, that I didn’t have it in me anymore, and that my thesis was my last creative outlet - my last hooray.  I know it sounds a bit dramatic, but when you go from creating almost every day since you were sixteen years old, to suddenly believe that the well has run dry is terrifying. Maybe I was done for good - maybe I wouldn’t create something I was proud of.

And then Kenobi came out. I was a massive prequels fan since I was nine years old and the Phantom Menace came out, and an even bigger Darth Vader fan, but I had never interacted with the fandom in any meaningful way. I was contented to just watch the films and the shows and leave it at that. But as I was watching I had the epiphany that Obi-Wan and Anakin were actually ~roommates all along. I started reading obikin fic, came back on tumblr to see what sort of fandom there was, and suddenly found myself with ideas again, and a desire to create something. 

So I wrote my first fic ‘Sacred to the Gods’ based off of a thesis I wrote during my undergrad about the psychology of a Greek demigod. It took me about a week to write, but in that time I had a lot of fun - the words started to come more easily, the vibes were there, and the passion was slowly but surely returning. One fic turned into another, and then another, and suddenly I had written two multi-chaptered long-form fics, some shorter multi-chaptered ones, and a bunch of oneshots, all about our favourite duo. 

And in the that span of time, not only was I able to rediscover my passion for writing and feel inspired again, but I met so many amazing, incredible, kind, passionate, creative people who welcomed me with open arms. I was used to fandom being sort of a gate-keepy thing, where if you were the new kid in town it would take you a while to work your way into any circles. But it didn’t happen with this fandom. I went up to a few people, held out my macaroni art, and was overjoyed to see them take it and immediately put it up on their fridge.

There are a lot of people I want to thank, and I should thank, from those who read my stuff, those who send me asks on tumblr, those who bookmark and kudos and comment, and those who followed me, but there isn’t any space to do all that. So I hope that a general ‘THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU’ will suffice. Thank you for giving me my passion back, thank you for supporting me, thank you for being an awesome community that has it’s issues, but still cares deeply about the art they’re creating, and who care about fostering a community. 

However, there are a few people I would specifically like to address, because I don’t think this post would be complete without you. I’ll put it behind a cut because this post is already cumbersome:

@bi-wan || My beloved! You were the first person to follow me on tumblr after reading one of my fanfictions, and the first to reach out to me to be my friend. Thank you for reaching your hand out to me and dragging me into the fold. Because of you I’ve made so many good friends who I treasure dearly - including you. 🥰

@ragnarlothcat || I feel like you and Cam are a packaged deal, and so I thank you for being curious about me and checking out my work, and for allowing me to occupy both you and Cam’s comfy little raccoon haven. You’re so supportive, and your work was some of the first I read in the fandom which truly secured my desire to be a part of it. Thank you 💖

@intermundia || I’ve told you this before, but you were the first person I approached in the fandom when I decided I wanted to dip my toes into the experience, and your warmth and welcoming nature secured my desires to be a part of this group. The fact that you support my stories and are so passionate about it really fuels my desires to keep creating (as well as feeding my ego). Thank you for being such a good presence in the fandom.👑

@theseptemberist || I have a feeling that Will told you about me, and I am so glad that he did because we’ve struck up such a friendship that I can’t see myself without. Our chats on discord over the past few months have been wonderful in so many ways that are too innumerous to say here. Thank you for sharing your heart, and for being so kind and empathetic. And thank you for sharing your encyclopedic knowledge of fandom tea ☕

@unspuncreature || Just like Rag and Cam come as a team, you and Cal (and Wren, even though I’ve never spoken to her but feel like I know her) are the trio that delight and entertain. Thank you for your brilliant art and creativity, thank you for letting me bounce all my ideas off of you, and thank you for collaborating with me. You’re brilliant 💗

@kyberkenobi || Beyond the fact that your filthy brain inspires me and delights me, and the fact that you’re willing to goed me on when I come up with something that’s delightfully nasty, your maturity when it comes to fandom is refreshing. At the threat of sounding like a proud grandma, you’re still so young and yet you’ve got a lot of shit figured out - most importantly, that fandom is supposed to be for fun and write what you want to write. Can’t wait for us to finally collaborate one of these days 💕

@dininginspace || What can I say? You’re a delight, you’re incredibly funny, you’re kind and understanding, and you’re the best cheerleader a loser like me could ask for. The fact that you jumped on the Buffy bandwagon when I drove by on it secures you as one of my favourite people. Thank you so much for your early and continued support 🧛‍♂️

@nuandia || Thank you for chatting with me all the time; keep up your writing, it’s brilliant and worth it, even if you doubt it sometimes. 💖

@grapenehifics || I had just finished watching MASH when you commented on Moonlight Serenade. The noise I made when I saw your username, followed by the continued joy I get whenever I see you on my dash or in my inbox, or when I see you’ve posted something new for the world to enjoy. 🧡

@palfriendpatine66 || You’re a delight. You’ve got things figured out, and how you can write so much with the life you’ve got is incredible. Keep going - you’re a gem. 💎

@binaryeclipse || Love chatting with you on discord, and being able to throw out random things about Canada into the chat that doesn’t need explaining - you just get it. Especially when it comes to Alberta politics. It doesn’t always feel like a safe space out there when you’re an Albertan who loves her province but also hates so many things about it, but you make me feel as if I can be a contradictory mess and still feel as if I belong in Canada. Your muse will come back soon, I trust in this ✨

@treescape || Your work is sublime and an inspiration. I read your fics first when I went hunting for things to read, and was immediately captivated. When you followed me back and weren’t at all weirded out by me bounding over to you like an excitable golden retriever, I was very grateful - I am very grateful. Can’t wait to see what you create next. 💛

@starsdies || Thank you for listening to me; thank you for being so inspiring; thank you for helping with community events and exchanges. And thank you for streaming The Last of Us for me because I’m too cheap to buy HBO Max. 🙏

@tessiete || You fact-checked the details I put into Moonlight and all I can say is THANK YOU. Sometimes I feel like I’m getting too lost in the details, but its people like you who google that shit that makes me feel good about my obsessions. 🌸

#personal #obikin #thank you everyone #I know this is messy and gushy and gross but whatever #Im sick with a cold so I get to be mushy gushy

[louisrarepairfest]

LOUIS RARE PAIR FEST 2024

— Prompts —

[Submit a prompt you'd like to read or write here!]

🫐 The prompt can specify a particular pairing or can use Louis/Character B as the pairing.

🫐 Writers can sign up with one of these prompts or sign up with their own prompt not on this list.

🫐 Prompts will be crossed off as they are chosen during sign ups.

⬇️ Possible prompts below ⬇️

(A) Louis/Character B are uni roommates

(B) Louis/Greg James - Louis takes Clifford to a secluded park and lets him run free for a few hours. A few weeks into going to a park, a friendly dog (Barney) Louis assumes is a stray comes over by him with a stick in his mouth and Louis plays fetch. This becomes a Thing every time. Louis notices Clifford has been gaining weight and can’t figure out why. One day, Clifford doesn’t come back like he usually does. Louis goes looking for him with (Barney) trailing on his heels. He’s just about to give up when (Barney) sprints away and Louis can’t stand the thought of losing two dogs in one day so he runs after him. Cut to…Louis finding a very tall, very handsome man, very excitedly welcoming Barney back with Clifford barely looking up from the almost gone bucket of dog food said very (very) handsome man clearly brought to the park. Confusion ensues since each thinks the other’s dog was a stray. Wild accusations from Louis about Greg making Clifford fat, jokes from Greg about how Barney has taken up finding perfect sticks and running away with his best one. They fall in love and become one big happy family.

( C ) Louis/Character B are musicians vying for the role of band leader at their former high school. They went there at the same time and were rivals then too, though for a totally different reason: they both had secret crushes on one another. When I've of them learns this, it changes everything.

(D) Girl direction! Louis/Character B are star athletes on the college (you choose the) sport team. They're both on the butch side, and it takes them a while to figure out that they're into one another and don't need to femme it up to get the other to like them.

(E) Omegaverse: Alpha Louis has never questioned who he is, a strong Alpha loving Alpha who defies stereotypes. When he meets character B, a beta, he certainly doesn't expect to fall for him (and hard)

(F) Famous Louis returns to his home town for his sister's wedding. When he sees his non-famous ex-boyfriend at the first wedding event of the weekend, sparks fly. Cue a whirlwind romance and a lot of big decisions about what they're both willing to do for love.

(G) Louis is a werewolf who's gotten good at hiding his nature in order to make a quiet life for himself in a small town. Character B is the vampire whose arrival coincides with a couple of murders that threaten his peaceful existence. When it becomes clear that B isn't behind the murders, he and Louis team up to find the real culprit (and maybe accidently fall in love along the way).

(H) Louis/Liam - Bros who get married for insurance purposes and then decide divorce isn’t worth the hassle.

(i) Louis/Charlie Lightening…no plot but sex on the ping pong table. Obviously. 

(J) Louis and his bandmates/opening band let off some steam by having a circle jerk. It might turn into more for some of them.

(K)

(L) M/M Louis and Taylor Swift are rival quarterbacks for their town's 2 high school teams. Nobody knows that they've been secretly dating since sharing a NYE kiss. 

(M) Louis/Liam - everyone thinks Louis and Harry are together but it’s actually Louis and Liam

(N) Lilo hot water maintenance au based on this tumblr post

(O) Lilo Robin Hood AU

(P) Lilo Howl’s Moving Castle au

(Q) Louis and either Charlie or Nick from Heartstopper (the Netflixshow), friendship fic. Would love Louis either helping Nick through his sexuality crisis or Louis being there for Charlie through the events of the first season

(R) Omegaverse: Louis is about to turn 25 without having presented. As he debates undergoing the risky process to force a presentation, he meets Character B who helps him realize he doesn't necessarily have to "present" to be the alpha he know he is. (Omegaverse but make it trans and powerful!!)

(S)

(T) Louis plays on the uni football team and Liam is on the athletics team. they pass each other to and from training all the time. cue attraction. they are or become friends and are secretly pining for a while before they eventually start dating

(U) Edwardian era Lilo au where they’re both working class. maybe one is a servant and one is a shop assistant, or both servants.

(V) Louis and David Dawson bond over their time with Harry

(W) Louis/Oscar Isaac- edwardian AU where Oscar is a poet and Louis is his muse

(X) Louis/Pedro Pascal AU where Louis is exploring in the arctic and needs a guide

(Y) Louis/Pedro Pascal Gladiator AU

(Z) Michael B. Jordan as a boxer and nurse Louis

(AA) Louis/Sebastian Stan arranged marriage royalty AU. Louis is betrothed to King Sebastian Stan, a widower with two kids who aren't to keen of the King's fiancé.

(BB) Louis/Sam Claflin - something based on the interview where Sam says Louis follows him on Twitter and that they've had a conversation but he doesn't want to get into it.

(CC) 27 dresses take off where Niall is always the best man, never the husband, and Louis is the snarky reporter.

(DD) Zouiam, uni AU - Zayn meets Liam at the library and falls halfway in love during a single conversation. It’s a fairy tale, only back home is Louis - his FWB, the most important person in Zayn’s life, and someone who doesn’t take well to losing out on attention. Louis' a bit put out when he meets Liam at football practice and this annoying, bossy, fit as all hell guy slides right in under all his defences. It could be the start of a beautiful term of fighting and fucking, only back home is Zayn. Zayn not only needs Louis - he’d become a full-time hermit otherwise - but it’s damn convenient having sex on tap right there in his own flat. And, oh yeah, Zayn’s like, his reflection or his shadow or his other half or something. Liam’s quite confused by having two drop dead gorgeous guys alternately sending him go signals, then just as quickly, stop. He figures if either of them settle on go, he’ll be batting a thousand. Then he realises they know each other. Biblically.

(EE) Louis is an actor in a murder mystery troupe. Character B (maybe Nick Grimshaw...?) is the audience member who’s clearly too cool for all this but giving joining in his best shot anyway. Louis is distracted by him all night, and then after the denouement they meet in the bar.

(FF) Louis/Greg James - Louis won’t stop whanging on about not getting to do the breakfast show with his new album, and character X (maybe Niall, or Oli?) eventually realises it's less career-related jealousy and more about who sits behind the mic. He hatches a matchmaking plan.

(GG)

(HH) Character B joins local amateur dramatics society and suddenly Louis is no longer a shoo-in for every lead role. Cue the drama!

(ii) AU. Preschool teacher Louis / Boxer Sebastian Stan

(JJ) Yellowjackets AU! Girl direction, any pairing from the show, cutting from 1996 to present.

(KK) Louis/Cillian Murphy - 1970s criminal au (preferably with Louis as the criminal), based on this photo: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FvyDkCnWAAk1UwS?format=jpg&name=4096x4096

(LL) Louis/Isaac: Louis and his band Rogue Direction are doing their first tour in their beat-up van at questionable bars across the country. One night, Isaac is hurled into his life, fleeing from an abusive boyfriend in parking lot of the band’s gig. Louis can’t help but feel..protective of the scrappy tagalong who’ll do anything to earn his keep.

(MM) Louis/Isaac: Louis fucks Isaac’s gauged ears.

(NN) Omega Louis / Male Alpha / Female Alpha polyamorous relationship

(OO) Louis/Patrick Dempsey. AU Patrick is Louis’ dad’s best friend. Possible tags: age difference, secret relationship, feminine Louis, hung Patrick

(PP) Louis Tomlinson/Alex Turner AU. Is basically based in the Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino where Louis and Alex are imprisoned together; so they must find a way to escape. But while they try to escape they begin to fall in love with each other however it will be difficult for both of them to escape.

#prompts #lrpf24 #modpost

[theraggedygirl11]

Love’s the death of peace of mind

Kris' POV

Bojan's POV: AO3 - Tumblr

SUMMARY: In a world where Heaven and Hell exist, angels and demons are constantly fighting and killing one another. What if a stoic and cold angel starts questioning his whole existence after he met a demon who he was supposed to kill as Heaven demands?

PAIRING: Bojan Cvjetićanin/Kris Guštin

WARNINGS: swearing, blood, implied violence, hurt/comfort, emotional rollercoaster, enemies to lovers, implied suicide, hint of jance in the background

WORDS COUNT: 5.954

LINK: AO3

NOTES: Hello! I didn't plan this fic, honestly. It all started from this anon ask and now here I am with almost a 6k pov. This was a bit of a challenge, since I never wrote from Kris' pov, but I think it came out quite good.

I was also extremely shocked because I didn't expect Bojan's pov to blow up (and to get also a fanart from @sparkles-oflight), but in a positive way! I loved every comment I received 🥹 thank you so, so much!

As always, thanks to my beta @anxious-witch! And also thanks to @arctixout for her gifs. Without that post this fic wouldn't exist.

“Y-you were right about him. He-he’s a heartless angel, just like anyone else of them.”

“Not every angel is heartless.”

“He is, Nace! He is! I showed him my love and he accused me of trying to corrupt him! I-I gave him my whole heart and he laughed at me, he stabbed it with his ice dagger and killed me- H-He called me a filthy demon, Nace. After all I did for him and showed him, I-I’m still a filthy demon to him.”

Humans always forget that angels are supposed to be warriors of Heaven, not peaceful winged creatures with a harp in their hands.

We do have wings, yes, but we also have great powers, and they get stronger and stronger as the celestial rank goes up. As soon as we are able to walk straight and run, we start our training to become soldiers of Heaven. The training is different for every rank.

I’m a seraph, the highest angelic rank. I was born from two seraphim, thus I can say I’m discreetly powerful. I’m also a general.

One of our tasks is to hunt down demons who run freely on Earth, among humans. It’s our duty to protect human souls from corruption and temptation.

This is how I met a demon, a weird one. I identified him, followed him and attacked him with the intent to kill him, just like I was taught. My dagger was about to sink into his throat, but I stopped when my eyes met his. My whole body froze, I even stopped breathing for a couple of seconds. His eyes were deep, filled with fear and…what seemed to be surprise. His glance was so intense.

We stared at each other for what felt like a very long minute, then I recoiled and disappeared with a quick flutter of my wings, invisible at the time.

Why did I stop? Why didn’t I kill him? My heart was racing in my chest and I had no answers to my questions. 

I obviously didn’t mention this event to anyone, not even to my loyal angelic friends. They would mock me for not killing a low rank demon. No, forgetting this event was the best option. 

* * *

I’m an angel, but this doesn’t interdict me from having some “guilty pleasures”. In my case, it’s music. I like playing the guitar with Jan and Martin, two cherubim and friends of mine. Sometimes we also attend concerts in the human world, like tonight.

“Will Jan ever be on time?” I sigh.

I’ve been walking in circles for at least half an hour, but Jan is nowhere to be seen. I’m starting to get a little bit pissed. 

“Calm down, Kris,” Martin says, looking at me. “He’ll arrive. I give him ten minutes. We won’t miss that band, don’t worry.”

I’m about to reply to Martin’s words, when we see an angel running towards us, dressed in black and with long hair.

“Guys! I’m here!”

I take a deep breath, then quickly glance at Martin. “Finally. We can go, then,” I say, giving Jan a displeased look.

We fly to our destination and in a few minutes we are in the middle of the crowd. I start singing and dancing along with the music letting it flow over me, sometimes I even close my eyes. In my opinion, music is the supreme and purest form of art. It doesn’t matter the language you speak or the language the song was written in, if you listen to the melody, you can enjoy every type of music.

When I open my eyes again, I meet a weirdly familiar gaze coming from two deep brown eyes. I pale when I recognise the owner of those eyes.

That demon.

My heart is racing in my chest just like the first time we met, my whole body is frozen. He’s here too. He likes music just like I do. A demon, a creature from Hell, a filthy being appreciates something so celestial like music. I don’t understand. Why? It’s not supposed to be like this. They are…barbaric creatures, dominated by violent emotions.

I see two male figures standing by the demon’s side, a tall guy with a tattooed arm and a slightly shorter one with messy blond hair and thick black make-up around his eyes. The tattooed man places a hand on the demon’s shoulder. They must be his demonic friends. 

Three demons enjoying music.

“Is everything ok?” Jan asks, getting closer to me. He then moves his eyes to find the reason for such a reaction on my part. “Demons,” he hisses.

Martin appears by my side a second after. We are all trained to deal with demons, we are ready to attack them, and maybe even kill them. Jan steps towards them, but my arm moves without my control and stops him. Jan glances at me, confused, but since I’m a higher rank than him, he withdraws, stepping back.

I observe the three demons. The blond one grabs the brown-haired one and pulls him away, meddling with the crowd around us. I try to follow them with my eyes, but there are too many people. I lost my demon.

“Excuse me, Kris, but what was that? What just happened?”

We are back in Heaven, in my quarters. I’m still pale, I saw my face in a mirror next to the entrance door. And I’m unwell too. That meeting messed up my mind in a way I couldn’t believe possible. 

“Kris,” Jan calls me again. “What was that?” He spells word after word, this time his voice is harsher, more like an order than a simple question.

“We saw three demons at that concert,” I reply, taking a deep breath to try to regain some control over my body and my mind.

“No shit, Sherlock. We know they were demons. Why did you freeze like a greenhorn?”

“Jan, calm down,” Martin tries to mediate between me and Jan.

“No, don’t tell me to calm down! Kris, what’s going on? You are one of the best seraphim in Heaven. What happened there?”

I glance at Jan, then divert my eyes from him. “I have already met that demon, but I couldn’t kill him. I don’t know why.”

I feel Jan’s and Martin’s eyes on me. Their confusion is almost tangible. 

“You…couldn’t kill him?” 

“No, Jan, I couldn’t!” I shout back at him, looking him right in the eyes. “Are you happy now? A seraph failed to kill a squalid demon!”

Both Jan and Martin exchange a quick glance. They seem worried in my eyes. Well, they should be. A seraph that isn’t able to kill a demon for whatever reason is concerning.

“How much time ago did this happen?” Asks Martin, his voice is calmer and quieter.

“I don’t remember. Recently, maybe some months.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because of Jan’s reaction,” and I point at him with the movement of my head. “Because I’m supposed to be better than letting a demon go,” I sigh and sit down on a couch in the living room. “I have no idea why I haven’t killed him. It just happened. I met his eyes while I was about to stab him and…something in them made me stop,” I run a hand through my hair. “They were different from the demons I killed. I felt like I had a puppy in front of me.”

“A puppy?” Jan asks.

“Yes, a puppy! He looked like a terrified puppy.”

Jan chuckles. “I’m sorry, Kris, but hearing this description of a demon coming from your mouth wasn’t on my celestial bingo card. Maybe he managed to melt your ice cold heart,” he teases me.

I roll my eyes, then shake my head. “Listen, this story ends here, ok? No one needs to know this. No one.”

“Ok, we won’t tell anyone, don’t worry,” Martin nods, followed by Jan.

It’s reassuring on one hand. On the other hand, though, I feel even more confused now. Why is this demon so special? Why does he have such a power over me? What does he hide behind those eyes of his? Did demons develop a new way of corrupting us angels, of getting inside our heads and messing with us?

My head is exploding with all these questions. And the more I think about an answer, the more questions pop up in my mind. Maybe I should follow him to discover what happened to me.

In the next weeks I keep an eye on that demon, when I catch him roaming on Earth from Heaven. I always find him staring at the sky, searching for something, maybe even me.

I don't understand him. Why is he looking for me? We are enemies, I tried to kill him, shouldn't he be scared of me? Is he this dumb?

One night, I decide to follow him not from Heaven, but directly on Earth. I need to understand why he's behaving like this.

I follow his steps until he lays on the ground in the middle of a grass patch in a woodland. He’s staring at the starry sky. I let a few minutes pass, then I slowly approach him. He seems relaxed, his defences are down, I could easily kill him, but…I want to talk to him instead, to understand why he’s like this.

I lean forward, covering his view with my head. 

“What are you doing here all alone?” I ask him.

I observe his reaction: he startles, then stands up and steps back, he seems ready to run away from me. His eyes are wide open, there’s fear in them. Ok, this is a more appropriate reaction from his part. My lips bent in an amused and satisfied smile.

“Angel,” I hear him whisper.

He’s staring at me, I feel the weight of his eyes on me. He doesn’t seem scared anymore, or at least fear is slowly disappearing in him. Yeah, he’s definitely stupid. Why isn’t he scared? His boldness and stupidity confuse me. I must be aware of what he does, I don’t trust him.

I move my hands behind my back, then I adjust my position, sticking my chest out, trying to give myself an intimidating stance.

“I repeat, since you seem to not understand my words, what are you doing here all alone?” I ask again, since I’m not receiving any answer for my previous question.

The demon takes a few seconds before answering. “I was looking for you.”

“For me?” I raise my eyebrows. I wasn’t expecting this, to be honest.

“Yes, for you. I wanted to talk to you, angel.”

I keep staring at him, confused. He must be truly dumb and with zero survival instincts. Well, I guess not every demon gets a bright mind, in the end. I probably should kill him, so he can stop making dumb decisions.

I’m about to unsheathe my dagger, but the demon starts moving towards me in that exact moment. He raises his hands in front of him, showing them to me.

“I’m not armed. You can check on me. This is not a trap.”

I don’t take my eyes off of him. I can feel my powers creeping under my skin, some sparks leave my palms. I’m ready to strike at the mere danger signal from the demon. My whole body is stiff. My jaws are locked. I don’t feel at ease with a demon in front of me, especially this demon, because I’m not able to see through him.

My attention is caught by his hand, which slowly moves towards my face. Suddenly, it stops a few centimetres away from my cheek, hesitant. My eyes run from his hand to his face. He seems blissed by my presence.

“Why do you want to talk to me, exactly?”

“I…I want to know you, angel.”

I’m astonished. It can’t be real. This must be a trap, no demon is so stupid to risk his life to simply talk to an angel.

“I beg your pardon, you want to know…me?”

“Yes,” he nods too. “You are amazingly beautiful, angel.”

Heat reaches my cheeks. Ok, that was smooth, I must admit it. The demon chuckles, I let slip a shy smile. It’s difficult to resist, his small laugh made him look cute-Kris, for god’s sake, you can’t think this of a demon! You are a freaking seraph! But…his eyes are so sweet, he doesn’t look like a cruel being from the depth of Hell. I bet he isn’t even able to corrupt a single human soul. 

“Would you like to…I don’t know, come grab a coffee or anything else to drink?”

“It’s a nice idea,” I reply. “You seem more used to the human world, so show me the way to your favourite place to…drink,” I continue. “Please,” I quickly add. The previous sentence looked too much like an order.

The demon’s smile is even bigger this time, I’m afraid it will break his face. But at the same time it warms my heart too. He seems really happy that I accepted his invitation.

“With pleasure, my lovely angel!”

The demon has a name. It’s Bojan, but he prefers being called Bojči, just because it sounds cuter and sweeter. I concur with him, but I still call him by his full name. Bojči sounds too intimate for me, and I don’t want to get too close to him. He remains a creature from Hell.

After all, spending time with him is pleasant. I’m still confused because he doesn’t follow the classic image of a demon we are taught to fight and despise. First of all, he loves music. We talk a lot about it, sometimes we even attend concerts together during our time together. He’s full of energy, it’s impossible to at least not smile when you see him jumping around because music got to him. Every time I see his eyes and his shining smile, my chest warms so much. 

Bojan always tries his best to make our time spent together the best. He plans trips in various cities around the world, or simple strolls in the middle of nature. These last ones are my favourite because we are alone, far away from mortals, in quiet places.

I feel his eyes on me, but I attempt to ignore them. Sometimes I glance at him, our eyes meet and I see only happiness in him. The fear he felt that night on that field disappeared long ago. This is so wrong. He shouldn’t be this happy to be with me. And I shouldn’t be so excited to see him.

What am I doing? Why am I doing this? Is this…corruption? Is this how Lucifer felt when he fell from the sky? I’m an angel, I shouldn’t behave like this, not with a demon.

I accept to meet him again one more time, only because I want…I want to…what do I want from him? I’m so confused, I don’t know anything anymore. This must be corruption. I can’t think straight, a thick fog prevents my mind from creating consistent thoughts. A general who cannot control his mind is useless.

I still dress and prepare for the “date”, as Bojan likes to call our meetings. I’m wearing clothes with light colours, just to show from which reign I’m from, an attempt to bring distance between me and the demon.

He told me the location where we are supposed to meet. Thus I appear in that place, my wings announcing my arrival to whoever may live in that small apartment.

I barely have the time to look around when Bojan runs in the room. I’m stunned. He’s wearing black skinny clothes that shape his body wonderfully. My eyes land on his broad shoulders, then on his muscular thighs. He’s tempting, he’s for sure playing with me, tricking me.

“You are stunning, ljubavi.”

“You…too, Bojan,” I can barely speak.

My attention gets caught by two other figures entering the room. His demon friends are there too, the blond one and the tattooed one. I stiff my body, pushing out my chest as I try to look taller than I already am.

“Oh, yeah, these are my dearest friends. This is Jure,” he points to the blond demon. “And this is Nace,” and then to the tattooed demon. “They are safe, they won’t hurt you. I ask you to do the same.”

“...fine,” I surrender not so willingly. My eyes go back to Bojan and I notice that there’s something black and with glitter on his face. “You put on makeup.” 

“Yes, just for you. Do you like it?”

“You…look good,” I admit, my voice is trembling a bit. He looks even more beautiful with that dark makeup on his eyes.

He grabs my hand and smiles at me. “I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes and follow me.”

Bojan pulls me and I do as he said, a little bit scared of what kind of surprise he might have for me. He makes me sit on something cold and hard. I touch that surface with one hand, it feels like plastic. 

“What are you trying to do, little demon?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.”

I hear him handle something, then he sits on my lap, making me stiffen. Something soft touches my eyelid, I immediately feel something on my skin. What is he doing? I could open my eyes, but something inside of me prevents me from doing it. He stands up, then speaks again.

“You are otherworldly, ljubavi. Open your eyes.”

A little bit hesitant, I open my eyes and look at my reflection in the mirror. He put makeup on me too. Golden makeup around my eyes, to be precise. I…I like it. It’s weirdly good on me. I stand up, get closer to the mirror to admire his work. 

“Gold is your colour. It suits you perfectly.”

“I-It does,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

He always knows exactly what to do to make me feel special, even loved dare I say. It’s surreal. A gentle kiss on the cheek brings me back to reality. I turn and see Bojan's smiling face. He's shining like never before. His eyes are dark and remind me of the black hole at the centre of this galaxy. The glittery makeup represents the stars that move in circles around that core of pure darkness, but his eyes reflect all the light instead of devouring it. 

“We can go, then. I have other surprises for you, my angel.”

Our “date” begins: Bojan takes me to my favourite human restaurant. He lets me order whatever I want, adding that I don’t have to worry about the bill. It’s not the first time that he pays for me, but this time it feels…strange. I’m nervous by all the charm he’s displaying tonight, the elegance in his clothes, the makeup, his smiles bigger than usual. What did he plan to do? Should I be worried? I’m so deep into my own train of thoughts that often I forget to reply to Bojan.

“Is everything ok, ljubavi?” 

I fall back into reality. “Yeah, sure, don't worry. I…had a rough day in Heaven, that's all,” I say the first thing that hits my mind.

Bojan grabs my hand with extreme gentleness, then starts caressing its back. His smile could melt a gigantic iceberg.

“Now it's time for you to relax, then. Enjoy this night out.”

I meet his eyes. I immediately feel more relaxed, more at ease. How…? Is he naturally like this or is he using some kind of dark demonic magic to make me lower my defences? I don’t understand.

We continue our dinner and once it’s finished we go for a walk around the city. Bojan grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers. A shiver runs down my spine, but I decide to ignore it.

We walk and walk until we reach a tall building. Bojan takes me to the top of it. We are alone here. I look around me, there’s nothing strange or even remotely dangerous.

“Why did you bring me here?” I ask.

Suddenly, so many candles appear all around us, following the verge of the roof. A soft melody starts playing out of thin air. I look at my demon, confused. He’s offering me his hand.

“Would you like to dance with me, Kris?”

Ok, he just wants to dance. We did it a couple of times, I guess we can do it again.

Thus, I take his hand, a little bit hesitant, then we begin dancing along with the music. I’m a terrible dancer, Bojan is far better than me, so I focus on his steps and movements and try to repeat them, following him.

“Just let the music flow over you. Hear it inside of you and allow it to take control over your body,” he suggests to me, whispering with an extremely tender voice, which makes me shiver.

I take a deep breath, then follow Bojan’s suggestion. The music is slow and sweet, it allows us, and especially me, to dance quite well, even if we both aren’t expert dancers. The demon’s movements are more fluid, he’s more used to letting himself go, my posture is more rigid, it’s the one of a soldier. We stare into each other’s eyes the whole time. 

What am I doing here? Why am I here? Why am I with a demon? I am not this. I’m a fucking seraph! I should kill demons, not frolic with one of them! I keep asking myself these questions, but I’m never able to find an answer.

I leave his hands and step back. I notice concern and confusion in the demon’s eyes.

“We can’t go on doing this, Bojan.”

“Why not? I don’t understand.”

“Because we can’t! You are a demon, and I’m an angel. We are not supposed to…mingle.”

“We are not mingling, ljubavi. This is a romantic date between two creatures who have feelings for each other.”

He gets closer and tales my hands kindly. Our eyes meet again. The confusion in them became something else, but I can’t name it. I’m not good with feelings. Does it seem like betrayal?

“Kris, I'm not the monster Heaven teaches you to despise. You saw me, you got to know me.”

“You are still a demon, Bojan, no matter how you behave or what you do.”

“And so? What does it change between us?”

“I'm a freaking angel! We are supposed to fight each other, not…doing this, dancing alone like two teenagers in love!”

“Only because we are not human teenagers? Because we come from two different places? Because others tell us that we should hate each other?” He clutches my hands between his,a spark of fear appears in my chest. “You know me,” Bojan brings one of my hands right to his chest.. “This heart is yours, ljubavi, and no one else’s.”

“Bojan, this is wrong.”

“Kris, I love you. What's wrong with that?” He stops talking for a few seconds. “You…don't love me?”

“No, Bojan. I don’t love you. Let’s stop pretending.”

I won’t admit it, but seeing Bojan’s reaction made me feel bad. Extremely bad. He’s visibly devastated by what I just said. I’m clearly influenced by his demonic magic, I can’t feel this bad for a demon.

“I-I’m not pretending.”

“Don’t lie, Bojan. You are a demon, all demons do is lie. You know who and what I am, you saw weakness in me because I didn’t kill you that day. You are corrupting me because you want me to lose my wings!”

My voice is harsh while I spit out those words. I want them to hit him like whips. He needs to understand who I am, what I am.

“I know you are an angel and nothing else! I-I don't want you to lose your wings!” His voice trembles, he tries to articulate his words, but he has problems in doing so. “I’m not lying!”

“You want to bring me to the path of perdition! You want me to fall, just like Lucifer.”

He lets my hands go. I follow him with my eyes while he recoils. Now even his body is affected by all those feelings, he’s staggering and shaking. It’s just evidence of how emotions are just a liability and how much demons can’t control themselves when those same emotions are involved. They are inferior creatures, in the end.

“I-I’m not, Kris. I-I don’t want to-”

“Stop lying!” I shout at him, powers exploding from me, I can barely hold my wings hidden. “You are a filthy demon. You don’t change, you just want to destroy us.”

This is the final strike. The demon is defeated. I won. Heaven won. I’m finally free from him, from his influence, from his corruption.

I stay on that rooftop observing Bojan running away from me, then I turn to glance at all those candles. I should feel better now that I cut every tie I had with that impure being, instead there’s a strange feeling in my chest, like an emptiness. 

I shake my head. It will go away, eventually, when his power will fade and he will no longer have some kind of control over me. I won’t fall, I won’t be the next Lucifer.

Life in Heaven continues as always. I help the other seraphim training the new angels, teaching them how to use their powers and how to not fall in demons’ traps. In my mind I have me as an example.

Who knows what he’s doing right now. Did he move on? Did some other angel killehim? Or maybe one of his overlords took care of him and killed him because he didn’t manage to corrupt an angel.

One day I’m tempted to go looking for him from my quarters, but I stop my hand in mid air over the mirror we angels use to watch Earth and humans from Heaven. And demons too, sometimes.

“Is everything ok, Kris?”

I turn. Martin’s there, he just entered the room.

“Yes,” I nod. “Why are you asking?”

“Because you are not our usual Kris since the last time you went on Earth.”

“I’m still me, nothing has changed.”

“Are you sure?” Martin looks me in the eyes.

“Yes, I am sure,” I reply, my voice almost growling.

“How is your little demon?”

“How am I supposed to know?” I blurt.

“You summoned his image in the mirror.”

I turn again. My eyes are wide open and my face is pale when I see him in my mirror. I didn’t touch it to activate it. Bojan is in a park, with one of his demonic friends, the blond one, Jure should be his name. They are talking about something written on that notebook. 

He…looks fine. No, he’s pretending. His eyes are sad, the light in them is muffled. Is he really sad…? 

“Apparently, your desire to know how he is doing is really strong,” notices Martin, now he’s next to me.

“It’s just a coincidence, Martin,” I say while staring at Bojan. “It’s a mere coincidence because we were talking about him.”

I don’t understand my mind and my body anymore. His simple image in my mirror made unknown feelings explode in me, even if on the outside I’m apparently calm. But they say that the calmest waters are the most dangerous and unpredictable ones, no? The turmoil inside of me looks like a tornado. I want to go to him, hug him, and make him smile again. Because his smile is everything to me.

A voice is calling me. I don’t even realise I’m marching towards the room where my mirror is. Bojan’s there, singing, looking up at the sky.

“Stolicu primakni, ruku mi dotakni, noćas ti si moja muza, ja u ritmu tvoga bluza ću da plešem bez prestanka.”

“You should talk to him,” says Jan, while approaching me, I’m watching that damn demon in my mirror. I forgot he was with me.

“Why? He's a demon. He's impure, a damned soul,” I reply. In the meantime Bojan’s voice is spreading in the room where I’m observing him from the sky. His voice is broken, filled with emotions, and despair. My heart is breaking, but my face shows no emotion, just like I was taught.

“Soba nam je mala. Ja ko pijana budala, a ni čaše nisam popio. Ja mislim da sam se zaljubio u tebe. Baš ja, koji nisam verovao da za nekim biću lud. Za tebe, kao u pesmama i filmovima ljubavnim, staviću zvuk.”

“And you love him.”

“Angels can't love. He started corrupting me,” I turn towards Jan.

“Angels can love and they must love. It's not corruption.”

“How can you tell it's not his corruption, Jan?!” I hiss at him, a shade of rage and maybe panic evident from my voice.

“Because I fell in love with a demon too. And I accepted it. Go to him, speak to him. He’s singing for you.”

“Samo se okreni, baci pogled prema meni. Preći će tišina sama kilometre među nama dok jednom srce otkuca.”

“With…a demon?”

“Yes, Kris. Like you, I didn’t think it was possible, but it happened. And he’s the most amazing creature I’ve ever had the chance to talk to. He’s sweet, he’s lovely, he’s…I love him. Now, please, go to him. You can hear his voice, he’s offering you his heart.”

“Soba nam je mala. Ja ko pijana budala, a ni čaše nisam popio. Ja mislim da sam se zaljubio u tebe. Baš ja, koji nisam verovao da za nekim biću lud. Za tebe, kao u pesmama i filmovima ljubavnim, staviću zvuk.”

I sigh. I don’t want to see him because I know I won’t be able to resist him. However, I find myself flying to the Earth, where Bojan is singing. His voice becomes more desperate the more the song goes on. When his eyes land on me, he falls on his knees. In my hand I have my sword. I’m trying to be intimidating, to behave like the seraph I am.

“Ne palite još svetla, još samo jedan tren da se nagledam lepote te. Ne palite još svetla. Ne prizivajte dan. Spasite me, smislite neki plan. Ako svane sunce, ostaću sam.”

Silence falls between us. We stare at each other. The demon looks even smaller now that he is on his knees, on the ground. And he’s also the one who breaks the silence.

“You came.”

“You called,” I reply. It was hard not to hear his cry for help.

No one speaks, so I decide to get closer to Bojan, slowly. His eyes on me make me feel uncomfortable, it’s so difficult to not divert my attention from him.

“You know I should kill you right now because you are on Earth and not in Hell, right?”

“Then do it. I won’t fight, I won’t run away. If I can’t be with you, I’d rather be dead.”

I finally divert my eyes from him. Those words hit me right in the chest. How dare he be this dramatic and romantic at the same time? 

“You are an idiot, Bojan.”

“Yeah, I know, ljubavi. Love made me lose my mind in a way I didn’t think possible.”

“You said that in the song.”

“Maybe it’s just one of the many flaws that make us demons so imperfect in front of you angels. I was so unlucky to fall in love with you, but I don’t consider myself unlucky. I had the best moments of my life with you, I don’t want to change this for anything else in this world, not even a place in Heaven, if this means that I will lose my ability to love so strongly.”

I wince at those words, shivers run down my whole body. He has always been good with words, my complete opposite. I never admitted it, but I love how he plays with words.

I let my guard down, and in that moment he grabs my sword to sticks his point on his chest, where the heart is.

“You are here for this, no? Killing another impure soul that doesn’t follow the rules.”

I lay my eyes on him again. His only answer is a big smile, almost relieved. What is he doing? What is he trying to achieve?

“Don’t make me do this, Bojan.”

“It’s ok, ljubavi. It’s ok. It’s…it’s your nature, you have been trained to do this your whole life.”

My eyes hurt, tears are threatening to come out. No! He can’t really be like this! He wants to die? He wants me to kill him?

My first thought is to pull away my sword, and throw it as far away as possible, so Bojan can’t hurt himself, but my whole body petrifies. He’s crying in front of me. My inability to read emotions is hitting me hard, because I want to know what he’s feeling right now so I can make him feel better, but I can’t recognise anything on his face. Is he…relieved? Happy? Terrified?

He closes his eyes, and waits for me to strike. I’m still petrified. My mind stops working for a few seconds that seem to last centuries.

When I can finally control my body again, I’m able to throw away my sword. Bojan won’t die today, not thanks to me. He doesn’t deserve to die, he’s an amazing being, and a stunningly gorgeous one too. I can’t take him away from this world, and from mine too.

I fall on my knees too, I grab his face and kiss him. My lips move against his motionless ones, but he kisses me back a few seconds later. I can taste him, and his emotions too. These kisses are just showing us how much we need each other. I, a seraph, need my little demon by my side.

When we stop, Bojan lays his forehead on mine.

“Please, let it be real,” He’s whispering. “Please, please, let it be real.”

I chuckle. “It’s real, Bojan.”

He looks me in the eyes. “Real-real kind of way or…real-I’m-in-some-sort-of-Heaven-for-demons-because-I’m-dead kind of way?” 

I gently caress his cheeks, then lean forwards just to kiss him again. This is my answer, at least my first one.  

“This kind of way, my little demon,” I add immediately after.

“I’m your little demon, then?”

I nod. I really enjoy calling him that. And he likes it too. I keep stroking his cheeks.

“What made you change your mind?”

“Your song,” my answer arrives instantly, he is still talking. “I had feelings for you, they developed pretty early, but I…wasn’t acknowledging their existence because I never had the chance to fall in love with someone,” I confess, feeling a little bit of embarrassment. Being a high ranking angel and having problems with your feelings isn’t the best thing, to be honest.

Bojan brings me back from my thoughts while he just slams on me, pushing me on the ground. He’s now on top of me, I feel my cheeks getting redder. 

“Well, now you have someone right here.”

I notice his cute little tail on his back, moving in the air. I smile. 

* * *

Since my first kiss with Bojan the weight I had on me immediately disappeared. My whole life I’ve been trained to despise, fight and kill demons. But Bojan, one of those same creatures, opened my eyes and changed my world. He made me discover that angels can love too, even beings they were taught to hate, and that maybe demons are not so bad as we are told.

Now we are inseparable and I can’t picture myself without my little demon by my side.

#kris' pov #bokris #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #annies writes #my writing #joker out #joker out fanfic #baš ja koji nisam verovao da za nekim biću lud #love’s the death of peace of mind

[decadentworld]

The Baptism.

Billy’s journey to changing his last name, in a last attempt to fully disassociate himself from Neil, takes him to a place he’d never have expected.

※ Billy Hargrove-centric. Side Billy Hargrove/Male Reader.

※ 3,106 words

※ Personal work (not request).

※ Trigger warnings: Child physical, verbal, and emotional abuse. Gaslighting. This might be very triggering for some people.

※ Content & warnings: Original character. Hurt/Comfort. Billy cries a lot. Character death. Non-graphic mentions of smut at the end. Neil is in jail because I said so but it’s not mentioned.

※ Work available only on Tumblr and under ArchiveOfOurOwn pseud of the same name (DecadentWorld). Do not repost, edit, or redistribute. Do not use for TikTok videos.

Billy’s always wanted to do change his last name. Initially, he wanted his mom’s last name, but after everything that’s happened and the growth he’s had, he finally understood that, while his mom might have showed him some kindness, she still abandoned him. Left him to rot in that cemetery he had to call house, with the man who murdered him on the inside. She did; Billy did not jump to conclusions. He did his detective homework and found her having already formed another family. So, in that same vein, he does not want to associate himself with her anymore. It hurts to have this notion of his challenged, but it’s getting better with time.

Billy thinks. Paces, in his mind. Scratches at his head, thinking what else there could be, where he could get a new last name from.

At your now shared house, his newfound group of friends (friends!) try to give him some help. Mostly.

“What about your grandpa’s last name?”, asks the puppy of a metalhead he has as a friend.

“Dumbass. That’s ma’s last name, too.”

“Oh. Right.”

The exasperated babysitter chimes in. “Can any of your relatives reclaim you?”

“No living relatives that I know of, Harrington. Plus, I’m already legal. What’s the use?”

“You can still be adopted if you’re over eighteen. Maybe Susan could adopt you…? She has the grounds for it, now.” The badass columnist has a point. But.

But.

Billy looks uneasy. “M-Maybe not.”

There’s a bit of rueful tension after this. You, his anchor, hold his hand and rub circles on it with your thumb.

Billy’s newfound emotional support lesbian chimes in with a sly smile, and she’s joking, but. “Maybe you could take his last name, hm?” Points at you. Wiggles her eyebrows.

Billy blushes so darkly he has to hide in your chest. But quickly deflates. Right. It’s not allowed.

Maybe he cries a little bit over it at night.

And one day, the epiphany.

His littlest superheroine touches his cheek again, like he always allows her to, ever since that 4th of July.

“You have a memory right here. On the tip of your tongue. Wants to come out.”

“Which of all, mousey?”

Her eyes quickly flit over left and right. “A woman. Is old. Has kind eyes.”

Billy feels something rattle at his chest. “What do you mean?”

“She is good to you. Touches you like I am. Makes it better. But is so… ‘ephemeral’.”

Billy doesn’t realize he’s tearing up. Doesn’t even ask the girl where she learnt that big person word. “Wh-What— What does she look like?”

“Red hair, but it’s… She dyed it. Her teeth are all crooked. Her right eye is—”

“White.” Billy can’t speak. “C-Cataract.”

How could he forget? How could he have forgotten?

Granny Maude.

Billy saw her exactly one time in his life, but he’s not sure why he might have forgotten about her even then, for all the impact that she had in his young life.

Billy’s mind fills in the blanks. A little Billy running away from home, limping all the way across the empty beach at night, right after Neil laid into him with steel-toed boots included. When he can’t run anymore, he still runs a little more, just so that he can collapse on the doorstep of a random house and bang his fists on the door.

That’s the only time in his life when Billy asks for: “Help.”

He sees her so clearly right now. He recalls almost being thrown off by her appearance at first, but quickly pushing this aside when she takes him into her little secluded house, sits him on her rickety old individual sofa, asks him if he’s alright, gives him water, aspirin, treats him so nicely that he cries. Ruefully tells him he looks like someone she knows. Asks his full name so that she can call the police.

“Hargrove?” It’s not a common last name. The old lady has a foreboding at the back of her mind. Quickly puts her hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Sonny, what is your father called?”

Little Billy tells her. It can’t be possible. The septuagenarian runs to the phone but the banging on the door stops her.

“Maude, open up! I know he’s in here!” The booming voice of the monster roars.

The woman continues to the phone, dials the emergency line, starts to rely the message but the quick turning of a key in a keyhole makes the phone slip off her hands and shatter on the floor from the impact.

The big bad barges in and rips the base of the rotary phone off the wall for good measure.

“You never told me you had a son! I have a grandson?!”, she screams at him with all the vigour a 74-year-old can manage.

“Senile bitch. This doesn’t concern you.” The villain’s boots shake the foundation of the house as he approaches his son. He grabs him by the hair. “I fucking hate you right now. I do not want to hear a single word from you—”

“How can you treat your own son like that—”

“Shut up! Cops are on their way and not for me. Maybe they’ll finally commit you.” He turns to the boy. “Go to the fucking car. Get in and don’t let a single person see you. If anyone does, I’ll fucking kill you.”

It’s a bit of a blur after that. From what the therapist told him, it’s normal that his mind might have supressed some memories, especially if they had to do with Neil’s abuse.

Wait. The words. He remembers— He keeps hearing them—

“She doesn’t exist, William. She’s not fucking real. Forget that you ever thought up someone like that. She’s not real.”

He understands. Neil forced him to forget she ever existed.

And as always, with everything Neil said, Billy obeyed.

Billy finds himself hysterical and screaming with how much he’s crying after resurfacing from this memory. Jonathan, Will, Joyce, and Jim are now on the sides of him, trying to calm him down without understanding much of what’s going on.

“H-He made me forget her. He m-made me think she n-never existed. But she’s real. She’s real.”

She’s real. Or was.

Deep digging doesn’t do much this time. Any leads on who Maude Hargrove is or might have been are hard to follow. Which is when it occurs to them to hire Murray, see if he has any knowledge on genealogical tree tracking.

And he does. He’s an expert, actually.

“Largo al factotum, I said.” And with that sentence, he closes the case.

Maude Rathbone.

It turns out she never took her husband’s last name. Billy commends her for it, knows how unusual and frowned upon that must have been in her era.

Maude Rathbone passed away at the age of 77 in 1981, when Billy was about to turn 14, about four years after that fateful night. She died not in the comfort of her cozy old home or in a caring nursing facility, but in a psychiatric hospital. Neil did end up committing her that night. Dialed the charm up and told the police officers he was so worried for his mother, that he was afraid she was turning senile, that she had called him into her home because she was seeing a boy that just wasn’t there. No one even bothered to check Neil’s car, within which a frail little boy was fearing for his life.

Billy learns a new word in therapy the next day: ‘Gaslight’.

Murray helps them more. The next few days you, Billy, and Hopper gear up and go to the psychiatric facility all the way in California to get more answers.

Everyone there believed Neil that time. Who wouldn’t have? A charming middle-aged man versus an old woman they found undesirable because they thought cataracts and crooked missing teeth and cheap red dye was a sign of poverty, of carelessness, of mental illness. All things society is not ready to tolerate. The folks in charge at the psychiatric are nonchalant as they imply all this when the three ask for a Maude Rathbone, saying she wrote letters to a boy that didn’t exist, that they assured her the boy received if only to palliate the outbursts of a senile elder in her last days. Only, those letters never left the facility.

But when Billy soon-to-be-ex-Hargrove announces himself as that very boy, the people in charge can’t believe it.

“Of course I’m fucking real, you fucking assholes! ‘You never thought to look me up or anything?!”

Hopper lets him have this. He all but demanded to be brought in with you and Billy if there needed to be some more convincing on his behalf, but he figures it’s not necessary, in the end.

Obviously, they allow him to take all those letters and the rest of her trinkets with them. It’s the least they can do.

Later in the evening, at the hotel, you comfort Billy, who’s already started to cry as he reads the first letter.

Dear Billy,

You are real and I am real. Whatever my son has told you, because I know he has, is untrue. That man is a real piece of work and never told me about you. War changed him, but that’s not an excuse for him, because he walked right into it all on his own. He would get violent with me, cut all contact with me because I was spot on in telling him he was spiraling. Reminds me of Mortimer, but the piece of shit died before he was even born, so I had quite a few years of peace before all that.

Billy laughs softly between his tears and lays his head on your shoulder. Mortimer Hargrove was her husband, Neil’s father. So his grandfather was also shitty, but he felt glad Maude could lay into him and say things like they were.

Neil got paranoid after some time. I knew he thought I was going to report him to the police. I wouldn’t have. I didn’t have anyone. No one would have believed me. So of course I believed you. He hurt you badly, his own son. I think it’s fate that you knocked on my door last night. I still don’t know if it was completely out of the blue, or if you felt like I would be welcoming enough, and for that, you are very brave.

Tears drip constantly on the yellowed sheet of paper. Billy was about to enter a void of self-deprecation, but the next few lines stop him in his tracks and pull another laugh out of him, because it’s like she was reading his mind at the moment she wrote the letter.

Now, don’t you dare think any of this is your fault, sonny. I know your kind, because I was it. I know you’re probably thinking I got put in this place because of you. Stop it. None of this could have been avoided. I would’ve surely ended up in a place like this sooner or later.

Billy disagrees. The way she expresses herself in these letters is so clear; she was extremely lucid for a 74-year-old at that moment.

Billy’s heart breaks as he keeps reading the last few lines.

Please, find me. Come live with me. We can run away from him together. I could prove to them that you’re real, and they’d give me the grounds for adoption. I know there’s no saving that monster.

I love you, sonny. I will find you somehow.

Gammy Maude

Billy breaks down in your arms. “Sh-She only knew m-me for like ten minutes and she still lov-ved me.” He starts hyperventilating. “She f-found me. She found me, in th-the end!”

It takes well over half an hour before Billy’s composed enough to keep reading the rest of the letters. His heart breaks a little more with each one.

At first, they end with:

Hope to see you soon. Love you.

But as he keeps going, it gradually turns into:

Neil’s not letting you see these, is he? Please write back.

And then, into:

Are you real? Lord, give me a sign that my sonny is real.

Fuck Neil. Fuck the police. Fuck the psychiatric handlers. Fuck society. Fuck everyone who ever saw this little old woman and wholeheartedly believed she could be a menace. Billy cries for her. Mourns her, because Lord knows no one ever did.

For the night, Billy forgets that this all started because he wanted to change his last name. Even if he can’t, in the end, he’ll content himself with this.

But he can!

“Look, she’s a direct relative. Blood-related relative. They have to allow you. It’s basically your God-given right. And if for whatever reason they wanna fight it, then all these letters of hers? They’ll be as good of an evidence as there can be. Look at the writing. The exact same as all the legal files on her name. And the signature! God, I love your grandma. She made this so easy.” Murray is almost histrionic as he shoves sheets upon sheets of paper on the table.

Billy can’t help but agree. Gammy Maude was a genius. She somehow had the foresight to add her signature onto the letters, like she knew they could be used as evidence someday.

Everything is arranged that same day.

Billy starts crying before Hopper even hands him his new identification card.

“Kid, you haven’t even seen it yet. Save the tears for after.” Another one of Hopper’s hidden skills: be persuasive enough to accelerate the ID card making process, photo-taking included. So much so that the shiny new plastic is in Hopper’s hand before the day even ends.

“C-Can’t help it, chief. This is my new life we’re talking about.”

Hopper just gives him a gruff chuckle and puts a hand on his shoulder. Billy takes the card and pointedly doesn’t look at it until he goes to stand next to you, near the stairway outside. There are curiously-colored flags in this part of California. They make Billy feel even more accepted and at home.

“Come on,” you gently encourage him. “Look at it.”

He does. The tears can’t stop.

You hold him through it, and even as his eyes get so blurry from the tears that he can’t possibly read what’s printed in the plastic card anymore, he still looks at it like his eyes are pulled to it.

That’s how everyone’s going to call him from now on.

Billy Rathbone.

Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

Billy doesn’t answer you, and you realize that he didn’t even take in your question. He cries, so hard that you worry for him, but he’s smiling so widely at the same time, and that dissipates any doubts you might have.

“You did it, honey.”

“N-No. We did it. A-All of us.”

You hoist Billy up and spin him around, rejoicing in his screaming laughter.

Back in Hawkins, things gradually change for the better.

Steve challenges him for a basketball match, wanting a redo of their previous rivalry without the bitterness.

“Come on, Rathbone. You stomped on my crown twice. Was King of Highschool and Keg as well. Not gonna let you be King of Basketball, too.”

God. Steve is so obvious with this attempt, even trying to channel his King Steve persona into his words, but Billy’s smiling so much he temporarily forgets he should respond with anything at least vaguely antagonistic.

Steve smiles shyly. “Creamed your pants for a second there?”

Billy rolls his eyes. “You’re insufferable. Bring it on!”

Robin all but drags him to a big gathering with the party. “Hey! You guys remember Billy Rathbone?!”

Robin’s even more obvious than Steve, emphasizing his last name so overtly Billy’s almost worried for a second of how everyone’s going to react. Eddie and Steve almost chide her.

No need for that. The kids look at him in wonder. El gives him the biggest grin ever. Lucas raises his eyebrows amusedly. Dustin gives him the toothiest toothless smile. Erica only looks smug for once in her life. Will has the softest smile on his face. Mike can’t keep his self imposed grimace of someone who’s sucking on a lemon for long enough because it’s clear he’s trying not to smile.

And Max?

From her sitting position on her wheelchair, she extends her fully healed right arm. “Let me see it.”

“Let her see it! Yeah!” Robin is so enthusiastic about Billy showing Max his new ID that she’s almost jumping in place.

Max takes a good look at the shiny new plastic. Then slowly looks up at him.

Billy doesn’t know what to make of her expression and the sepulchral silence that follows before she speaks.

“Of course you had to go and call yourself Rat Bone.”

Everyone laughs. Billy does, too. He doesn’t know why he was worried.

Wait. He’s tearing up a little bit as well.

Max downright forces him to hug her.

“Don’t you dare say anything, shitbird. What kinda name is May Field? Sounds like… uh…”

“Yeah, yeah. Give yourself an aneurysm thinking of something, will you.” They separate. “Just tell me everything after it.”

And he does. He tells them about Gammy.

“Hey,” you say to Billy, him so comfortable deep in the bedsheets after you’re done laying all your love on him. “If… no, when we’re able to marry,” and he of course has to blush to the tips of his ears, even after you’ve literally just finished making love, “…you’re not gonna take my last name, right?”

Billy tears up. “Please, d-don’t make me—”

“Of course I won’t. That was a threat.” You smile at him while you make him this oh-so-scary threat. He smiles as well. “You better not. ‘Billy Rathbone’ just sounds too good to change.”

There’s always hope.

Billy Rathbone wears a different necklace nowadays. Whereas he used to have a Virgin Mary one, which belonged to his egg donor, he now has one in the format of a locket. There is a photograph inside, the only one Murray could find. But it’s perfect.

Of course, he did not crop the original photograph. He put it through the photocopier once, twice, three times before it was the perfect size.

In this locket, he keeps a photocopied picture of Maude Rathbone, smiling with her gorgeous missing and blackened crooked teeth, sporting a lovely frizzy hairdo that’s just the perfect hue of vintage red, looking at the camera with one ethereal cataractous eye.

#stranger things x male reader #billy hargrove x male reader #angst #fanfic #I’m thinking I could turn Rebirth into a series and put this work in it.

[cshfvck]

𝐔𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐰 - 𖤐- 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐕𝐚

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾ 　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

Genre: Angst/Comfort

a/n: AH. Okay hi, I have never used tumblr and I haven't wrote anything in ages so I thought I'd rewrite an angst - comfort fic I wrote! Hope you lot enjoy my first post on here

cw: breakdown/yelling/anger/abuse mention/possible emetophobia warning?, possible spoilers for the storyline of Dontis (?)

Gender neutral reader!

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾ 　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

You really are pathetic, hm?

A wolf watched you. I don't mean just watched... i mean it would snarl and watch you, staring as if you were prey. Maybe you were, who knows? You call yourself prey because this is all you can do. You've always been prey to him. The would would watch from afar, baring its teeth and hating every shed of dignity that remained on your use, shattered body. Other times it'd just sit afar, shaking in pleasure. Lust over coming it's abusive ridden brain. Distorting the torment of pleasure instead of violence. That's all it could do. Claws snagged a bottle, acting as if they were the trembling hips of your body and how you would call out his name. The name rolling of your tongue like some cheap, plastic vomit. The bitter taste violated his mouth the same way he violated yours. You curl up and hold a spoon, allowing the spoon to scoop out every shed of used skin on your body. This was all you could do.

Corrupted purples and yellows littered you, thighs, shoulders, every inch of your body. Hands crushed flesh, grabbing as much as it could as gluttony took over. Who knew greed could corrupt someone. Your flesh faltered and collapsed under such a bruising touch. You vomited as you scooped out chunks of bruises, bugs crawling underneath. This was all you could do. A wolf bared it's teeth at you. Claws ripping away dignity. Leave you your sin. Leave you your hands. Leave you. You begged the wolf, it grabbed the spoon and scooped used bruises and flesh back inside of you, it put it all back. That's all you could do. You choked out a sob as the wolf grabbed you but-

*alarm sound*

Your mouth was dry, salty tracks running down your cheeks as red cheeks burned. The lump in your throat turning to bile as you shot up in the bed, grabbing the bin beside you and heaving, nothing came out. It was all to much, you looked around after hearing footsteps and got out of the bed, footing slow and unsteady, eyes unseeing. Please stop. All the movement you were doing should be forbidden. Cries echoed in the room as you felt a large and pat your waist, not registering the persons voice. Please stop yelling. Sobs echoed from your body, your frame broken and half collapsed to floor while begging and pleading, you heard your name... that voice.

"Y/N.."

Dontis. A blur of h/c hair fell to the floor. Heaving, crying. Dontis quickly got up from the bed, eyes darting and not seeing as dontis crouched at your side. Your eyes flickered and fell shut, slowly curling up on the floor beneath you. A whisper. It was so.. so gentle.. no. You cant fall for it again. But... it felt too good to resist the comfort.

"There you go love... calm down.. shh shh shh.. it was a nightmare.. poor baby.."

His voice was so familiar. The strong accent making your abused ridden mind clear up. The voice almost felt as if it was wrapping you up. Yet, it spoke again.

"It's okay, Y/N."

Dontis whispered again. His voice comforting, not a lace or hint of threat or abuse in it. You cried harder than ever now, realizing it was Dontis, your shaking limbs slowly being held and touched by Dontis as he took your cheek in his hand, gently stroking soothing circles into tear stained flesh.

"Dontis-"

Your voice was broken and hoarse, cracking as you spoke. Those e/c eyes locking with Dontis' , feeling yourself getting lost in his comfort.

"Shh... I'm here. Take as long as you need too calm down..."

Dontis got permission for a hug as you nodded, his arms and hands pulling you into his lap while you both sat on the floor. Your trembling body curled up and cuddled against Dontis' chest, hands gently running over your sides, soft kisses being planted on your head, seeming to melt away the tears you shed earlier. All the comfort made you slowly forget your dream... Dontis' hands being the only thing you focused on. His touch comforting not lustful or wanting.

You soon drifted off to sleep, e/c eyes falling shut, a gentle snore coming from your exhausted body. Streaks of moonlight shone down on your face, highlighting the dried tears on your face, making them seem like glistening rivers as you lay in Dontis' arms, his eyes admiring your soft, red, puffy face. Rosey lips kissed your nose, Dontis' grip becoming stronger on you, not wanting you to ever feel like that again. Dontis gently sat you both in bed, his broad frame easily engulfing you in a giant cuddle, his hands seeming to soothe you.

It's almost as if everything Dontis touched turned brand new.

You were once used, now brand new...

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾ 　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

HI!!! I hope this was okay and you all enjoyed! This is the first time ive posted in a while so i hope its okay! :D

feel free to send me any requests and as always...

thank you for reading x

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾ 　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

#zsakuva #Dontis x reader #Dontis #zsakuvafandom #zsakuvawritings #zsakuvafanfiction #dontisfanction #zsakuvadontis #dontisxreader #zsakuvaxreader

[depressoexpresso-anon]

A Yuurivoice bittersweet request for you!: Al x Seth x listener (little bit of nsfw at the end)

Story Plot: the listener was busy dancing, listening to their fav music while the boys were out to the Al’s candy shop and when the boys came back, seeing listener dancing, they’re watching for minute and they sneak up behind them… that’s when the “REAL FUN” begin..

Hope that’s not too much for you..! 😅

Sneaking Seduction

Alphonse x Reader x Seth

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The reader has the house to themselves so they decide that their gonna dance like no one's watching. But little do they know, they were putting on a show for their two lovers.

Semi-NSFW, suggestive material

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

No song cause Tumblr is acting funny.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

'Today is going to be an amazing day!'

You thought as you stood in your kitchen ready to bake a new recipe.

The main and only reason why today was going to be so great, was because you had the house to yourself for a bit.

Alphonse told you during breakfast that he had to do some maintenance work on the shop today and wanted Seth to come along to help. So for a few hours, it's just gonna be you, your cat, and your large quiet home.

Even though you loved the company of your boys, you very much enjoyed the moments when you were by yourself.

When you were alone and the house was quiet you were free to do whatever without being judged by the world.

There have been times when you screamed the lyrics of your favorite song and there had been times when you would just act weird for no apparent reason. You knew that Alphonse and Seth would never judge you for anything, but the pure embarrassment alone would put you in an early grave.

But with today's alone time, you decided to get in touch with your more sensual side.

As you were doing the dishes from your newest experiment, you moved your body to the playlist you wonderfully named 'Running a Train with the Boys'.

Your body was at home, but your mind and soul were at a lose establishment and you were the main performer.

The way that you moved your hips and swayed with the beat, you felt so alive, so sexy, and so happy.

You were so focused on your dancing and feeling yourself that you barely noticed the two silhouettes standing by the door frame to the kitchen. Both Seth and Alphonse were propped up against the frame looking at you with both loving and lusting eyes.

They both looked at each other and gave a slight nod, letting the other know that they had the same thought.

Seth put his fingers in his mouth to let out a sharp and loud wolf whistle. And with you being unknowing of their presence you quickly jumped and gave a small frightened shriek.

You almost fell on your ass as they looked on in amusement. Now a stumbling mess in the kitchen, you try to stay composed when you spoke to them, which in return failed poorly.

"How long have you both been standing there? What, nope I don't want to know. You didn't see anything, both of you are legally blind and didn't see me."

You rambled on barely acknowledging the two men who were making their way towards you.

You turned your back to them due to the sheer embarrassment you felt from head to toe. As you where still mumbling excuses to cover your ass, you felt a pair of arms slither around your middle and it caused your string of excuses to slowly run to a stop.

"Nah, I think our eyesight is pretty sharp boo." Al said while resting his chin on your head.

You felt the eyes of a certain chocolate haired boy as he circled you both. It felt like he was a predader circling his prey.

Seth came around to your line of view you finally knowticed that he didn't dawn his usual jacket, but instead had on his tank that was soiled from a hard day of work. He tilted your head up to look at him.

"Oh, I don't know about that now, Al. I think I have to take a closer look." Seth said as he pulled your face closer to his.

You can feel his breath fan your face and smell his musk that lingered from working all morning. It was filling your senses and making your knees buck with excitement.

"W-what are you guys planning on doing to me?" You said with a sweet and incredibly bashful tone.

You looked at Seth's eyes as he quickly flicked his gaze to the man behind you, almost like he was checking too see if Al had the same mindset as his.

Then soon after you felt two hands drift lower down your torso and under the waistband of your pants. You look back to Seth for an answer only for him to let out a chuckle and respond in a breathy voice by your ear.

"We're planning to have so much fucking fun with you tonight, sweet little thing."

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

THANK YOU FOR READING AND FOR YOUR PATIENCE @KITTYPATRIA54

LOVE YA ALL ❤🧡💛💚💙💜🖤

#yuurivoice #yuurivoice fanfic #yuurivoice alphonse #yuurivoice seth #i was gonna put unholy and a few other song recomadations too #but tumblr is being tumblr

[downwiththeficness]

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Twenty Six

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  

Word Count: 2,300

Start from the beginning    Previous Chapter  Next Chapter  

Masterlist            Read on AO3

She stole away in the dead of night. There was no other time to escape the notice of her husband and Eva definitely did not want to be caught.

Something wasn’t right when he got back to the house. Eva did her best to do everything exactly the same as she always did—meetings, spreadsheets, a cup of coffee too late in the day. But, the heaviness that fell over the both of them refused to lift no matter how many mundane activities she forced herself through.

Josh was becoming more manic by the day. Alexei was almost never around. And, Horacio was uncharacteristically silent.

The pressure made her skittish. It forced her to make a phone call to rearrange a previously scheduled appointment.

Eva slipped out the terrace doors and around the side of the house. She carefully put the car in neutral and rolled it out of her driveway, letting the decline of the street carry her half a block in the wrong direction before she felt safe enough to put it in drive.

The night was cold. Frost was dusting the edges of the windshield and the heater was taking too long to catch up. Eva grit her teeth against the shivers and kept driving. There wasn’t much traffic, but she kept her speed under the limit. She stopped fully at every stop sign and monitored her mirrors. It wasn’t until she hit a red light that she realized her hands were shaking.

She was afraid.

A suspicion that nagged at the back of her mind was slowly moving forward to overtake other thoughts. Eva couldn’t be sure, but it felt like Josh knew. Knew that she was planning on leaving him. Knew where she spent the last weekend. Knew who she spent that weekend with.

It was like a fever dream, so fragile that the lightest application of rational thinking might shatter the whole thing. They didn’t leave the apartment for two days. He cooked meals for her, dishes that she’d never had. Introduced her to spices and flavors she couldn’t find at the local grocer. He paid attention to the things she liked, added more to the next meal.

It was much the same way in bed.

Eva’s body warmed as she recalled waking on the second day. She was laying on her side and she could feel Horacio curled around her. His palm was rubbing a slow path from her waist down to her hip and further down to her thigh. When he noticed she was awake, his hand took a new path at the top to cup her breast.

His thumb circled her nipple lazily before rolling the sensitive tip between two fingers. Eva sighed and leaned back into his chest. She could feel him half hard against the small of her back. How long had he been awake? Eva couldn’t see the clock, but the light in the room was a pale gray.

Horacio’s mouth touched her shoulder. She arched her neck, releasing another sigh when he rested his forehead into the curve and inhaled deeply. His hand smoothed down her stomach and teased the skin in the crease of her hip. She lifted her leg and rested it on the thigh he pressed forward.

Warm fingers skimmed her slit, spreading the folds. He massaged the hidden nerves on either side with a touch that was enough to bring her fully into waking but not enough to go beyond the first hint of arousal.

Up. Down. Slow, slow, slow.

Eva whined and pushed her hips into his hand, earning a sleep roughed laugh from Horacio. He just kept going at the slow pace until she was warm and wet and swollen. It didn’t matter if she begged. A ‘please’ or ‘more’ wasn’t going to deter him.

When she thought she might cry from the need blooming from her center, Horacio leaned over and spoke low and sweet into her ear, “You know what I’m thinking?”

Her ‘what?’ was lost in the constant sighs and moans pouring out of her throat.

He pulled his hand from between her legs and rolled her to her back. Looking directly into her eyes, he said, “I’m thinking that its time for breakfast.”

Eva was confused right up until he dropped down under the covers.

The light turned green.

Breaths coming faster, Eva dug her foot into the accelerator and made the merge onto the highway. The headlights rolled over asphalt, each mile taking her closer and closer to downtown. She didn’t bother trying to hide her car this time. There was no one out and about to notice.

Eva hurried into the building and up the stairs to Bobbi Lynn’s door. She knocked quietly and took a step back to wait. Movement on the other side of the door. It opened and Bobbi Lynn waived her inside. She looked both ways down the hall before closing the door.

Bobbi Lynn looked stressed. Her normally meticulously styled hair was pulled into a messy braid and there were dark circles under her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Her mouth pursed, “I think you need to go tonight.”

Eva blinked at her, “Why?”

Moving past Eva, Bobbi Lynn sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to her, “My husband was at the country club, too.”

With wooden steps, Eva went to the couch and sat down. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for Bobbi Lynn to explain.

“Eva,” she began, “I am so sorry. I didn’t know what was going on.”

Her mind whirred with the many interpretations to that sentence. Was it Josh beating the shit out of her? Was it the illegal drug ring? Was it the investigations? Was it Horacio? There were just too many things that were ‘going on’ for her to know how to react.

“Josh had a fight with his friend—the blond one. They were trying to be discreet, but he went to have a cigar in the garden and overheard part of it.” Bobbi Lynn paused with an audible swallow, “Eva, honey, Josh is gonna throw you to the wolves.”

Its the investigation, then.

Eva looked away and pretended she was processing a new fact.

Bobbi Lynn touched her hand, “His friend was very angry with him, said that you didn’t deserve to go to prison for the rest of your life. Josh...well, I knew he didn’t care much for you, but I didn’t know he could be so cruel.”

I knew, Eva thought. I’ve known for a long time.

“There’s more,” she continued, “Josh said that he was planning on using you as ‘leverage’ against someone named Diego. Does that make any sense to you?”

Eva nodded, “He’s a business partner. Josh has been trying to get one over on him for months. He thinks that because the man is an alpha and I’m an omega that I can, I don’t know, wear him down or something.” She took a breath, “So far, he hasn’t been successful.”

“Ah.”

“I’m afraid if Josh keeps pushing it, Diego will do something rash.”

Bobbi Lynn’s brows drew together, “Rash?”

“Yeah,” Eva sighed, “He seemed pretty mad last time.”

I’ll make you regret it.

Her friend was silent for a few seconds, “I still think you should go tonight. I can make a call, get you on a boat down the Mississippi.”

As grateful as Eva was for that offer, she still had to go back to the house, “Thank you. Really. But, I think we need to stick to the plan.”

Rising, Bobbi Lynn went to her sewing box and retrieve a small package. Inside it, Eva would find a passport, bank account, id, and plane ticket. In five days, she would fly to Mexico and disappear.

The plan was an abstraction until Eva held that envelope in her hand. She ran her fingers over the plain paper, felt its weight. A sense of guilt wormed its way into her chest. Not for leaving Josh, but for holding all of this back from Horacio. Especially after the nights they spent together.

“This, too,” she said as she pressed a bottle into Eva’s palm.

“Thank you, Bobbi Lynn,” Eva managed around a tight throat. She pushed the bottle into the center of her bra for safe keepng.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she replied, “I have more to tell you.”

Eva glanced up at the women with raised brows.

Sitting next to Eva, Bobbi Lynn once more touched her hand, “The feds closing in is hitting too close to home for us. We can’t be seen as a player in Josh’s game. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

She did understand. The senator and his wife couldn’t have the bad press of being associated with the downfall of a local doctor and pharmacologist. Especially if it meant unapproved pills being shipped across state lines. Josh would get no protection from the charges that would be leveled at him in the coming weeks.

“I’m sorry, Eva,” Bobbi Lynn, “I know that we’re friends, but its an election year and we can’t have a federal investigation hurting the campaign.”

“I know,” Eva replied, “I’m not offended.”

Bobbi Lynn nodded, “And, because we’re friends, I have to tell you that the warrant will be served in two weeks. They’ve got enough to raid your factories and your house. If you have anything you need to get rid of, do it now.”

Its time.

Eva stood, “Thank you. For everything. I mean it.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”

“I don’t want to be rude, but I need to get back.”

Bobbi Lynn waved her off, “That’s okay. I completely understand.”

They stalled near the door, looking at eat other. Years of luncheons, parties, galas, and secret meetings were suddenly at an end. Eva knew that she might never see Bobbi Lynn again, certainly not after Josh’s dealings became public knowledge. She felt a pang of bittersweet melancholy twist in her chest.

A quick hug and a discreetly wiped away tear, and Bobbi Lynn was opening the door. Her smiled dropped and a look of fear overtook her expression. Curious, Eva peered around the door to find Alexei standing on the far side of the hallway, leaning causally against the wall.

“Hello, Birdie.”

God. Fucking. Damn it.

With one hand, Eva guided Bobbi Lynn to the side. With the other, she slipped the envelope into Bobbi Lynn’s hand and held it there until the other woman’s fingers wrapped around it. She didn’t know how much Alexei knew and she didn’t want to risk her future by allowing him to discover just how far she was willing to go to get away.

More than that, she would never get over the guilt if he thought Bobbi Lynn was interfering. She would not sacrifice her friend like she did Dr. Martin.

“Alexei,” Eva bit out, “Or, am I dealing with Zero now?”

He flinched at the use of his nickname, but recovered only a moment later, “It just Alexei, Birdie.”

How long would he be Alexei to her once the warrant was served?

Eva could feel Bobbi Lynn shaking next to her, “I’m gonna go.” Then, “Goodbye, Bobbi Lynn.”

Stepping out in the hall, Eva waited for Bobbi Lynn to close the door behind her before she turned and walked down the steps to the lobby. Her pace was almost leisurely despite the hammering of her heart. She had a little too much pride to show Alexei just how scared she was.

A part of her wondered if she could scream loud enough to wake Horacio. As she exited the building, she turned to look up over her shoulder towards the top floor. It was a risk.  A big one. And, she didn’t know if there was much he could do without destroying his cover.

No.

Better to handle this herself.

Eva stopped next to the driver’s side door of her car, “Now what?”

Alexei ran a hand through his hair, “You know I’m not going to be able to keep this from Josh.”

“Just what do you think this is?”

He pushed his hands into his pocket, “It looks like you’re trying to find a way out.”

Eva deflated on the inside. She didn’t know what she hoped would come out of Alexei’s mouth, but it definitely wasn’t the truth.

“Alright,” she muttered, “what are you going to do about it?”

The ice blue of Alexei’s eyes swayed to the side. She let him think about it, knowing that his answer would determine everything that would happen in the near future.

“I think,” he began, “that we need to get you home. I can handle Josh.”

Her eyes narrowed, “I disagree. From what Bobbi Lynn told me, you guys had a falling out in Texas.”

Alexei’s weight shifted. He seemed to grow taller, more fearsome, “Is that what she told you? Did she tell you anything else, or is local gossip the reason you drove all the way out here in the middle of the night?”

She could lie to him, but something told her he would catch it, “The warrant will be served in two weeks.”

His chin lifted and his shoulders straightened, “How does she know?”

“Oh, please,” she sneered, “remember who her husband is.”

Nodding, Alexei lapsed once more into thought. Then, “That doesn’t change anything. I’m taking you home. We’ll talk with Josh in the morning. Give me the keys.”

Eva pulled the keys from her pocket and slung them at him. Then, she went to the passenger’s side door and got in the car. She slammed the door closed to drive home the point that she was upset. Alexei ignored it.

The trip to the house was spent in tense, angry silence. Eva sulked with her arms crossed, watching the road go from concrete dividers to manicured lawns. Alexei sped along, uncaring that they were going fifteen above the limit. Occasionally, he tapped the radio, looking for a new station that wasn’t playing commercials.

#Shadow and Veil #Narcos #Horacio carrillo #carrillo #maurice compte #au #a/b/o dynamics

[bunny-heels]

all my blogs are finally fully backed up so.

Matt is a fucking idiot. imagine being in charge of a website that advertises itself as the gayest place on the web when in reality all you do is sulk in your office being upset and whiny because people rightfully call you out on your hypocrisy, ignorance, neglect, and blatant bigotry.

there is a literal genocide happening that's been going on for years killing innocent people. a non-binary teen was beaten to death and the killers have basically gotten off free. and this fucking dumbass decides to worry about what people are saying about him online as if he isn't sitting in a pile of money like every other jackass CEO is dong. the fact Palestine isn't one of the listed trending tags on tumblr when i see news about it every 5 posts is ridiculous.

he's just like any other rich guy. he doesn't care about the wellbeing of others, thinks only for himself, puts others down when they feel threatened, and just wants more money.

tumblr stopped being a safe place for "outcasted" people years ago, even before the porn ban. in fact, maybe it never really was for outcated people. trans, black, and disabled users have been getting put down by this site for a very long time, and its fucking disgusting. this site literally houses the largest percentage of LGBT+ and disabled users i've ever seen if we're going by the polls where literally the option of cisgender and neurotypical is always under 1%. they literally are the reason this website still exist, because they've created their circles and safe spaces for them to feel comfortable sharing their life experiences and adventures through life.

most people on this site can't go a day in their real life without some form of harassment or hardship, they don't need that transferring to their digital life. every group of people deserves their own corner for them to have fun and get away from everything for a while. if that's taken away, you are left with people who are just throwing tantrums, and the actual users who made your site usable are now out there probably doing better than you and getting more respectable support than you will with your group of crying babies.

Matt is not a 13 year old kid running a GMod DarkRP server. Matt is not a 26 year old forum mod. he is a 40 year old CEO who is the founder of a well known blog creation site. he has an extremely important and powerful position, yet he is choosing to put his own immature feelings first before thinking about the safety of his own userbase that is literally used as this sites selling point.

the fucking audacity to do this shit to your own users that you literally use for a selling point when you won't even allow for certain tags to show up in the search because you claim for them to have sexual content meanwhile other tags are full of hatred, bigotry, and downright defamation of innocent people who just happen to live different lives is fucking gross. i absolutely cannot believe society and social norms have let the minds of people in power get this fucking bad. it's almost impressive, in a tortured lab monkeys way, not in an innovated and breakthrough way.

please protect all trans users, especially trans women/trans fems. please protect black users, disabled users, all people of color users, homeless/financially struggling users, harassed users, victims of assault users, Palestinian users, jewish users, any religious users-any user that you know for a fact could be thrown away by this bullshit system any day now, protect and take care of them, and make sure they know you'll always be there no matter what.

this post will be rebloggable because i want to pass these links.

palestine related links:

arab.org

gofundmes

esims

PCRF

funds for gaza

POC related links:

BHM mutual aid

american indian college fund

black family mutual aid

trans related links:

freedom oklahoma

transformationskc

trans liberation

suggestions for more plus any corrections are appreciated. reblogging and replying to add your own links for mutual aid and donations is extremely acceptable and encouraged. i apologize if anything in this is worded incorrectly.

if this is taken down despite me being a cis straight chick, you know why.

#the bun talks #god my brain is fried #anyway for my mutuals if i DO get fucked over from this #my carrd has links to my other socials

[disaster-on-the-horizon]

I'm not sure if the market for Meow Tower enjoyers who read fanfiction is much bigger on here, but I wanted to repost it to Tumblr, anyway

Spoilers for Morris' story

Summary:

Still a little kitten in a big world, Morris gets separated from his mother, at a train station. Luckily, the local station master's cat is there to help him. An encounter that changes the course of his life.

(A deeper look into the backstory he provides you with, in-game)

Despite the late hour, the sun shines brightly onto the roofs of the station's gigantic machines, as they stand idly on top of the seemingly endless tracks. The shadows of the wheels, alone, cast the kitten into complete darkness. He carefully approaches the round monstrosities, when they start moving with a deafening, terrifying hissing sound, sending the poor thing onto the floor, shivering. "Moriss.", an older cat calls out to him, sitting down next to his shivering form. "Don't get too close to the trains, sweetie. I don't want you to trip." With his mother as support, he gets back to his feet, catching a glimpse between the borders of different train station sections. The blurry carts race across the thick metal rails, leaving behind an empty canyon, as if they had flattened the very earth itself, marking their territory. The bottom is easily visible, but so far away at the same time.

"Are you alright, if we keep going?", his mother, rubs her head soothingly against his tiny back. "Yeah, we can go.", he answers quietly, forcing his eyes away from the metals and machines, focused instead on the ground before him. "Don't worry, hun, I'm here." At last, the two return to their original course.

Moriss' mother has gone the way through the central station probably a dozen times now, but this is the first time she is able to take her son with her. She is hoping he'll learn a little more about the vast world, outside of their home. It's not his first time outside, but he has never been this far away, and has never seen this much action in one place. And especially not these tall…beings. They're not cats, that's for sure, but Moriss has never seen something like them. Maybe it's rude to stare, but the kitten can't help, but be curious about these mysterious non-cat giants. He feels as if he almost breaks his neck, trying to look at their faces.

"Please, look at the road, hun.", his mother catches him slowly drifting off to the side. "Oh, yes, sorry." Moriss has always been teased as being a 'head-in-the-clouds' type of cat, by basically everyone who knows him. Though, he likes to call himself 'attentive'. And how could he not be, when there is so much to see, and so little time? And every time he thinks he's close to seeing it all, his parents show him some new place or new food or introduce a new cat into his life. Sometimes, he wishes he could just spend his life traveling around, seeing it all. Even just from this station, he can see new trees, birds, and even a few hills in the horizon. What must lie behind them? Not to mention these new creatures all around him! He could spend all day, just finding new things around here. But his mom told him to look at the road. Almost forgot.

…Wait. "Mommy?" Where is she?

Moriss frantically spins his little body in circles, but he can't see his mother anymore. A few meters away, he spots a pair of furry legs beneath the crowd, and quickly follows the hint, without much though. But once he's close enough, he realizes this cat doesn't actually share his spotty pattern. She tilts her head in confusion, but before she can ask the kitten any questions, he runs towards the next cat he sees. Though this one doesn't have quite the right colours.

The next has too much fur, the one after is a bit too tall. Two others have the wrong eye colour, and the last is actually just a short dog. Yet, he runs after them all. And now, he's even more lost.

Having lost any possible means of orientation, Moriss sits down on the gravely, train station floor, still moving his head in all directions. A few tears roll down his cheeks. The crowd of giants has circled in on him, obscuring every inch of the world around the kitten, and making him unable to see anything, but their seemingly never ending legs. They move around him, like an impenetrable wall, some just barely avoiding toppling him over. Maybe they're too big to see, maybe they're too big to care, who knows? As his breathing speeds up, the thoughts inside Moriss' little head start swirling around uncontrolled, slowly pulling him down into their vicious circle.

"Excuse me?" With wide eyes, Moriss turns towards the source of the noise, fearing it to be his own, fear-filled head. Then he sees a cat approach him. She effortlessly cuts through the mass of legs, every single one of them, freeing the way for her without a moment of hesitation. A little, blue-golden cap, and a tie in those same colours, compliment the orangy-yellow tiger stripes, covering her fur. A little bell is attached to her long tail, with a blue ribbon, softly jingling with each minor motion. The cat stops, only a couple feet away from the kitten.

"Hello, little one.", she speaks with a silky-smooth tone, a gentle smile grazing her face. "You seem lost. Do you need help, finding your adult?" Something rises in Moriss; a feeling of relief. But he won't allow himself to indulge in it, just yet. He might not be particularly old yet, but his mom has already taught him rule number one: Do not talk to strangers.

Seemingly reading the time of departure for his train of thought, the other cat tilts her head, in a playful manner. "My name is Skim. I'm the station master around here. Do you know what a station master is?" Moriss relaxes just a bit, still has to shake his head, however. "It means that I make sure that everything at this train station works, like it is supposed to. I make sure the trains and the signs are all up to date, and that everyone here is always provided with the help they might need." Skim lays down, holding her head more on eye-level of the kitten before her. "Did you come here with an adult?"

After briefly looking over the cat once more, Moriss nods. "I lost my mommy.", he sniffles. "Do you think she knows where the station master's office is?" "I think so. She comes here a lot."

"Alrighty then.", she smiles, getting up very slowly. "How about I bring you to the office, and we wait for your mommy there, together?" Finally, relief washes over Moriss, as a few more tears escape his eyes. He nods, sticking closely to Skim's side. While they walk, the older cat never losses sight of her companion, simply letting her body automatically guide her along a path she has walked a million times before. Moriss doesn't feel in any way weirded out by this close supervision. He feels safe; protected in the same way he feels when his parents watch over him, when he plays alone outside. And it's nice to be sure that he won't accidentally get lost again. Not a single obstacle stops the two in their path, and when Moriss flinches and stops at the sound of a train whistle, Skim gentle presses against his side, giving him something to hold on to. She herself doesn't seem bothered by the sounds in any way, helping a little with the kitten's fear.

Before he can even really realize, they arrive in front of a large, dark-blue door. In bedded in the bottom is a smaller, yellow silicone clap, resting between the wood. Skim steps halfway through, holding the flap up, so Moriss can step through without worries. Once both are inside, she lets the cat-door close, though it swings in its hinges for a while, before it comes to a standstill, which mesmerizes Moriss.

He stares at the room in the same awe. Dozens of pictures, in colourful frames, line the walls, in the midst, certificates and hand-drawn pictures. A small stove stands next to a bench, in the corner of the small room. And right in front of Moriss, sits a giant, in a big, blue armchair, stretching his legs over the wooden table in front of him. His whole body is covered in the blue and gold fabric that Skim wears, too, and he wears a big version of her hat. From this angle, Moriss can see that he is almost completely furless, only singular hairs covering his arms and face. On top of that, two of his paws are a shiny black, while the other two, smaller paws, are white. He turns his head towards the two cats. Moriss startles a bit, at the sight of his big, brown eyes. Or more, his big irises. Whoever he is, he must be really excited to see them.

"Ah, Skim. Who's our little fella here?", his voice easily fills the entire room. "We are just going to wait for his mom, he lost her. You think, you could maybe go on look out?" He laughs softly. "Of course. I'll find her in no time, no worries.", he now looks directly at Moriss, who hides part of himself behind Skim. The tall creature steps over the two cats, opening the big door, before stepping out.

"Can they understand us?", Moriss immediately asks. Skim is slightly caught off guard by the sudden enthusiasm of the previously shaken kitten, but she catches herself fast. "Not all of them can. Gerald is one of the lucky few." She starts walking further into the small room. "You probably haven't met a lot of these guys yet, right?" He shakes his head. "They're odd." "At first, yeah, but they tend to grow on you really fast, trust me.", she chuckles, jumping on the bench, to reach the stove. "Some of them think, we are odd, too."

The kitten also fully enters the room, now, letting the entire atmosphere settle in on him. It's a nice change of pace, after the constant excitement going on outside.

"Do you think, you can make it up the chair, by yourself?", Skim asks from her position, watching Moriss silently approach the armchair. "I can do it!", he smiles confidently, aiming his shot. The seat is definitely a little higher than what he would usually jump on, but it's nothing he can't handle! Lowering himself a little to the ground, he wiggles around, waiting for the perfect moment. Then he strikes, stretching his body as far as he has ever stretched before. After what feels like an eternity in the air, he hits the edge of the cushion. It was a close call, but he made it.

Skim silently sighs in relief, walking over with a warm kettle in her mouth, easily following him onto the furniture. She has to fight a snicker, as she sets down the kettle on the table. Moriss has practically melted into the soft cushion of the armchair. "You should have seen it when it was new.", she says, though she can't guarantee that the kitten hears her, swimming in all of his bliss. In the meantime, she pulls the bowl, standing on the other edge of the table, towards her, carefully pouring a good amount of milk into it. A little bit of white steam steams off the white liquid, as it settles flat into shape. Moriss perks back up.

"I warmed up some milk, if you want it. It always cheers me up!", Skim pushes the bowl further towards Moriss, before gently lifting him onto the table, by the scruff of his neck. Looking into the bowl in awe, he sticks out his tongue, to take a single sip. Never, in his life, has he had warm milk before. Though, as the warmth spreads through him, followed by a high and gentle purr, he slowly starts drinking every last bit of the milk.

The warm, orange evening sun reflects in the wet trails, left behind on the inner walls of the bowl, jumping between the different spots. And the quiet, satisfied sips of the milk, are underlined by the soft 'chugga-chugga' of a nearby train, following its path. From another direction, a whistle blows, greeting the other trains with a jolly 'choo-choo'. Unintelligible, interchangeable conversations, audible through the office's window, show the life going on inside the train station. A few drops of milk drip off of Moriss' chin, and Skim chuckles. Moriss laughs with her, swooped up by her good mood.

The big door opens, with a soft click, as the handle moves down. "And here you go, ma'am." Between Gerald's legs, another cat steps into the office. Upon seeing his quickly rising joy, Skim lowers the kitten to the ground, his legs already running towards his mother. "Mommy!", he calls out, running face-first into her fluffy chest. Rather out of breath, but also relieved, she nuzzles her head into her son's fur. "There you are, sweety! I was so worried about you!" He purrs softly. When she manages to take her gaze off of her child, her eyes fixate on the cat on the chair. "Thank you so much for finding him." "Oh, it's no biggie. All a station master's work!"

Skim leaps off the seat, directly walking up to the kitten. "Well then, I hope we see each other again, very soon. And if you ever need help again, you know who to ask.", she flashes her kind smile again. With a high-pitched noise of glee, Moriss pushes his head against the station master's fur, in a content 'goodbye'.

Gerald closes the door behind the duo, who closely stick together throughout their walk. "Well, I've certainly had enough excitement for today. How about, we just go back home?", his mother laughs, though the signs of worry are still clearly painted on her face. "Okay.", Moriss pushes himself slightly into her side.

As they make their way back, he once again takes in all the sounds and sensations around him, though this time also focused on his mom beside him. Thanks to the gentle rumbling, he can already feel the next train coming, from underneath his feet. A lot of the Geralt-like 'guys' are gathering at the edge of the track, though careful to avoid the mysterious white line. So many of them are carrying large or small bags with them, ready to face whatever adventure awaits them next. And even as time goes on, and the sky colours itself in different hues of pinks and reds, the trains never become less full.

In the train station, time stands still, and space becomes obsolete. You can travel around the world, with all of its wonders and miracles. And no matter where you land, there will always be somebody you can rely on.

"Mommy?" "Yes, hun?" "I want to be a station master!"

Thank you so much for reading, especially to those on AO3 :)

#meow tower #morris meow tower #spoilers #mobile games #cats #ao3 fanfic #pre canon #mild angst #mild hurt/comfort #fanfiction writer #writblr

[rotten-hearts-sharp-teeth]

A mystery man joins the Wild Geese

This Tumblr exclusive short contains massive spoilers for the Alone Wolf alternate end.

Huge thanks to @jason-lives-again for the artwork!

Lucky Dog

1992

Barrett shifted the weight of his M4A1 while he followed the lieutenant through the dusty mercenary camp. The mid-day sun beat down on his bare arms, but he didn't mind the heat. It served as a reminder of just how far he was from dreary ol' England.

 As they stepped inside the makeshift tent, Barrett’s eyes adjusted to the shadows and he wondered if he should turn his cap around.

 No.

 There was only one chance to make a good first impression and he intended to look his future Captain in the eye. Humans would only see what their minds were willing to believe and the space under the tent was still bright enough for his eyes to pass for brown instead of red. The curly gray hair that reached his broad shoulders was easily explained as poor genetics.

 The corner of his full lips lifted in a secretive smile. That part at least, was true.

 "Here's that recruit I told you about Captain."

 The Lieutenant stepped to the side and gestured to a red-headed man bent over a topographic map.

 "Barrett, Captain Bernadotte."

He'd heard about the Bernadotte family through rival mercenary circles and when word came around that the young upstart was starting his own group, joining him seemed like a sign from God. 

The red head stood to his full height and Barrett was surprised to see that he was almost as tall as he was. It wasn’t often that he came across a human that compared to his size. 

Bernadotte rounded the table and offered his hand. 

"Usually mercenaries go by last name, non?" 

"No last name. Just Barrett. C'est toujours agréable de rencontrer un autre ours dans la nature."   (It's always nice to meet another bear in the wild)**

He grinned wide enough to show teeth without revealing his sharp canines. It was a lie of course. He had a last name, but Barrett knew that he wasn't the first mercenary to run away from his lineage. 

As he shook hands with the Captain, Barrett breathed in deep through his nose. His mother had taught him long ago that the best way to take measure of a man was through his scent. It was easy for a mouth to speak false words, but scent never lied. 

The smell of cigarettes clung to Bernadotte like a thick cloud. It was a common scent among mercenaries, but one that never failed to remind Barrett of his godfather. 

"Tu parles français?"

He nodded his head. 

"Oui." 

The Captain's eyes narrowed and his chin lifted higher as he released Barrett's hand. It seemed like he wasn't the only one making an assessment. 

"Barrett. That's a German name, is it not? Are you German?" 

Barrett grinned and let his natural accent flow effortlessly. 

"Actually Captain, I was born in London." 

Captain Bernadotte stared at him for a moment, then laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. Underneath the stink of cigarettes and sweat Bernadotte smelled like combat. He was a man who believed in fighting alongside his men and that was someone Barrett could respect. 

The long haired Frenchmen returned to the table and picked up a notepad. Flipping through the pages, he addressed Barrett without looking at him. 

"Your skills tested above average and you've seen your fair share of combat, oui? Kuwait… Bosnia.. Those battlefields were hell on earth." 

The Captain dropped the note pad and crossed his arms. 

"So how in the hell does a young guy like you come out of that without a single scar to show for it?" 

Barrett raised a gloved hand and absentmindedly scratched behind his ear. At thirty-four he wasn't nearly as young as he looked, but he knew that his lack of battle wounds would make him stand out in a crowd of seasoned mercenaries. Dropping his hand, he lifted his shoulder in a shrug.

"Just got lucky I guess. Can't really explain it." 

Bernadotte seemed to make up his mind and smirked as he pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his front pocket. 

Lucky Strikes 

"Very well then. Tomorrow we shall see just how lucky you are." 

He lit the tip of his cigarette and inhaled deeply before blowing out a thick cloud of smoke. 

"Welcome to the Wild Geese, Barrett from London." 

*** 

Barrett shifted his weight on the slanted roof and tried to ignore the water running off the bill of his cap. The sound of traded gunfire broke through the low rumble of thunder, but it was on the opposite side of the city block. 

His first night of combat and he'd been assigned perimeter duty. 

He couldn't really blame the Captain. He was untested among the ranks of the Wild Geese…. but they could have given him something a little less boring! Barrett was a capable mercenary, trained to kill by Hellsing's finest soldier. 

His father. 

Barrett’s lip curled in a silent snarl as he thought about his father. That rotten bastard could burn in hell for all he cared! But his Maman? 

He sighed and tilted his head back to let the rain pelt him in the face. 

He hoped she was doing alright. 

The sound of insurgents in the alley drew his attention and he made the mistake of looking right at them. The shine from his eyes gave away his position and he had just enough time to curse himself before the bullet pierced his brain. Thrown off balance, Barrett tumbled from the roof. 

Fabric tore as razor wire mounted on top of the fence wrapped around his leg. His fall was cut short, but he was left hanging upside down and without a weapon as his rifle clattered to the pavement below. 

"Merde!" 

Barrett tried to grab his gun, but the stock was just out of reach. His fingertips brushed against the sling as his assailants rounded the corner and opened fire. Bullets ripped through his flak jacket as if it was made of paper, shredding his chest and stomach. This time when the gunfire ceased, he remained still. 

Six insurgents crept closer and Barrett didn't have to speak their language to know what they were arguing about. One insisted he’d hit him with the head shot while the others disagreed. If he was killed with the first shot, then how had he reached for his rifle? 

It was a legitimate question and one that Barrett planned to answer. 

Ignoring the insurgents, he focused his senses on the battlefield around them. It would be a shame for a member of the Wild Geese to witness what he was about to do, especially since he worked so hard to join them. 

Luck was on his side. The mercenaries were headed his way, but it would take them several minutes to reach his location. 

That left him plenty of time. 

Barrett's body disappeared in a swirl of smoke-colored mist and reformed on the other side of the insurgents. Five startled men turned to look at him while the sixth, the one who shot him first, fell to his knees. Everything above the hip was gone. 

The werewolf stood and slowly turned around. Red eyes reflected a bright flash of lightning while the rain washed blood from his dark gray fur. Opening his mouth, he growled at the men as they raised their weapons. 

Bullets passed through his intangible body and he let friendly fire cut down two more.

Then there were three. 

He rolled to the ground and became solid long enough to grab the combat knife from his boot. With a quick flick of his wrist, he buried it in the forehead of his nearest prey while drawing the pistol from his side. Two shots claimed the last two lives.

The fight was over in seconds. 

Barrett released the breath he had been holding as he climbed to his feet. The rain would take care of the blood on his skin, but he still had a few pieces of evidence he needed to dispose of before the Geese reached him.

His shredded vest was ripped to smaller pieces to disguise the bullet holes, but he couldn’t locate his cap. Shaking the rain from his eyes like a dog, he examined what was left of the bodies. Five of them were fine, but he needed to get rid of the one he had bitten in half. 

He eyed the ropes of intestines and made a face.

Barrett hated the taste of offal. 

*** 

Captain Bernadotte was the first to reach him. 

"My God man! What the hell happened to you?" 

Barrett let his wet curls hang over his eyes and tried to fake an exhaustion he didn’t feel. 

"Ambush. I thought they had me for a second there, Captain." 

The Captain gave him a quick once over while the Geese searched the bodies lying in the rain. It was unlikely for him to come out of a fight with five men unscathed. Unlikely, but not impossible. 

"And your clothes?" 

Barrett's smile turned sheepish as he pointed to the top of the fence. As luck would have it, the crotch of his pants and half of a leg dangled from the razor wire. He hadn't realized it during the fight, but his lack of clothing helped sell the story of the torn vest. 

"Fell off the roof. Got stuck. But in the end it saved my life." 

The Lieutenant called for the Captain and Barrett’s shoulders sagged in relief. Thanks to the rain, he doubted the Captain would notice the absence of scrapes on his skin. 

One of the men approached with the missing cap held in his hands. His finger poked through the bullet hole and he paused to stare at it in mild confusion. It was obvious he was trying to figure out how the hole had been made without killing Barrett. 

"Ah, you found it!"

Barrett snatched the cap away and yanked it over his wet hair. He made it a point to frown, then pulled it off to examine the hole. 

"Bloody wankers! Good thing it fell off before they shot it, I'll tell you that much." 

The answer seemed good enough to satisfy the mercenary’s curiosity and a strong hand clapped Barrett on the back.

"I don't believe it. I don't believe it! You Bastard!" 

Barrett turned his head to see the Captain smiling at him while the other Geese looked on in approval. The tension inside his body eased. They believed him. 

"You really are a Lucky Dog!"

** Barrett means ‘bear strength’ in German while Bernadotte means ‘strong, brave bear’ in French

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #hellsing oc #barrett #pip bernadotte #the wild geese #alone wolf #werewolf #werewolf oc #werewolf wednesday #short fiction #the captain #hans gunsche #sabine #walter c dornez #alone no longer #my writing #au