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simplegenius042 · 4 months

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A very late WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @g0dspeeed @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat and @cassietrn

Tagging @strangefable @carlosoliveiraa @shallow-gravy @minilev @wrathfulrook @josephslittledeputy @nightbloodbix @derelictheretic @deputyash @deputy-morgan-malone @inafieldofdaisies @ec-10 @ladyoriza @vampireninjabunnies-blog @voidika @onehornedbeast @thewanderer-000 @softtidesworld @snake-in-the-garden @corvosattano @henbased @neverthesameneveranother @chazz-anova and @strafethesesinners

Here are three WIPs, each from Far Cry The Silver Chronicles, A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore and Life, Despair & Monsters. Read below the cut.

TW: Harsh and heavy cursing, mentioned/implied character and general death of NPCs (either it be a time loop or a cybernetic homicidal monster around nine or ten feet tall and very pissed off). Implied mentioned sexual content, mentions of abuse and fantastical racism (against ghouls, Jericho leave Gob alone!). Mentioned prostitution and fantasies of murder (illegal but understandable).

First WIP is for the time loop/"Groundhog Day" FC5 AU fic called You're Almost Like Family where the Seeds are stuck in a, well, time loop. And whenever Silva (or the Seeds themselves) die, well, the days are reset. Funniest part is, none of the Seeds know that they are all in a loop, just their individual selves. Snippet below:

[John] slammed the entrance to his chalet shut, causing the blonde figure sorting his papers in his lounge to jump. The documents slipped out of her hands as she stood up with a hand to a holster, only to calm down when she realized it was him.

Noticing that the reports laid scattered on the floor, Nadi gave him a stink eye, gesturing to the papers.

John would have been apologetic if he simply didn't have time for this. Ironic given the predicament he was stuck in.

Sooner or later, the Deputy is going to end up dead, and he'll be back at square one... again.

The thought reignited his frustration, but he reigned in enough to examine his number two.

Nadi was a loyal member of the project, more faithful than Jacob's hound, and while they did butt heads sometimes, he was grateful for her presence and for her strategic input. Admittedly, John knew that without her, the Deputy would have gotten to him sooner rather than later.

I would have preferred not to have to had died to appreciate it.

"Once you finish with those, come meet me upstairs in my bedroom. There's something I need to discuss with you," John ordered smoothly, making his way to the stairs.

He didn't notice the confusion etched on the blonde's face, for John was already making his way up the stairs to his room.

It's times like these I wish I could have a shot of tequila, he thought to himself, walking over to the open bedroom window and closing it shut, pulling the lock down.

Next, he grabbed a torch light and shined it at the closet. Hearing nothing, he walked towards it and opened the doors. Empty.

Finally, John turned off his torch, knelt down, and swiftly rolled it harshly under the bed. Hearing no grunts, he looked under.

She's not under there... good.

John exhaled a huff of air, and sat on the edge of his bed as he put his hands over his face.

It was exhausting. Though John knew by the end of today, or the next two if he was lucky, the Deputy would be killed by something or another and he would be back at square one, he really needed to figure out how to reach out to her, without being shot.

Going to her too early leaves her shooting first and questioning the morality of it never, and trying to go to her late only ends up with her being killed by whoever it is she seems to have evoked the wrath of. Not that he thinks she doesn't entirely deserve it.

He needed guidance, and from his last conversation with Joseph, his brother seemed content with sitting by and letting God do his work.

And he tried. To wait it out. To let God do His work. But if the sign that John seemed to be getting was that leaving the Deputy to her own accord only leads to her death, and back to the morning of Joseph's arrest.

And it wasn't like Jacob, or worse, Faith, were going to be helpful.

John had figured out quickly that his intervention was needed for the Deputy to even get through another day. And while the Father may not have understood what he told him, John deduced that this was a test from God.

A test against his sloth. A test towards his patience. A test meant to prove that John was worthy of entering Eden. And what better way than to save the life and soul of another? Especially one as sinful and wrathful as the Deputy?

Which is why he waits for the only other faithful member of the project, his trustworthy second-in-command.

A knock on the door shifted his thoughts to the matter at hand, and he made his way to the door.

Opening it, Nadi stood there, the blond looking at him with expecting brown eyes.

John pulled her inside, earning a yelp from the young woman, and closed the door behind her.

Here's a WIP for a collection of short fics from different character perspectives throughout my Fallout fic series A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore. It is still under heavy editing, but I've got a good grasp on where to take it. Snippet below:

In the five of the twenty four hours she's been awake, Nova had expected more-or-less the same day as before.

Walking around and offering her body to anyone who came into the saloon had not been a life she pictured for herself as a little girl, but it was one that paid well.

Well, it would have been if Moriarty didn't continue to take a cut of her and Gob's pay any time a customer gave them a generous donation.

That and the amount of times Moriarty had utilized her services with no intention of paying her, but she supposed it was a better alternative to being kicked out of Megaton. Given Moriarty still had that power.

She drew in the smoke from her cigarette, and surveyed from her post as Gob gave another orange bottle of whiskey to Jericho, the ex-raider sneering at the ghoul, his disgust evident all over his face.

Thankfully he didn't make a scene, slamming the small bag of caps on the counter as he left through the door.

Gob stared at the bag, string noose tied tightly around the bag, not immediately grabbing it. Nova could take a guess that Gob was lamenting over the debts that he owed Moriarty. Debts both the prostitute and the ghoul bartender wordlessly knew their boss was unlikely to pay.

Gob snapped out of it though, giving a miserable sigh, and dragging the bag away from the counter for Moriarty to pocket later, turning his attention to the damn radio that never seemed to play at the right time.

It pained Nova to see Gob like this. He was a real sweetheart with shitty luck, and she knew that the only upsides in his life were the hope of one day paying off his debts, however unlikely that was, and the Gravity News Radio host screaming out "fighting the good fight", whatever that entailed.

She was also painfully well aware of his crush on her.

Though she never had minded his appearance to the point she'd hang out with him in public, given how much she knows the ghoul is actually a decent guy, she had her limits, which was rare given her current standing under Moriarty.

She hoped he could find some semblance of happiness, whether that be with a person or a life long after Moriarty was rotting in the ground. But it wouldn't be with her.

If things were different though...

Nova looked away from Gob, shaking the thought away. It didn't matter on the what ifs, right now she had a job to perform.

She could ponder a different time.

Just as Gob began to smack the radio, a risky action given Moriarty's repeated threats on treating his property harshly, the saloon door creaked open, and Nova spotted two teens enter. One male, the other female. Both wearing what appeared to be blue jumpsuits with the numbers "101" imprinted in yellow on their backs.

Nova eyed them both. The young man was of average build, short auburn hair cut neatly with a few strands springing out from the harshness of the wasteland most likely, and light brown eyes on the lookout for anyone and anything.

The young woman on the other hand had dark hair tied in a pony tail, was a little chubbier than her counterpart, and her hazel eyes were more focused, trying to narrow down a specific person.

They glanced back to the door, whispering amongst themselves, though not too quiet that she couldn't catch their words.

Amongst the harsh gravel Gob spat out at the poor radio, and the chatter amongst the patrons, Nova could decipher the words "here" "back outside" and "think she'll stay?" in hushed voices.

And finally Jennifer putting murder on her mind to the back burner as she remembers to drop, duck and cover my WIP of Sonya's Push. Snippet below:

Breathing heavily as she pushed her way through the audience as they gazed upon the newest arena fight between beasties, the bruises formed from her fight with Malvolio's bitch protesting against her movements.

The blonde looked back to the closed elevator door on the other side, paranoid that Malvolio's Beastie would burst through at any moment.

The speed of it had been abnormal, disappearing in a blink and being nothing more than a flicker of movement when it had slid down to the hall. The movement of its tail daggers swift and deadly, like her own claws. The red in its one eye, more robotic than flesh.

Why had Dicko approved such a thing? It barely counted as a beastie with the mass of metal it was made of! Jennifer huffed, and around the arena, looking pass the patrons in search of Dicko.

Her blue eyes spotted the Englishman on a lower circle, himself seated down on his VIP sofa that she once shared with him, disheveled but celebrating his escape with a glass of disgusting champagne, like the pig hadn't just left her to die to that one-eyed mech of a beast. As if the reason it was free in the first place wasn't because he allowed his creep of a "buddy" onto his premises, or the fact Sir Enigma might be a fucking alien in addition to a Darwinist with no care for the fact "handing control" did not mean "releasing the Beastie from its brainwashing bullshit".

She felt the razor claws pushing through her fingertips as she glared at the man from across the arena, anger and betrayal clouding her mind.

Those fantasies of killing him while in his bed resurfaced, and she oh so wanted to enact them now, with the sofa as an acceptable exception.

She wanted to get her claws through his throat before the Beastie could make its way down to the arena. She tried to move pass the cheering audience, making her way around to the other side to get to the stairs.

However much she tried though, a block of people just refused to move aside, and she was tempted to slice her way through if it weren't for the guards.

Ding!

...Or the faint noise of the elevator door that echoed throughout the arena, deaf to everyone but her.

Frozen in place as she looked back, trying to get a glimpse of the beast that would no doubt tear them apart.

She pushed people aside to get a solid look. Enough people disbanded to show the doors opening to reveal the empty box of the elevator.

Jennifer's face scrunched in confusion, mouth gaping open and shut, lips stinging as the cut on her upper lip made contact with her bottom one. She desperately searched for any sign of the beast, the monster made of steel, the relentless creature that stalked and hunted her not moments ago.

Upon still seeing nothing, she let out a mirthless laugh as she turned her back to the elevator, shaking her head as she focused her attention on Dicko once more, the man a ring below talking with one of his guards.

It was with this focus that she noticed a... shift on the stone barriers that kept the audience at bay.

Large spots on the stone cracked, small dusts of powder dropping down as an unseen pressure was placed on the stone. She saw more of this dust from the next ring up, and then the next, and the next.

Up and up and further up until it stopped at the final ring. Then dust slowly dropped down from the roof, unbeknownst to the audience too invested on the violence happening between the two wild beasties below them. Not that the fight between those Beasties were anything special unlike what she saw from her hunter mere hours ago.

Jennifer felt some familiarity with this, words exchanged to her by the madman who released the Apex from its prison, a far too fond explanation on how the creature could "rush so fast it would be merely a flicker to the human eye!"

"...Or match its environment to disappear right before you," Malvolio explained, grinning at her with all his teeth.

Jennifer's eyes widened as she barely registered the outline of the beast that had adjusted its steel to uncloak itself while hanging from dark and dank ceiling. Red optic looking down to the cheers in the rings and the Beasties fighting under it.

She saw the tail split in three, and immediately followed her gut by making distance from the open space of the barriers.

She had just dropped flat onto the floor to curl up and cover her head when the she heard the wind and patron's necks crack in one simultaneous whoosh.

26 notes · View notes

aceghosts · 23 days

Note

“i don’t have time for distractions right now.” for Rooney x Yori if your taking prompt requests??? 🩷

Thank you for sending this prompt in! I think this prompt was supposed to be angsty, but my muse took me in a rather smutty direction. So...uh...yeah.

[Prompt List]

Summary: Rooney makes an off-handed comment about their boyfriend being a distraction. Yorinobu takes that as a personal challenge. Title comes from Måneskin's HONEY (ARE U COMING?). Words: 3.9k words Content Warnings: MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT! Lots of flirting, teasing, sexual tension, and making out. Also, Rooney is AFAB and nonbinary, not a woman. Nonbinary is not fucking women-lite. (Mutuals and followers, that comment is not directed at you. All of you are awesome.) Towards the end of the fic, I need to give a warning for explicit sexual content, specifically: Dirty Talk, Light Bondage, Light Body Worship, Blow Jobs/Oral Sex, Safe word usage, vaginal fingering, Penis In Vagina Sex, and Unprotected Sex. Really, this is just porn with a light plot draped over it. I am going to give a light warning for potential Dom/Sub overtones to be on the safe side, but in my mind, Rooney and Yori are switches, if either of them could be called that. If you feel you need more warnings, I would also double check the AO3 version, but I think I covered everything here. Author’s note: This fic takes place in the timeline after Rooney and Yorinobu get together. When specifically? Haven't really nailed that down. Also, this is the first time I've posted an honest to god smutfic on my blog. Yay? NSFW Taglist (Opt In/Out): @bbrocklesnar, @voidika, @roofgeese, @cloudofbutterflies92, @strangefable @inafieldofdaisies, @derelictheretic, @clicheantagonist, @direwombat, @nightbloodbix

AO3

“I missed you.” Their wonderfully distracting boyfriend wraps his arms around their waist, pressing himself close to their back. Rooney resists the urge to lean back into him, crossing their arms over their chest. He places soft kisses along their jawline, Rooney letting out a contented hum. “I thought about you all day. Did you think about me?”

Yorinobu lays it on thick, clearly having thought about how the two would spend their evening. Unfortunately, duty calls for Rooney. In front of them is a pin board, notes connected with red string and written in Rooney’s indecipherable scrawl, a helpful way to visualize their case. They hope that it will lead them to revelation, a lead that might have been overlooked. “Yorinobu, I don’t have time for distractions right now.”

“Is that what I am? A distraction?” He asks playfully, pressing a kiss to the corner of their jaw, “You should teach me a lesson for being so distracting.”

Dammit, it almost works on them. Under their tough, cold exterior, Rooney was a softie for the people they loved, especially Yorinobu, who seemed to delight in it. “Yori, you know I didn’t mean it like that; I really need to focus right now.” Rooney wants to get into whatever trouble he’s cooked up in his head, but their case needs to take priority.

“Understood,” He acquiesces with no hard feelings, “Please promise that you will make time for us tomorrow night. We need to go to the Flores’ party.”

Rooney nods, already having scheduled that as their night off. They would be there for him unless something truly urgent arises. “I promise; I’m all yours tomorrow.”

“Good.” He pulls away from them, Rooney already missing the warmth and comfort of his arms. Taking a few steps, Yorinobu turns to face them. “Rooney?”

“Yes?” Their arms drop to their sides as they face him.

“You have no understanding of how distracting I can be,” He teases, closing the gap between them. Yorinobu cups the back of their neck, pulling Rooney in for a deep kiss. They grab his vest, their head spinning, knees going slightly weak. He pulls away a few seconds later, leaving them desperately aching for more. Yorinobu turns his back to them, and as he leaves, Rooney watches him, wide-eyed with desire. They really wish they weren’t in the middle of a case.

—

Rooney should have known Yorinobu might be planning something when they were getting ready in the bathroom. In front of the mirror, Rooney ties their black tie, a gift from a client whose wife Rooney had found after the NCPD refused to investigate. Yorinobu joins them in the bathroom, leaning against the dark gray granite counter. His eyes closely watch the deft movements of their fingers as Rooney finishes with the tie, smoothing it down against their chest. Smirking, he leans closer, purring, “I love it when you wear a tie.”

They raise an eyebrow in curiosity. Yorinobu takes the tie in his hand, rubbing a thumb over the silky fabric. “Makes it easier to pull me to you,” He tugs the tie gently, pulling Rooney towards him, their faces only inches apart. Yorinobu’s eyes glance down at their lips, his stare lingering for a few seconds. He meets their eyes again, Rooney’s face feeling warm as they swallow in anticipation. “I can also tie you up with it while I am fu-.”

“Yorinobu!” Their tone is sharp, their cheeks burning. They weren’t against the idea, not really caring whether he tied them up or Rooney tied him up. (Rooney had no preference, enjoying both.) Rather, someone had to keep them on track to go to this party. “Please behave. We need to go to this party, remember?” His idea for tonight sounds much better than being around a bunch of woefully out-of-touch rich people. (Present company excluded.) But this would have to wait until after. “You and I can have fun after the party.”

He pouts playfully, letting go of their tie as Rooney smooths it down again. “Afterward.” Sounds like it could be a promise or a threat, and Rooney really hopes it’s the former. His smirk returns as he teases them, “I will have you dragging me home tonight.”

“Sure.” Rooney rolls their eyes, pretending his words have no effect on them.

“I will. I am distracting, and your restraint is not infinite.” He pulls away from them, pushing off the counter with a wink. Yorinobu leaves them alone in the bathroom as Rooney slowly blinks, their brain resetting. A second later, they urge themself to get it together, turning to face the mirror. In the soft golden glow of the bathroom lights, their face bright red, pupils wide.

Yorinobu’s flirty behavior continues as the night goes on, giving Rooney no reprieve. Whenever the two had a moment alone, he would flirt with them, dirty little things whispered in their ear. His hands would stray a little lower than they should, ghosting over Rooney’s body. With others, he is on his best behavior, but Rooney catches him with a smirk and a troublesome look in his eyes as if he is plotting his next move. Not that Rooney was complaining, but they were trying to be on their best behavior.

Rooney sighs, happy to have found some food, which would give them an excuse not to talk to people. Hiding in a corner out of sight, Rooney dips a strawberry into the chocolate fondue, taking a bite. Damn, that chocolate tasted good. (Although, they preferred the spicy kind that Yorinobu would bring back from occasional business trips. Rooney could never get enough of that stuff.) “Enjoying yourself?” Yorinobu asks, wrapping an arm around their waist as he pulls them into his side. Where had he come from? He eyes their plate, a mischievous smile on his face. Swallowing, they put down the half-eaten strawberry. What was he up to now? “Chocolate…maybe you could give me a taste.”

They freeze, narrowing their eyes suspiciously. “Yeah…,” Rooney responds, reaching for an uneaten strawberry on their plate.

Yorinobu grabs their wrist. “I asked you to give me a taste.”

He lets go of their wrist, Rooney deciding to play along against their better judgment. Scooping some chocolate onto their index finger, they hold it out for him. Yorinobu takes their hand, bringing their finger up to his mouth. Sucking on their finger, his tongue swirls around their finger. His eyes never leave their eyes as Rooney’s mouth drops slightly in surprise. Their mind races with thoughts of where his mouth could be put to better use.

With a pop, Yorinobu pulls their finger from his mouth. “Delicious. Do you think I could have another taste? Or perhaps I could give you a taste of something else?” Their mouth drops further at the innuendo, the wheels in their mind spinning uselessly as they try to respond.

“Yorinobu-sama!” He looks over his shoulder, glaring at the person who called his name.

“I need to go,” Yorinobu whispers into their ear, “I hope that distracts you when talking to others.” He releases them, leaving Rooney alone as they try to process what the hell just happened.

—

Entering the fresh night air, Rooney breathes deeply, finding a secluded spot on the balcony, somewhere they could clear their head quietly. Yorinobu occupies their thoughts, their cheeks warming up again. What was he doing tonight? The couple both liked to flirt with each other, but Yorinobu seems desperate to prove something tonight. What it was, Rooney was unsure.

The door to the balcony opens, the sound of the party floating towards them. Turning around, Rooney jumps up on the railing, sitting on it as Yorinobu approaches them with a smile. “I thought I saw you come out here.” Anticipation rises in their chest as Rooney tucks a strand of dark red hair behind their ear.

“Just needed a breather.”

“Is that all?” He asks, his hands resting on their thighs.

Rooney nods. “Yeah,” they let out a sigh, “I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“What would that be?”

“Work. You know how I am.”

“Anything else?” You, Rooney wants to answer, but they have a feeling that is the answer that Yorinobu is fishing for. Yet, they will not say anything until they get an answer. “If work is the only thing on your mind, I need to try harder.”

“What’s that suppo-?” He kisses them hungrily, pushing apart their legs. Yorinobu presses himself flush against Rooney, his hand coming to their waist steadying them. They wrap their legs around him tightly, eagerly returning the kiss. He tastes like the bubbly champagne served at the party with hints of chocolate. He feels so sturdy against them, so good against them. They grip onto his coat, intoxicated from his kiss. He sucks on their bottom lip, Rooney opening their mouth and allowing his tongue entrance. Rooney loses themself in the moment, the rest of the world disappearing around them. All that matters is Yorinobu. All they want is him.

He breaks the kiss, Rooney whining in disappointment. Before they can pull him back in for another kiss, Yorinobu asks, “Am I distracting enough?”

All of a sudden it clicks in Rooney’s mind. Was this really about last night? “Yori, you know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know. I wanted to prove I could be too distracting, even for you.”

They laugh, shaking their head. He is so dorky, but Rooney loves that about him. Giving him a seductive smile, they lean up, mouth near his ear, teasing, “I think I need to drag you home. What was it you said? My restraint isn’t infinite.”

He shivers, excitement in his eyes as Rooney lets him go. Yorinobu helps them off the railing, grabbing their metal hand as soon as their feet touch the ground. He drags them behind him, racing for the AV. Oh, Rooney is looking forward to this.

—

Rooney and Yorinobu stumble out of the AV, hair disheveled and clothes slightly messed. Yorinobu’s maroon shirt is half untucked, while Rooney’s waistcoat had been unbuttoned during the ride. Neither could keep their hands off each other, Rooney diving on Yorinobu the moment the AV door closed. Hand in hand, the pair run down the stairs, from the AV landing pad, towards their apartment. The door slides open, Rooney pulling Yorinobu inside. Yorinobu lets go of their hand, grabbing their waist and spinning Rooney to face him. He kisses them again, Rooney wrapping their arms around his neck. He pushes them up against the wall, forcing his knee between their legs. A soft cry escapes their throat, Yorinobu placing greedy kisses on their neck. It drives them mad, Rooney tilting their head back, letting out a desperate, whine.

“Yori,” they plead, overstimulated, “Need you, please.” Rooney’s head swirls, need and desire clouding out any rational thought. All they can think about is Yorinobu underneath them, breathless, sweaty, and hungry for more. It’s what he deserves for torturing them all night.

He hungrily kisses them, smirking into the kiss as they move away from the wall. Yorinobu breaks the kiss, scooping Rooney up into his arms as they let out a surprised yelp. He carries them to the shared bed, dropping Rooney onto the cream-colored comforter. The bed is soft beneath them as they prop themself up onto their elbows, kicking off their shoes. Yorinobu tosses off his coat, taking his shoes off, before leaning down to capture their lips. The couple fall into each other, Rooney landing on their back. He kisses them deeply, giving Rooney the opportune moment to strike. They roll him over, straddling Yorinobu as he lays on his back, breathless, staring up at Rooney with a mixture of surprise, desire, and excitement.

“I think,” They say, casually tossing off their white suit jacket and black waistcoat, “Someone needs to be taught a lesson for being a tease.” They roll up their sleeves of the button-up slowly before moving to their tie. As they loosen their tie, Rooney catches Yorinobu watching their hands closely, vibrating with anticipation beneath them. Taking their time, Rooney gently tugs on their tie, Yorinobu inhaling a sharp breath. Pulling their tie from their neck, Rooney wraps an end around each of their hands, stretching the tie tautly in front of him. They don’t miss the quiet whine that escapes from Yorinobu, the soft bob of his Adam’s apple. “I remember a certain distraction mentioning my tie earlier….”

“I wanted to tie you up with it,” Yorinobu grins cheekily.

“I think you deserve to be tied up,” They get off him, motioning with their head, “Sit up and put your hands behind your back.”

He quickly complies, sitting up on the end of the bed, hands behind his back. Yorinobu looks over his shoulder at them, eager anticipation written his face. They come to him, reaching for his hands. “If this is too tight or if it starts to hurt,” Rooney starts as they tie his hands together, “Let me know.”

Yorinobu tests the finished knot. “I am fine, and-,” He bats his eyelashes at them, “I know to use our safeword.” Normandy. It wasn’t that Yorinobu or Rooney were into anything extreme, but Rooney liked having one word that either could use in case things got too much even in the tamest of situations.

“Good.” They move, straddling Yorinobu once more, kissing him roughly. Rooney grinds down on his forming erection, Yorinobu groaning as his hips jerk upwards in excitement. They place kisses along his jawline, the faint stubble of a five o’clock shadow tickling their lips. As they move to his throat, Rooney hears his breath catch, trembling beneath them. They kiss along the silver decorative chrome like they’re following a river toward the ocean. Rooney loves his silver chrome, having told him before. They love the way it glints in the sunlight, especially in the soft golden glow of the morning sunlight. It makes him look ethereal, just like it does now in the soft glow of their shared bedroom. When they reach the base of his throat, where it meets his collarbone, Rooney playfully nips him. Yorinobu gasps, his hips jerking upwards again in surprise.

Rooney’s hand comes to his shirt, undoing the maroon shirt with practiced ease. Yorinobu squirms beneath them, always too damn impatient. Too bad for Yorinobu, Rooney plans to take their time. Perhaps, he will consider this the next time he plans to drive them mad. Rooney pushes his shirt off his chest, sliding down to his elbows. Yorinobu watches them with eager eyes, swallowing hard as Rooney gets off him.

They kneel in front of him, hands on his thighs. Teasing him, Rooney gently rubs his thighs, touch featherlight as his pupils widen. Eventually, they slowly push his thighs apart, coming closer to him. Rooney gets up on one knee, resuming kissing his collarbone. They trail kisses down his chest, paying special attention to any scars, like the small scar on his left side. Left from a stab wound by a Katana in a fight with an Arasaka operative during his time with the Steel Dragons, Rooney presses a soft kiss to the scar, Yorinobu letting out a contented sigh.

“I love you,” They say, into the soft skin of his abdomen.

“I love you too,” Yorinobu replies, voice heady with pleasure.

They continue downward, getting back on both of their knees, Yorinobu shivering with anticipation. As they get closer to his belt, a dark trail of fuzz on his torso leading downwards, Yorinobu begs, “Please, Rooney, please.”

“All in good time, Yori.” Reaching his belt, as Rooney unbuckles it, he shudders, trying to bite back a moan that eventually escapes. They unzip his pants, pulling his cock free of his boxer briefs and pants. He’s hard already, precum leaking, as Rooney reaches out for him. Yorinobu watches in anticipation, eyes wide, breathing heavily as they take him in their hand. Gently running their thumb over the head, Rooney watches with a smirk as he moans with heady pleasure. They stroke him, Yorinobu trembling with desire. He reacts so well to their touch, a warm feeling coming over Rooney, hunger coursing through them.

Leaning down, they press a kiss to the tip of his cock. “Oh, Rooney…,” the words fall from his lips as they run their tongue slowly up the slit. Rooney takes him into their mouth, swirling their tongue around. With him still in their hand, Rooney sets a lazy pace, fucking with him. Bobbing their head up and down, Rooney strokes him, Yorinobu feeling like putty in their hands. He is lost in the pleasure of their mouth. “Fuck, you feel so good,” He pants as they continue their ministration. His hips gently move in time with their mouth, a restrained motion, careful not to hurt Rooney. Most people assume they’re made of steel, considering the way they take punches, but not Yorinobu. He’s always seen that tender side, always treating Rooney with the softness that the rest of life doesn’t provide. “Faster please…” He begs.

Instead, they slow their pace down to a crawl, taking an agonizing amount of time with their actions. Although, Rooney knows they are fucking with themself as well, needing him so goddamn badly. “Normandy!”

Rooney immediately stops, pulling their mouth off his cock as they let go, wiping at their mouth. “Yori, are you okay,” They ask, getting up and frantically untying him, “I’m so sorry I-.”

“Don’t apologize,” He rasps, grabbing the collar of their shirt, pulling Rooney in for a rough kiss, their lips crushing against his. When the two pull away, both breathless, he rests his forehead against Rooney’s. “I need you. You take too long.”

They sigh in relief, happy to not have hurt him. “I thought I was teaching you a lesson for being so distracting,” Rooney laughs, as he pulls off his shirt.

“Lesson over,” Yorinobu growls, kissing them roughly again. As he kisses them again, his hands come to their button-up, practically ripping the gold buttons off.

“Careful,” Rooney snarks, “That’s my good shirt.”

“I will buy you more,” He says, pulling their shirt off. “I will even buy some to rip off you.” His hands undo the clasp of their bra, pulling it off.

“Deal.” His hands go down to their pants, hands shaking as he hurriedly unpops the button and unzips their slacks. They allow him to pull them out of their black slacks and boy shorts. Once free, Rooney helps him out of his slacks and boxer briefs, leaving them both in the nude. Yorinobu lightly pushes them back down onto the bed, their dark red hair fanning around them like a halo. He leans over them, one hand propping him up as his other hand trails their thigh. Rooney glances down, his hand trailing closer and closer. They swallow in anticipation, meeting his eyes and holding his stare as he slides a finger in, letting out a soft sigh. Yorinobu breaks the staring game, his eyes wandering over their body as he pumps a finger inside them, decorated with the scars of hard-fought battles that almost killed them. Self-consciousness washes over them, Rooney looking away.

“Rooney, look at me.” They meet his eyes again, as he slides another finger in. It feels good, a pleasurable warmth spreading over them. “You are gorgeous. Allow me to appreciate you.” Rooney fights the urge to cover their face, his corny words working all too well on them. He smirks as their cheeks heat up, increasing his pace. “I think you must have been thinking of me all night.”

They nod, their throat tight, need pooling within them. “I lied,” Rooney rocks against his hand, desperate for him, “It wasn’t work, it was you-.”

Yorinobu swears, sliding his fingers out of them. Rooney lets out a needy whine, propping themself up. He scoots backward, sitting against the headboard with some pillows behind him. He takes his glasses off, placing them on the side table. “On my lap,” Yorinobu commands, motioning for Rooney to come over. Rooney doesn’t waste time, following his order immediately. They hover over his lap, gently taking his cock and holding it in place. His hands grip their hips, fingers digging in. Rooney loves that Yorinobu is holding them like he won’t let go of them.

Slowly, Rooney sinks down onto him, a guttural groan escaping from him. Yorinobu feels so good, so damn fucking good. Rooney loves the way he feels inside them, how he fills them. He helps them, pulling Rooney down until he is buried within them. A shudder runs through them, breath catching in their throat. Finally seated in his lap, one of Yorinobu’s hands brushes away a dark strand of red hair from their face. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.” And fucking ready.

“Good.” He cups their face, his right hand still on their hip as he kisses Rooney roughly. They wrap their arms around his neck as Yorinobu rolls his hips, Rooney letting out a breathy moan. Rooney feels dizzy with ecstasy, head swimming with only thoughts of Yorinobu. They rise only to sink back down on his cock repeatedly. Their thighs burn, Rooney enjoying how intense every second of this feels. Their breasts bouncing up and down, rubbing against his sweaty chest, the friction setting their nerves on fire. Yorinobu’s kisses grow sloppy, his hand leaving their face. His hand trails downward, eventually reaching their clit. He rubs their clit, Rooney hungrily mewling.

Rooney’s fingers weave his short, onyx-black hair, scratching their nails over his scalp. He gasps into the kiss, earning Rooney a husky groan. They nip at his bottom lip, his lips parting for them. Rooney tugs his short hair, Yorinobu sharply thrusting upward, rewarded with a keening cry from Rooney. “More,” Rooney begs, desperately, “More please.”

Yorinobu’s thrusts grow more intense, a steady rhythm as Rooney rides him. Up and down. Up and down, his cock sinking into them. Again and again. And again. All Rooney thinks is how they want more, so much more. They’re so greedy for him for all of him, especially as he cries their name like a chant. Rooney feels breathless, a warm fire pooling low in their abdomen. Their eyes water, tears of pleasure burning in the corner of their eyes. Yorinobu’s lips come to their neck, Rooney tilting their head to allow him better access. “Yori,” They mewl his name like a prayer, walls tightening around him.

What was once a steady rhythm in unison becomes disorganized, Rooney and Yorinobu hurtling towards the edge. Rooney can’t hold it anymore, ready to let go. They snap, crying his name as they ride him into their orgasm. For a moment, their vision goes black, ecstasy coursing through their body.

Yorinobu isn’t far behind. A few thrusts later, his hips sputter as he buries himself fully into Rooney, spilling inside. He cries their name into their ear, sounding so goddamn good to Rooney. Breathless, he buries his face in the crook of their neck, needing a moment to collect himself. “Yori,” They run their fingers through his hair, “You know I didn’t mean to make you feel undesired last night, right?”

He nods, lifting his head to look Rooney in the eyes. “You did not. I know what your work means to you,” Yorinobu cups their face with his hand, thumb caressing their cheek, “I would never interfere with that, but-.”

Rooney doesn’t think they are going to like the next words out of his mouth.

“I do enjoy teasing you. I will have to distract you more.” Rooney groans, affectionately rolling their eyes as he laughs. Yorinobu is lucky that Rooney loves him. And they’re lucky that he loves them too.

#kate writes #nsft #the rooney fic tag #I won't let fear compromise who I am #commander rooney shepard #OTP: It always comes right back to you #well....here it is #my first actual official smut piece #I'm actually really nervous about posting this #I hope it turned out good!#and if it did #I kinda think I want to write more smut for them #also I'm not brave enough to put this in the actual tags lol #not there yet #lastly did y'all catch the mass effect reference lol

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 1 year

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Tagged by: @clicheantagonist @mxanigel and @trench-rot (Thank you all <3 <3)

Tagging: @direwombat @roofgeese @strangefable @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @shallow-gravy @josephslittledeputy @derelictheretic @confidentandgood @nightbloodraelle @inafieldofdaisies @turbo-virgins @voidika @aceghosts @madparadoxum @marivenah @inquisitors-grave and anyone else I might have missed or who has something to share, consider this an open tag

I’m currently struggling with deciding on the order of some chapters which is also affecting my ability to write, so I can’t say exactly when this is coming but the cannibalism for Kit is on the horizon

Big old content warning for this snippet: cannibalism, blood, graphic violence

The sun took forever to rise now, Autumn was reaching its death knell, when the frozen hands of winter would shake the leaves from the trees leaving their skeletons behind, and the snow would begin to fall. The crisp air had morphed into hard packed ground dusted with frost, and she could no longer rest against the bars of her cage without feeling the metal bite through the layers she wore, eating into her. She wrapped her arms around her chest, keeping her core warm, she’d been sleeping for what felt like days now, and while the other cage occupants around her continued to, she sat there quietly, immobile.

Hibernating.

The first crows of the ravens let her know that it was at least morning, though she had no idea what time. The mist that rolled along the ground was whisked away as the first of the Peggies that called the Vet Center home began their chores. It had to be 5:30. She was learning their schedules with the time she’d spent there. Jacob was probably awake in his office now, if he slept at all. A part of her hoped he hadn’t. She wanted him to suffer just like she was.

The Peggie bristled at a blast of cold air as he carried the metal bowls of food that the “recruits” were served with each day. Their one meal. He was bleary-eyed, stumbling towards the cages, almost dropping the bowls a time or two on his way over. He must have been new.

Fresh meat.

He walked past the cages with sleeping denizens inside, opening the doors and sliding the bowls along the dirt and gravel towards them, shutting the doors behind him and locking them once more.

Finally reaching her cage, he opened her door the same way he had the other captives. But to his failing, he didn’t notice the pale eyes that stared out at him from the dark. Turning to leave, she moved faster than she had thought possible running on fumes without food. The only sound before she struck was that of the wind whistling behind him as silent footsteps fell.

That wasn’t protocol. He wasn’t supposed to open the doors. He was meant to slide it underneath.

He’d learn his lesson today.

Tossing him to the ground, she pounced on his back, her fingers digging into the shoulder blades as her mouth dove down towards the side of his throat. Her teeth gripping down, clenching her jaw like a vice, biting down until she could feel the meeting of hard bones as her teeth started to grind against each other. Ripping her head to the side like a man-eating tiger, she tore the skin loose from him like it was elastic.

His screaming set a fire inside of her, like a dinner bell for the feral monster that hid beneath the surface. He had entered her den, stepped foot in her territory. But he was no Daniel, and there was no angel here to lock her jaws shut.

Blood pumped from his open wound as she spat out the chewed up skin and dove back in once more, aiming for the muscles and the tendons and veins. All the red that hides below the surface. She could drown in the amount of blood she was shoving her face into, her nose and mouth drenched with it. The tang of copper filled the air, blanketed her lungs, and overwhelmed her senses entirely.

The man gulped, gurgled and groaned as the last remaining remnants of his life slipped from him.

Flashlights shone back and forth in the dark gloom of the November morning, as half a dozen men were awoken by the mad howling and screeching of the man pinned to the ground below her. A feral growling slipped from her as the light hit her face still buried deep inside his flesh. Piercing eyes looked up at the suits of red and black, faces darkened before the dawn, but she could smell the fear in the air.

His men parted like the red sea, and there he was, teeth already displayed, not bared to attack or as a sign of dominance, it was appreciation.

Boots crunched through gravel, and she instantly recognized the gait, the weight behind each step, the jingle of dog tags becoming louder, clearer. Instinctively she pulled away from her catch and stepped back, slowly rising to her feet. Her breath streaming out in a cloud of condensation with each heavy huff of her lungs.

The lioness giving her mate the first pick of the carcass.

Her lips were painted red, the entire lower half of her face was coated in crimson. She looked more like some wild thing raised by wolves than any human being.

Behind him stood his shuddering lamb of a pet. Staci’s eyes stared at her glassy as the blood dripped from the tip of her nose and off the point of her chin.

“Jesus Christ,” Staci whispered, the words trembling out of him into the cold mountain air.

“Well, Deputy, I see you got your own meal this morning.”

Her cage door sat open, swinging slightly in the breeze, hinges squeaking. But with the sight before them no one seemed to notice, and she didn't care. She wasn't trying to escape. She was enjoying her feast when she was so rudely disturbed.

Jacob smiled down at her, something dark in his eyes, his own personal satisfaction at seeing her break, at seeing that will of hers to live win out, showing past his hard exterior.

She licked her lips, and as the blood slid down her throat she could feel something inside of her quiet. Her violent tastes quenched, at least for a time.

#wip wednesday #cw cannibalism #cw blood #cw violence #american beasts

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deputyash · 7 months

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OC Aesthetics for the Entities

Tagged by @deputy-morgan-malone to do this aesthetic tag game. Thank you!

Rules: Bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. Rest of the fears here. This is based on a horror podcast; potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

Tagging: @strafethesesinners @harmonyowl @derelictheretic @teamhawkeye @peachyaliien @ri-a-rose @redreart @statichvm @shellibisshe @glowwormsmith @fuckin-nancy @wrathfl @isobel-thorm @adelaidedrubman @blissfulalchemist @direwombat @jacobseed @v0idbuggy @wrathfulrook @mel-eficent @cassietrn @nightwingshero @beemot

Dove Ash (FC5)

i. THE BURIED. weighted blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil & sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes & tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust & sand speaking to you.

ii. THE CORRUPTION. insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings & legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. THE DARK. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

iv. THE DESOLATION. senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

v. THE FLESH. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance & appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi. THE END. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flat-lining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul & spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii. THE EYE. googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colors. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

viii. THE HUNT. sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide & seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks & growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark & running after it.

ix. THE LONELY. an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realize they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. THE SLAUGHTER a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knife block on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. THE SPIRAL sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish color. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes & tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. THE STRANGER wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs & pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colors of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter & sequin. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii. THE VAST. open spaces. carnival rides going up & down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles & miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky & feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.

xiv. THE WEB. undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak—willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realizing it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unreliability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs & fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

+ THE EXTINCTION. the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivors. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

Izel of Baldur's Gate (BG3)

vi. THE END. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul & spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

#These are a little tricky sometimes - I cant decide if it should be representing them or more so things relating to their story or fears #so I did a bit of it all lol #my ocs #deputyash's ocs #dove ash #izel

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englass · 1 year

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WIP Day

Tagged by: @fadedjacket and @derelictheretic - thank you lovelies! 💖 And so sorry for how late I am!!! 😓

Tagging: @chyrstis @chazz-anova @starsandskies @words-and-seeds @weekend-writer @shallow-gravy @deputyash also going to throw it back at @derelictheretic and @fadedjacket because of how long it’s been — oof, sorry again 😓 — and also at anyone that also wants to share/participate.

Oof, post-Christmas crash has hit me hard. I was doing so well too… had a manic writing moment after being ill on my birthday (I swear, being unwell is surprisingly good for motivation) but it’s drained and faded now. What motivation I’ve got is being put into a request that I’ve… gotten stuck on 😅; I’ve written myself into a bit of a corner– but it’s fine! I’ll figure something out. Until then, have a part of the sick/comfort-fic I was working on:

-/-/-

Nodding briefly in acquiescence you reach for the cup, content in trusting that he knows far more than you do in such things, before pausing at his gentle retraction and head shake.

… Huh?

“Um…” glancing between him and the cup you can’t help but quickly wrack your muddled brain for something you may have missed. You’re pretty sure he was just talking about the tea making you feel better so why would he suddenly take it away? Did you mishear him?

“No need to trouble yourself,” he starts upon seeing the blatant confusion on your face, “I did say I would aid you in your road to recovery after all, and although there is no written contract to finalise this pledge, I am man of my word. Now,” he leans forward with a noticeable shift in the set of his shoulders, cup just shy of brushing your lips, “drink.”

…

……

Well, you cough with a betraying warmth across your cheeks, he didn’t need to say it like that.

“A-are you sure?” you protest, “It’s no trouble, really, I can do it myself. Y-you don’t need to go that far–”

“Nonsense,” the gloved fingers of his free hand raise, tips easing along the line of your mandible before hooking under, gently tipping your head back to properly look up and into the unique design of his golden eyes, “I said I would take care of you, and it would be most impertinent of me not to do so.

“So please, drink.”

With a heavy swallow that irritates the dry and prickly feeling in your throat, you acquiesce hesitantly to his order-sounding request.

#i’ve realised that i used ‘acquiesce’ twice… need to remember to change that #anyway #i’d be curious if anyone can guess the husband i’m attempting to write for #never written for him before but hopefully i can do him justice #if anyone actually manages to guess correctly then that would answer the question and i’d be a very happy girl 😊#my writing #tagged #tag game #wip day #wip wednesday #unintentional but it works out #fadedjacket #derelictheretic #thank you again for the tag lovelies!!

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trashcatsnark · 1 year

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Tragic Greek Figures

Hewoo, I was tagged by @derelictheretic and while I still have many of these to do, I wanted to go ahead and do this one, so I was tagged to take this quiz for what tragic greek figure my ocs are! Gotta say- very surprised no one got Icarus given how much I reference him in fic, but I took it for some of my monsters and here they are!

Achilles

best of the greeks, eager for honor, and quick to rage: you could easily live content and easy until you're gray-haired, but glory and fame call for you just beyond the horizon. you are not prone to self-reflection and trip into the same pits of wrath at bruised pride over and over. are you truly ready to sacrifice everything so that your name will be immortalized? is your fury what you want to be remembered for?

Odysseus

you are that which men dream to be: strong, courageous, and noble, with more intelligence than you know what to do with. and, like all men, you do not account for your overabundance of pride. you long for your name to be wrapped in glory and honor, and your journey home is only made longer by your search for fights to win and monsters to trick.

Orpheus

sing, o muse, of the failed lover who thwarted perils and charmed death but could not save that who he cherished most. you have impressed the god of music with your skill, have sailed with argonauts, and penned literature that lived millennia past your death, but you are most remembered for only just failing to save eurydice from the depths of hades. take your grief-filled hands and wander, now, museless creature, until death comes for you too.

#cyberpunk 2077 #far cry 5 #female v #aidan v becker #aidan becker #eira becker #dahlia hale

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derelicthereticsartdump · 19 days

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Concept sketch for the youth centre,,

#No Cult AU #Far Cry 5 #content: derelictheretic #Far Cry Tag #thinking about where it'd be and what if !!!! it replaced Josephs compound?? mayhaps mayhaps........

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adelaidedrubman · 9 months

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wip wednesday....... LOSERS’ edition.

(that’s every day with my characters but) i decided to kick off wip wednesday, and use it as an excuse to belatedly post the sentences written for the losers of the wip poll from a while back. in part because i lost the post with who wanted to be tagged in the losers post yeah. so, decided to share as a wip day buffet to the usual suspects instead (on that note, this is always a no pressure tag with no expectation you have to read in order to tag me back, but an extra bonus no pressure disclaimer please nobody feel obligated to read every excerpt even if you want to read one.)

sending tags TO my beloveds @henbased @florbelles @unholymilf @belorage @socially-awkward-skeleton @corvosattano @inafieldofdaisies @direwombat @roofgeese @shallow-gravy @derelictheretic @strangefable @8bitpizzacoupons @stacispratt @orionlancasterr @v0idbuggy @jackiesarch @nuclearstorms @strafethesesinners @firstaidspray @clicheantagonist @simplegenius042 @miyabilicious @ladyofedens-blog @nightbloodbix @poetikat @voidika @ishwaris @confidentandgood @ri-a-rose @cassietrn @wrathfulrook @schoute @bluemojave @afarcryfrommymain @trench-rot @blissfulalchemist @shellibisshe @roberthouses @indorilnerevarine (+ open invitation + psa i am moving to an opt-in tag list soon so if you would like to keep/start being tagged please like or comment here.)

without further ado, the wips that just couldn’t rise to meet the #HANKSWEEP. these are in descending order of number of votes, so longer excerpts towards the top. credit to @derelictheretic for the text dividers i used here to break it up + make it visually easier to read your excerpt of choice.

HOOK, LINE, AND SINKER: 8 VOTES. the john/jestiny fake dating post getting dumped by their respective polycules au. here’s 8 sentences i wrote for chapter three following the poll, which i’m hoping to be able to post in full sometime this week.

“You crashed my boat.” “No shit!” she spat back, butting her forehead against his. “You shouldn’t have been fucking distracting me!” His brow twitched, his body tensing further. “You crashed. My. Boat!” “And did you get some kinda fuckin’ head injury during it or something?!” she barked. “The boat crashed —” “You crashed —” “— you have sufficiently fuckin’ established that.” She shoved her hand harder against his collarbone, digging her nails into the mass of his shoulder. “So how about instead of sitting around goin’ off like a broken record you get the fuck off me and help me shove this thing back into the water? I’ll even give you the honor of driving the piece of junk back to the marina, since you have such a minnow up your ass about me doing it.”

FIELD NOTES: 8 VOTES. working title for jenna’s canon, set pre-reaping. i’ve had trouble getting this one started beyond stray excerpts because i want to format it in a style that’s new for me, epistolary storytelling through research notes, emails, etc. mixed with traditional narration. on that note, i played fast and loose with tallying the sentences here due to the first part being in segmented shorthand, so it’s technically over count.

8:14 PM - Luggage Inventory, Convent Living Quarters. -Small but visible damage to zipper on inner pocket of main suitcase. Bending of teeth bent at approx. two inches from base. Zips with minimal effort, contents of pocket accounted for. -Approx. 10ml fluid missing from water bottle clipped to handle, visual estimate. Check for leaks/transfer remaining fluid for lab analysis to be added to agenda. -Slight tears to lining at A gentle series of knocks drew Jenna from her journal, eyes settling on the peeling eggshell white paint and warped wood of the exterior door opposite the foot of her bunk. She flicked her eyes to the open doorway at her left to confirm that none of the women in the adjoining cabin appeared to have intentions of crossing the invisible barrier of privacy given to her as a ‘special guest’ with a ‘room all to herself’ and answering the knock themselves before climbing down from her bed to cross the short length of the room. She left the journal open with cover flat atop the mattress and pen tucked into its gutter. It would just as easily read as an accounting of damage done by the airline on the flight over, were John to keep up the established pattern of indirect but relentless restless prying. Jenna admonished herself for the intellectual laziness of making assumptions as she peered through the crack in the door she opened, finding it wasn’t John who stood there at all. “I just wanted to see that you were settling in alright,” Faith greeted with a soft smile, dropping the hand that had knocked to fold into the one hovering at her waist, lacing the fingers together with palms pointed towards the ground. She seemed careful not to touch the frame of the door, to do anything to tangibly intrude into Jenna’s space, but rocked forward on the balls of her feet to lean just past the threshold, in subtle elicitation of an invitation to enter.

INFERNO: 3 VOTES. a simple lil role reversal au, baptist!jestiny/deputy!john.

He was sure if there were any onlookers watching as he stepped gently and deliberately along the slick mud of the riverbank to weave himself into the throngs of faithful, they would think he looked less like a Deputy County Attorney approaching a potential key witness, and more like a moth drawn to a flame. All the better, he thought. He knew how to carefully craft a misleading image, too.

AMERICA’S SWEETHEART: 3 VOTES. i never really planned to write anything in this verse or make it a cohesive story, but if i were going to i would want to do it exclusively through the pov of people just trying to do their job being forced to interact with johnjess. so here’s me playing with that, and with trying to use present tense for something besides the opossum fic. also i did lines instead of sentences because there were lots of short ones oops.

“They were national news. Were,” Penelope corrects with a hiss of derision. “When they were tried. I’m not driving four hours to Hope County every time the court has to deny the habeas corpus petition of the month! I mean, for the love of god, Stuart — I was a Peabody nominee.” He shrugs as he folds in the temples of his glasses, carefully placing them on the desk beside his tea. “Was,” he grants flatly. “A nominee. You didn’t win.” The stiff leather of his chair creaks in complaint beneath his shifting weight as he pauses a beat, tacking on, “The paper will be generous with reimbursing travel expenses, of course. There’s a new little resort that popped up at one of the marinas I’ve heard is actually quite nice. Has a spa and everything.”

MINE’S BIGGER: 2 VOTES. a verse vague john/jestiny silly little oneshot that is nsfw adjacent (excerpt fully sfw).

John swatted away the hand attempting to puncture the delicate silk lapel of his robe with the point of the badge, knocking the bronze star down to clatter against the hardwood. “It doesn’t exactly require high-caliber deductive reasoning to see how desperately you’re trying to deflect right now,” he huffed, pulling up the neck of his robe with a protective grip.

JOIN ME IN THE SKY: 1 VOTE. a silly little john/jestiny airline crew au, john is a pilot and jestiny is a flight attendant. (ft. suffering crew members nick rye and mary may fairgrave.)

“What I’m doing is my duty as the Captain of this crew to see that its members are in line and following orders,” he bit out, shoving past Nick to take his place in front of the door to the absent flight attendant’s room. “Kindly see to it that you’re not the next subordinate in need of attention.”

…seriously? who the fuck was the one person who voted for wildfire? turn on your location i just wanna talk. but here. ““chapter 19””” or whatever

It had never been her particular habit, but as she watched billowing black smoke rise from the short, torn and twisted metal remnants of the frame of the silo with the heat from its explosion flaring hot on her cheeks, Jestiny thought she could understand now why some people enjoyed smoking after sex.

#also if the sentence count is wrong places i didn’t mention blame the sentence counter site i used not me.#wip #fic: hook‚ line‚ and sinker #v: field notes #(new tag added. maybe that will shame me into writing it.)#v: inferno #v: america’s sweetheart #v: join me in the sky #fic: wildfire

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