#if u use this tho ignore this post i bet it looks good on u xxx

[screampied]

hellooooo vegasssss happy sunday!! how are you doing? hope your doing okay :33

what did you do in your weekend? honestly i didnt do that much LMAO, rotting myself in bed while playing hsr (did you know my screen time on star rail was 20 hours… yeahh…)

anywayss!! hope you have a nice week :) looking forward for more contents from uu (love ur recent toji fic btw 🫶🏻🫶🏻) and pls ignore what snow nonnie said <3

-🩵

HAPPY SUNDAY 💖😸

im doing good !! i just took a nap but im still so tired. im about to visit some family for a few.

honestly, i was writing mostly. i didn’t have any plans this weekend besides work and i went to this new boba spot with my bf. i have plans today tho 🫨🫨🫨. omg 20 hours ? i bet mine was way worse on genshin i used to be so addicted pls

you too luv !!!! i plan to post later maybe if i don’t forget hehe. and awh thank u 🫶😞 im glad u liked it sobs

#anons 💌 #🩵 anon #hmmmm okaaaay ill do that 🧖‍♀️

[morgana-ren]

SUBMISSION: How about a nasty sweaty incel shiggy waiting everyday for his dad to go to work so that he could have his relief with stepmom? 

Excellent submission! Love that. Love that a lot! I find it only fair to warn you, however, that I won’t be doing mommy kink for it. Mommy kink is one of my squicks, and one of the very, very few I have. I’ll do the closest thing to it though: Daddy kink. Also I find the irony of him making his little stepmom call him daddy to be absolutely hilarious.

Also this one is a great concept and I love it but it’s going to have to be a multi-parter cause it got a little bit long. Lemme know if you like the concept and I’ll continue it. Also this posted under anonymous for some reason so cheers to tumblr and its endless fucking glitches that it never fixes or seems to make any better.

Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, sexism, really gross incel behavior, nsfl things, masturbation, violent sexual fantasies, nefarious planning, horrible suggestions from even more horrible friends, absolute LOATHING of family, and entitled bastard.

There is only one thing on this planet that Tomura hates more than his father.

Only one thing can even compare to the level of abject disgust he has for his dad. Everything about the man is abhorrent and degenerate, only tolerated because Tomura is, admittedly, a NEET, and had no where else to go after graduation. But if anything- anything- could hold a candle, it would be his taste in women.

All women are trashy on some level, but his dad really manages to find ones that pretend so hard that they aren’t. Vipers behind the veneer of smiling faces clad in red lipstick and smart skirts. Always “kind”, always “thoughtful”, and always fleeting. Fickle, stupid bimbos charmed by his dads surface level charisma to quickly realize just how shallow the pool became.

Even his own mom was like that: She fucked off once she realized staying with him meant staying with his dad, and that was a sacrifice she wasn’t willing to make. So she left him to rot in this cesspit with his worthless father and no other way out.

He figures he can’t hold it against her, not as much as he’d like. A few weeks with his shriveled up paternal figure and most women quickly figure out they can do so much better. It’s in their nature to seek out the best, and that certainly isn’t Kotaro; A bumbling idiot with nothing to offer on the best of days. They don’t know any better, so they never last long after being brought home to meet his son, and those are the ones that even make it that far.

So when he starts yammering on about meeting yet another skank and how ‘in love’ he already is, Tomura’s eyes roll so far back in his head that he swears his retinas will detach. He makes a point to be around as little as possible, but somehow still manages to catch an earful about his latest fling and how excited he is for Tomura to meet her.

Great.

True to his word, Kotaro brings you home one evening, eager to impress his son with his latest catch.

His father had a lot of nerve dragging him from his room to meet you- his latest glorified slut. Adding insult to injury, you had the unmitigated gall to talk down to him like you were an adult and he wasn’t. Even though you had to crane your neck to look up and greet him, you still talked at him like he was some child. So different from you even though you were so much smaller than he was- barely even a few years older than he is, if even that. 

So polite, introducing yourself and gently shaking his reluctant hand, making a point to smile at him and telling him how happy were to finally meet him and that you’d heard so much about him. Your hands were so soft, so little in comparison to his own. He dwarfs his pathetic father, practically towers over you, yet you still talk to him like you’re the adult in the equation.

So young, so pretty, though. Far better than anything his father had a right to pull. They weren’t exactly swimming in cash, the house was nothing in particular to gloat about, and he’d done enough eavesdropping around late at night to know his father suffered a particular… ailment, so it certainly wasn’t sexual satisfaction keeping you around. What was it then? 

Probably nothing. You’d probably run off in a few weeks like they all do.

Kotaro is a worthless sack of drooping skin and aging bones; A ghost of a man not worthy of the phantoms he’s seen pass in his years. No longer the dominant male even in his own home: not with a stronger, more virile son coming into his prime under the roof as well. A beta male at best, withering away while his own son eclipses him in strength and intellect and physique. Tomura is in his mid twenties and blooming- His father… who even knows. He doesn’t care- he doesn’t bother to keep track. 

So, maybe you really are just a dumb little whore. It would make sense. Father dearest always had been a dirty old man; A raging pervert with wandering hands and lingering eyes. Always sets his predatory sights on some cute thing too good for him. 

Then again, the poisoned apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, now does it?

You’re cute enough you could have gotten some alpha at your beck and call, yet you’ve attached yourself to his worthless father who, in turn, parades you around like his most beloved trophy. Taking you to dinners he can’t afford despite your ‘insistence’ that you be allowed to pay, buying you things you claim you don’t need. Oh, how the moron dotes on his whores as if it’s enough to keep them anchored to him.

Strangely though, you don’t run off.

If anything, you sink your claws in even further, getting more and more comfortable and showing up more and more. Every time Tomura leaves his fucking room- which isn’t often- you’re there around the corner, smiling dumb and pretty and greeting him politely.

Fuck, he hates you. Hates your stupid voice, your shitty dresses, hates hearing his father happy for once.

It’s no surprise- but unwelcome no less- that he’d move you in sooner rather than later. Terrified to let you out of his sight for even a second lest you come to what little senses you have in your tiny brain and dump him. Of course, he’s quick to take on all of your burdens as his own, even if it means working overtime to support you. He’s always wanted another little housewife, and now he’s so close.

Tomura listens in on the whole conversation feeling sick to his gut.

You beg him not to- offering to pay your own way just like a good girl, but of course his dumbass dad will hear none of it. He’s more than happy to spend a couple of extra hours at work. His dad is so idiotic, so fucking blind. He’s playing right into it. He’s willing to be your workhorse if it means keeping you all to himself.

He’ll hear none of it. None of the fussing or the questions. You’re welcome in his home, he wants you there. It’s no imposition at all, he knows the house will be better with you around.

Except he forgets one crucial detail-

The son he leaves home alone with you every single day when he leaves. 

You’re nothing but a nuisance, something infringing on his private space. The time he used to get home alone to spend to his own devices is now split with you flittering around the house doing whatever it is bimbos like you do. Cleaning, cooking, pretending to read, whatever. He doesn’t have to see you if he doesn’t want, sure, but he still knows you’re there and that’s more than enough to annoy him.

It’s almost like you catch on to his animosity after a while. The way he won’t greet you back, the way he utterly ignores your existence. It bugs you, and as far as he’s concerned, good.

You try to slip him up, try to get close to him and make him like you. You always set a place for him at the table even after Kotaro repeatedly insists- truthfully- that he’ll never join for dinner. Even then, you always bring the plate to his door. He never bothers to answer- not after the first few times when he only opened it a sliver to see your stupid smiling face. After that, he didn’t bother answering. He’ll eat it of course- won’t pass up free food he doesn’t have to leave his room for- and then leave the dirty dish back outside where you left it. You brought it, after all. You can clean it up. 

All your efforts only get you mocked, and boy do you try so hard to get his affection. He even overhears you whining to his dad once or twice, not understanding why he doesn’t like you.

It makes him smile.

His friends- online of course, but still friends or comrades or kindred spirits or whatever- have more opportunistic ideas about it. His first post to the forum complaining about the new living situation was met with envy and awe- not necessarily the response he was expecting, though looking back on it, he supposes they were right. 

lmpwrst: Why u bitchin’? Ur living with a girl ur not related to and that’s closer than any of us have gotten u ungrateful ass

KingKockRool: Go jerk off on her pillow.

Stacystabber91: take a video hold her down and fuck her then idiot

KingKockRool: No wait till she’s sleeping and jerk it on her face

st8lker: Bet she’s ugly tho if she’s dating your dad lol

Oddly enough, he doesn’t agree. That’s one thing he understands about you, loathe as he is to admit it. His new ‘stepmom’, for all her annoyances, is pretty easy on the eyes. The kinda girl that would have caught his eye in an unrelated situation and earned a permanent spot in his spank bank. Thinking about it, the whole ‘dating his dad’ situation maybe threw off his judgement more than he realized.

He’ll let the jury decide: He finds a photo on your social media, crops everyone else out of it, and hits enter. Easy peasy. He saves it to his hard drive for later too. Might as well.

‘Here, you decide then.’

Thus the shitstorm begins. 

st8lker: Oh fuckkk fuck me mommy lmao

lmpwrst: Opportunity is wasted on u

Stacystabber91: you pussy punk bitch, i stand by what I said earlier. dont be a bitch and fuck the little cunt already

VolceliSwear: Whos the bitch

lmpwrst: Scratchy’s new stepmommy lol 

VolceliSwear: Nice. Hit it yet?

Stacystabber91: he hasn’t cause he’s a gigantic fuckin pussy like i told you all

VolceliSwear: Come on dude you actually have that gash sleeping in your house and you haven’t made a move? 

Stacystabber91: it’s not like she could say no cause you’re a big lanky bastard aren’t you? that’s one thing we got over the shortcels and you’re bigger and stronger than her so take what’s yours idiot or I will 

lmpwrst: I agree with SS lol U complain all the time about not having a hole to fuck and now u do

VolceliSwear: ^^ Isn’t your dad a limp-dicked prick who can’t get it up? Someone’s gotta do it so it might as well be you. Hit the bitch so hard and fast she doesn’t know what way is up

Stacystabber91: and send pics moron I want to see tits or I’m coming over there to do it myself

It’s an… intriguing thought. To be honest, he’s never actually considered fucking you before. Had the passive thought like he does with most girls he sees, but never stopped to think on actually doing it. For some reason, there was a mental wall between him and his father’s girlfriends. But why should there be?

Depraved little bastard that he is, he’s not above cornering a girl and forcing himself on her but he’s not keen on going to jail, so he’s never escalated past creepy photos and following the occasional broad a little too closely. Maybe a couple gropes in passing… okay, maybe a lot. But he’s never gotten caught- maybe the girls don’t report it or just couldn’t find him afterward. Either way, it’s all worked out so far because he doesn’t cross certain boundaries.

Most girls are repulsed by him and his repugnant behavior, so they stay far, far away. It’s like he’s a giant blaring warning sign that they tend to heed instinctively.

But you don’t. 

This is different. You live here, so close to him, so within reach. Just how close you are. How easy it would be for him to force you down and make you take it. Just how much time alone he really has with you since his father leaves and returns like clockwork. He’s got the entire day once his father leaves for work. And all night once he takes his sleeping medication. An easy, pretty little catch already wiggling in his web.

 ‘Maybe I will.’ 

That’s how it starts. 

Snowball into snowstorm.

With an idea and a lot of goading from his online buddies, a monster is born and weaned on his own depravity and escalates into something very real, and very dangerous.

Tomura is achingly familiar with the scene- he’s seen enough porn to give him ample ideas. But he’s got all the time in the world. It’s hard not to rush things considering how eager he is, but it’s safer to test the waters first. Get you nice and scared so you’ll keep your pretty mouth shut unless he tells you to open it for him. See how far he can get, how much he can toy with you before you finally catch on.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll fuck him willingly. You are a stupid little slut, after all. Most of you females are deep down beneath that holier-than-thou, stuck up bitchiness you hide behind.

So he starts with a time honored tradition. He steals your panties. 

The bathroom is cluttered with your shit. Your fruity shampoos and conditioners, your makeup, your perfumes. Tomura has a toothbrush and a comb he doesn’t use, a bottle of 3-1 for when he forces himself into a shower, and a singular gray towel, but the rest is between you and his father. Your body washes, your scrubs, your clothes in the hamper. 

It’s easy enough to fish out a fresh pair- only a couple of hours old. Some lacy contraption you must’ve been wearing beneath your clothes and carelessly left in the bin when you showered. It’s easy to pocket them before you hear him rummaging around, and maybe you’ll miss them, but that’s not his problem. Washer eats things all the time, doesn’t it?

He’s hidden back in his room, safely dodging you before he allows himself to indulge- Bringing them to his nose and inhaling the doubled fabric of the crotch so hard that it catches on the edge of his nostrils. 

Fuck, your cunt smell good- tangy and sweet but the tiniest hint of bitter. A couple of whiffs is enough to get his cock twitching, inflating into a painful hardness as he hears you walking around outside in the hallway. Shit, you’re so fuckin’ airheaded, walking around so oblivious as he tongues at the cloth that was nestled right up against your pussy until a few hours ago. He can taste you, sucking your left over essence through his teeth and he swears he’s going to cream all over the inside of his jeans if he doesn’t jerk off right now. 

He’s quick to drop his sweats and sprawl on his bed, thumbing the tip of his prick and licking gratuitous stripes up the slim of your discarded panties with his tongue. You’d look so good sucking his cock; On your bruised knees, face a slathered mess of cum and saliva and running makeup. Bulge in your throat from taking him so deep and trying so hard to please him like you always do- or maybe avoid a painful punishment because he isn’t above using his hands on you and you learned that the hard way.

The thought of your ruddy, soppy face makes him throb- fucking your wet little throat until you’re suffocating, pulling out to let you breathe only to cum on your face. Yanking you up to bend you over the stove and force you to make his worthless father’s dinner with his spend tacking across your face and his cock lodged deep in your cunt. Worthless fucking sack of shit that his father is, he’d spit in it too and make you serve it to him with a smile while your actual daddy watches you do it and rewards you later with his dick fucking you between your tits.

Fuck yes, that’s what he’ll make you do. He’ll make you call him daddy when he creampies you- the opportunity is too perfect to pass. He’ll fuck his father’s pretty whore as she screams and moans for daddy’s cock while his father is away at work to pay all her frivolous bills like the beta-cuck he is. None of the work and all of the reward- as it should be.

It’s not like Kotaro can fuck you, and his friends are right. Someone should. So why not him? Why not spread your legs for your boyfriend’s younger, more powerful son? Oh, sorry, did he give you the illusion that you had a choice? He’ll take what is rightfully his and there’s not a fucking thing you or his pathetic fucking father can ever do about it.

He plucks your panties from his face, moving them instead to work over his cock. It would feel so much better if you were wearing them- grinding your sweet little cunt against his dick, begging him not to fuck you but getting so wet all the same. The silky fabric feels so good against his hypersensitive skin, coupled with the clenched pumping of his fist as he daydreams about railing you into his filthy mattress until you’re too weak to even move on your own, his cum dripping from every one of your used holes. Limp, useless little whore too fucked out to even fight him as he fucks her in the ass again-

Fantasies swirl in his head, flashes of scenarios that tease him and work him into a frenzy. He’s going to cum hard to the thought filling you, your agonized face as the tip of him knocks against the opening of your womb, buried so deep in your cute pussy that he can feel the wall that keeps him firmly locked out of your guts. So close, so tight, so warm. He’s going to pump you full to the brim like the skank you are, fill you nice and thick full of his seed and then use you again and again and again-

He feels it in his spine, waves of pleasure furling at the base and congealing together impossibly tight, so ready to burst. His thighs flex, muscles in his stomach tightening and breath staggering. Searing white behind dry, clenched eyes and his cock twitches in his palm, knot bursting deep between his legs as his hand stills momentarily. His hands twitch, cock throbbing as thick ropes of cum spill over the slats of his fingers, splattering his stomach and the waist of his sweatpants and all over your adorable little panties. 

“Shit-” 

Shallow, shaky breaths, still seeing stars popping behind his eyelids. Fuck, he hasn’t cum that hard in- well, a very long time. Is it the thought of having something tangible soon? His very own cunt to abuse? Grinning, he looks down at the absolutely drenched pair in his hand, sticky with fresh seed.

He thinks so.

Instinctively, he wipes the excess off his fingers and onto his dirty, rumpled black sheets, swiping across his shirt and his skin. Just another ‘mystery spot’ among the rest, soon to become a crusty, flaked white stain on the fabric among all the preexisting ones.

With some effort on his part, he sits up, still trying to catch his breath. He thought post orgasm clarity might deter him from this path, but if anything, he’s even more determined now. Why should he sit and touch himself in a dark room when there’s a perfectly good set of holes to fuck wandering around freely outside?

Oh yeah, this should work out just fine.

There’s a knock on the door while he’s still wading through his gross thoughts, softly at first but then slightly more insistent. It jolts him alert, irritating him that he’s being bothered when he’s scheming. He’s already finished the dirty dead, all ready to put himself away for now but it’s still jarring none the less when someone comes around so closely to him wanking. A quick dash at the clock tells him it’s not dinner time yet, so what gives? Why are you bothering him now? Nothing is ready yet.

He tucks himself away and quickly buries your soiled underwear in the pocket of his sweats. Quickly wiping any remnants on the knees of his pants before swinging his door open, agitation palpable as he greets your stupid, sunny face.

Speak of the she-devil.

“Hi, Tomura! Just wondering if you have any laundry or anything you want me to take!” “N-”  He’s about to slam the door. About to. But you know what? You want his laundry? Sure. He’s got some for you.  “Yeah- yeah, sure.” 

He steps back from behind the door, letting it creak open a little as he rips off his freshly re-soiled sheets.

“Oh, good! Yeah, I’m throwing in my own so I’ll take your load too-“

Yeah you will.

Balling it up, he chucks it at you as you curiously peek your head in. You’ve never seen the inside of his room, but soon you’ll see plenty. He doesn’t know if you can feel the fresh cum on the sheets, but he’s willing to bet you can probably smell it. To your credit, you barely falter, even with the sheet cradled in your bare arms.

You’re probably having a moment of “understanding.” ‘He’s a young man with no girlfriend and no other outlet. Of course he’s going to wack off’ and all that. It’s cute, the way you pretend not to notice. That’s okay, he’ll give you something you can’t ignore.

He steps up to the door again, yanking his black shirt over his head and dropping it in your arms with a shit eating grin.

“Oh- okay, yeah-“

Your sentence halts completely as he starts to strip off his pants and you’re left staring in slight horror as your stepson strips down to his boxers in front of you before placing his sweats on the top of the pile you’re carrying- right by your face.

“I’ve got some more dirty boxers if you think you can handle anymore.” He’s grinning like a fiend, reveling in your poorly concealed discomfort as he leans against the doorframe, swinging out towards you. You’re backing away from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes up and away from his very exposed body, and especially the half hard cock tenting the front of his boxers. Your face is turning a viciously dark shade, stifling your breathing because he just knows what you’re refusing to see, you can almost certainly smell.

“Um- nope! This should be a full one! I’ll get them back to you soon!”

“Oh, take your time. No rush.” 

You scurry off down the hall much quicker than your usual casual walk, probably to scrub your arms clean with iron wool. Poor little thing, just trying to be nice and this is what it gets you.

He cackles something fierce as he shuts his door again, going to look for your ruined panties to post a pic but remembering they’re still in the pocket of his sweatpants, covered in his cum and saliva. A fun little surprise for you to find when you go through pockets to ensure nothing gets stuck in the washer.

And he notices, in the coming days, you stop leaving your clothes in the hamper- or even being able to meet his eyes.

Oh, this should be fun.

#nsft #shigaraki smut #see warnings #no mommy kink i am sorry #lots of gross shit for you tho #which I assume you want cause you came to me of all people #see the warning list up top for full disclosure

[teyvattherapist]

Write to Me

eh fuck it here ya'll go. pspspsps dain simps come get your food.

Anyways it features my oc, I'm too lazy to rewrite it, and I think this is cute. Sooo, posting it anyways.

tags: gn!readerxDainsleif, fluff, soulmate au babyyy, it do always be angst when u squint, dain was a ho as a young man as he should be honestly, oc mention? not massive tho just in the bg, kaeya and albedo making bets

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

When he was younger he wasn’t exactly monogamous, sleeping with whatever pretty thing piqued his fancy, his status and good looks lending to men and women throwing themselves at him. He didn’t think he had a soulmate, no lovely voice in his head, he could see colour just fine, and whenever he wrote or drew on his arm there was nothing in return. Not a single scratch that wasn’t his own, nothing. So he did whatever he wanted, there wasn’t anybody matching his soul.

But he was older now, much older. Centuries passed since he was a young man at the centre of many people's hearts. Now he was a disgraced knight and a traveler. He was busy tracking down and destroying the Abyss Order, his traveling companion gone, he had nothing but his duty once more. He stayed away from cities as much as he could, only going in to restock his supplies.

Imagine Dainsleif’s surprise when he woke up one day, odd blue squiggles on the tainted skin of his right arm. It wasn’t anything fancy, a small little smiley face with awful handwriting beside it, a tiny ‘hi’. He outstretched his arm, blinking once, twice, he tried to rub it off. But it didn’t come off. Now? Really? NOW?! He didn’t want to write back, he didn’t want to draw anything. They were more than likely a child judging by the writing, he could just pretend he never saw this.

But they didn’t cease. Apparently when he had rubbed the drawing, it had showed up on them. ‘Yuo real?’ Dainsleif groaned, pulling his gloves on instead. He didn’t have time for this. So Dainsleif ignored it, ignored the messages that sometimes showed up on his arms and he ignored the drawings, no matter how good or awful they were. His duty came first, and he was several centuries old. He simply couldn’t pay attention to it.

But as the years went on the messages began to slow. How many years had passed? Ten? Twenty? He wasn’t entirely sure, his memory blending together, fragmenting and hazing over. Bits and pieces here and there. ‘I hope you’re well, you’ve been quiet.’ A message scrawled on his left arm and he stared at it in the dark of the tent.

‘I am well. And you?’

‘And here I thought my soulmate died. I’m fine.’

Dainsleif sighed, blue eyes flicking upwards at the material of the tent. They deserved somebody so much better. The Twilight Sword was not that somebody. He looked back at his arm, a name, he assumed, was scrawled beside the words.

‘Dainsleif.’

‘Like the sword?’

‘Like the sword.’

“Fascinating. I must be going to sleep now, I have work early. Goodnight, Dainsleif.’

Dainsleif dropped his arm beside him, a soft sigh escaping his lips. How ridiculous was this. The Gods truly hated him to gift him a soulmate when he was what, five hundred and twenty five? His poor soulmate, too. He couldn’t stop thinking about what an unfortunate situation it was for them, perhaps it was the way he showed he did care, even if he hadn’t met them or spoken to them beyond reading the occasional message they wrote.

-

You hurried through the hallway, already late for work, the fifth time that month. You spared a wave to Sucrose who was exiting Albedo’s laboratory and she smiled, waving back. You quickly threw open the door to the laboratory across from Albedo’s, entering swiftly. “I’m so sorry Ohm, my alarm didn’t go off again and- Oh!” You stopped, realising there was somebody else in there.

The medical captain looked around the man dressed in interesting garb, smiling when he saw it was you. “Hello, (y/n)! Nothing to worry about. Ahem, where was I? Oh yes! Same rules as before, but try to apply it more sparingly, I don’t want you building up an intolerance until I can find something stronger.” Ohm held out a jar of azure gel but the man was stiff, unmoving. “Teyvat to Dainsleif?”

“Wait- Dainsleif?” You stopped, dropping the papers you had been holding. They scattered everywhere and Ohm tilted his head, periwinkle hair falling into his face, a clear sign of his utter confusion. Dainsleif turned to you, his eyes were stunning, blue and the pupils- he was gorgeous, that was the first thing that came to you and you felt your cheeks warming at his piercing gaze.

“Well would you look at the time, I have to go uhm, annoy Albedo. It's in my schedule. Please lock the lab if you are to leave. Dainsleif heed my orders or I’ll find you.” Ohm stood up, he rounded Dainsleif, grabbing the bough keeper’s hand and placing the jar into it. He then let go and walked away. He put one hand on your shoulder and leaned in close. “Be nice, he’s shy.” The doctor whispered and then he was off, shutting the door behind him with a click.

You bent down to pick up the paperwork now that the initial shock wore off. Dainsleif also seemed to snap back into action, pocketing the jar. He stepped forward, crouching down to help you with the papers. “I apologise, your Gods have chosen an awful soulmate for you.” He was blunt, apparently. His voice deep and soothing nonetheless. He held the papers out in a bandaged hand and you hesitantly took them.

“I don’t know, I think you’re pretty. Even if you ignore me.” Did you really just- You stood quickly, walking by him and to the desk on the other side of the room, the small wooden desk you had claimed as your own. “Ahem, are you injured? I suppose you must be if you’re visiting the medical captain.” You trailed off, sorting the papers neatly on the desk.

“No, yes, technically.” Dainsleif stood, brushing off his dark pants. You turned, quirking an eyebrow at him as he moved back to the captain’s desk to retrieve a glove that matched his other one. Was it worth it? To give up his secrets? To show just why they should stop speaking to him and run far far away? He grabbed his glove and hesitated, looking at the thick material. He shook his head, pulling the glove over his bandages.

“Well, if you’re ever in need of care and you’re in Mondstadt, just write. Ohm has been teaching me how to do what he does. Though I can’t really do it like him yet, I’m still a pretty alright healer.” You offered with a soft smile even though he wasn’t looking at you. Dainsleif hesitated, adjusting his glove. Kind, dedicated to a good cause, funny sometimes. He cursed his feelings.

Dainsleif turned towards you, pressing himself against the desk as if to steady himself. His eyes flicked to the side, he was clearly thinking of something. He closed his eyes for a moment, nodded to himself, and then opened them again. “Ask your mentor about the Twilight Sword. I’m afraid I must take my leave. Write to me.” Dainsleif pushed himself off the desk and with a swiftness you weren’t sure was human, he was gone.

Immediately you brought your nail to your arm, writing gently. ‘I like your cape.’

‘Thank you, I like your cloak.’

Oh he was awkward awkward. Cute. You smiled at the words before getting back to work, these medical reports wouldn’t process themselves, after all. Though his words played through your mind, Twilight Sword.. It was oddly familiar but no amount of examining your brain proved useful, oh well. You’d just have to ask later.

Ohm snickered with Kaeya as they watched Dainsleif breeze by them, practically throwing himself down the staircase and out the door. “I’ll bet you one thousand mora he left the explaining to me.” Ohm spoke when he heard the heavy door to the headquarters slam shut.

“Neither of us are dumb enough to bet that, he absolutely did.” Albedo commented, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “The feared Twilight Sword, Bough Keeper of Khaenri’ah brought down by a soulmate, so silly.”

“I don’t know, Albedo, I think it's quite endearing.” Kaeya teased, tapping his chin thoughtfully, but his eye told another story, glinting mischievously. “I’ll take that bet, Ohm. I’ll bet one thousand mora he tells them before he gets back to camp.” He held his hand out and Ohm took his hand, shaking it. Unfortunately, sealing Kaeya’s fate.

“Wait, hold on. I’ll bet one thousand mora he doesn’t do either.”

“That’s the spirit, alchemist.” Ohm shook hands with Albedo who huffed. “We should get back to work.” The medical captain gave a curt nod before he headed further up the stairs and towards the direction of his laboratory.

#dainsleif x reader #genshin impact x reader #dainsleif #genshin impact #soulmate au #lane writes #idk do i tag my oc? will he show up in future fics? probs #ohm ambros #queue #maybe i'll come up with a cooler genshin queue name but for now no #yes i pair dain up with a healer s/o a lot dont even LOOK at me

[roccinan]

1/? simply because you have the most galaxy brain thoughts ever,,, what do you think would've happened if they waited until s5 to reveal sergio and andrés were (half)brothers?

i do know that when my fam started watching lcdp at first i was so put off. like i watched ep 1 and the prof creeped me out. ""berlin"" creeped me out. e v e r y o n e creeped me out. and i was cringing so hard becz of the short lived romance angle with alison parker. i literally did not watch s1 at all xcept for like sneak peeks. highlights being the scene where berlin discovers monica is alive and does his dramatic door by door thing? that was so SUSPENSEFUL even tho i had no idea what was going on. DOMINGO DE RESURECCION remains forever iconic.

2/? And OF COURSE the group bella ciao dance when they hit earth (hahah i thought the banda were actually like a "found family where they all love each other LOL") i am a SUCKER for found family. but anyhoo when i properly got intrigued was s2 when tokyo was kicked out (the music from that scene is still my favourite) it's just so dramatic..!! why am i telling u all this again? right, i haven't slept a wink and it's nearly 7 am pls forgive me if these rambles make no sense. i have a point with this.. i'm going somewhere

RIGHT. so when the fam actually rewound the ep cz i wanted to know WHY berlin did that (didn't fully realise how batsht crazy he can be), the russian roulette scene played. and pedro's acting. MAN. and like just that ep they made a point of showing us these flashbacks where sergio and andrés hug....

Hi anon! Thanks for stopping by- sorry took me a while to get back to you, will do my best to answer this string of messages (got all 4 parts)! Glad you like my thoughts XD

Firstly, I believe Andres/Sergio would be the biggest LCDP ship if the writers were evil enough to wait until s5 to reveal that they’re brothers asdfasdf. They’re already the two most popular male characters anyway. 

It’d be especially crazy because it’s not like they tell the actors these things beforehand either. So that means there’d probably be a Serdres vs Berlermo vs Serquel fight every 5 minutes. I mean, even if not everyone agrees on everything in the lcdp fandom, it’s the most “peaceful” one I’ve ever been in because no character really gets in the way of any other ship (like even with helermo and berlermo there’s no true conflict since Andres is dead). But with Serdres in the mix?? CATASTROPHE. Everyone out here writing essays about how much of a bastard/bitch/homewrecker/motherfucker that Andres or Sergio or Martin or Raquel is. Never a moment’s peace!! so basically, a regular fandom lmao.

Then when we find out they’re brothers, it goes from catastrophe to Apocalypse. Suddenly serquel and berlermo have the upper hand. Everyone would double down and harass the crew/cast into whatever’s going on.  Plot-wise, everything is the same though, just without Andres calling Sergio “hermanito.” Fandom however, would be a minefield! And I’m glad that’s not the case because I’d probably be an unfortunate serdres shippers XD No joke, my mother and I thought they were a couple in S1. So bullet dodged!

Secondly: haha, everyone creeped me out in S1 too, especially Berlin, I hated him, but thinking back, I think I mostly hated the fact that I didn’t hate him as much as I should have. I’ve made peace with it now but oh boy, was he a controversial figure in my head. I actually like the professor on sight though! IDK why, maybe because I thought his plans were cool or because of Alvaro’s delivery. I was afraid of an Alison Parker romance thing too- like, I do feel like she had a storyline that got dropped, but that part was quite cringey and overall unnecessary to the plot. Same with Ariadna, which was even cringier and even Less necessary to the plot. 

Domingo de resurrecion was iconic though yes! And even with all that said, I genuinely enjoyed parts 1 and 2 because it was so different from anything else I’d seen. Not content wise, but maybe tonally? IDK, they were just really bold with a lot of things, like being objectively unafraid of having the protagonists (plural because all of them did LMAO) do objectively shitty things. Really kept me in suspense from beginning to end! 

I’m usually a big fan of found families too! The funny thing is, then banda never struck me as a “family” until season 3. In 1 and 2, I was wondering what felt different about this show; then it hit me that these people remained colleagues to the end. Like, they backstabbed each other (repeatedly) and everyone was quite selfish, and only the bonds that were already there stuck. They were the opposite of a found family LOL But I think by S3, they went down the found family route and I didn’t mind because it makes quite a lot of sense for them to feel that bond after the Mint heist and almost dying/living together (and having witnessed 3 deaths together on the team). But I still doubt Berlin and Palermo were ever really part of this found family, with good reason XD

LOL the scene where Tokyo got kicked out is also among my favorites!! It was so funny and dramatic, and it was like, wow we can go anywhere with this now! Don’t worry- your rambles and thoughts are always welcome :D

I’m rolling over how you watched the Tokyo expulsion scene before the Russian Roulette scene haha. Also yes, PEDRO. Berlin may have been “controversial” to me at first, but I became Pedro’s fan from day one! Also the Hug is probably what made me like Berlin (despite my determination to hate him rip) in the first place. 

3/? ... and like now that i think about it... tokyo had real guts huh. like she KNEW berlin was close enough to el prof to know his name (fhshshs imagine if she'd heard andrés saying 'hermanito' it's unrealistic that she didn't TBH. i mean obviously they decided to make them brothers only towards the end but like in canon universe. how tf did andrés de 'i raised my bby brother since he was 12 and i'd actually die for him and his stupidly brilliant plans' fonollosa go 5 months without slipping up once and calling sergio hermanito. or like,,, i like to imagine sergio kinda gave him lots of leeway(?) sergio's a lil oblivious too but like i'm sure half of it is.. that's my dumbass older bro shut up i'm not being partial you all have city names .. andr-berlin, pass the salt. like OOF. + sergio also knew his big bro was dYiNG so like. i'm sure they were sneaking in some quality time (i hope they did 😭 gosh imagine if sergio really did not ever consider the possibility of andrés dying in the heist so he'd tell himself he needs to perfect the plan now & anyway he'll have enough time to spend w/ his brother post heist in philippines. and then ... that happened :/

Tokyo has guts in place of braincells you bet that she’d do something like this, consequences be damned XD I also think it’s unrealistic for Andres not to slip up, but I have a feeling nobody besides Tokyo really tried to spy on them in private. I headcanon that Andres instead slips up and does things like ruffle Sergio’s hair or adjust his tie when other people are around. I also think Tokyo was convinced that they were a gay couple when she saw them hug XD And if Sergio never went on to tell the banda that Berlin was his brother, everyone would be giving Palermo such awkward looks after Nairobi accused him of being in love with Berlin LMAO. 

I agree! I also imagine Sergio giving Andres leeway because he’s just so used to interacting with his brother that way haha. So either he’d go out of his way to ignore Berlin in front of everyone else or IDK, borderline telepathically communicate with him. Not even “pass the salt” has to leave his mouth- Berlin just puts salt into his food and cuts it up for him, in front of everyone who’s just staring like O.O

I actually do think Sergio never considered the possibility of Andres dying in the heist because he was just that confident in his own plan. Plus, Andres was probably the one person he expected to survive. And a lot of it has to do with Sergio’s attachment to him + Andres’ own habit of downplaying any illness/injury over the years, which I think is safe to believe canon. He was really in no condition to be in the heist, let alone lead it. Just the fact that he needs to take those injections is a big sign that he shouldn’t be there, but Sergio didn’t catch it because he’s human and blinded by faith :’) So yeah, I think Sergio was planning to spend proper time with Andres in Palawan and at Toledo, they just settled for those little moments by the fireplace. 

4/? what always also just GETS me in the feels is that el prof was shown to be this in control creepily calm dude who is miles ahead of everyone. + in the 1st Toledo class itself we see how detached,, like how impersonal he is, how professional - choosing frickin CITY NAMES?! no 'personal relationships' ? (after recruiting his older brother, a father son pair, and war cousins... oh sergio 😂 he's such a frickin nerd and i love him) but like the earlier seasons really emphasised how robotic and down right COLD he can be. it still sometimes bothers me that he put the button in the car. he lead the police to his own damn brother, his blood, who took care of him and adopted him and was terminally ill and like - UGH i try to rationalise that sergio is that cold and unbothered. or that he has strict morals. but it still bothers me becz that button really sort of tipped andres' already unstable sanity. like andrés tells denver someth like you've robbed my future and after that he just seems so much more suicidal and accepting that he can't get out of the mint alive - WHY SERGIO WHY. I KNOW THAT AT THAT POINT YOU BASICALLY DIDN'T KNOW ANDRÉS WAS GOING TO BE YOUR BROTHER YET BECZ IT WASN'T WRITTEN IN THE SCRIPT BUT WHYYYYY

That’s so funny to me too LMAO No personal relationships, then he recruits these guys. Sergio, hello?? Also can’t forget how he just recruited his own girfrleind in the second heist too. Buddy! Love this nerd.

I don’t think that cold aspect of Sergio went away in later seasons either; he just had more opportunity to show a more open side of himself + without Andres, he had to metaphorically leave his comfort zone without a safety net. But in earlier seasons, he really did seem heartless at times XD Then again, we can argue that the same goes for Andres.

To be fair, I didn’t feel sorry for Andres over the button thing lol, but once the brothers reveal happened and all of Alvaro/Pedro’s headcanons came out and we know everything Andres did for Sergio, it makes what Sergio did REALLY harsh. We really just have to explain it through Sergio’s strict morals and him believing this to be the best non-fatal punishment for Andres, who at that point had convinced him he killed a hostage. And because he knew the television interview was coming up, maybe Sergio assumed Andres would use it to “clear” his name anyway. And empathy isn’t one of Sergio’s strong suits either, so through that lens, I can rationalize it.

Also it was lowkey funny to me how Andres was there like DENVER MUST DIE until he found out Sergio put the button there, then he was like “oh hermanito, you and your practical jokes <3″

Still, like you said, Andres and Sergio weren’t brothers yet at this point. They were probably supposed to be lovers lmao and had a dysfunctional Hannibal Lecter x Will thing going on. But because they made #hermanos canon, that button moment just feels very out of place now, especially given how much the two genuinely love each other.

Guess we could also say that Sergio’s just generally kinda bratty with Andres XD Like, he knows no matter what, Andres would forgive him anything. That’s how I see it anyway! 

#anonymous #thanks for stopping by! #royalpaperhouse is this you my friend? :D

[lenniewip]

Unknown (A Sterek Wrong Number/Celebrity AU)

11.09 PM Unknown Number

>I’m writing songs about you again.

11.20 PM Unknown Number

>its stiles btw.

>in case you deleted my number

>I did.

>I mean I deleted yours.

>but I still remember it apparently

11:41 PM Unknown Number

>I only have 2 lines so far

11:57 PM Unknown Number

>I bleed you from my veins.

>I grieve you like I love you.

>alone.

>its better with the chords.

>u were always better at writing lyrics than me

12:34 AM Unknown Number

>u were better everything than me

2:00 AM Unknown Number

>I hate that I miss you

2:07 AM Unknown Number

>do u want to hook up?

>I promise not to propose again

2:15 AM Unknown Number

>im sorry.

>ignore me.

>im drinking

Derek blinked bleary eyes. His phone screen was the only source of light in his room, as he read through the flurry text messages.

What the hell is a Stiles?

2:17 AM Unknown Number

<I think you have the wrong number

>Lydia?

<no

>oh thank fuck

>I mean

>I’m sorry

>for disturbing ur sleep

>but im just glad I didn’t drunk text my ex all of this

>bullet dodged right?

>is this what near death experiences feel like?

<I wouldn’t know.

>of course

>hey

>seeming as I have you here can I ask you a quick q?

>all my friends are asleep

<probably because its 3am

<everyone’s asleep

>2.39

>and ur not

>asleep that is

>so?

>I’ll take your silence as a go ahead

>what do you think?

>of the lyrics

<im the wrong person to ask

>never experienced heartbreak?

<no

<all song lyrics just look like bad poetry to me

>oh

>yeah I guess it does

>not everyone can be Rupi Kaur tho right?

<do you want to be rupi kaur?

>sure

>not to be dramatic or anything

>but

>I want to be anyone but me

>think id rather be someone like regina spektor tho

<regina spektor?

>singer/song writer

>shes my fucking inspiration

>her lyrics are like poetry to me

>you should listen to her music

<I dont really listen to music

>what the fuck?

>are you an alien?

<no?

>nice fucking try ET

>thats exactly what an alien would say

<…you got me there

>akdjfen

>is this you admitting I was right?

<no

<but this is me going to bed

<because its now 4AM

>already?

>fuck

>ive got an early start tomorrow

>good night random stranger

>and thanks

>for listening

>or reading ig

<good night

//

“You’re late.” Laura frowned, arms crossed.

“Are you going to let me in?” Derek grumbled, still feeling the affects of having stayed up until 4AM the previous night.

Laura didn’t argue she just stepped aside to let him through into her flat. “You’re grumpier than usual.” She noted.

“Didn’t sleep well.”

Derek hated the look she gave him then.

The look that said he was broken. The look that said she wanted to fix him.

“Is…Is it the nightmares again?” Laura’s voice dipped to a whisper, like the question alone would be enough to send him over the edge.

“No.”

An awkward silence defended over the two of them, neither knowing what to say.

Derek clung to the silence like a blanket, wishing things could go back to how they used to be. Back to when they knew how to speak to one another.

But this was enough.

It was enough to know that they were both trying. Failing. But trying.

//

2:40 PM Laura

>I’m here if you need to talk.

//

Derek isn’t good at art, but sometimes it’s the only way he can express himself. Words had never been his forte.

So instead he doodles.

Shitty toddler level doodles that he never shows anyone.

Sometimes he thinks if he could bring himself to show Laura she would like it. Maybe she would even understand it.

But there was a bigger chance that she wouldn’t, and he would feel even more like a stranger to his own sister than he already was.

//

10:18 PM Unknown Number

>I don’t remember it anymore

<You have the wrong number again

>No

>This is ‘not Lydia’ right?

<right

>So here’s the thing.

>I always thought if I needed to text her I could

>And I thought maybe I got her number wrong because I was drunk

>But I can’t remember it anymore

<Oh.

>I have some of her things still

>I don’t think I’ll ever get to return it now

>Unless she messages me first

<When did you two break up?

>Last year

>and I know what you’re thinking

>’it’s October’

>and I should be over her by now

>Trust me I know

>So you don’t need to lecture me

<I wasn’t going to

>Oh

<Stiles?

>That’s weird

<what is?

>I forgot I told you my name

<You should throw away the stuff she left behind.

>you’re right

>I don’t like it.

>but you’re right

>…thanks

<What for?

>for listening

>reading**

>my friends are pretty sick of hearing me complain

>so this is nice

<sure

<anytime

>dope

>no take backsies

<am I going to regret this?

>for definite

>you’re stuck with me now

//

That night Derek saves Stiles’ number as ‘Bad Poet’.

//

Stiles keeps messaging after that.

Stiles messages like they’ve been friends for years, and Derek very determinedly does not analyse why it is he always responds.

Even when there are messages dated from Laura from three days ago that he hasn’t even been able to bring himself to open yet.

He also ignores how when he’s messaging Stiles the gaping pit that had made residence in his chest feels just a little less inescapable.

//

Derek can’t bring himself to tell Stiles his name. He can’t bring himself open up, even though there’s a large part of him that wants to.

He’s not above admitting he’s scared.

//

Derek draws Stiles sometimes.

More accurately he draws a vague pair hands texting on a phone, because he has no idea what Stiles actually looks like.

Derek refuses to let himself dwell on that though, because they are happy drawings.

The pictures of Stiles are pretty much his only happy drawings right now.

//

They don’t always talk about Lydia.

Sometimes Stiles messages Derek song lyrics he’s working on.

Other times it’s memes, or just a bunch of emojis.

Once Stiles had just messaged him what Derek could only assume was a list of everything he had eaten that day.

Sometimes Stiles messages in rambles - and Derek can’t always keep up with the boy’s run away thoughts, but even then he never feels lost the way he does when he’s trying to interact with literally anyone else.

And sometimes it’s 2AM. Those are simultaneously Derek’s favourite and least favourite texts.

//

2:02 AM Bad Poet

>sometimes I feel like too much

>and too little

>at the same time

>u ever feel like that ET?

<not really

>its like I’m infinite, and meaningless

>like a never ending echo

>or a recurring decimal

>I just stretch on and on forever but theres no point to it

>I have no depth

<youre not meaningless

<you’re a rhythm.

<like breathing

>…

>was that a regina spektor reference?

<it might have been

>I thought you didn’t listen to music?

<well someone said her lyrics were like poetry

<so I thought I would check out a few songs

>well fuck

>what did you think?

<she’s good

>you spelt ‘amazing’ wrong

<I still prefer poetry

>of course you do

Derek stared at the texts an ache filling his chest.

Derek was the opposite of infinite. Everything he touched turned to flames.

//

10:30AM Bad Poet

<my sister bought me flower seeds

>I didn’t know you had a sister?

<she’s everything I have

>oh

<and I think she’s trying to trick me into therapy somehow

>…with flower seeds?

<yes

>you sound extremely paranoid

>maybe therapy wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for you?

<shut up

>noted.

>keep me posted on how your gardening goes

>also

>as a side note

>you know you have me too right?

>if you ever need to talk or anything, I’m right here for you

<thanks

>anytime

//

On Derek’s birthday Laura insists the two of them spend the day together, and Derek knows better than to argue.

She buys him a cake and they spend hours sat next to one another silently. Two strangers desperately trying to keep hold of one another but with an ocean dividing them.

Once their family had been so alive.

And it was all Derek’s fault that was gone.

They both knew it.

Sometimes Derek wondered if Laura hated him as much as he did.

He was too scared to ask.

//

That night Derek chased the ache in his chest away with a drink.

And then several more followed.

//

1:14 AM Bad Poet

<seh haars me

>sorry bud, you’re going to have to try again

>try spell checking before hitting send

<she.hates mee

>who?

<larn

>are you drunk?

<yeh

<tyongs ndrf

*Out Going Call: Bad Poet*

The phone rings twice before being picked up. “Sorry. Stupid keyboard is so small. Impossible to type.” Derek mumbled, his words slightly muffled by his cheek being pressed into the sofa cushion.

“Wow. You’re really sloshed huh?”

“No.” Derek denied. “Just tipsy.”

“Right. So what was it you were trying to tell me? Someone hates you?”

“Laura.”

“Who’s Laura?”

“My sister.”

“Oh.”

“She looks at me like she wishes she could fix me.”

“That doesn’t sound like she hates you, bud.”

“She should. I can’t be fixed.”

“You’re right, because you’re not broken.”

Hearing Stiles say that Derek could almost believe it to be true.

“I mean it. You’re not broken. You’re just a different shape than you used to be. But the shape you are now is beautiful.”

Derek closes his eyes and lets the words wash over him. “Do you sing?” He finds himself asking.

“What?”

“I know you write songs, but do you ever sing?”

“Oh…” Stiles sounds uncomfortable. “I guess… Yeah. I do.”

Derek hummed in the back of his throat. “I bet you have a nice voice.”

“Th-thanks.”

Derek tried to say something else, but all that comes out is a yawn, which makes Stiles let out a jittery laugh.

Derek tries to memorise the sound of It, but it’s so fleeting, it’s already slipping away from him.

“I think you need to go sleep, ET.”

“Yeah.” Derek agrees.

“Goodnight bud.”

“Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Could you stay on the phone? Just for a bit longer.” Derek clutched on to the phone like if he could grip tightly enough it would make Stiles stay.

I don’t want to be alone. The words die on Derek’s tongue.

“Sure.” Stiles didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Sleep pulled at Derek’s consciousness, unravelling his grip on reality.

“Stiles?”

Stiles hummed in answer.

“Your shape is beautiful too.”

A small whimper came from the other end of the phone. “Thanks.”

//

7:50 AM Bad Poet

>how are you feeling today?

<better

>good <3

Derek holds his phone tightly and wishes that he had more to say. Just to keep the conversation going.

He also wishes (not for the first time) that Stiles was more than a faceless entity on the other end of the phone.

But it’s the first time he feels the want like a physical ache in his chest.

Derek had never been good with words, but if Stiles was here in front of him Derek would probably give him a hug.

But everything Derek touches eventually dies, and a larger part of him is relieved for the distance.

//

Derek plants the seeds his sister got him that day.

//

9:48 PM Bad Poet

>would it totally weird you out if I wanted to do another phone call?

>don’t feel like you need to say yes

>I just enjoyed talking to you

>and hearing your voice

>ugh.

>why are words so hard?

<I wouldn’t be opposed to a phone call

*Incoming Call: Bad Poet*

“Hey.” Derek feels breathless as he answers the phone, anxious excitement clawing it’s way up his throat.

“Hey.” Stiles sounds equally out of breath, and that helps.

Derek chews on his lip, scrambling for something to say. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles admitted. “Anything.”

“Helpful.” Derek said sarcastically.

“I mean. There’s one thing. I didn’t want to ask when you were drunk because it felt a little like taking advantage. And I don’t want you to think you have to answer-”

“Stiles.” Derek interrupts before Stiles could break into a full blown ramble.

“Tell me your name.” Stiles breaks. “Please.”

Anxiety grips his heart. But… he couldn’t stay scared forever.

“It’s Derek.”

“Derek.” Stiles repeats his name in a reverent whisper, as if committing it to memory.

And hearing Stiles say his name makes everything worth it.

//

Phone calls become a regular thing between the two of them over the next month. Always between late in the evening and the early hours of the day.

//

The next time Derek spirals he doesn’t drink before he calls Stiles, but he does cry on the phone.

The next morning he wakes up to a text from Stiles.

6:42 AM Bad Poet

>you need to talk to your sister

And Derek knows he’s right.

//

It’s not easy confronting Laura. He has two separate anxiety attacks on the walk to her apartment alone.

But he forces himself to take the dive.

“It’s okay if you hate me.” He tells her, even though it’s not okay. Laura’s hate might be the only thing in the world that could break him beyond repair.

Laura looks horrified as she stares at him. “I don’t- Obviously I don’t hate you Derek.”

“It’s my fault that they’re gone.” Derek addresses the elephant in the room.

If he hadn’t fallen in love with Kate.

If he hadn’t broken up with her, just to try and prove a point when she refused to say ‘I love you’ back…

There never would have been a fire.

Their family would still be here if it wasn’t for him.

“Fuck that!” Laura let out a harsh noise. “Derek, none of this was ever your fault. You were a kid, and even if you weren’t… You never set the fire.”

“I might as well have.”

“No. If anyone… I was your big sister- am your big sister. But I was so fucking wrapped up in myself. I didn’t even know about Kate.”

The last time Derek had seen Laura cry it had been at the funeral, so it took a second to fully sink in what he was seeing.

He found himself crying to.

“I’m so sorry, Der.”

Derek stumbled forwards pulling Laura into a crushing hug. Laura hugs him back just as tight.

They spend hours refusing to let go of one another.

//

He realises he fell asleep on Laura’s sofa when he woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. But he had no idea where it was, and he was too tired to move.

He feels Laura moving and the sound of the phone ringing gets louder before cutting off abruptly.

“Hello?”

“No - Derek’s asleep.”

“Maybe call at a more reasonable time?”

“Who is this?”

“Your voice sounds familiar.”

“Right.”

“Okay. Bye.”

Derek let sleep over take him once more.

//

2:29 AM Bad Poet

>sorry for calling so late

>you’re asleep so I’ll just take to you tomorrow

//

9:07 AM Bad Poet

<sorry, I was really tried

>no worries man

>you’re allowed to have a life outside of me

<was something wrong?

>no I was just bored, and didn’t realise how late it had gotten

>im fine

>how are you?

<im good actually

<I spoke to Laura

>yeah?

>I’m proud of you

>how’d that go?

<we both cried

<a lot

<and I ended up falling asleep on her couch

>look at you, opening up and shit.

>think I might cry now

<shut up

>literally never

>better men have tried and failed to silence me

//

2:40 PM Laura

>Want to see a movie on Friday?

<sure

//

One night Stiles calls Derek just to say his name in stupid ways, and laugh himself stupid after each one.

“Duhreek.”

“Doreck.”

“Fuck. I’m getting a stitch from laughing.”

“You’re so fucking dumb.” Derek is smiling as he said it.

“Deeruk.” Stiles wheezes out.

Derek just closes hie eyes and listens.

“I’m so fucking glad I know you, Stiles.” The words fall out of Derek’s mouth without much thought.

He only realises the weight of his words when Stile’s laughter pulls to a stop.

“I uh-” Stiles stammered. “Me too. Fuck. You’re the best thing to happen to me in…so fucking long. I’m glad I know you too Derek.”

//

Derek finally admits to himself that night that he’d fallen at least a little in love with the stranger from the unknown number.

//

He keeps trying to draw Stiles, but he can’t. Vague shapes just don’t cut it anymore.

He wants to map Stiles out with his eyes and translate it onto the page.

He wants to be able to see the smile behind the laughter.

He wants.

//

1:58 AM Bad Poet

>do you think you day we’ll actually meet?

>maybe not intentionally

>maybe one day we’d pass each other in the streets and not even know

>maybe we already have

Derek couldn’t imagine a scenario where he wouldn’t notice Stiles.

<is there ever a moment when you’re not talking?

<I think id recognise your voice and know it was you

>maybe your face would make me speechless ;)

<I think id still know

<but if you want to be sure… I could send you a picture?

<of me

>dkfajd

>for reals?

>you would do that?

>you?

<well…not for free

>there’s always a catch

>what do you want?

>my soul?

>a blood debt?

>you can have whatever it is

<I meant you’d have to send me a picture too

<geez stiles

The next text takes an unnervingly long time to come through.

>I could do that

>a photo for a photo

>I kind of look like shit rn

>so no judging me

Derek spends the next two minutes fussing and fidgeting to take a good photo. No matter what angle he took it from the bags under his eyes were noticeable, and so was the week’s worth of stubble he had yet to shave off.

And maybe this was a terrible, awful, idea.

But Derek would send one hundred bad pictures if it meant getting to see one of Stiles.

He forced himself to press send on the last picture he took.

As he pressed send another photo came in.

Derek’s fingers shook as he hit the button to download the image.

His heart stopped.

Stiles was beautiful in every sense of the word, and Derek found himself unable to look away. Even when he heard the small dings of incoming messages.

But he couldn’t ignore them for long, because it was Stiles. And when ever Stiles messaged Derek had to answer.

>Fucking hell

>are you for real?

>you gave me a heart attack

>am I being catfished right now?

>when do you think you were going to tell me you’re the most fucking beautiful man to exist ever?

>how the hell to you look like that as 2AM!?

>Derek

>oh my god

>you gotta respond my dude because I’m freaking out a little bit

>still there?

>did my selfie scare you away?

>I would have tried harder for a nice photo if I knew I was talking to an adonis

>Derek?

<still here

>of thank fuck

>so…

<so?

>come on

>your going to give me a complex

>the selfie…was it okay?

>I know it’s not much

>but we can’t all be greek gods

<its beautiful

<you’re beautiful, stiles

>oh

>thanks

//

Derek is so far gone that he makes the picture of Stiles the home screen on his phone.

//

9:49 AM Bad Poet

<Laura wants me to meet her boyfriend

<this is all your fault

>how is this my fault?

<because she never wanted to introduce us before

<and then you got me to talk to my sister

<and now she wants me to meet him

>…and this is a bad thing?

<yes

>because?

<I don’t make good first impressions

<it’s going to be awkward

>yeah probably

<you’re not helpful

>I wasn’t trying to be ;)

>have fun, Derek!

//

Meeting Laura’s boyfriend wasn’t as awkward as Derek thought it was going to be. But it was strange.

Derek hadn’t been expecting to meet someone so soft and kind. He was nothing like any one that Laura had dated before.

But he also wasn’t used to seeing Laura smile as much as she did around him.

Maybe not all change was bad.

//

Derek tells Laura about Stiles by accident. Or more accurately he mentions Stiles once by accident (not even by name) and Laura had badgered him until he admitted that he had made a friend through a wrong number.

“There’s a lot of weirdos out there.”

“I know.”

God did Derek ever know.

But Stiles is different.

“Just…be careful.”

“I am being. I promise.”

Laura reluctantly lets it go after that. “So…what’s he like?”

“He’s…he’s like bad poetry.”

“Oh god. You’re in love with him aren’t you?”

Derek can’t bring himself to deny it, but he does tell Laura to shut up.

//

Derek fully embraces being in love with Stiles on the day he tells Stiles about his drawings. He’d never told anyone about them before - not even Laura. But telling Stiles had been easy.

‘It reminds me of line art’ Stiles had said when Derek had sent him a photo of the doodle he had been working on. “I love it’.

A warmth flutters through Derek’s veins.

//

It all goes sideways on the day Laura goes on Derek’s phone to check the time.

She’d raised one eyebrow at him looking amused.

“I thought you didn’t listen to music?” She said, a teasing note to her voice.

“I don’t.” Derek shrugged.

“A huh. So why do you have a picture of Stiles Stilinski as your wallpaper?” She asks.

It’s so startling to hear Stiles name coming out of Laura’s mouth that Derek’s brain refuses to function properly. “How do you know Stiles?” He asks weakly.

Laura laughs. “He’s not exactly a niche celebrity Der. He was a really famous YouTuber before he started selling albums.”

Derek doesn’t know what to say to that. He blinks as his world slowly unravels before him.

No.

She had to be wrong, because Derek couldn’t be in love with a celebrity. Stiles couldn’t be…

“Hey are you okay? You look really sick?”

“He’s famous?” His throat is dry.

“Yes? Are you okay? What’s wrong? You’ve got to speak to me Der. Use your words.”

Derek just shakes his head because he can’t.

“It’s him.” He manages to get out.

“What are you talking about?”

“Laura. It’s him.”

It takes a moment to click but Derek knows when it does because a look of thunderous wrath takes over Laura’s face.

“I’ll kill him.” She seethes, shaking with anger. “What kind of fucking punk thinks that this is a good prank to play?”

“What?”

“No one is getting away with catfishing you, Der. I’m going to hunt this fucker down, and then I’ll rip him so many new ones that he going to look like SpongeBob when I’m done with him.”

And god, Derek hadn’t even considered the thought that Stiles might not even be Stiles. The thought of Stiles being a liar…

The gape in his heart grows a little bit bigger.

And it all falls apart.

//

It takes hours before Derek can convince himself to confront Stiles.

11:08 PM Bad Poet

<you’re stiles stilinki

>fuck

(And yeah, it was really him).

>how did you find out?

<Laura

>I was going to tell you

<Were you?

>Yes

>I’ve wanted to for ages

>It just never felt like the right time to bring it up

<I wish you had decided on the right time was sooner

>Me too

>I’m sorry

>Please don’t hate me

Derek did not think it was possible for him to hate any part of Stiles.

<I don’t

>Thank fuck

>seriously

>can I call you?

<sure

Derek closed his eyes after sending the text and waited for Stiles to ring. A heartbeat later his ringtone sounded off.

“Hey.”

“You believe me right?” And Stiles sounds more frantic than Derek had ever heard him before.

“I believe you, Stiles.”

“Are you sure, because I can prove it if you want? I can do a video call? Or I can tweet literally anythi-”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

Stiles lets out a small whine, that reaches through the phone line and yanks at Derek’s already tattered heart, unraveling him just a little more.

“Meet me.” Stiles said, taking Derek by surprise.

“What?”

“Please. I meant to throw a please in there, I’m just really fucking nervous right now. Meet me please. In real life. I uh- I was going to ask when I finally told you about the whole being a celebrity thing. It’s still weird to say that out loud. That’s part of why it was so hard to tell you. But the point was you beat me to the punch with the whole reveal thing, but I still wanted to ask.”

“Stiles…”

“And it’s not that I was trying to use my influence or fame to pressure you into meeting me. I just wanted to be in a space where we were one hundred per cent honest with one another before I asked you. You can still say no. Of course you can, I don’t know why I’m- my point is I hope you don’t say no.”

Derek feels his heart break in two.

“Stiles…I can’t.”

“Oh.”

He hadn’t fully realised just how many worlds apart the two of them were when he had fallen in love with Stiles. It felt even more impossible than it had before.

“I’m sorry.” The words leave him feeling hollow.

“No. Don’t apologise. This is just me getting carried away. It’s okay.”

I love you. The words never leave Derek. They can’t leave him.

There was no way this could work, and he was far too scared of breaking the tentative connection they had with his useless words.

It was better for him to just… fall out of love.

//

6:17AM Laura

<it’s really him

>are you sure

<I’m sure

>what are you going to do?

<nothing

>Derek you’re in love with him

<I’m aware

<it doesn’t matter

<it wouldn’t ever work

>I’m sorry

<don’t be

<I’m going to be fine

>Im coming over with wine

//

That night Derek fills pages and pages of his notebook with drawings of Stiles.

When he gets a message from Stiles at 11PM- for the first time since they started messaging- Derek leaves it unopened.

//

He never ignores a message again after that, and life moves on. Stiles still messages him all the time, but he never asks to call anymore.

Derek misses his voice so much that he goes onto youtube and listens to his music.

He buys all three albums Stiles released and it still doesn’t feel like enough.

//

He fills an entire notebook with doodles of Stiles.

It’s still not enough.

//

1:11 PM Bad Poet

>I wrote you a song

>I know you don’t listen to music

>but it felt weird to not a least send you a link

>bad poetry at 2:00am

The link leads Derek to a youtube video of Stiles holding a ukulele and staring with a soft smile at the camera.

“Hey guys. It’s been a while, huh? But I guess I finally found inspiration. So here we go.”

The song is beautiful, but even more beautiful than that was Stiles.

When the song reached the end Derek doesn’t hesitate to hit replay.

He listens to the song ten times before he realises he’s crying - and he knows that he’s never going to ‘get over’ Stiles because he doesn’t want to.

//

3:00 PM Laura

>have you seen the video?

<he sent me a link

<he wrote a song for me Laura

<I love him so fucking much and he wrote a song for me

>fuck

<what do I do?

>what do you want to do?

<I don’t know

>I think you should look at his twitter

<?

>I wasn’t going to say anything because you said you wanted to get over him

>but I think you need to see it

>@stilesstilinki

//

@stilesstilinski

I want to hug him

@stilesstilinski

Get you a guy that will stay up with you until 4AM talking about literally anything

@stilesstilinski

Why do I alway fall for people so far out of my league? rip me I guess.

@stilesstilinski

He makes me want to write poetry

Derek spends hours scrolling through Stiles’ twitter.

He scrolls far enough back that he gets to the part of his timeline where his twitter is littered with pictures of Lydia, which causes the ache in Derek’s chest to grow. But he can’t stop looking because Stiles looks so happy.

And Derek falls impossibly more in love.

He lets himself acknowledge for the first time that Stiles might love him back.

And everything else?

It’s worth it.

Because Stiles is worth everything to Derek.

//

2:00 AM Bad Poet

<so I looked at your twitter

>fuck.

>how much did you see?

<all of it

>tight

>please excuse me while I go die now

>bye

<don’t leave yet

<I had something I wanted to ask you

>did you want me to delete the tweets?

>I can do that

>I’ll just delete the whole account

>I am my own worst enemy so this won’t be a problem

>actually Jackson Whittemore is my worst enemy

>but I’m a close second

<stiles?

>yup?

<Will you go on a date with me?

>alkdjf

>yes?

>Ofc yes?

>are you being serious?

>because this would be a cruel prank if you’re not serious

<I’m serious

>yes.

>yes. yes. yes. yes. yes. yes.

>holy shit

>theres no fucking universe where I say ‘no’ to that question from you

>im so fucking in love with you

>is it too soon to say that?

>I don’t even care

>I’m speaking my truth

>you obviously don’t have to say it back

>im going to woo you so hard Derek

>you’ll have to love me back eventually

>I’m going to write you poetry

>hell I’ll even read poetry for you

>ill give the whole fucking moon to you

<why would I want the moon?

<im not gru?

>despicable me

>that was a despicable me reference.

>you don’t listen to music, but you watch despicable me?

>you’re such an enigma to me Derek

>god I love you so much

<stiles?

>too much?

<no

<I don’t think I could ever have too much of you

<I love you too stiles

<so much

<I just don’t want you to get your hopes up

<I might not be able to live up to it in real life

>impossible

<seriously stiles

>I am being serious

>I’m already in love with you Der

>you don’t have to do anything more than you’ve already done

>you could wear a potato sack, and spend the whole night not saying anything at all

>and I would still be in love with you

>all you have to do now is show up

<…I can do that

>perfect

//

TWO YEARS LATER

@stilesstilinski

Hey @JacksonWhittemore, remember when you told me I would die alone? Well I just got engaged to the love of my life. So checkmate fucker.

#sterek #eternal sterek #what am i even doing? #i just spent the last two days writing this and banging my head against the wall and nothing else #should i write this into a full fic one day? #i probably wont #hope you guys enjoy #sterek drabble #5k words of them being idiots #i cut so much out how is this still 5k? #stiles stilinki #derek hale #laura is the only other character that makes an appearance #im supposed to be sleeping #but here we are ig #texting #wrong number #celebrity stiles

[mountain-ash-and-rusted-iron]

this is an oc masterpost of all my haf-formed ocs languishing on pinterest with their messy aesthetics and unedited blurbs, in roughly chronological order of their creation, plus sorted by fandom. this post is only asoiaf, harry potter, hunger games, and riverdale, cos i have tooooooo many original characters otherwise and the post was getting incredibly long. (note that i love my ocs but these one’s are not polished or even the final versions of their characters, i just wanted to post them lol)

under a read more, if you’re on mobile start scrolling i guess, sorry,,,

Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire:

Laeya Targeryen: (child of Rhaella and Aerys Targaryen, born 280 AC - three years older than Danaerys) 

Fearful of her impending marriage, Laeya is eleven when she takes her younger sister and flees across the sea to Dorne, hiding herself and Dany with dyed hair and badly controlled magic. As Leia and Dani Sand they learn to live normally. At 15 Leia joins the Royal Guard and secures Dany work as a tailor's apprentice. When she is 17, an assassin tries to kill her in front of the Dornish court and everything changes...

- so laeya straight up has magic, which im considering an extension of the dragon thing dany has - she can control flame and for the disguise uses her ‘inner fire’ to make her eyes white-blue like super hot flames, cos the purple eyes are super distinctive. and then she’s discovered and suddenly politics are happening. honestly she’s entirely a way for me to remove the child marriage bits of the targaryen storyline (stop marrying off your twelve-year-old baby sister viserys u asshole) - in terms of meta/basics, laeya doesn’t have a fc cos most of my early ocs don’t, and bcs i picture her as emilia clarke with faked dark hair and blue eyes lol

and a quick aesthetic below:

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

Kyrra Snow: (child of Robert Baratheon and Maery Snow, birthdate ???)

Kyrra Snow is the eldest natural-born child of Robert Baratheon, current King of Westeros, and daughter of Maery Snow, a Southron (but Northern-born) merchant woman. After her mother realises Kyrra was growing up a little too much like her father in looks and needed to leave the far South before she caught the wrong sort of attention, Kyrra was sent off to travel with her aunt and cousins. She is 17 and heading further north, to Winter Town, when Jon Arryn dies.

- kyrra’s another child of everyone’s favourite asshole king, and she’s got a lot of people after her head, but she just wants to travel and continue her work as a simple peddler. (riiip poor girl) honestly she’s not that developed but yolo -

aes:

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

Brynn Stark: (child of Catelyn and Eddard Stark, Robb’s twin sister)  

Brynn believes in honour and family, and she is loyal to Winterfell and the North above all else. Likes - archery, embroidery and weaving. Betrothed to [some young Northern lord] to keep the bonds between the Norther families strong.

-i basically made brynn as a contrast to sansa’s pro-southnness and excessive femininity and arya’s anger and desire for swords (relatable mood tho lmao). so brynn is here to mediate, extoll the virtues of both needlework and weapons, make a decent marriage to someone she likes, if not loves, and hold down the fort in the North while shit gets increasingly messier in the South. and a possible faceclaim is Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey - 

aes:

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

Rosienne Lannister: (child of Joanna and Tywin Lannister, born 273 AC)

Rose is looked at by the realm with dismissal, a consolation prize for her father, a spare daughter only useful for matchmaking, but at least able-bodied and pretty, unlike her brother. After a long betrothal, Rose is married to Willas Tyrell at the age of eighteen, cementing her role as the next Lady of High Garden...

- Rosie/Rose is a bonus Lannister, bcs why not. likes cyvasse and the harp, soft and kind and maternal, powerful in her own way. originally she was from a minor divergence where joanna survives tyrion’s birth and goes on to have another kid, but not sure if i’ll keep that aspect, so for now she’s tyrion’s twin -

and her aes (yes that quote is cropped, no i don’t care rn):

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

honourable mentions to my other got underdeveloped got/asoiaf ocs who need more effort before i post properly about them:

Tamlen Storm, a rookery apprentice (working for the Maester of House Tully, managing the ravens) who may or may not be a reincarnated si-oc trying to save westeros, 

and an unnamed northern huntress who stumbled into the plot somehow and wants her normal life back (entirely inspired by Keira Knightley as Gwyn in Princess of Thieves, when she’s doing archery stuff and looking v butch).

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

Harry Potter:

Taurus ‘Ara’ Lestrange:  (child of Bellatrix and Roldolphous Lestrange, born 1978) 

Raised by the Goblins after a legal mix-up following her parents' imprisonment in Azkaban, Taurus is good with a sword and aiming to be the next Minister of Magic. She attends Hogwarts with the other magical kids her age, under the fake identity Ara Burke, unknown cousin of a minor half-blood family. When the Potter brat’s drama starts destroying her change at an education just as her fourth year, her OWL prep year, begins, Ara intervenes.

- im tangentially aware that as bellatrix’s kid she’s almost occupying the place of whats-her-name from the cursed child, but considering that i know nothing about the cursed child and don’t care about it anyway, i have elected to ignore this. her actual parent might turn out to be some smitten half-blood from a minor branch of the Greengrass family, or it might actually be Rodolphous, who knows. slightly inspired by the fic ‘Harry Crow’ (by robst on ff.net) where harry is raised by the goblins -

messy aes:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Valerian Potter: (child of Lily and James Potter, born 1980)

After the Potter twins’ parents are murdered by Voldemort, they’re dumped on the doorstep of Number 4, Privet Drive. Dealing with two traumatised magical orphans, Petunia and Vernon Dursley turn to violence and neglect to stay in control, acting far more harshly than expected. With the arrival of two Hogwarts letters, life gets complicated incredibly quickly. (Self-sufficient and scarred from abuse, Val and Harry are immediately Sorted into Slytherin). 

- val’s fic is basically an angst fest, okay,,, -

aes:

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

and shout-outs to: holly addison potter, a half-baked reincarnation si-oc (i love that concept a lot, can u tell) and my fav girl thea dursley, who already has her own fic and so isn’t getting a proper spot in this post 

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

The Hunger Games:

Asher: (District Two, age 18) 

[rip no blurb for asher]

-asher is a career from two, who wins the 70th games. mostly im focusing on her recovery and how the games function in two, with training volunteers and mentoring and collecting sponsors, plus eventually the rebellion. lots of the D2 headcanon i have is inspired by @/lorata but i defintely made a distinct effort to have my own stuff, cos where’s the fun in plagiarism -

aes for Asher’s Games:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Rowan Everdeen: (District Twelve, age 19)

Rowan will do anything to protect her family. This extends to going to Head Peacekeeper Cray on a cold winters night, charging the most she can get for her virginity.  It extends to Reaping Day, when she steps out in front of the crowd and says “I volunteer as tribute” in the steadiest voice she can muster.  It extends to clawing her way out of the Arena, bloody and exhausted, with blades in her hands and violence kept tucked behind her teeth. It extends further, to a simple ‘Yes, President Snow’ when he coldly, carefully implies her family might meet with an accident if she doesn’t play the good little Victor (and fuck the people who pay the Capitol for her company). It extends to joining the Rebellion, to looking President Coin directly in the eye and agreeing to be a Mockingjay, a symbol for the people to rally around.

- another everdeen kiddo! as the big sister, rowan volunteers for prim, and goes through the Games - she’s a healer and a hunter, and a decent enough actor that she can manage interviews and a camera presence, unlike katniss. rowan also pairs well with a minor au i have, where the reapings are spaced out over a week and official training is a longer, giving the capitol a nice, long buildup to get excited and place bets, etc., and giving the poor, underfed tributes from the outer districts a better chance, which makes for more interesting television and better Games -

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

Adrasteia Crane: (The Capitol, age 28) Unlike her big brother, Adrasteia doesn’t want to be a Gamemaker. Instead, she wants to create clothes, artwork, to enrapture the Capitol. She wants to be a Games stylist. After years of design school, of working her way up the ranks, first a PA’s assistant, and then fetching and carrying for Twelve’s prep team, and then eventually on a prep team for the dull tributes from Six, Adrasteia Crane finally has what she wants - the position of stylist for District Three’s male tribute in 74th Hunger Games. 

- tbh adrasteia is only seneca crane’s sister because i couldn’t think of a suitable last name for her lmao. i think i’d actually prefer her to be unattached to any major canon players. however, his death is a good motivation for her to join the rebellion, so we’ll see. she’s got a bit of the capitol fashion thing going too, with soft pink hair and diamond-effect skin on her face and shoulders -

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

also bonus hunger games content: another oc, Sarsaparilla Verran, from District Eleven, fifteen and alone when she goes into the Games. An orphan, her siblings lost to the Community Home system years ago, her relatives dead or uncaring. So, Rilla is a wee lonely bab tbh. she did not want this, unlike most of my other hg ocs, and she’s not excited for weeks of murder. she just wants her family back, but since that isn’t possible, she’ll build a new family instead. and uuhhhhh,  spoiler alert, she dies before she can have this ://///

and my hunger games aus - a canon divergence where katniss joins the careers instead of peeta, her desire to go home to her family outweighing her reactive hate for the concept of training/volunteering to kill other teens, and a fem!Haymitch au where she’s a little wiser to the dark side of the capitol before she commits acts of rebellion (she still rebels anyway tho, just smarter).

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

Riverdale:

Cat Cooper: (middle child of Alice and Hal Cooper) Cat Cooper (17) is the black sheep of the Cooper family. Her piercings, brightly dyed hair and connections to the Southside Serpents make her the odd one out among her sisters and constantly at odds with Alice Cooper. Cat’s life is occupied with her Serpent friends, work at a local coffee shop, and training - martial arts, supplemented with cross country, gymnastics and swimming. Until her older sister is shipped off to places unknown and her baby sister starts getting caught up in murder investigation with the absent Serpent heir... 

- haven’t decided between Catelyn or Catherine for Cat’s full name lmao. she used to be Kit, actually, but I changed it cos i prefer Kit to solely be my divergent oc (kit serafim). Cat is an ADHD disaster who loves her sisters and her friends and wants to get the hell out of Riverdale on a sports scholarship (she does either boxing or karate mainly, need to figure that bit out) -

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

Georgie Andrews: (child of Mary and Fred Andrews)

Georgie likes soft drinks, cheerleading, and hanging out with the Blossom twins and Polly Cooper, their closest friends and a welcome distraction from their own problems. After Polly and Jason vanish, Georgie’s support system is almost gone, and they has to deal with everything they’ve been bottling up, just in time for Fred Andrews to get shot.

- also just angst ngl.  so georgie’s gender is basically ???, they enjoy cheerleading and not much else. they spend half their time dealing with depression, by trying to ignore stressful/hard topics and focus on the good side of everything. this isn’t a great long-term coping mechanism and has the fun side effect of pissing of the people around him when she seems unable to be serious or empathetic to someone else's pain (bcs she’s too busy deflecting for the sake of her own fragile mental health), so it gets fun when fred is shot and archie starts getting in too deep with the lodges -

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

Sera Thornstone: (parents ???) Southside Serpent. Going to the Riverdale Community College and running errands for FP Jones. And secretly meeting up with her Ghoulie lover down by the Sweetwater where nobody goes. 

- everything about sera is vague and undecided lmao. but she has a ghoulie gf/bf/nbf? and they’re hiding that they were down by the river on the 4th of july, cos a serpent is an immediate suspect. going to community college to work on getting general credits before saving up for fancy school for law or journalism. the aes isn’t entirely accurate cos sera’s built from the remains of another serpent oc who i scrapped (she does have a baseball bat tho) -

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

and honourable mentions to jen johnson and octavia blossom-murphy, my other riverdale ocs who actually have content, plus an in-development unnamed oc who gets adopted from the soqm by the Muggs family and growsup with Ethel. and my riverdale role reversal au, which i will never write but have some nice aesthetics for under the tag wip: bughead role reversal au.

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

all my mini-aesthetics here are unsourced images/from pinterest. any similarities to other people or characters, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. 

alrighty that’s it. now i have to tag this behemoth argh

#ocapp #ashandrustediron ocs #ashandrustediron edits #i say edits #i mean neatly cropped screenshots #lmao #fandom: harry potter #fandom: the hunger games #fandom: a song of ice and fire #fandom: game of thrones #fandom: riverdale #ashandrustrediron writes #time to tag the ocs who will actually get content later #oc: rosienne lannister #oc: tamlen storm #tam actually has a fic outline unlike most of these other westerosi ocs lol #oc: ara lestrange #oc: asher #no last name bcs volunteers from two don't have last names #they belong to the capitol and their district #<- fun fact about that fic i guess #oc: rowan everdeen #oc: adrasteia crane #none of the riverdale ocs will get a tag bcs i already have riverdale oc fic im working on #long post #long post cw #oh and some warnings for the stuff brushed upon in the blurbs i guess #gender dysphoria #violence #child marriage

[derryhawkins]

Puppy Love

summary: Right after she breaks up with her abusive boyfriend, Beverly house and dog sits for her two good friends while they’re gone for a month. During this time she has to take the dog to the vet because of a terrible limp, and there she meets the one and only Ben Hanscom – a sweetheart with a pure soul and kind eyes. Untrusting of men other than her three best friends, Beverly believes she’ll never find someone to trust and be with for the rest of her life. But as time goes on, and as she becomes friends with Ben, that belief gradually changes. word count: 5.7k warnings: mentions of abuse (i don’t go into detail); there’s also a bit where she has a panic attack but i don’t go into to much detail there either a/n: hello i meant to post this earlier but i got anxious and then i needed to focus on school bc of a paper and today tumblr is being a bitch, so. sorry lmao. hope you enjoy this tho!! ignore any typos and/or spelling mistakes 

AO3 link

chapter one: bad limp

Beverly Marsh doesn’t trust men – most of them, at least. The only men she does trust are her good friends: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Mike Hanlon.

She and Richie had grown up across the street from one another, and he was the only kid who adamantly stuck by her side through the hells of elementary, middle, and high school in their small town of Derry, Maine. They were both the outcasts there from the get go. A kid who was too talkative for his own good, a boy who came out proudly bisexual in middle school, a teen who couldn’t sit still for the life of him; paired with a kid who had bruises on her body everyday, a girl who learned men looked at her wrong at too young of an age, a teen who got slut shamed for very untrue rumors. Then college came, and the two hauled ass to New York City to go to college, sharing a shitty one bedroom apartment and working hellish hours to scrape by. They didn’t go to the same university, though; Richie went to NYU for four years in drama and then went a different route of standup comedy while Beverly went to a smaller college to get a cosmetology degree.

Those years, they met Eddie Kaspbrak and Mike Hanlon. Eddie was at the same college Beverly went to on way to become a Science teacher, and they both worked at a crappy coffee place. They got along extremely well and after a while she introduced him to Richie, the two beginning their marriage-like bickering instantly. It was no surprise to Beverly when they got together in their second year of college. The feisty young man complemented their duo extremely well from the get-go, officially making them into an inseparable trio in no time. Then comes in Mike Hanlon, a sweet boy who grew up on a farm and who was on his way to become the best veterinarian known to man. ("I'm not gonna be the best one, guys, chill." - "Well, we think you will be.") He was Eddie’s room mate and about the time Eddie and Richie started dating was when Mike got pulled in, making their group an even four. Beverly had been hesitant at the time. Her father and every man back home made her wary of how men and boys would be towards her, her own boyfriend no help to that thought process at all, but Mike was quick to prove her wrong. He didn’t stare at her as if she were a piece of meat – hell, he still doesn’t, and neither do the other two (for obvious reasons) – and he’s never anything but gentle.

And then there’s Tom.

How she ended up with a nearly carbon copy of her father as a boyfriend during college is beyond her. He looked harmless back then, Bev remembers; he charmed her way into her life, making her believe everything was fine, but then slowly started manipulating different situations and raising his hand at her and verbally threatening her. She should’ve gotten out of it sooner but something kept her there with the asshole; something kept her from telling her friends, coming up with lame excuses as to why another bruise had formed on her wrist.

Fast forward some years. The even four graduated – Tom, too – and Richie beings to work his ass off to get gigs and all for his stand up comedy career that hopefully won't flop, and Eddie’s searching for assistant teaching jobs, and Beverly is working at really nice hair salon that pays well, and Mike is in Veterinary School. And she’s still with Tom; her friends are starting to catch on, if they hadn’t before. A few more years down the line, Richie gets a big break (okay not that big, but it's a break nonetheless), and somehow becomes extremely popular among the teens after his tweet about his cute but angry chihuahua like boyfriend. Eddie has been an assistant teacher for a couple years now and getting ready to become just a regular teacher; and Mike’s out of Veterinary School, and Bev’s opening up her own salon after a two year business program at a community college. She’s still dating Tom.

Until she’s not. At 26, Beverly has had enough. After nearly seven or eight years of something she grew up enough with because of her father, she gains the courage to finally stand up again to her another abusive man in her life. The other three finally knew the entire truth and with their help and pep talks and comforting words and hugs, Beverly stands up for herself. She dumps Tom. A fight ensues. She acquired a few new bruises and he expects her still in their shared apartment when he comes home from work. But when he’s gone, through tears and cries, she packs up everything. Literally everything. And then she’s getting in the crappy Honda she’s had since her first year in college with all of her belongings and driving to Richie’s and Eddie’s house just a little bit away. They aren't there, though. Richie is on a mini tour for a month and to because it was the summer and to celebrate the fact someone hired him as an actual teacher for the upcoming school year, Eddie tagged along.

Beverly doesn’t trust men, and the full reason why hits her like a train as she sits in her best friend’s and his boyfriend’s home, alone and honestly a bit scared. It makes her sad thinking over how much she loves and trusts three guys with her life, but two harmful men and the disgusting, predatory looks from other men out weighs her best friends’ good intentions. As she sits there, suitcases haphazardly pushed into the living room and body sore, she wonders if she should go to the doctor. It’s only a few bruises and a busted lip, though. Eddie, if he knew, would be fussing over her and dragging her out of the house in an instant to get her checked on from worry – the opposite of what his mother did constantly to him as a child.

The redhead chuckles at the thought of the Kaspbrak fretting over her, but then a few tears are leaving her eyes and suddenly she’s crying again, and wanting to call one of her boys, but she can’t. She doesn’t want to. Not yet, anyway. Richie’s having too much fun, Eddie’s enjoying his break, Mike is already working, having a good time while doing so. They didn’t need to worry over her while they’re living their lives to the fullest.

A bark interrupts her thought process and she blinks, confused for a split second until she remembers Sid. A black lab with too much energy for her own good, just a little over a year old. Richie and Eddie had gotten Sid when she was four months old. They almost didn’t get her all because they weren't sure how often they'd get to spend with the puppy. Both are home more often than they thought, though still both of their jobs restrain them from spending the amount of time they want with the puppy - less often than they first thought, though. Thankfully, both Mike and Bev are available more often than not, Bev the most. They help take care of Sid when the couple can’t, which honestly isn't that much, and the adorable dog has somehow formed into everyone’s pet over time with how often they're all at the Tozier-Kaspbrak house.

Bev wipes under her eyes and cheeks, wincing at her palm pushes into the bruise on her cheek too hard, and makes her way through the house to the back door. She peers outside to the fenced backyard and sees Sid near the back, tail up and ears perked; on high alert. The dog probably heard something she didn't like, or maybe saw a squirrel. Beverly opens the door after she unlocks it, and one hand rests on the door frame.

“Sid!” She shouts to get the dogs attention. “C’mere, girl!” Sid yaps and runs to Beverly instantly, and the woman’s laughing a bit as she crouches down, the dog attacking her with licks. Beverly pets the dog in return and moves to sit on her butt. “Hey, girl. You missed me, huh? I was just here yesterday, though, before your dads left. You miss them, too? Hm, I bet. I do. Yeah, I do, and they miss you, no doubt about it. C’mon, hey- oof, let me stand up, girl. Sid- Okay, thank you. Hey, can you sit? I’ll give you treat! Good girl, let me take a picture.”

Beverly snaps a picture of Sid, the black lab’s tongue hanging out the side of her mouth as she pants, floppy ears forward and dark eyes wide. She quickly sends the picture to Eddie, paired with a text of heart and dog emojis and ‘she misses u!’. She then ushers Sid inside, brows furrowing when she thinks she sees the dog limping, but it was hard to tell. She quickly finds the dog treats in the kitchen pantry, and feeds Sid one right as she gets a reply from her friend.

[from: coffee buddy 11:49 am MNFK SHES SO CUTESJDK I MISS HER TOO GIVE HER LOVE SOME LOVE FOR US]

[to: coffee buddy 11:50 am i'll be sure to give her all the love dw ur pretty lil head]

[from: dipshit 11:52 am SID!!!!!!! THE CUTEST!!!!!!!!!! THANK U FOR UR SERVICE BEV]

[to: dipshit 11:52 am mwah ur welcome rich x]

She smiles at their reactions. It's cute and something she's seen a thousand times throughout the year they've had Sid. One time, she had watched and listened to Richie gush over Sid sleeping with her head in Eddie's lap, his boyfriend drifting off to sleep as well. Unfortunately, that memory ends with Tom calling her and demanding her home for the night, cutting the friends' fun night together short.

Beverly finds herself frowning at the memory and doesn't bother to keep track of Sid as she wanders throughout the house. The young woman stays in the kitchen, her mood coming back down. She brushes stands of her long hair out of her face, her features scrunching up in disgust. She hates it long. Hates the way it gets the way and how she always has to do something with it, always having to get tangles out at the ends. Tom loves her long hair though, and after some persuasion back in college, Beverly grew it out again and kept it at the same mid-back length. Her stomach churns with the realization her father liked her hair long, too. It was the reason she chopped it all off in the first place. Self-hate settles in her, and she can feel the tears coming back as she leans against the counter when her phone starts ringing again. She jumps. The irrational part of her brain is telling her that the caller is Tom, that he somehow found out that she left home while at work, and he's coming over to drag her back. The other part - the rational part - knows that can't be it.

With shaky hands, she pulls her phone back out. Relief floods through her at seeing the familiar number of one of her clients. She sighs and presses the green dot on the screen before putting it on speaker. It was Audra Phillips, a wonderful woman around her age that started coming to Beverly's own salon the moment it opened, always complimenting Bev's work and saying how the redhead should be a renowned stylist for hair, makeup and clothes. "Hi, Audra," she greets, hoping her voice doesn't give off the fact that she had been close to crying.

"Beverly, hi!" Audra greets, happy. If she can tell something is up, she doesn't say anything. "I was just wondering if we're still on for one today? It's just- I'm busy these next couple days and there's a court case Friday, and I really don't want to look like shit. The split ends are bad. And it's my first one, y'know?"

"Of course, yeah," Beverly does her best to sound up beat. "I was actually just about to leave to get everything ready." It's a lie, but the other woman doesn't need to know that. Until Audra called, Beverly's mind had completely pushed away her one o'clock appointment, too engrossed into the early morning fight with Tom and her leaving without his knowledge.

"Wonderful! You are a life saver, Marsh, I fucking love you."

A genuine smile reaches her lips. "It's truly no problem, Audra. I'll see you at one."

They hang up, and Beverly goes to the bathroom after fishing her makeup bag from one of her suitcases. She stares at herself, taken back by the appearance. The bruise on her cheek is worse than she thought, and she had dried blood she didn't know about on her chin from the cut on her lip. Her striking blue eyes are bloodshot and rimmed red from crying on and off throughout the morning, and her bright red hair was a bird's nest. She is a complete and utter mess, and she has no idea how to make it seem like she isn't. But she does her best for the next ten minutes; she covers up the bruise with ease, and does her make up to where the only indication of her crying are the bloodshot eyes. She tames her hair to the best of her ability and just throws it into a ponytail. She keeps what she's already wearing on - a tee from Disney World that she got a some years back when she and her three friends were all free of school - with light skinny jeans and converse. Then, she puts Sid back outside in the backyard, grabs her keys, makes sure the doors are all locks and that the lights are off, and finally leaves.

+++

"-and I've always wanted to start a fashion line. Or do something with fashion, and make up too, which is why I started that- that...what's the word? Oh, well, that thing where people can make appointments for getting their makeup and hair done for dates, or prom, or whatever - oh, a bundle! The two in one. Gosh, I'm the owner and can't even fucking remember these things correctly," Beverly says, wincing as she remembers that she's talking to a customer. "Sorry for my language."

Audra chuckles from where she sits directly in front of Beverly, the woman behind her snipping away at her now wet hair. "You know I don't care about your language, Bev, keep on with it. And don't down talk yourself, sweetie, everyone forgets things."

They meet eyes in the mirror and share a smile. Audra has been at the salon for some time now. Beverly washed the other woman's hair before actually starting to cut it, per Audra's request. During that time they had conversed about a million and one things, leaving one conversation to go to another only to jump back to a topic that had long since been forgotten when one of them remembered something else. It was nice, Beverly had to admit. It was getting her mind off of that morning.

"Would you add fashion if you could? To the bundle - making a three in one deal."

Beverly's brows knit together as she thinks about it. Then, "Most likely. I think it would be hard to do, though. I don't think fashion is one of my strong suits, and... I dunno, the makeup deal probably won't last too much longer and I doubt the fashion thing would, either."

Audra snorts with a roll of her eyes. "You are one of the most talented women I know with all of this," she tells Beverly, hands moving under the cape. "I've never been disappointed once, and the make up you do for the prom and special events are fucking fantastic! Your fashion sense is off the charts when you dress up; hell, even when you dress down. You have the potential to do all three, Bev. What's holding you back?" The question is quieter, filled with so much care; and her other words are full of sincerity. It has Beverly faltering her movements.

She licks her lips. She knows what's holding her back. "Tom," she says simply as she quickly goes back to doing Audra's hair, and she hopes it doesn't sound as bitter and fearful as it felt. "He's always been supportive of this - of the hair salon - but he's always...apprehensive about the makeup. And then about the fashion, he's just so against it."

"What do men know?" Audra asks. "And what does Tom even do?"

"He works at some small business. A financial analysis."

"He's just jealous. Scared, maybe, of you turning out better than him. God, men are so...ugh."

"There are a few decent ones out there," Beverly says, thinking of her friends. A large smile tugs at her lips. "My best friends. Richie's annoying as all fuck, but he's genuinely caring when he wants to be. Usually to his boyfriend, and me. We grew up together, so we're basically siblings. Then there's Eddie - Richie's boyfriend. A damn firecracker. A bit crazy. A mother hen, at times. Oh, and Mike! He's probably the most genuine, nice guy I know. He's over six feet, and Rich calls him a gentle giant. I'd call him the perfect guy, but he loves pranks, and he and Rich get into a prank war three times a year and they drag Eddie and me into them too. They're not perfect - not by a long shot - but they're the most decent guys I know. I doubt there's any 'perfect guy'."

Audra's quiet for a moment. "I'm surprised you didn't put Tom in there."

Beverly's jaw clenches for a moment. "Why would I put my ex in a list of good men?" She says in a casual way and hopes that it doesn't cause dramatic reactions from those around her. It does. Her regulars and few employees know of her and Tom. It was clear no one likes him, and Bev knows that maybe they figured out something had been wrong about the relationship, but she always painted Tom as a good guy to others despite the bruises littering her skin and his harsh words towards her even in public. Audra's jaw drops and Beverly stops snipping the hair and moved her arms to her sides just in time as Audra turned around, and she sets the scissors on a flat surface. A gasp is heard across the building, and Bev turns her head to see her good friend and employee, Kay McCall, standing a few chairs away, getting ready for another customer.

"Did he dump you?" Audra asks, almost sounding hesitant to do so.

Beverly looked back at her, and then at Kay who is walking over at the speed of lightning. "I... Actually, I dumped him," she says slowly. "This morning." It almost feels wrong telling the girls first instead of her best friends first, but there's a sense of relief that comes with telling someone and Bev figures that the boys won't mind.

Kay squeals and pulls Beverly into a tight hug. "Oh, my god, I thought you'd never get rid of that ass!" She pauses and pulls away, keeping her hands on her friend's shoulders. A serious yet excited expression sits on her face. "I know it's no surprise I don't like him, okay, I'm sorry. I know you loved him too but, babe, that boy was a total whack job! He gave me the fucking creeps!"

Audra is nodding along. "I wanted to say something, but we're not that close, y'know? And I didn't wanna piss you off accidentally."

"I honestly thought you were gonna end up marrying him. It was, like, my worst fear the longest time," Kay admits. Her hands finally leave Beverly's shoulders.

"Mine too." Beverly takes in their looks, and she wants to take the words back but it's too late. She doesn't want to tell them what he's done, it's too early and too fresh to tell someone out right, so she doesn't. "I stopped loving him, is all," she lies. But, it's not really a lie. "I felt obligated to stay in the relationship, I guess. Probably a bit scared, too, because we've been together since the end of my second year of college. I finally just ripped off the band-aid this morning."

Audra smiles softly. "Long ones are the hardest to end."

Kay nods in agreement. "Yeah. Hey, I've got a pullout at my apartment if you need a place to stay. I know you two were living together."

Beverly shakes her head. "Thanks, but I'm good for now. Rich and Eddie are out of the city for a month, and I'm already visiting there to dog sit. Might as well house sit, too. I'll call if I decide to take you up on that offer, though."

They share a few more words - not much at all, though - and soon Beverly is back to Audra's hair, and Kay is walking up front where a new customer is stepping in. She licks lips, feeling how chapped they are, and her nose scrunches the slightest bit as her tongue went over the cut. She had forgotten about it, and at remembering it she is grateful that neither Audra nor Kay asked about it. She doesn't know what she would have come up with if they did.

+++

The rest of the day consisted of Beverly having a few more customers, going to the grocery store because she knows for a fact that Richie and Eddie have zero food at their house, walking around fearful, and finally getting to the Tozier-Kaspbrak residence with the sun completely gone because apparently shopping and driving takes a lot longer than she realizes. She keeps the doors locked and lets Sid roam around as she puts up the groceries - she was right, they had no food - and later feeds Sid, noticing that the limp she thought she saw that morning is, in fact, a limp and it looked the slightest bit worse. After dinner, and after letting Sid outside for a few minutes to use the bathroom, Beverly's phone starts to ring and ring, and ping continuously, messages and missed calls from Tom keeping the device occupied. She waits, but the messages and calls come in nearly every second. Every minute. She wants to call someone - Mike, Richie, Kay, Eddie, anyone but Tom - but she can't pick up the phone, because that means looking at her messages. She knows it's not going to happen, but that doesn't stop her from feeling as if even if she touched the phone Tom would find out where she is like some telepathic demon from Hell.

It's not until she's hearing her own wheezing when it dawns on her that she's having a panic attack over the stupid fucking calls and text messages, curling in on herself against one of the kitchen walls, cheeks wet and make up smudged because of her tears. She hasn't had one in years, not since her first year in college, which is a surprise in and of itself given who she's been dating. Her mind struggles to grasp at what to do - its been eight years - but once she remembers, Beverly does her best to do it. It takes time, much longer than she would like to admit, but she soon calms down. Her hands stop shaking, and her cheeks are starting to dry, and her phone is silent too. Sid is laying a few feet away, staring. Worried. Beverly sniffles. Shakily, she stands and the young dog moves her head up in a flash, eyes trained on Beverly as the young woman moves across the kitchen. Sid then quickly gets up and limps to where she's right beside Bev.

Her eyes squeeze shut as she unlocks her phone to avoid looking at the missed calls and unread texts, and it makes her want to throw up as she does it but she blocks Tom's number, erases the messages and makes the missed calls notifications go away.

Then, she's going to bed in the guest room, exhausted. Sid is at her feet in the bed when she's supposed to be in her bog bed and kennel, but Beverly doesn't care. Rich and Eddie don't have to know, anyway. She's too relaxed. She feels too safe with Sid there. So, she lets Sid stay there, eventually falling asleep.

+++

It's halfway through the morning when Beverly notices Sid is heavily favoring her right front leg as she plays without a care in the world in the backyard. It concerns her, worries her, so she calls the nearest vet and places an appointment at two - and coincidentally, it's the one Mike works at. She doesn't call her two best friends yet, not wanting to worry them in case nothing is wrong. She doesn't go into work. She doesn't want to, simply put, so she doesn't. She's the owner, anyway, and goes in whenever she pleases; the fact that she had no one specifically ask for her on that day was another reason Bev doesn't go in, and she knows the employees can handle themselves. She takes a nice, warm, long shower and brings Sid inside around noon. Then she has lunch, and as the time for Sid's appointment rolls closer, she changes into Nike shorts and the same t-shirt she wore the day before, uncaring of who saw her in it yesterday. She's still emotionally drained from the night before, so it surprises her that she didn't walk out in sweats and a hole-y shirt.

The drive to the vet is fine. Sid stays in the backseat, constantly moving into different positions and standing to look between the front seats, even though her front leg is probably hurting her. Upon reaching the vet clinic, the hope of seeing Mike rises, and she gets out with Sid quickly, locking her car, and then goes inside. It’s not long at all until she’s sitting in one of the back rooms waiting for someone to come in and check on Sid. Not too soon later, the door is opening and she’s hoping it’s Mike, but it’s not. She tries not to look too disappointed, though it wasn’t hard at all given as the guy who walks in is attractive.

She blinks, taking in the dirty blond hair and soft brown eyes; he’s tall, too – about Richie’s or Mike’s height – and at first Beverly, admittedly, tensed up. Here’s a guy who she doesn’t know and therefore doesn’t trust, and her first thought is that he’s going to say something her. To try and flirt. To seem as if he’s this perfect dude trying to win Bev over for a hookup. But then he’s giving her a warm smile before crouching down to Sid who’s jumping in excited at seeing a new person, and she suddenly feels bad for jumping to conclusions.

“Hey,” the guy laughs as Sid licks his face. “You’re a friendly one, aren’t you? Who’ve we got here today?” He’s then looking at Bev and standing up.

Beverly twists the leash in her hands. “That’s Sid. Um, she has a bad limp, and I just got worried.”

He nods and looks back down to the dog, who’s now laying on the floor at his feet, panting as she stares up at him. “Yeah, I noticed it when I walked in. It’s pretty significant. If you don’t mind, I’ll take her to weigh her out there. We’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine, do what you gotta do,” she says. “I’ve never been to a vet before. Sid’s not mine, she’s my friend’s. I’m just dog sitting while he and his boyfriend are outta town. I figured I should bring her myself in case something is actually seriously wrong.”

He smiles as he slips the vet’s leash on Sid with ease, and unclasps the other off of her collar. “That's nice of you to do.”

“I'd do anything for my friends.” Beverly sets the leash in her lap, giving a tiny smile. “She pulls a lot, by the way. Just a warning,” she tells the man.

He nods. “It’s fine. Be back in a jiff,” he tells her and then he’s out of the room with Sid, the dog excitedly walking and pulling. Beverly chuckles and leans back in the chair, blue eyes looking at the framed picture on the wall. It’s an illustration of different types of dogs and their names and where they originally came from.

She’s about to stand up to get a better look when the guy and Sid come back in. He walks the dog to her and lets her reattach the leash before removing the vet’s leash. “How much does she weigh?” Bev asks, curious, frowning at how Sid is favoring her leg.

“Thirty pounds,” he says.

“That’s good, right?”

He nods. “Yes, it is. Female labs usually get up to between twenty-five and thirty-two.”

Bev smiles and pets Sid. “Well, you’re a healthy girl, huh? Other than your leg.” She looks up at the guy, and he’s already looking at her with an expression she can’t read. Its similar to the one Richie gives her once in a while when he’s in a particularly loving mood towards everyone; but there’s something about this guy’s expression that’s so different from it at the same time. There’s no lust, no want, no desire. Almost admiration, if she has to label it. It’s a look she’s not used to, to say the least, and she has to look away and back down to Sid. “So, are you going to check her out, or is there some big shot vet doc that has to come in?” She asks. “Dr. Doolittle, maybe?”

He seems to jolt back into reality at the question, and if Bev were to look up she would see his cheeks reddening. “Huh- oh, yeah. I’m just- just an intern here, trying to get my foot in the door before I finally become a veterinarian myself. No Dr. Doolittle, though.”

Beverly chuckles and looks up. “Shame. I’d pay some real money to have Dr. Doolittle here.”

He smiles, still blushing a little. “I’d pay to be Dr. Doolittle.” Then, “I’ll go get the ‘big shot vet doc’.” He uses air quotes as he uses the words Beverly had said moments before, chuckling lightly as she rolls her eyes with no malice behind the action.

“Alright. Oh- hey, uh,” she hesitates, “I’m Beverly Marsh, by the way. I should’ve introduced myself sooner. Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m Ben Hanscom. I’ll be right back with the doctor, Beverly.”

As he leaves, she can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed about just introducing herself like that so abruptly, but she pushes the feeling away. A few minutes later, the guy – Ben, and she can’t help but think how well the name suits him – walks in with the doctor. They check on Sid, have her walk around for a few seconds, and then the doctor is explaining that nothing seems wrong.

“There isn’t any swelling or cuts or broken bones, so it’s probably just a bad sprain. Nothing too bad, thankfully, but you’ll have to restrict how much she plays for it to get better. I’ll prescribe her some pain medication that you’ll give her once a day for seven days. If it’s not better by this day next week, I suggest bringing her back. It’ll most likely require surgery if that’s the case.”

Beverly nods along to the words and takes the information in, planning on calling Richie once she leaves to explain everything to him. After that, both the doctor and Ben are leaving again, Ben coming back five minutes later with a small, blue pill bottle.

“Give her one forth of these everyday, and it should help,” Ben tells her as he hands the bottle to her. “I hope she gets better. She’s such a sweetheart.”

Beverly stands and holds the pill bottle with one hand, and Sid’s leash with the other. “Me too. Thank you, by the way.”

He sheepishly smiles and shrugs. “I barely did a thing. It’s all the doctor.”

She chuckles. “Well, thank her too for me. Hey, do you know a Mike Hanlon?”

He nods quickly. “Yeah, he’s another intern for one of the other doctors here.”

“Is he here?”

“Yeah. But he’s helping with a surgery on a sick cat. Why?”

She shrugs. “He’s one of my friends. I was expecting to see him, is all.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Beverly frowns but then smiles, shaking her head as she gets ready to leave. “You’re not a disappointment, Ben. You seem like a cool guy, and it was nice meeting you.”

He’s then giving her another warm smile, and he’s blushing again. “Thanks. It was nice to meet you, too. And Sid, of course.”

Beverly then says a bye with a smile of her own and she walks out of the back room, and to the front. She pays, not minding having to, and walks out with her phone pressed to ear as she calls Richie, explaining what’s wrong and what’s happening with Sid as she drives home. She doesn’t mention the breakup or Ben just yet. She doesn’t want to think about either too much, and telling her best friend about both would require just that. So, she doesn’t. Richie doesn’t ask, either, because one: he avoids the topic of Tom as well because it just puts him in a pissy mood for the rest of the day and he can’t be in a pissy mood during a gig, and two: Beverly have no indication about the guy who helped out at the vet clinic being attractive in any way.

She sighs as she falls into the couch after giving Sid the correct amount of medicine, turning on the TV, pushing any thoughts about men out of her mind as she watches a rerun of an old 90s show.

#ben hanscom #beverly marsh #benverly #it #the losers club #my writing #* #pls don't let this flop

[golbrocklovely]

only the lonely survive // colby brock - chapter four: i don’t blame you for being you

A/N: hey everyone! I haven't posted in a while so I thought I would go ahead and post another chapter. I might post again tomorrow bc this chapter and the next chapter are kinda short for my liking. Idk tho. lmk what you think :)

description of story here

trigger warnings: swearing???, slight (teeny-tiny amount) heartbreak/ache

word count: 1788

After the initial shock of realizing I sung in front of my favorite people without knowing they were there, I was surprisingly able to hold a conversation with all the guys without being nervous.

Maybe I need to break out into song more often.

"Hey Skye, I want to know more about you. Lemme ask you some questions." Brennen jumped in, ending our previous conversation.

I shrugged my shoulders, "Sure. Ask me anything and I'll tell you the truth."

Casey nodded her head, "Yeah. Skye's notorious for telling it like it is. She gets really brutal sometimes."

I slapped her arm, she smacked my thigh back, laughing.

"Okay, then. Now let me think... Let's start with some basic questions. How old are you?" Brennen asked.

"I'm twenty-three. My birthday is September 16th." I smiled.

Corey cheered, "Oooh we got another Virgo in the house!" He raised his hand for a high-five. I smacked it lightly.

"You went to college with Casey, right? What did you major in?" Brennen questioned.

"I studied theater and art." I replied.

"Do you want to be an actress?" Corey responded.

I scrunched up my face. "I don't think so? I have no idea what I want to be. I just want to do something with the arts. That's really the only thing I'm certain about. I studied theater because I love it."

Casey chuckled, "These questions are boring. Ask something a little more... scandalous."

Brennen rolled his eyes, "Okay then. Skye, how many boyfriends have you had?"

Dear God, not this question.

I sighed, "Uh... just one."

Liar.

I looked over at Casey and she smiled sadly.

"Was the break up bad?" Colby asked quietly, chiming in for the first time.

I turned my head to him, "...I guess you could say that."

Colby and I looked at each other until Sam stated jokingly "Thanks for making things awkward, Brennen."

Brennen threw his arms up in protest, and I giggled. "No Sam, it's fine. It was a long time ago, back in like high school. I'm okay. It just didn't end well, like most of my relationships."

Brennen smiled, "Sounds like my love life."

"You have one?" I quipped, smirking.

Everyone responded back, snickering. 

"Alright. No need to hurt my feelings, guys." Brennen shushed. "You know," He continued, "my love life has kinda fallen into a slump. Maybe you could help restart it?"

Was he flirting with me?

I held back an eye roll. "Is that what constitutes as flirting out here?"

"Constitutes? Look at you, using your college education!" He exclaimed mockingly.

"Don't get sassy, now. You're the one that started it." I sassed back, standing up to get another drink.

Brennen leaned closer to Colby, whispering loudly "I love when they play hard to get."

I stopped in the doorway, turning back towards the group. "Oh, that's cute."

"What?" Brennen asked, sitting up.

"You think you can actually get with me..." I smiled, cocking my head to the side. I turned back towards the kitchen and left, hearing the boys mock Brennen.

I stepped into the kitchen and sighed. This was a lot to take in.

Brennen weirdly flirted with me. Corey and I are becoming friends. All the guys are super nice. And to top it off, Colby's eyes are like CRAZY blue. 

Holy shit, I need to sit down.

I went over to the fridge and grabbed another diet coke. I sat down on the counter and scrolled through my phone, trying to calm down. A message popped up on my screen:

 Casey: hey i'm srry that i made brennen ask u about ur dating situation

 My 'dating situation' was... not really a situation at all. Because it didn't exist.

I, Skylar Elizabeth Bennett, am twenty-three years old and have never had a boyfriend.

Embarrassed was barely where my emotions started when it came to my dating situation. Growing up, I was always the awkward introverted friend. Because of this, I got ignored a lot. Now, it's not that I didn't try to date guys, I did. But a lot of them shot me down. And I don't blame them. I can't force someone to be attracted to me, and I wouldn't want someone to date me out of pity.

I just feel weird saying it out loud, especially to someone like Brennen who has definitely had multiple girlfriends and hookups, that I had never been with someone. Ever. In like any way, shape, or form.

If God could just send a boy that likes me my way, that would be great.

"Are you hiding from us?" Colby's voice asked, appearing out of nowhere.

I jumped a bit, looking up. He stood in front of me, smiling lightly. 

I smiled back, exhaling. "No. I-uh... just needed to get away from all of that. My social meter is reaching its peak."

"Same here. I've been hanging out with Brennen all day and I kinda need some alone time soon. He's been a lot to handle today." Colby chuckled, leaning against the fridge.

"I bet." I replied.

"Oh, I wanted to say I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable when I asked about your break up. It sort of just slipped out." He said, standing upright.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Water under the bridge. Don't worry. The break up was such a long time ago that I don't really think about it. I've had some recent hardships that are little more sensitive."

"I thought you said you only had one boyfriend?" He questioned, squinting his eyes.

I gasped sarcastically. "Have you never heard of unrequited love? It's only one of the most written about subjects in literature, music, ar-"

He cut me off, rolling his eyes and smirking, "Okay, I get it."

"Can I ask you a question?" I pursed my lips, sitting up.

"Sure." He responded.

"How many times have you been in love?" I asked.

He stayed silent for a moment, his shoulders lowering slightly.

"You don't have to say who you were in love with. I understand that's a lot for me to ask." I slid off the counter, standing next to him.

He closed the fridge door, water bottle in hand. "No, it's fine. Um... I've only ever been in love once."

"Was the break up bad?" I whispered, reciting his words.

He smiled, but his eyes dropped, looking down towards the floor. "Yeah. It was pretty bad."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I stated sincerely, stepping closer to him.

He looked into my eyes, "Thanks."

We stayed like that for a moment. Just staring at each other.

"What are you two doing?" Brennen teased, walking into the kitchen.

Colby pulled his eyes away from mine, "Just talking."

Brennen stepped next to him, "You're not trying to steal my girl, right?"

"I'm sorry, in what universe do you think I'm your girl?" I replied, putting my hands on my hips.

"In every universe baby. We're meant to be!" Brennen yelled, pulling Colby towards the garage by his shoulders. Colby laughed, side-eyeing him.

I rolled my eyes and followed in behind them.

/  /  /  /

We all continued hanging out, until the sun started to set. I was starting to get tired, my hours being off before ever leaving Pennsylvania. The jet lag and the craziness of yesterday and today were getting to me and all I could think about was going back to our house and passing out for a bit.

Also, eating my body weight in french fries.

Casey and I started to say our goodbyes to everyone. One of the last people I said goodbye to was Brennen. He smirked as I walked up to him.

"You saved the best for last." He said, opening his arms to me.

I chuckled, "I still have to say goodbye to Colby."

He winced, stepping back, "Trying to get with my best friend? You females are a different breed I'll tell you that."

I turned my head to the side, squinting my eyes, "Just give me a hug before I regret this whole interaction."

He came up close and tightly wrapped his arms around me. He lightly rubbed my back, pulling away a moment later.

"Oh before you do go, can I get your number?" He asked, pulling his phone out.

"Do you honestly think I would give you my number?" I replied, crossing my arms.

He stared at me for a moment, "Yes."

I grabbed his phone and put my contact in. "Now don't use this as a booty call line. I ain't getting out of my bed at one A.M for you, or anybody, for that matter."

"You might want to change the policy when it comes to me. I know how to give you a good time, baby." He smiled, putting his phone back into his pocket.

"I'm good, thanks." I winked.

I started to walk to the kitchen, where Colby was, but I turned back around to Brennen. "By the way, feel free to give that number out to anyone in this house if they ask for it."

"Sure thing, Skye." He called back.

I nodded, heading into the kitchen. Colby was standing in the archway between the kitchen and hallway. He looked up when I walked in, smiling.

"Is this goodbye?" Colby questioned, leaning against the wall.

"I guess so." I mumbled, looking down at the ground.

He slowly started walking me towards the front door, "How long are you and Casey here for?"

"Two weeks. So we have plenty of time to hang. If you want to." I stated nervously.

He laughed, "You think I want to hang out with you?"

I gasped and playfully hit his arm, "Don't be rude to me now."

"I'm just kidding." He put his arms up in defense, smiling.

We both stopped at the door. I could hear Casey coming down the stairs, talking to Corey. I turned towards Colby, opening my arms. He did the same, coming closer to me. I wrapped my arms around him, standing on my tippy toes just to have my chin reach his shoulder. He rested his head lightly against mine. We hugged each other tightly, lightly swaying back and forth.

"Are you ready to go, Skye?" Casey said, walking towards us. Colby and I pulled away.

I nodded my head. She waved goodbye at Colby, going towards the door and opening it. She started walking out. I followed, turning back to Colby, waving at him. He returned the wave.

Casey and I walked to the car and got in. We both sat for a moment, quiet.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" She asked, smirking towards me.

I sighed, "I guess not."

She chuckled and started the car.

 << CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 5 >>

#colby brock #brennen taylor #sam and colby #sam golbach #jake webber #corey scherer #aaron doh #colby brock fanfic #colby brock x oc #colby brock fluff #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock story #colby brock fic #only the lonely survive

[punkscowardschampions]

Ronnie & Joe

Ronnie: still stalking mckenna Joe: what, we can't BOTH like music? Joe: that's gonna be problematic for me tbh Ronnie: mozarts ghost aint gonna possess him in the encore Ronnie: you can fuck off Joe: you can enjoy your night Joe: I'll take my chances Ronnie: take your chances somewhere else Ronnie: or you wont have any Joe: you looking out for me? Joe: not necessary, I promise Joe: you look like you got your hands full as is Ronnie: its a threat Ronnie: shouldnt be necessary Joe: my apologies for making you work harder but its still not cutting it Ronnie: [throws something at him in a dangerous manner watch out everyone] Ronnie: we can both be into cutting Ronnie: not a problem for me Joe: [when he's probably with his flatmate or similar like they will complain honey they basics lmao, meanwhile just like 😏] Joe: careful, people will think you care Ronnie: what fucking people Ronnie: your girlfriend Joe: for one Ronnie: muzzle your bitch or give her shit to sink her teeth into Ronnie: it aint complicated Joe: I don't think not glassing randoms is exactly rocket science either Ronnie: nothing random about you Ronnie: you fucking wish Joe: you want some projection with that Joe: I found you, remember Ronnie: wasnt hiding nancy Ronnie: not still a runaway kid Joe: then don't hide Joe: I weren't looking for you, alright Ronnie: bullshit Ronnie: you said there aint no other bastards Joe: I meant tonight Joe: this is just coincidence, nothing more Ronnie: leave then Ronnie: your buyers remorse is about as welcome as you Joe: hardly Joe: that's not what it is either Ronnie: they were all out of shiny sisters baby Ronnie: take what you can get Joe: I've already got one of them Ronnie: yeah Ronnie: i remember Joe: you don't want a refill then Joe: replace the one you tossed Ronnie: you on the spectrum or do you not wanna read social cues Joe: well I ain't leaving either way but if you don't wanna make the most outta it Joe: 👍 Ronnie: keep putting words in my mouth & see what happens to yours like Joe: what spectrum are you on if you think that constitutes a please and thanks Ronnie: take it up with your ma Ronnie: she wasnt about to teach me how to play nice Joe: not really her forte Ronnie: thats why im still waiting for my plane ticket home yeah Joe: possibly Joe: I don't know Ronnie: 💔 Ronnie: how olds your good sister Joe: jury is out on good Joe: but 14 so we'll wait and see Ronnie: ill fucking drink to that Ronnie: if she was a write off shed already be Joe: depends on your perspective Joe: I try not to have one Joe: [is at bar] Ronnie: depends on your mas Ronnie: we cant all be black sheep Joe: exactly Joe: they don't really get on Joe: but she's probably just dreading the PTSD a teen pregnancy scare will bring Ronnie: should have kept me around Joe: yeah Ronnie: 1 more abortion and your country would offer me a fucking exorcism Ronnie: fun for all the family Joe: some girls have all the luck Joe: would not believe how hard it is for a lad to get one 🙄 Joe: [just putting the drinks for 'em on their table, when Charlie probs gonna flirt with you like oh hey] Ronnie: your girlfriend will let you hold her hand for her 1st Ronnie: stop sticking it in your cello & youll knock her up in no time Ronnie: [just staring at the drink like you've never seen one before] Joe: come on, she's CoE if I've ever seen it Joe: abortions? sure, but exorcisms ❌ Joe: [tryna just walk off but you know they'd be like who are you hello?! 'cos annoying lmao] Ronnie: not in ireland anymore baby Ronnie: [when you walk off like where the fuck have you got to be my dear] Joe: [at least he's not gonna drop the bomb, just being vague af like oh we met once or whatever goodbye] Joe: you gone yourself? 🛫🍀 Ronnie: on whos 💰 Joe: idk, your pals maybe Joe: but I've fucked off so he can at least top up your drink 'cos its long gone too Ronnie: wanker Ronnie: [comes back and punches charlie love you boy] Joe: [just wait 'til you have your own mindblown with that crazy connection boy] Joe: ✊ Ronnie: [gives him the biggest fuck you look ever like I can't believe you typed that] Joe: [just loling a lil 'scuse him company its not at whatever you said] Ronnie: [comes over, ignoring everyone else obvs, to drink his entire drink and walk off again] Joe: [omg stop flirting you two, everyone like what is going on tbh] Ronnie: [dancing with charlie cos he don't take kindly to being punched but you don't wanna answer his questions either] Joe: [save it for later you nosy hoe] Ronnie: [when you see his poor flatmate going to pee and follow her intimidatingly soz bitch] Joe: [this poor girl is in no way prepared lmao] Ronnie: [thinking she's about to get mugged or murdered] Joe: [when you're 18 and its your first time away from home no doubt this poor girl honestly] Ronnie: you deffo she aint catholic Ronnie: could see her in a penguin house Joe: weren't a question on the flatmate icebreakers Joe: shoulda asked for some segregrated accomodation but thought londoners were meant to be post-religion post-everything so Ronnie: 💔 it aint god its you baby Ronnie: shes no londoner Joe: no, I do know that one Joe: she's from Kent, I think Joe: or Surrey? Ronnie: not holy holier than tho Ronnie: u Ronnie: never gonna please a horse girl mckenna Joe: 😏 Joe: I'll not go there then Ronnie: charlies fucking easy to please Ronnie: youve done the 1 drink minimum & youll avoid the pregnancy scare Joe: I think he's the one that does the pleasing Joe: so I've been assured Ronnie: gets him off dont worry like Joe: I'll sleep easy now, tah Ronnie: lullabies are shit but yeah Joe: 🤞 that ain't his encore either Ronnie: if it aint opening an artery to spray the crowd count me the fuck out Joe: I wouldn't hold your breath Joe: though might be more fun Ronnie: [dramatically holds her breath in his direction like kids do] Joe: [just watching 'cos weird and into it] Ronnie: [lowkey going purple probably because you know she won't stop til she hits the deck] Joe: [just watching 'til the last sec when you obvs gonna catch her] Ronnie: [giving him a look when he does like we have to stop meeting like this but then exposing his tattoo wherever that is cos gotta check that really happened] Joe: [I hope you didn't opt for your booty, lol, probably inner bicep moment or something 'cos not that bitch getting those out at any chance] Ronnie: [just touching it like you're not shamelessly flirting with your brother okay then] Joe: [just looking at her face hardcore 'cos you can pretend you're checking her tat too] Ronnie: [when you come back to yourself and remember you're supposed to hate him for being your brother so you push him away unnecessarily hard and retreat to your corner] Joe: [go off to the bathroom yourself boy] Ronnie: [french exit while he's gone even though it'll make Charlie more annoying] Joe: [have fun Joseph] Joe: you missed the bloodbath Ronnie: made my own Joe: safer bet Joe: on all counts Ronnie: safer for your girlfriend Ronnie: & you Joe: you know she ain't my girlfriend Ronnie: no shit you dont wanna claim that conquest Joe: wrong again Joe: not gonna bang my flatmate who pays the bigger part of the rent 'cos she gets the en-suite Joe: give me some credit Ronnie: shed give you some if you gave it up to her Ronnie: but if youd rather pay rent Joe: there's no way I can keep that going 4 years Ronnie: she aint hacking it Ronnie: you can fucking smell the homesickness Joe: its like, down the road init Joe: ugh Ronnie: & Ronnie: she cant fit her horse in the en suite baby Joe: 😂 Joe: true..I'll make some rich friends to move in when she gallops off into the sunset then Ronnie: theyll not slum it with you for 4 years Joe: but I'm so charming Joe: what's the solution then, sis? Ronnie: sell yourself or kill yourself Joe: 👌 Joe: already with ya Ronnie: yeah dead connected us Ronnie: 🖕 Joe: you're the only one that's allowed to be suicidal? Ronnie: oldest cunt gets dibs Ronnie: aint that how this sibling shit plays Ronnie: whatever you wanna do ive already done it Joe: half the time Joe: but the other half is youngest gets away with it 'cos they're cuter so Ronnie: cause theyre a crybaby Ronnie: yeah you can have that soft lad Joe: 😥 bit of a prerequisite for the suicide Joe: so generous Ronnie: i left you alive so you can do yourself in Ronnie: since youve got such a boner for it Ronnie: generosity begins & ends Joe: You can stop thinking about my boners then Joe: that'll be my attempt at the virtue Ronnie: put em away Joe: you tryna expose me Ronnie: you dont need my help Ronnie: flashers keep more hidden than you Joe: really Joe: don't seem like that's something that would bother you Ronnie: youre that special mckenna Ronnie: every fucking thing you do bothers me Joe: 💘 Joe: check facebook some more, I'll keep my events up to date Joe: can avoid each other easy Ronnie: nah you see me you walk the other way Joe: I got places to be babe Ronnie: yeah a&e Ronnie: if you dont get the fuck outta my face Joe: see, you're well about it Joe: I got it, yeah, we're not family Ronnie: were nothing Ronnie: & if thats what gets you off pay for it like the other cunts do Ronnie: not my 9-5 Joe: I found Soho by myself, don't worry Joe: we're good Ronnie: boss Ronnie: stay there Joe: more expensive than Sophie's horse that Ronnie: train her up to be whatever the fuck you want then Ronnie: 4 years in she could probably kiss with tongue like Joe: you gotta ask yourself why you care Joe: 'cos I know Ronnie: i dont have to ask myself fuck all Joe: deny it then Joe: works for me Ronnie: theres no need to deny theres cunts i wanna talk to less than you Ronnie: or i that i gotta have something to do while i wait Ronnie: 💘 Joe: you're all talk Joe: say no more Ronnie: fuck you Joe: yeah fuck me Ronnie: stick your therapy speak in whatever hole you reckon can take it Ronnie: ill reverse over your head before i submit to this psychology bullshit Joe: not what I'm studying Joe: or doing Ronnie: you reckon if you say im all talk itll get you some action Ronnie: dream on motherfucker Ronnie: i dont look like her that much Joe: bold assumption Ronnie: nah Ronnie: charlies more like a brother than you & ive done everything there is to do to that tosser Joe: bold to assume I'm half as fucked up as you Joe: spent long enough telling me I can't be 'cos I got a ma and now I wanna fuck her, okay Ronnie: wearing it on your sleeve aint you though baby Ronnie: saw your arm & yeah i reckon halfs about right Ronnie: but me at 19 wouldve left you in more pieces than that Joe: you must be proud Ronnie: what the fuck of Joe: your 19 year old self Ronnie: youd have liked me better at 9 Joe: alright but a nonce joke is hardly original Ronnie: neithers wanting to fuck your ma Ronnie: read a book schoolboy Joe: that's you throwing that about Joe: not one I ask the prozzies to act out tah Ronnie: what the fuck else was your lil challenge about then Joe: what was yours? Ronnie: i didnt fire any shots shithead Joe: not true Joe: i got the 🍒 to prove it Ronnie: fuck me youre that cunt Ronnie: 1 sos & i owe you my life yeah Joe: where'd you hear that Joe: what was it, needle not clean or something Ronnie: you dont need to wait for a death that slow Ronnie: fucking do it Joe: why do you do it Ronnie: why do you give a shit what i do Joe: interesting Joe: why do you fuck with your face like that Ronnie: too late to keep it pretty for you Ronnie: should have nancy drewed this shit earlier Joe: you ain't gonna answer Joe: alright Ronnie: cant we both like pain Ronnie: is that your problem Joe: 'course Joe: no monopoly on that shit Joe: its universal, so the books say Ronnie: bullshit do you read fuck all else but sheet music Joe: not no more Joe: but i can read more than scales, like Joe: have to write essays and shit sometimes Ronnie: fucking hell Ronnie: save this riveting shit for your flatmates Joe: she does art Joe: dunno what the lad does, he's out his room less than me Ronnie: horse cocks out of clay like Ronnie: bet shes the professors pet Joe: 🤞 she gets in an ill-advised affair with a pervy prof Ronnie: every other repressed white bitch has done it Joe: my home is safe Joe: hooray Ronnie: til i sleuth your address Joe: then its petrol bombs and dog shit, I know Ronnie: after theres fuck all left to steal Ronnie: 🤡s in films 🔥💸 Joe: and eat six year old's arms Joe: crack on Ronnie: i aint bitten any kids since i was Joe: I'm proud even if you ain't then Ronnie: raise the bar baby Joe: guess the other lad you were with don't technically count no more Joe: actual kids are that annoying Ronnie: kids get to be annoying Joe: lucky ones Joe: the ones that get to be kids Ronnie: no shit Ronnie: youll be born & die a saint Ronnie: such a fucking martyr Joe: when God comes a calling, you can't refuse, obvs Joe: guess that's what she gets for not aborting you, nice bonus for being good Ronnie: yeah Joe: likes a joke as much as the next Joe: gutted for her Ronnie: cant take the scouse sinner out of her however much irish catholic dick shes taken since Ronnie: 💔 Joe: if its only paddys in heaven, I'll lose the invite Ronnie: you better stay in purgatory then Ronnie: dont want you in hell with me Joe: you're just jealous I'll be too busy getting tortured by some other demon Joe: you're alright, anguishing over my wrongs for eternity sounds like a bit of me Joe: I can hack it, more painful than being sodomized with pitchforks or whatever weak shit you're in store for Ronnie: wanna see your cum face even less Ronnie: fucks sake Joe: 😂 Joe: shh, you already know he's got that sick sense of humour Joe: your own clockwork orange moment for eternity now Ronnie: 💘 Joe: you ain't nothing like I thought when I was 🔎🤔 Ronnie: cheers for the romantic cliche you pussy Joe: you're that special Joe: and welcome Ronnie: what did you reckon id be like Joe: like the rest of 'em Joe: complete the cliche Ronnie: fuck off Joe: what, I did Joe: there ain't a bigger compliment, honestly Ronnie: i dont wanna hear your compliments Ronnie: or how big they are Joe: 😏 Joe: you asked Ronnie: cause i cant resist hearing how fucking soft you are Joe: that makes you pretty fucking soft yourself then don't it Ronnie: fuck you Joe: back here, yeah Ronnie: back at get someone else to knock you out Joe: shouldn't be hard Ronnie: depends how hard you are Ronnie: could be a turn on or off Joe: either way, its incentive for them to go harder Joe: can't lose, me Ronnie: enjoy yourself baby Joe: never Joe: if I lose my overwhelming urge to die what have I got Ronnie: new overwhelming urges Joe: won't be that good Ronnie: write it in your diary i didnt ask for your review Joe: you can do that you know Joe: they've all got profiles, like they're a shit local pub or something Ronnie: what a fucking state Joe: won't miss it when I'm in pugatory Ronnie: if i had a shot for every time you cried your eyes out id miss that Joe: you'd miss having a liver Joe: and functioning braincell Ronnie: didnt mean that kind of shot shithead Joe: your aim is for shit, true Ronnie: or that one Joe: ahh Ronnie: you had me at dirty needles 💘 Joe: s'worth being alive for, then? Ronnie: what the fuck waste of a question is that Joe: why? Ronnie: what do you think Joe: reason I'm asking Joe: if its just another slow way to kill yourself then I'm sound but if its more than that then its a potential for the repertoire Ronnie: if it was id have taken a faster way out Joe: its noted Ronnie: why do you wanna die Joe: its not even Joe: I ain't actually sad, soz to burst your 😥 bubble, IOU some shots, whatever Joe: just wanna turn my head off, not have to participate Joe: deal with any of it Joe: but saying you wanna be put in a coma doesn't quite have the same punch Ronnie: underline that note then Joe: yeah? Joe: not like I've never thought about it Joe: think about it a lot, hence the need for a fucking switch Joe: how cliche to look like I'm doing it to spite her though, eh? Ronnie: whatever you take now thats strawberry flavoured childhood bullshit Ronnie: youve found your prescribed dose of working adult medicine Joe: it don't touch it, not worth taking unless you wanna down half a blister at a time and have a decent kip Joe: get me some and I'll pay you 20% for your trouble Ronnie: come over Ronnie: told you im waiting Joe: alright Joe: if I ask for your current location do I give away that I'm not a decent stalker Ronnie: youve fucking shown that card bitch Joe: figured Joe: be obliging then Ronnie: [a location of who the fuck knows where cos we don't need Charlie or Bronson there for this excuse you lads] Joe: [when you need some privacy for your bonding] Ronnie: [when you need some privacy to shoot up your half brother who you ain't even told your other fam about] Joe: [fun and games] Joe: cool Joe: 🤞 i'm there just after the heroin Ronnie: get here before or ill be in no state to keep obliging you Joe: I'm yet to be initiated, my timekeeping skills are 🔥 Ronnie: give a shit about your cv Joe: I'll be there Ronnie: your loss if you aint Ronnie: dont come crying to me Ronnie: i wont hear it for fucking ages Joe: i'm not an idiot Ronnie: it dont matter who or what you are Ronnie: stopped listening after the ill be there Joe: 💘 Ronnie: get it tattooed next yeah Joe: yeah Ronnie: over the real fucker Ronnie: cause you love a cliche Joe: 'course Joe: have to find another dickhead with a gun though Joe: that one did not know his left from his right Ronnie: get what you pay for baby Ronnie: & we didnt Joe: touche Joe: I'll forgo accuracy for that Joe: and the dirty needle, obvs Ronnie: getting to put his hand on my tit will blow the brains he has like Joe: 😏 Ronnie: but if i toss him off thatll get shit back on track Joe: hot Joe: love that you have a plan Ronnie: cute Ronnie: you reckoning im pure chaos Ronnie: not your manic pixie dream skank Joe: ain't planning on being a composer Joe: least not now Joe: don't need to write about you Ronnie: 💔 Joe: make up your mind Ronnie: you aint on my mind mckenna Ronnie: dont get your balls in a twist Joe: do you wanna be on mine or not Ronnie: i know whats on yours Joe: same Joe: makes a change Ronnie: compose a song about your confusion then like Joe: less cliche than a love song Joe: still Ronnie: do it from the pov of the horse Ronnie: be a hit with your flatmate Joe: you just wanna get me stalked Joe: paybacks a bitch, yeah Ronnie: wanna get your habit paid for before you start it Ronnie: throw her a boner Ronnie: whats the fucking drama Joe: i don't fancy her Joe: nor having the convo about where all her moneys going Ronnie: & Ronnie: i dont fancy the cunt with the tattoo gun Ronnie: got fuck all to do with it Joe: & Joe: you're lowering standards, not getting anything up Ronnie: close your eyes & think of gear Ronnie: youll do anything for a horse like that Joe: let me try it first Ronnie: dont need to hear about your trust issues baby Joe: better stop talking now then Ronnie: yeah Ronnie: shut the fuck up Joe: [you know when its like 'removed message' that] Ronnie: 🖕 Joe: what Ronnie: i cant cut your sense of humour out Ronnie: cant live with it Joe: no funny business Joe: just a buttdial Ronnie: charlie aint here but adorable that you 2 homos hit it off Joe: just scousers gotta stick together or did you know him from back home Ronnie: he didnt give you the rundown Ronnie: mustve made him speechless mckenna Joe: too busy trying to work out how I knew you Ronnie: we grew up together Ronnie: & the mime standing next to us Joe: cool Ronnie: nah Ronnie: fucked Joe: I mean that you still know 'em, talk to 'em Ronnie: we aint trying to throw our family away for a new one Joe: like I said, s'cool Ronnie: like i said hes gonna eat that shit up Ronnie: you fawning over his family set up Joe: good to know Joe: not really my type either, call me fussy Ronnie: fucks sake Ronnie: join the god squad now & save yourself the 12 steps Joe: 'cos I don't wanna do a bloke or my horse girl roommate Ronnie: cause you only wanna do your ma Joe: you can't just give me dud options and come to that conclusion Ronnie: we playing fuck marry kill now Joe: not playing nothing with you Joe: cheater Ronnie: crybaby Joe: you'll 😥 when I have to kill your mate Ronnie: you wish Joe: making people cry is your thing Joe: I don't need to fight that claim Ronnie: like you aint been wanting to save me again since the 1st time Ronnie: thats your thing yeah Joe: save you from what? Joe: smack? obviously not Joe: other self-destructive tendencies? try again Ronnie: it obviously dont matter Ronnie: id never seen you & id still never seen a cunt more excited to do a rescue Joe: and I'd never seen you Joe: maybe you'd got all kinds of fucked up 'cos of all the shit I dragged up Joe: basic decency ain't nothing to get excited about Ronnie: i know how to self soothe im a big girl now Joe: didn't need you self-soothing yourself to death on my conscience Ronnie: didnt ask you to give a shit Ronnie: catholic guilts best left at home baby Ronnie: youll never find a place with the cockneys Joe: about myself? Joe: its barely but hanging on by a thread Joe: soz Joe: dead girls fuck you up Ronnie: not your type either then Joe: ultimate type Joe: don't wanna commit right now, tah Ronnie: 🤞 i od & you can finally sort your misery boner out Joe: too giving you Ronnie: im dead i aint giving a shit Joe: put that on the headstone Ronnie: pay for it you write whatever cliche you want Joe: you want a classy picture affair Joe: got it Ronnie: stop getting me Ronnie: it makes me wanna blow my brains out Joe: its obvious you wanna be seen Joe: no spooky sibling connection required Ronnie: fuck off Joe: what's better than ruining a graveyards ambiance for the mourners for the forseeable Ronnie: theres no room in the ground soft lad Joe: they just chuck you in with the old bones Joe: or 'move' them Ronnie: hot Joe: mhmm Joe: plague pit is the way to go Ronnie: fit the horse & the girl Ronnie: how fucking romantic Joe: that's me Ronnie: ill put john in the 💘 for you baby Ronnie: your ma robbed you blind of so many lennon comparisons Joe: still time to be pretentious with soph Joe: fuck off getting out of bed for good Ronnie: smother her with a pillow & fuck her corpse youll be feeling peace & love Joe: 💎🍓💘 Ronnie: playing with emojis & yourself aint getting you here Ronnie: hurry up Joe: can't make you any closer Ronnie: 💔

[marsmaru]

Reached 24K this time around... Gonna have to stahp that bruhs

Comments and kudos feed this tiny gremlin on AO3 :D

Rated M for Memes, CW/TW under the tag, blo/ody v/iolence everywhere

Pairings: semi-one-sided-maybe Tyreen/Reader, semi-one-sided-maybe Troy/Reader

Tagged as The Calypso Twins Thirst

Link to AO3 right here if you get annoyed with the spaces, Tumblr messed it up.

~0~0~0~0~

Let’s Flay: The Plaything Series

Summary: Life in Promethea has always been harsh with its wildlife, friends are difficult to come by, and the inevitable fate of dying at the end of a gun barrel were the realities you faced each day. You tried to make the best of it but everything crumbles down when the Children of the Vault destroy what shred of hope you had for a good life. (Or how the Calypsos became your #1 fans)

~0~

CHAPTER 3: Seek and Destroy

Tensions rise between the Twin Gods. The Calypsos encounter a new enemy while seeking answers about your past.  Some within the cult want to destroy you. Who will survive? The body count rises. And you are caught in the crossfire.

----00000----

CW: Extreme physical violence/punishment, mentions of enslavement, torture

TW: Mentions of death, anxiety/panic attacks

 ----0000---

 EchoNet Forum: WeHeartCalypsos

Current Mood: Step on me, Tyreen!

 “Did you guys see the mark on the God Queen’s plaything?”           “Trippy!”

             “Has anyone seen that mark before?”           “Mechanic, we (heart emoji) you!”

 “Yeah, I think that confirms the Illuminati!”  “That’s so 2000, get with the program man!”

                         “The old man had it too!”                   “I bet its some secret society!”

 “That neck twist tho”              “I wonder how the old man and the mechanic know each other”

 [Unknown Username has joined the forum]

 Unknown Username: :)

 Unknown Username: :) cAlYpSos

 Unknown Username: :) U have sumethin that bel0ngs to me.

 Unknown Username: :) The (crown emoji) sha11 return to us

 [Deleted User]: wAtcH ur backs ;)

 [Deleted User has sent an image]

 [Deleted User]:  ;)

 [Image shows bodies hanging across the ceiling in a triangular formation, light fixtures embedded in their flesh, red light flooding the room of the picture]

 “What the fuck!”         “Is this shit real?!”                  “I think so!”     “Holy shit!”

             “They are still posting!”          “But they are showing up as a deleted account!”

 “This has to be a joke…”         “Quick, someone get an admin!”       “OMG!!!”

 [Deleted User]: :D Tell her I miss her :3

 [Deleted User has sent an image]

 [Image shows a blurry photo of you laughing, holding out your hand to cover your face from the person taking the photo. Its visible you are wearing a white shirt, your hair being shoulder length. The background has an overexposed triangle shape mark. It was of blue color.]

 [Deleted User]: Everyone misses you… :3c

 ---00000----

 Being the plaything of the Twin Gods, or more specifically Tyreen, came with perks, but also downsides. Extreme downsides. You weren’t sure if the downsides were fully negative. You needed to vent out, let out the pent-up aggression that you couldn’t inflict on the Calypsos. The meat bags that came along provided the opportunity. Today was no different: Beating to a bloody pulp your would-be attackers in the middle of main square of the CoV hub.

 During rush hour. For all to see.

 You held a lead pipe in your hand, covered in splashes of blood and guts, and a bottle of rakk-ale in the other hand. Tolerating the Calypsos was one thing, but putting up with the stupidity of their followers was another. The poor fools decided to mess with you while on a break from work, barging into the bar you were in and dragging you out to have “fun.” A broken water pipe and three men dead on the street later, you sent the message you were not someone to trifle with. Or that you want a better challenge.

 Chugging down the rakk-ale, you smashed the bottle on the ground, ignoring the looks of horror and awe some onlookers, walking back inside the bar. Laughter roared immediately, your fellow mechanics hollering and whistling at the sight of your bloody self. Some of them exchanged money, others clunk their bottles in celebration. You slumped at the bar.

 “See, told you she could handle herself. Fucking cunts are no match for someone who faced a Goliath!” one of them cheered, laughing more.

 “Did you hear them begging for mercy? That’ll teach them!” another added, smashing the bottle on the ground, hollering.

 “Hey, hey, I need those bottles back you fucking assholes!” the bartender spat out, cleaning the bar. He glanced at you, putting out another bottle of rakk-ale, “Piss luck you got, but by the graces of the Twin Gods you are still alive.”

 You chugged the bottle, demanding another one. The bartender complied. Life outside the bar continued, the bodies left to rot in the hot sun. Although you were able to handle yourself against three men, you were bruised up from the recent visit of Tyreen, who got too rough during a massage session. Her face was present on your attackers’.

 One by one, the mechanics left the bar, the last one smacking you on the back to usher you to leave with him. You tossed a few coins to the bartender, following your “friend.” Both of you walked in silence while heading to the shop.

 “You stink.” Mood killer.

 “No shit,” you replied, “Busted an intestine, guy shat his pants, Perseus.”

 Perseus, laughed, “That, and you are still covered in guts. They are what, the sixth group to come after you?” You were warming up to him. After your late night encounter with the mechanic, he declared you his ‘friend’ after exchanging names. He may not be an ‘idiot’ but he was an odd one. You didn’t mind for once.

 “I don’t think they are the last ones,” you replied, putting your hands in your jacket’s pockets. The same black leather jacket with flame embroidery given to you by the Calypsos, covered in blood again after being washed numerous times. The first group to try to get a “taste” of you was during a three-day absence of the Calypsos from the hub. You were working in the shop late at night on one of Troy’s bandit technicals when they paid a visit.

 Believing them to be rude customers, you shooed them off, getting angry that they disturbed you while working. They proceeded to trash the place. You proceeded to trash their faces onto the bandit technical. Troy was not happy. Not about his bandit technical getting smashed, but the fact you spilled blood on it without him. Though, he complimented that the blood splatter went well with the spray-painted blue flames. Tyreen was disappointed she wasn’t able to record it.

 Perhaps they would like to reenact it with them as the actors. You could only hope.

 After that first incident, you were attacked on your way home, to the church, to the supply shop, all of them ending with a large body count and your bruised fists. You’d figure your arena fights would deter them, heck even the bloody fight with Cepheus got people spooked. Perseus said that encouraged some of them more, just for a chance to be the plaything of the Twin Gods.

 “Those shits can go ahead and be the Calypsos’ plaything for all I care,” you muttered.

 “Well, that’s difficult considering they currently favor you… Though…” Perseus trailed off. You side glanced him.

 “I did tell you the Twin Gods’ playthings end up dead, right?” Perseus continued, receiving a nod from you.

 “Yeah, and like I said, I will perish in the arena, I rather die on my terms than theirs,” you answered, tugging at your shirt to cover the CoV mark. Perseus rubbed his head, sighing.

 “The playthings before you were hardcore, brutish bandits. I mean, hardcore,” Perseus said, earning a glare from you, “Not that I’m saying you’re not brutish, or hardcore. Ugh, you know what I mean!”

 You rolled your eyes, both of you stepping into the garage. The other mechanics resumed their work, one of them pointing outside the alley. You sighed. Waving off to Perseus, you headed to the alley, seeing Jackal waiting. He bowed when you approached, taking notice of your bloody state, sighing.

 He held his hand out, watching as you removed your jacket, giving it to him. “Any more washes, and the jacket will be rendered useless,” he pleaded.

 “Tell that to the shitheads coming after me,” you muttered, crossing your arms, “You got something for me? I have a lot of service work to do.”

 “Just the usual note as always,” he said, handing over the letter.

 “Ugh, another Troy note?” you opened it, groaning while reading the contents. He was getting bolder with his explicit descriptions.

 “That bad, huh?” Jackal mused.

 “Yeah,” you promptly discarded it.

 ----00000----

 The boy shook as he glanced at the various medical instruments laying on a tray, glaring menacingly back at him. Several fluids were being administered, cords of different colors hooked up to the right side of his body, keeping the boy alive. The cold, sterile bed he was on burned his skin. With his blue eyes, he tried looking around for any signs of life, his gaze falling on a figure working on a computer.

 “M-Mister…?” the boy said, frightened, “I want my mummy and big sis…” He was holding back tears, hiccupping. The man waved off at him, “Just hold on, almost done here.” The boy heard the man rant about some schematics, foreign terms to the little one. Timid, the boy patted the area where his right arm was missing, taking deep breaths.

 He let out a tiny sob.

 “We haven’t started and you’re already crying?” the man asked, approaching the table. He has wearing a black lab coat over a brown jumpsuit. His deep red eyes bore into the boy’s soul. The boy never liked the color red too much, reminding him of the captors that had him, his mother, and big sister. At least the man’s hair was black as his, all over the place.

 The man grinned, ruffling the boy’s hair.

 “Don’t worry, Troy. We’re gonna get you back up and running soon, just bear with me a little, okay?” the man said, side glancing the viewing window behind him, next to the computers he was working on.

 Troy nodded, sniffing, watching as the man brought over a mask to place over his nose and mouth. Slowly, he drifted off to a deep sleep, in time to avoid hearing the whirring of a medical saw and incisions being performed on his tiny, weak body.

 The man worked diligently, careful, making cuts, measurements, and checking the monitor for the boy’s condition. Troy was doing well. He kept glancing at the viewing window, somewhat nervous, somewhat irritated. From the other side of the window, military jarheads watched, the Atlas crest shown in the background.

 After making few alterations and testing out some connections on the boy’s new body modifications, the man flashed a thumbs up at the viewing mirror. A scowl was on his face.

 “Excellent work,” a voice rang in the intercom, “Leave details of the modification to our medical staff, you are to be with the child until he is returned to his quarters.”

 “Yeah, yeah…” the man muttered, growling. He looked at Troy, narrowing his eyes. If he wanted to, he could have killed the boy, sparing Troy a life of misery, but the boy’s mother pleaded for the man to save her son. His train of thought was interrupted by the entrance of Atlas medical staff, removing and cleaning up the operation room, moving Troy to another bed. One of the staff approached the man, nudging him to follow them.

“No need to push! I can walk fine!” he hissed out, smacking the medical staff’s hand away. The man followed along with the others, chiding and getting after the staff when they were roughly handling the bed Troy was in. They paid no attention to him.

 Through several hallways, they reached a red barrier wall, a staff inputting a code, the barrier coming down. They pushed the medical bed in, alerting a woman and a small child in the room about their presence.

 “T-Troy!” the woman cried out, rushing over, sobbing. The other small child ran over, crying.

 The Atlas medical staff moved away, standing by the door. The man watched the woman and child cry over the boy.

 “He will be fine, Leto. I made modifications to his nervous system and muscle attachments, he will be able to use that arm I gave him,” the man replied, voice strained. Leto looked up, eyes teary, sniffing.

 “Thank you…” she whispered, hugging the small child clinging to her, “Look Tyreen, your brother will be able to play with you…”

 Tyreen was sobbing, holding Troy’s tiny hand in hers, nodded. Leto placed her on the medical bed, the little girl gently hugging her brother who was sound asleep. As Tyreen leaned forward, the man caught a glimpse of small, vibrant blue dots on her neck.

 The telltale signs of a Siren.

 The man closed his eyes, sighing in frustration. Atlas had two Sirens under their control. He didn’t say much to Leto and Tyreen, only giving them a curt nod before departing, heading towards the medical staff.

 “W-Wait!” Leto called out, rushing over but stopped by the medical staff, “H-How can I repay you!”

 The man didn’t turn around, “Stay close to the kids.” And out he went.

 ----0000------

 Troy rubbed his face, tired, exhausted. He looked at his mechanical arm, some parts were off place as he tried to work on it. With the ongoing raids, he hadn’t had much time to conduct maintenance on his arm and it was taking a toll on his body. Plus, his ‘service’ mechanic was dead. He growled, throwing a wrench to the side, unable to concentrate.

 He slouched as far as he could in his seat, keeping notice about his wonky arm. Troy cursed at his past self for wanting such an extravagant arm for the sake of holding a blade. Those were odd times for him. He eyed where his wrench went, his gaze falling on the photo he found on Cepheus that had you with the old man, Cassie, and the unknown man. It was neatly placed on his main work bench alongside the other photos he and Basil found, taunting him. The more he looked at the photo, the more the man reminded him of someone, especially with the stupid grin he had.

 Troy reached out to grab them, staring. With one hand, he looked through all of them, gently tapping the ones that had you smiling, laughing. He bared witness to at least a laugh. One of the photos that caught his attention was of you sitting on the edge of a cliff, looking out at the horizon. He recognized that area being near the Viper bandit camp. It brought back the memory of his ‘date’ with you not too long ago, where you verbally threatened to throw yourself off. In the photo, you were smiling. With him, your face was blank, empty.    

 He stared at the photo for a while, wondering what had happened between you and Cepheus. After the arena fight, you shut down, refusing to answer any questions to the point he had to stop Tyreen from extremely punishing you when she got irritated. It was obvious that the history you and Cepheus shared was close since you harbored deep hatred for the old man.

 /Okay?! You call this being okay!? I FUCKING HATE YOU!/

 Then there was the mark displayed by the two of you. The upside-down triangle etched on your skins. Footage from the fight was carefully sifted through for any other clues, but nothing materialized. The only source available was you and you didn’t budge.

 “Troy?”

 Troy shuffled out his EchoNet device from his pocket, “What’s up Ty?”

 “We’ll be meeting in the Surveillance Room tonight, so free up your schedule,” Tyreen informed, she sounded exhausted. Dealing with you had put a strain on her.

 “About that… I’m still working on my arm,” Troy sheepishly replied, gazing at the mess he had on his workbench.

  He heard Tyreen sigh on the other side, “Have one of the mechanics finish it up… Actually, why don’t you go with my plaything? Take the opportunity to see if she spills anything… She’s still mad at me.” Figures.

 Troy rolled his eyes, “How convenient, I’ll try but I don’t promise anything.” Tyreen chuckled, “Alright.” And with that the feed cut off.  He looked down at the photos, pondering if he should take them. Shaking his head, he set them aside.

 Perhaps some other time. He stashed them in a drawer under his main work bench.

 Grabbing and quickly fixing what he could on his arm, Troy ventured out of his private shop, shutting the door behind him. The sun was slowly setting down, washing over the hub with a red film. The tall Calypso licked his lips, the red reminding him of blood and guts. As he paced forward towards the warehouse, he stopped in his tracks, grinning. He sniffed the air, relishing the scent of fresh blood hitting his nostrils.

 “Father Troy…” the sweet alluring voice beckoned him.

 “Helen… fancy meeting you here,” Troy purred out, turning to face the priestess, “Come here often?” Helen smirked, opening her robe from the front, a fresh cut present between her breasts, blood oozing out. Troy inhaled, eyeing the cut.

 “Only for you,” she whispered, biting her lip.

 A small detour wouldn’t hurt, Troy thought.

 -----0000000------

 Perhaps you could jam it, sabotage the exhaust, make it overheat. The coolant could stop working, causing the metal rod to increase friction, making sparks, and then maybe…

 “Hey, don’t zone out on me while you are working on my arm.”

 You bit your lip, in thought. You stuck your screwdriver into a gear, wiggling it. He can’t catch on fire. Yet.

“Ow!”

 Troy feigned being hurt, laughing as you gave him a bored look. He was laying on your work bench, using a vehicle tire as a pillow, his mechanical arm sprawled in parts on another work bench placed adjacent. You resumed your work, fiddling with some screws, pulling wires. The taller Calypso hummed a little tune. It was the two of you in the shop late at night.

 Normally he’d visit in the mornings to pester you, but tonight, he showed up while you were about to leave after closing shop, requesting a one-to-one service tune-up on his arm after it was giving him issues handling his large blade. His former mechanic dead somewhere in the wastes in a recent raid, he said.

 As much as you disliked the Calypsos, they did have better access to machinery and parts for bandits. Marveling on the work of Troy’s arm when inspecting it, you complied in servicing it. From what you could observe, his arm wasn’t placed on the shoulder socket, but dug deep into his chest from the metal plates you came across. The metal collars around his neck served as a weight to balance him while he walked. It must’ve have taken a long time for Troy to get used to and manage the extra weight.  

 A brief recollection of your fight against him was enough to gain a bit of admiration for Troy. Tiny bit.

 “Clench your fist,” you ordered.

 Troy did as told, grunting. There was brief clicking and pulling of wires when he attempted again. He shook his head, “Its stuck.”

 You nodded, taking out a small wire clipper, a bottle of acid, and a soldering iron, “Looks like the previous mechanic didn’t adjust the lengths of the wire holding on the mechanisms connected to your fingers.”

 “I tried telling the bastard to clip them, I overwork my arm and the heat of it causes the wire to melt and get stuck in the edges of the compartment,” Troy added, slamming his other hand on the work bench in anger, “Then the coolant is unable to release, and jams the gears, causing my shoulder to lock.”

 You unscrewed the main compartment of his arm, five thick wires strung from top to bottom, hooked on to small pistons. Just as he informed you, the ends of the wires were melted, causing the hooks to glue to the other pieces, preventing movement. You absentmindedly tapped him on his chest to get his attention, causing him to jump. From your peripheral vision, Troy licked his lips.

 “Move your fingers.”

 He attempted again, the wires barely moving, the clicking coming from the hooks trying to unstuck themselves. You busied yourself clipping the wires, squirting a bit of acid to remove the melted pieces of the wires, scrapping. Troy watched you in silence, mesmerized. You were engrossed in the work, the sounds of clipping, the soldering iron contacting metal. He shuddered when you plucked at the strings like an instrument, watching as his mechanical fingers moved on their own.

 “Got something?” Troy asked.

 “I will have to replace the hooks, they are too worn out and the original material isn’t heat resistant, that’s why its causing those jams,” you answered. Troy was aware this was probably the most you’ve spoken to him that wasn’t a threat. You scurried off to the scrap pile, rummaging. Troy could hear you muttering about Hyperion and Jakobs parts, throwing pieces all over the place in attempt to look for them.

 “Where did I see it, I know I saw that short dude working off one…” you mumbled, tapping your chin, getting more grease on your face. Troy tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. Your body language was different than normal. Whenever he was around, you’d shrink as if waiting for him to do a move against you. With Tyreen around, you were more agitated, tense, shoulders and arms drawn in.  

 Right now, you were relaxed.

 Troy drummed his fingers on the work bench, in deep thought. He was tempted to say something, but was afraid of upsetting you. Whatever it was, it was stuck in his throat. Noise of clutter being thrown around and tools being placed near alerted him of your presence again.

 “Got a small piece I can use temporarily. You can’t use your arm extensively until I’m able to sculpture out the parts,” you informed, using metal scissors to cut out delicate hooks, “That means no swinging your blade around or punching things unless you want that arm to collapse.”

 You lightly tapped his metal shoulder-chest plate with the scissors, “The weight will be too much and you, too, will collapse, a lot pressure for the plates. Plus, your connectors on the back won’t be able to handle the strain.”

 Troy was baffled with the information overload, nodding, “Oh… How long for the parts...?”

 “That depends if I can get some processed parts, preferably Atlas, from the next shipment of scrap. Last pieces were used for the new model guns, trying to cut back on the overheat issue,” you informed, working on adding the new hooks into his arm, clipping and soldering the wires.

 Troy was quiet as you kept working. He had expected for you to hiss, growl, or sneer at him throughout his stay in the warehouse since you were still upset with him and Tyreen. Or point your dagger at his crotch.

 He wondered if you were normally like this with the other mechanics when getting into the zone, chattering about the works of machines, parts, and tools. His eyes in the cult would report you hanging out with the mechanics in the bar, playing pool and darts, and the occasional bar brawl. Did you laugh in good company? You only laughed once or twice, ending up biting your own hand to suppress them, a scowl replacing your features when around him and Tyreen. Got worse after the fight against Cepheus, your mood souring whenever he or Tyreen would bring it up. The twins wanted answers, but you refused to give any.

 He tuned back in on you. You kept talking, informing him of what to expect with the temporary part, what not to do, what he could do and tips on how to avoid his shoulder mechanism locking up if he wasn’t near a mechanic. He absorbed it all. He could feel your excitement, not bloodlust or hatred. Genuine care for your trade.

 Troy was slowly seeing a different side of you.

 “Did you get all that, or do I need to repeat myself?” you asked, concern in your tone. Your face was covered in grease, your hair disheveled, your hands bruised and worn from the mechanical work. No blood, no guts, no anger. Troy shook his head.

 This was a side he was startling to like and wanted to see more.  He hoped.

 ----00000-----

 After shooing Troy off from the warehouse, you made your way back to the hut. The late-night life at the CoV hub was more chaotic than during the day. Bar fights were more common, at times you’d see your fellow mechanics getting kicked out or they kicking someone out to beat up on the street. With your popularity and recent attacks, you avoided the main streets, opting to go through the backways or jumping off roofs.

 As you made your way through the narrow paths behind several shops, a sense of paranoia set in. Stopping, you glanced backwards, finding no one. You gently tapped your wrist, making sure the dagger was ready to deploy. You moved a few feet before a bang from behind a shop made you jump, quickly turning around with your arms up to defend yourself.

 At the intersection of one of the streets, Helen stood in semi-revealing black clothing, a crimson robe wrapped around her, the front open. Her CoV mark was visible between her breasts, some dark spots adorned her skin, a cut was evident. The poor lighting made it difficult to see her face, especially with her hair on the way. You stared at her, narrowing your eyes. She remained in her spot before hurrying off in the opposite direction.

 “Huh..” That was a first. Normally she’d try to threaten or hiss at you.

 Shrugging, you resumed your walk, unable to shake her odd appearance out of your mind.  

 Arriving at your hut, you noticed the door slightly open. Flicking your wrist, you kept your dagger in hand. You’ve been attacked today once, perhaps another one was coming up. Kicking the door, you entered cautiously, scanning the living room and kitchen. Nothing seemed out of place. Your clothes were still strewn on the couch, dishes in the sink, and the small coffee table remained in place.

 You pushed open your bedroom door, gulping.

 On the walls, words of “DROP DEAD” were scribbled in red with dozens of CoV marks around it. In the middle of your bedroom laid the ripped, shredded remains of your black flame-embroidered leather jacket. The same one you had given Jackal to clean.

 “Well then…” you muttered, kneeling to pick up at the pieces. The strong smell of gasoline was evident in the garments, some of it bearing burn marks. You sighed in frustration. Now you wished you were attacked, at least you’d be able to see and maim you attackers.

 Kicking at the pile, you checked your dresser and bed for any other surprises. Nothing. Whoever left this behind clearly had access to your hut without breaking down the door. As for the jacket, well, Jackal was the last person with it. He enjoyed setting psychos on fire during the sermons, but he didn’t seem the type to go crazy on you, especially since he was the middle man of the Calypsos.

 Pushing those thoughts aside, you grabbed a new change of clothes, intent in calling it a night. Exhaustion taking over.

 ------00000------

 Troy entered the surveillance room, grinning as he patted his mechanical arm. Donovan and Basil were busy chatting at the console, Tyreen was checking several monitors. The white-haired Calypso noticed her brother’s arrival.

 “You’re extremely late. Did you get anything?” Tyreen asked, crossing her arms. Basil and Donovan tuned in on their conversation. Troy shook his head, looking away.

 “I kinda got distracted….” Troy covered his chest with his jacket, in vain, some bite marks visible, “Wasn’t able to ask the mechanic anything while she tuned up my arm.”

 Donovan and Basil snickered, looking away when Tyreen shot them a disapproving glare. She rubbed her face in frustration.

 “I swear, you need to stop letting your dick do the thinking every time Helen is around!” Tyreen stomped her foot, growling, “My plaything won’t tell me anything! I figured with you, she’d at least spill something!”

 “That’s cause your irritable and lash out at her…” Troy muttered, avoiding Tyreen’s glare, “Maybe if you ask NICELY….”

 “All of a sudden you are an expert in these things? You can’t even keep Helen in line,” Tyreen countered, irritated, “Don’t tell me how to handle my plaything.”

 “Don’t change the fucking subject,” Troy spat out, getting angry, “You keep antagonizing her, too.”

 “Me? Now you’re going to blame me for the others as well?” Tyreen continued.

 “Oh, don’t get me started…” Troy trailed off, anger still present in his voice.

 Donovan coughed, both Calypsos looking at him, “Sorry to interrupt, but you want to see this…”

 “We received this from the forums in the EchoNet,” Basil brought up the image for all to see. It showed the transcript of a chat that were talking about the mark displayed by you and Cepheus, the Calypsos’ followers brainstorming and theorizing the origins of it. Further down, an ‘unknown user’ showed up, disrupting the forum.

 “What the hell?” Troy approached the console, scrolling through the feed, “How were they able to post shit if they were new to the system?”

 Tyreen stared at the feed, watching as the “unknown user’ posted about her being in possession of something belonging to them: You.

 ‘:D Tell her I miss her :3’

 “This has to be a troll, no?” Troy asked Basil, the large man shrugging.

 “I’m not sure… Whoever it is sent these two photos…” Basil brought up the images of the hanging bodies and the blurred photo that showed you laughing. Troy stared at the second one.

 “Anybody around here can have hanging bodies, as for the second one, could be doctored,” Donovan informed, looking at Tyreen.

 “She’s been shot at every angle with our surveyors…” Tyreen trailed off, glancing at Troy, “Troy…?”

 “I don’t think its fake…” Troy didn’t break eye contact with the photo. He had seen you laugh.

 “What? Are you sure?” Tyreen seemed surprised. Troy pointed at the photo, making a gesture at your lips.

 “When she laughs, her lips curl in a grin, almost cat-like. You can see it there,” Troy enlarged the image slightly, showcasing what he was talking about. Donovan and Basil followed his explanation, Tyreen staring with a blank expression at Troy.

 “She laughs,” Tyreen stated, flat, “She laughs with you around.” Her arms rested at her side, her fists clenching and unclenching.

 “Ty, don’t start…” Troy turned to face her. Tyreen had a look of betrayal, narrowing her eyes at him.

 “What? Don’t start what?” Tyreen hissed out, irritated, “Just how my brother knows what my plaything looks like while laughing?”

 “Hey.. come on you two…” Basil interjected, standing in between them, “We’re here to figure out this mess, not throw fists at each other…”

 “This is why I hate playthings…” Donovan muttered, sighing. Basil mouthed at him to shut up.

 “It’s late, I’m just going to back to our living quarters,” Troy said, voice low, shaking his head while shoving past Tyreen. His sister huffed, growling.

 “Tyreen, you should go get some rest…” Donovan turned off the console, “We’ve had a long day, we’ll visit this with a clearer mind.” Tyreen nodded, hugging herself. She wasn’t sure what got her riled up.

 Jealousy? You were only a plaything.

 Then why did it bother her that Troy had seen you laugh when all she got was silent glares and hissing? Previous playthings enjoyed her attention towards them.

 You despised hers. You constantly DENIED her.

 It felt as if you viewed everything with her as a chore. A hassle. She hadn’t paid much attention to it when you were first captured, but after several months, it was evident you kept the same behavior towards her.

 Tyreen fixed her jacket, sighing, “We’ll visit this later, you two head out as well.” Donovan and Basil bowed, then watched as Tyreen left the surveillance room. The tension in the room dissipating.

 -------0000000------

 The cool air of the night was welcomed by your body, the warehouse being stuffy from the constant heat of the machinery. You were curled up against the wall, forehead touching the cool surface. Sleeping was difficult to come by at times, old nightmares resurfacing after the fight with Cepheus.

 Fortunately, you were able to sleep a few hours, managing to stay awake for a good portion of the day albeit keeping in mind the horrible consequence of falling asleep while working at the warehouse. At least you had Perseus to keep an eye on you for that matter.

 Trying to get some sleep, your eyes shot open when you heard the door to your hut open and close, small footsteps reaching your bedroom door. Gulping, you remained still as the bedroom door creaked. You hoped the moonlight wouldn’t give away your wide-awake position. A soft blue glow filled the room, causing you to immediately sit up, your back hitting the wall as you hissed, snarled.

 Tyreen stood standing in the middle of your bedroom, her Siren tattoos glowing in the dark, staring at you. The glow casted an eerie shadow on her face. You could swear her eyes were glowing as well.

 “How come my brother gets to hear you laugh?” Tyreen asked, not moving. You blinked, caught off guard.

 “What…?”

 “How come my brother gets to hear you laugh?” she asked again, inching closer to you.

 You moved further down the bed, trapping yourself against the wall. She reached out with her Siren hand, you tried to pull away, snarling. With the back of her hand, she touched your cheek, then brushing your hair out of your face. Fear was evident in your eyes, causing her to frown.

 “How come my brother gets to hear you laugh,” she repeated again, flat. Your breathing got heavier as she tugged at your hair. You kept eyeing her Siren tattoos. Tyreen’s hands wrapped around your neck, slightly squeezing it.

 “I can kill you right here. Leave your body to rot in this hut,” Tyreen threatened, narrowing her eyes.

 “…Go ahead…” you spat out, grinning, “I have people waiting for me in hell…”

 Tyreen froze, eyes slightly wide.

 /When she laughs, her lips curl in a grin, almost cat-like./

 You stared her with a confused look as her grip on your neck loosened. She let go, stepping back. Coughing, you rubbed your neck, trying to catch your breath. You glared at her, but blinked as she seemed ecstatic about something.

 “You.. You grinned…” Tyreen stated, smiling, “You grinned at me…”

 “The fuck are you talking about…?!” You muttered, glaring again.

 “Troy was right, your lips do curl in a grin, cat-like!” Tyreen eagerly replied, looking at you with amazement.

 Your face got red. Cat-like? Troy said that?

 You yelped as Tyreen pounced on you, struggling to get away from her as she gave you kisses on the cheek and lips.

 “G-Get off me!” you hissed out, feeling her getting a bit too grabby. Tyreen buried her face on your neck, nipping. She kept a tight grip on you. You were exhausted, irritated, having dealt with a Calypso late at night and another one crashing at your place.

 Growling, you tried to push her off, “You have your own place, go away!”

 You felt Tyreen shake her head, “No, I’m staying the night here.”

 “This is my hut!”

 “This is my stronghold!”

 “….”

 “I win...”

 ------0000000-------

 Sleep won over you soon, Tyreen laying on her back with you on her side, resting your head on her chest. You managed to convince her to use some of your extra clothes as pajamas to drop off the gaudy military outfit she had. She was tempted to initiate something while changing clothes, but a quick growl and hiss from you quelled it. At least you were willing to share your bed with her.

 Tyreen stared at the figures casted on you by the moonlight through the tattered curtains. Your breathing had evened out, letting her know you were out like a light. She still had excitement in her, a small victory to seeing you grin. At least she had something, she thought. Having lost herself in it, Tyreen barely caught on the graffiti in your room.

 “DROP DEAD”

 She narrowed her eyes, then at the discarded, shredded pile kicked off by the dresser.

 It was the jacket she and Troy had gifted you for your debut fight. She glanced at you, wondering if you had done that. Even after the fights, you still wore the jacket. Perhaps the fight with Cepheus was the breaking point?

 “DROP DEAD”

 No, she had seen the feed from your fight with the three assailants earlier in the day, you still had the jacket on. It disappeared after you left the warehouse late at night after finishing servicing Troy’s arm. The only other person who would come in contact with you regarding the jacket was Jackal.

 Jackal.

 He had been in charge of getting it cleaned up after it would get bloody for your fights.

 Tyreen silently cursed, growling. You fidgeted in your sleep, snuggling closer to her. She gently patted your cheek, hearing a content sigh from you.

 Someone’s head was about to roll.

 ----0000------

 Tap, tap, tap.

 You moved around in your bed, using your pillow to muffle the sound.

 Tap, tap, tap. Clank!

 “Fuck…!”

 Annoyed, you looked around in the hut, your other bunk bed buddies fast asleep. Sighing, you got up, wrapping the blanket around your tiny form, walking to the adjacent room. A young man sat on a flimsy metal chair, hunched over a workbench, nursing an injured finger. In front of him laid different parts of a bot, guns, and shields. He was wearing a brown mechanic jumpsuit, the sleeves ripped off. His unruly black hair kept out of the way by a bandana, his tanned skin covered in grease and thick scars.

 Upon noticing your presence, he turned around, his red eyes full of concern, a frown adorning his lips.

 “Woke you up?” he asked, quiet.

 You nodded, yawning, “Hepha, you said you weren’t going to pull all-nighters after what happened last time, almost blowing up the entire camp… Cepheus was mad that time…” The man chuckled, sheepishly scratching his nose.

 “He’s an old fart, but he wants shit done, so I have to finish this before his client comes to pick it up soon,” Hepha patted the parts, grinning, “Come help me out so I finish faster.”

 You raised an eyebrow, teasing, “Whatever happened to the illustrious engineer Hephaestus and needing no help from his baby sister to get shit done?”

 Hephaestus placed a hand on his chest, gasping, mock offended, “Its not help, its called collaborative work! So rude, who taught you those ugly words and manners?”

 You laughed, pointing at him, “You, dummy!” You approached him, receiving a rough pat on the head by him. Hephaestus brought you in for a hug, squeezing you slightly. You returned it, feeling safe in his arms.

 “We only have to deal with this for a bit longer, okay?” Hephaestus kissed the top of your head, “And we will leave this damn planet.” You nodded, sighing. Waiting seemed to be an eternity.

 ----000000------

 You stared at the gun parts laying on the workbench in the warehouse, lost in thought. The dream from last night felt so real, vivid, feeling your brother’s tight hug of comfort and safety. The moment you woke up, you were met with Tyreen’s icy blue eyes, a smirk plastered on her face, her arms wrapped around you. It took a lot from you not to kick her off the bed after realizing you were the one hugging her as if your life depended on it.

 She seemed content with the position, teasing you that she would have left earlier if you weren’t gripping too tight on her. This only angered you, but you tried not to show it. Fortunately, you and her parted ways early in the morning, no further incident. A first for both of you.

 “Hey, man, you okay?”

 You blinked, looking up at Perseus. The mechanic gestured at the gun parts, “You have been staring at those things for the past hour, they are not going to be magically put together. The Twin Gods will be having another raid soon, we need to finish.” He didn’t sound upset, only slightly agitated. Everyone was on edge for this next raid. The Calypsos had been very secretive about it.

 “Uh…yeah… sorry about that…” you muttered, nervous, resuming your work.

 “You need to take a break from work when they go off on the raid, you’ve been all over the place after that fight with.. you know who… Take it easy, okay?” Perseus said, worry in his tone. Before you could respond, he patted your head, brushing some hair off your face then walked back to his work bench, missing the small yelp you let out and a small blush on your cheeks.

 You touched your head, feeling the ghost touch of Perseus’ gentle touch. Shaking your head, you tried to squash the little monster in the back of your head that was laughing.

 ----00000----

 The Altas medical staff were furiously writing, typing at their computers with the current observations transpiring before them. Tyreen was waving her finger around, watching as small little red orbs appeared and vanished. Troy looked on in amazement as their mother, Leto, watched in slight horror. The man that had operated on Troy remained behind the staff, observing.

 ‘A Siren from the wastes, how pitiful,’ he thought as he approached the door leading into the family’s quarters, “Going in, I need to service the brat’s arm.”

 “We are not done yet,” one of the staff informed.

 “The white-haired brat is only compliant with her brother alive, you want that to stop?” he spat out, growling. He had learned from Leto that Troy and Tyreen were fraternal twins. When Atlas captured them, they wanted to get rid of Troy as he was weak, sick. The moment a Crimson Lance soldier was about to shoot him, Tyreen manifested her powers, killing the soldier. Whatever she did, Troy was healthy once again for a short period.

 The boy depended on his sister for survival. The girl depended on her brother to survive Atlas.

 The medical staff buzzed him in, the barrier keeping the family in coming down. This spooked them, Tyreen and Troy huddling with their mother. When the twins saw it was the man, they relaxed, running towards him.

 “Mister, mister!” they shouted, clinging to his legs, “You’re back!”

 The man patted them on the head, giving them a slight smile, “Yep, came to check up on Troy’s arm, come on.” He gently picked up Troy, Tyreen hanging from the man’s arm, giggling. He set them both on the medical bed, Leto giving him a nod of acknowledgment.

 Troy sat on the bed, extending his arm out, knowing this routine. Tyreen remained by his side, watching. The man opened small compartments on Troy’s arm, inspecting wires and gears, poking and prodding with his instruments from a small tool box he had set next to Troy. The boy gazed curiously at them.

 “Wow, that’s a lot… you use them all?” Troy asked, shyly. The man chuckled, still working, “Yep, every single of them plays a part in my work. The bigger tools I have were used to create your arm and connectors.”

 Tyreen glanced at the back of Troy’s head, “That wire thingy?” The white-haired Calypso was about to touch it but received a firm scolding from Leto.

 The man snorted, “Yeah, don’t go touching that. Your brother is still healing in that area.”

 “But it doesn’t hurt,” Troy stated, reaching towards the back, “Big sis healed it…”

 The man raised an eyebrow, screwdriver tilted in his hand. Leto grimaced, slightly nodding.

 “The pain medication wore off… Tyreen healed him…” Leto whispered, eyeing the viewing window from a far.

 Tyreen grinned, squeezing her brother’s arm. The man frowned slightly, realizing now why Atlas brought him in for the boy’s operation.

 With Troy alive, Tyreen would be able to manifest more her powers.

 Sighing, he reached out to pat Tyreen’s head, the little girl chirping, “Hey, do me a favor okay? Try not to use this special power of yours when those jarheads are around… Only at night if possible.” Tyreen blinked, tilting her head.

 “…Okay…” she whispered, looking at Leto who nodded slowly. Their mother reached out to hug Tyreen, kissing her on the forehead.

 With that said, the man closed up Troy’s arm compartments, patting the arm gently, “Should be good for now, I’ll come by later.” Troy grabbed the man’s hand, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

 “Can you show me… how to fix my arm…?” Troy asked, eyeing the tool box, “I want to help…” Tyreen bounced over from Leto’s arms, “Me too!” The man shushed them both, the twins covering their mouths.

 “If you behave, maybe I will,” the man teased, patting them both on the head, “You two are so cute.” He leaned forward, grinning, “I have a kid sister about your age, she likes to mess with my tools and gadgets, good to see other kids wanting to learn as well.”

 “Can she come play with us?” Tyreen asked, timid, “Troy gets angry when I win games…” She glanced her brother who huffed, crossing his arms.

 The man sighed, “I’m afraid not… at least for now…” He said the last part hushed, “I think she’d get along with you two, but keep this between us and your mom, okay?”

 The twins nodded, eager. The man helped the twins off the bed as they rushed over to their small playpen in the corner of the room. He watched as Tyreen ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at Troy’s arm, tracing the orange and red lines marking his mechanical hand. Atlas colors.

 Leto approached the man, whispering, “What is the status..?”

 “Check Troy’s arm when lights are out,” the man said, and out he went.

 -----0000-----

 Tyreen sat on her lavish throne, bored, looking at some priests who were chanting and praising her. The morning seemed to drag on forever, memories of last night at your hut fresh in her mind. Your little grin, even under threat or danger, was worth it. It excited her, finally getting a glimpse of it. Then, there was the feeling of your body against her when you hugged her tight at night.

 It had caught her by surprise, since she is the one usually dishing out the physical affection. You never let go, whimpering when she tried to move, tightening your grip on her. She would never admit outright, but it was the first time, in a very long time, that she had a good night’s sleep. And it was with you when it happened. At least no one was killed like in Troy’s case.

 Tyreen closed her eyes, imagining your small whimpers and breathing against her neck, your hands resting on her back, relaxed and warm. When she massaged your head, you let out a small giggle, leaning to the touch. No frowns, no glares, no hissing from your relaxed, sleeping form. She liked that. The rare times you’d spend the night at the Calypsos’ living quarters, a scowl would be on your face while asleep.

 She wanted to experience more, although she was unsure how to proceed. The situation with Cepheus had strained interaction between you and Tyreen, especially when she was about to punish you for refusing to answer any questions. Troy had to intervene.

 “My God Queen, Jackal has arrived,” one of the priests informed, bowing. Tyreen smirked, nodding.

 “Let him through,” she commanded, sitting up straight. Jackal entered the main hall, a nervous expression on his face.

 “You summoned me, my God Queen?” Jackal asked, bowing.

 “Yes,” Tyreen responded, her voice laced with irritation. She grabbed an item at her side, throwing it at Jackal’s feet.

 It was your shredded jacket.

 The moment Jackal saw it, he gasped, looking up at Tyreen, extremely nervous. She smirked, enjoying the fear.

 “Explain yourself, now.”

 -----00000000-------

 “Think you are fucking tough, huh? Our God Queen isn’t around to protect you, plaything,” the cultist shouted, holding a baseball bat with nails stuck to them. The other two behind were holding lead pipes. It was the middle of the day, the warehouse supervisor kicked you out after you had fallen asleep. It was most likely to prevent the wrath of the Calypsos for falling on them should something happened to you.

 Now you made three new friends at the alley on your way to the hut.

 “Get lost,” you muttered, sleepy. This only angered the trio.

 “You’re gonna be a good girl and take the beating, can’t let our lady friend down,” the cultist muttered, grinning manically.

 You tilted your head, curious. Lady friend? The fuckers that had been attacking you recently were sent by someone?

 “Oh, pray tell, who is this lady friend of yours,” you asked, inching close to them, rolling up your sleeves, “Does she happen to be one sending your other friends I killed as well?”

 “Tch, as if we are going to tell you!” the cultist with baseball bat shouted, lunging towards you. The other two shouted as well, following the cultist’s lead. You dodged the first few attacks, easily avoiding their secondary attacks, immediately punching the cultist that had the baseball bat.

 With a swift swing, you knocked the cultist back, hearing a crunch on the jaw. They hollered out in pain, stumbling backwards. The other two tried to swing at you, one of them hitting you on the shoulder and face. Utilizing this opening, you grabbed their arm, twisting it and headbutting them. They shouted in pain, holding their noise, their arm limp on the side. Their remaining friend tried to lay a punch, but was met with the butt of the baseball bat on their forehead, knocking them back.

 “F-Fucking damnit!” the cultist with the bleeding noise shouted, “F-Fuck!” You landed a punch on them, their blood splashing on you from their nosebleed. Swinging again the bat, you knocked them out, watching as they fell to the floor.

 “Shit! S-She’s gonna kill us!” the other cultist shouted, cowering on the ground, “H-Have mercy!”

 “I’m the last person to ask for mercy…” you spat out, swinging the bat down on their face, shutting down a loud scream. You kept swinging, and swinging. Every hit let out a sickening crunch, splat of flesh. You were panting heavily, bringing up the bat up and swung hard down.

 You moved to the other cultist knocked out on the floor, swinging again, beating the cultist’s face to a bloody pulp. The remaining one shrieked, falling down as they held their broken jaw, trying to escape.

 Walking slowly, you taunted, throwing the bat at them, watching them jump in fear. The cultist wailed, now sobbing. Pressing your foot on their back, they squirmed, struggling. Normally you’d do quick work on your attackers, but right now, you wanted to see red.

 Red. Red. Red. The other two dead cultists were beautiful with their crushed faces.

  You grabbed the cultist’s head, a hand on their jaw, slightly tugging. They cried out in pain, shrieking. You licked your lips, the fear in their eyes stirring something in you. Something deep. Something feral.

 Something carnal.

 You let out a small giggle, smiling as the cultist’s expression turned to pure horror. If you wanted to, you would be able to pull the cultist’s jaw clean from their face.

 “Andromeda!”

 You froze, glancing at the source of the voice.

 Perseus was staring at you, your fingers grasping at the lower jaw of the cultist, ready to rip it off. His eyes were wide in surprise, slightly in fear.

 “What the fuck, man! What is up with you?!” Perseus asked, carefully approaching you, “You just beat them up, not maim them! I mean, you kill them, but not overkill!”

 “I..I-I don’t know…” you said, low, throwing the cultist aside as they whimpered in pain. You grabbed your head again, wincing, “I.. I just..”

 Perseus pulled you away as the cultist dragged themselves off, passing out on the ground. He grabbed your hands, trying to get a look at your face.

 “Damn, they landed a nasty hit on you… I haven’t seen you this crazy outside the arena…” Perseus said, taking out a handkerchief from pocket to wipe blood from your nose. You remained still, tense as he gently cleaned your face. Perseus held a concerned expression.

 “Let’s get you cleaned up, come on…” Perseus helped you off from the alley, making way to the bar. It was still the middle of the day, the bartender letting you and Perseus in the backroom to clean up, even throwing a bottle of rakk-ale at you. You sat on a makeshift bar stool, holding a cold pack on your cheek. The mechanic opened a first aid kit, taking out some alcohol and gauze.

 “I wasn’t expecting to run into you beating up more people... well, attempting to kill them… You looked out of it…” Perseus commented, dousing a gauze with alcohol, wiping at the cuts on your cheek. You winced, looking away.

 “What’s wrong?” Perseus asked, worry in his tone, “Does it have to do with your last fight..?” It was always Cepheus. You had shitty luck.

 You grimaced, nodding slowly, “Y-Yeah…”

 “I see… Still spooked, huh? I have noticed you tense up when the other idiots bring it up. You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to,” Perseus informed, continuing on your cuts on your hands. You watched him as he inspected the cuts, gently holding your hand. Your hands were more scarred than his. Most of them were not from mechanic work.

 “He was my father.”

 Perseus stopped, glancing up at you. He was holding your hand still, feeling you squeeze his.

 “You killed him then…” he whispered, resuming his work. He didn’t sound angry or upset.

 He sounded sympathetic.

 “Well.. he wasn’t actually my father… I thought of him in that way… until…” you trailed off, wincing as Perseus bandaged your palm.

Perseus remained quiet, now looking at you. You stared back at him, an odd feeling swelling up. For once, in a long time, someone was willing to listen to you, not forcing it or threatening you. The time you had come to know Perseus, despite being devoted to the Calypsos, he didn’t hold an ill will towards anyone. If anything, he was the jokester of the mechanics, trying to humor everyone through the long days and nights of working on service parts or finishing up jobs for the Calypsos’ raids.

 He had become a huge fan of yours after your debut in the arena, which you had found annoying at first since he would quickly talk and babble on about the fights non-stop. But, after his fanboy phase weathered off, reluctantly, he was slowly chipping away your walls with a simple smile or joke. At first, you thought he was doing this to get near the Calypsos through you. This sentiment was quelled when you first were ambushed, running to the warehouse to make sure you were okay before checking on Troy’s damaged technical. His reason: you are his friend, he was worried.

 “You know I was a bandit, right..?” You asked, still staring back at him. Perseus nodded.

 “I… I was living with the Vipers for a while, they took me in… I was an orphan,” you continued, looking away, holding Perseus’s hand, “When I was a teenager… I was given as tribute to a bandit leader in the east…” You were slightly shaking.

 Perseus placed his other hand on top of yours, hearing you continue, “I..I was offered, given away by the same people I thought were my family…” You sobbed, covering your face with one hand. Perseus looked at you, hesitant, unsure.

 He took a deep breath, wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight. You froze, then relaxed.

 You hugged back, clinging and shaking, crying into his shoulder, “After all the time I spent with them… they discarded me….to save their own skins…”

 Discarded or killed.

 Perseus rubbed your back. You could feel him tense up as you continued.

 “The woman whom I viewed as a mother, threw it in my face that I had no family, no value…” you sobbed, rubbing your eyes, “Until that day…”

 /That’s why I left the Vipers, to go with him, to keep an eye on you./

 “Shh… you don’t have to continue…” Perseus whispered, cupping your face in his hands, “A little at a time, okay?” He smiled warmly. You sniffed, nodding, smiling back. Although it was small, you felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders.

 Perseus ruffled your hair, “Promise me that you will rest? Just go to your hut, chill.”

 “I-I promise…” you said, hiccupping, “Still on your break?”

 Perseus grinned, “Yeah, want to get some drinks since we’re here already? Celebrate another victory against those idiots!”

 You laughed, picking up your rakk-ale bottle, “Way ahead of you!”

 Perseus observed you, noticing the cat-like grin on your face, chuckling.

 You didn’t bite your hand this time.

 ----0000------

 Donovan threw a knife at a prisoner, laughing as they yelled in pain. Troy was next to him, grinning. Both were back in the Naughty House, Troy’s right-hand man was in a good mood.

 “You look like you struck the jackpot, what is the occasion?” Troy asked, holding his mechanical arm. He wasn’t able to use it as per your orders, lest he wanted to limp with a heavy weight piece of metal.

 “Oh, nothing… just got inspired by Tyreen’s plaything,” Donovan said, throwing another knife. This one landed on the prisoner’s chest. Troy raised an eyebrow, curious. Donovan had made it clear he didn’t like you.

 “Inspired?” Troy inquired.

 “I’m surprised you haven’t seen the security feed from the warehouse,” Donovan chuckled, “Were you with Helen this time around?” He smirked when Troy shot him a look.

 “Shut your mouth,” Troy hissed out.

 “No need to take it out on me, that’s why we’re here. I could feel the anger radiating from you when you stepped into my training room,” Donovan taunted, tossing a knife at Troy. The tall Calypso growled in anger, throwing the knife with great force towards the prisoner. It landed ways off, the prisoner sobbing.

 “Shitty aim,” Donovan teased, dodging a punch from Troy, “Not my fault you are having problems with your lover.”

 Troy didn’t reply, heading towards the prisoner and immediately punching them with his mechanical arm. The loud, screeching of metal echoed in the execution grounds, Troy hissing out in pain.

 “Fucking shit!” Troy yelled, smashing the prisoner’s face in, “SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!” Donovan watched amused as Troy released his frustration, whistling as the prisoner was beaten up. He stepped back when the Calypso got more aggressive, blood and guts splashing everywhere.

 After a while, Troy stopped, breathing heavily.

 “Feel a bit better?” Donovan asked, looking at him expectantly.

 Troy let out a hoarse laugh, “Yeah… “ He rubbed his face, smearing blood on it, “She’s been getting on my nerves, can’t have a good fuck without her bringing up stupid shit.”

 “About?” Donovan untied the prisoner, watching as the corpse fell forwards, gesturing for an armed cultist to dispose the body.

 “How Tyreen keeps goading at her that she’s not good for me,” Troy informed, looking down at his mechanical arm. He sighed, viewing some gears getting jammed.

 “That bad huh?” Donovan mused, crossing his arms, “Tyreen always makes up her mind when it comes to your….’bedwarmers’ as she puts it…”

 Troy growled, “She’s not a bedwarmer…” Donovan raised his arms in defense, “I’m only repeating what she says, you do you man.” Troy went to sit on the viewer’s deck, tampering with his arm, Donovan following him.

 “She did start as one…” Donovan muttered, looking away, “Can’t fault her if you don’t announce she’s the main one.” Troy hissed at him.

 “Tyreen won’t let me,” Troy admitted, “Says that I will eventually get tired of her…” His voiced went low. She wasn’t wrong, previous ‘bedwarmers’ had been favorites to lovers, but quickly they were ushered away at her discretion. Helen has been the longest, though Troy attributed this to her being a high priestess. They both had easy access to each other.

 “Are you?”

 “Am I what?” Troy spat back.

 “Getting tired of her,” Donovan asked.

 “….No,” Troy answered. He hesitated.

 Donovan got up, leaning slightly towards Troy, whispering, “She’s the one that ratted you out when you took Tyreen’s plaything for a joyride… Thought that would help her get in Tyreen’s good graces….” He patted Troy’s arm, walking off.

 Troy closed his eyes, clenching his fist. Another prisoner was going to get maimed.

 ----000000----

 As much as you wanted to rest, the glaring “DROP DEAD” graffiti was still present in your room. Using an old shirt and water, you scrubbed at the letters, grateful that the paint was of shitty quality. That’s when you realized it was blood. Weird choice.

 You dunked the shirt into the water, squeezing, watching the pink swirls on the surface. Shaking your head, you continued cleaning, satisfied with the clean surface. After disposing of the water and cloth in the bathroom, you ventured back to your room, eyebrows furrowed.

 Where was your ripped jacket?

 You recalled kicking it off to the side, so you checked under your bed and the dresser. Nothing. You went back to the bathroom, no signs.

 “That’s… odd…” you muttered, rubbing your head, confused for once. The little monster in your head whispered a name.

 Tyreen.

 Tyreen had been in your room while you slept for the majority of the time. Fear crept up on you. Had she seen the ripped jacket thinking it was you who did it? Is that why she left in the morning smiling and happy? She was going to punish you for it, wasn’t she?

 Trying to keep calm, you went back to the bathroom, splashing water on your face. You had nothing to do with it, Jackal was the last person in possession of it. Despite the shit you put up with the Calypsos, you ACTUALLY liked the jacket, helped keep your dagger out of sight during fights. Plus, you also liked the flame designs on it. Not that you were going to admit that to the Calypsos.

 Sighing in defeat, you accepted the inevitability. You threw yourself on your bed, groaning. You stared at the wall, your mind casually reminding you of the situation.

 Living with the Skullmashers, being the only survivor of the Calypso raid, taken prisoner and made into Tyreen’s plaything, fighting in the arena for the Calypsos’ Let’s Flay, and now your old past catching up to you thanks to Cepheus. You hoped Perseus wouldn’t tell anyone, having spilt part of it to him in the heat of the moment after beating up your attackers.

 The nightmares continued, your mind resurfacing painful memories. The cold air, the heavy chains on your wrists and ankles, the disgusting stench of death… And red. All of it red.

 You blinked, realizing you were twisting your pillow, the seams already torn.  Growling in frustration, you threw it aside, watching the filling fly all over the place. So much for cleaning.

 You screamed into your bed.

 -----0000000------

 “How have you been, Troy?” the man asked, servicing the boy’s arm. Troy remained still, looking at the man’s tools, “Okay…” The man slightly frowned.

 “What’s wrong?” he asked, continuing his work.

 “I don’t like the colors of my arm… reminds me of those… soldiers that took us in…” Troy whispered, glancing at his sleeping mother, Tyreen was busy fiddling with some blocks next to her.

 “I see…” the man replied. During his schematics brainstorming, he had gone with the regular, usual Atlas colors to please the jarheads. An idea popped up, the man grinning.

 “I have something, just give me a minute to finish,” the man said, patting Troy’s head. The boy giggled, eager. After doing quick work on the boy’s arm, the man took out some paints from a smaller tray under his main tools, setting them out.

 “How about it? I paint something on your arm?” the man smiled as Troy nodded.

 “Y-Yeah!”

 “Alright, stay still, let the artist get to work,” the man ruffled Troy’s hair, taking out some small brushes and towels. Curiosity got the better of Tyreen, who crawled over to them. She sat next to Troy, holding his other hand.

 The twins watched in amazement as the man painting flame decals, lightning bolts and elaborate lettering on Troy’s arm. By the shoulder mechanism, he painted the circular surface red, drawing in black a skull. Troy let out a tiny squeal, excited.

 “T-That’s so cool, mister…!” Troy said in awe. The man grabbed another type of paint, ushering Troy to lean forward, “Stay still.” Troy was smiling as the man painted several red stripes and dots on his face.

 “I-I want some too!” Tyreen said, sticking her arm out. The man chuckled, complying, painting red figures on her arm, including some smiley faces and cats.

 “Make sure to have your mother wash them off, don’t rub your face and stain your clothes,” the man instructed, the twins only nodded, staring at each other. They both squealed, babbling on about their marks.

 The man observed them, a vacant expression on his face. This was a small token of happiness for the twins who had no idea what Atlas had in store for them, at least in Tyreen’s part. The man was very familiar with it. Sighing, he closed up his tool box, bidding the twins farewell.

 As he left, the red barrier came up, blocking the family in their cell. He passed into the observation area, ignoring the medical staff trying to scold him for the paint job. When he reached the vast distant hallway connecting the observation room to the stronghold’s main area, he glanced up at the various paintings on the wall, his gaze falling on a regal one with older looking woman. Her face showed extreme testament of war, her expression hardened, glaring at the viewer with an eye, the other patched up with a red skull on it. The same design the man put on Troy’s arm.

 He stared at the plaque under the painting.

 “Supreme Commander Gaia Juno of the Crimson Lance, Promethea’s Lord Protector”

 The man glared at the painting, growling. He felt slightly guilty realizing what he did on Troy’s face.

 He had given the boy the same Siren marks that Commander Gaia sported on her face.

 ------0000000-------

 Tyreen was watching the live feed setup by the scouts of the Atlas stronghold, the bandits going about their business as usual, not knowing they were being watched. Moksha, the general in charge of the warehouses and armory, had notified her that all was ready for the raid. Donovan and Basill were at the main console, analyzing the blueprints of the stronghold.

 “I didn’t think this place would be enormous… from the outside it looks small,” Basil commented, going through different floor plans.

 “The Atlas corporation had the means to create several large strongholds across Promethea, this one is the closest to us,” Donovan quipped, “I almost got killed by a Royal Guard of the Lance back in my day as a bandit lord.”

 “And now they’re dead,” Tyreen said, sitting up, “Damnit, where’s Troy?”  

 Donovan glanced at the door, “Shouldn’t take long, I hope. I left him at the execution grounds.” Tyreen rolled her eyes, “He better not show up all bloody, the stench of guts never leaves this damn place.”

 A woman wearing heavy gear entered the room, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. Her green eyes observed the generals and Tyreen, surprised, “Sorry I’m late, had to finish tallying up the ammunition and checking on the warehouse supervisors.”

 “We’re still waiting on Troy,” Basil crossed his arms.

 “Troy? He was at the warehouse looking for a mechanic, said he busted up his mechanical arm,” Moksha informed, titling her head, “From the looks of it, he really screwed up the rods and gears on it.”

 “Oh, shit,” Donovan muttered. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to leave him alone in the execution grounds.

 “Mechanic?” Tyreen asked, “My plaything wasn’t there?” Moksha shook her head, “She was sent to her hut early, she fell asleep on the job by what the supervisor told me. Has been going on for a while.”

 Tyreen blinked. She wasn’t aware of the issue. She made a mental note to ask about it, hoping you wouldn’t snap at her.

 “So what happened to Troy? Is he still at the warehouse?” Donovan checked the warehouse feed, no signs of Troy.

 “He went to look for Tyreen’s plaything, said she was the one who last serviced it, he looked a bit nervous…” Moksha said, grinning, “From what I hear, the plaything has a nasty attitude when people mess with her work.”

 Tyreen was very familiar with it, her brother knowing the full extent of it when his bandit technical was trashed during your first ambush. You had a calm face when explaining to them the reason why there were body parts in the engine. The Calypsos were extremely excited and turned on during your tale.

 “Very well then, we shall proceed, Donovan can keep him up to speed,” Tyreen chirped, heading towards the main console, “Show me what you got. Need to see what we can destroy.”

 ----000000-----

 You sniffed, disgust evident on your face. It was taking a lot of willpower not to throttle the man in front of you. Troy looked like a lost puppy skag, standing in the middle of your living room, covered in blood and guts, most of it centered on the mechanical arm that had seen better days.

 “I told you not to mess with your mechanical arm, and what did you do?!” you shouted, huffing.

 “I messed with my arm…” Troy said, glancing down, voice low. He felt like a little child being scolded.

 “Fucking damnit, one job! You had one job! Grr…!” you grabbed his mechanical arm, causing him to yelp, “See, I told you it was going to fuck up your gears, but no, you just had to go maim someone!”

 Troy didn’t respond, looking down still.

 “Look at me when I’m talking to you!” you hissed out, grabbing his chin, tilting it up. He averted his gaze, a tint of red present on his cheeks.

 “Its hardly the time to be getting turned on by my threats! You could have gotten yourself pierced by the rods snapping!” you yelled, growling. Troy now stared at you.

 “You care…?” he had a small teasing grin. You merely pinched his nose, “I’m being serious here!”

 Troy rubbed his nose, pouting, “Yeah, yeah. Well, I need this fixed…”

 “The shop doesn’t have the parts I need to fix the wires, all scrap went for your stupid raid,” you muttered, poking his forehead.

 “I may have some.”

 “Have some where? All scrap is at the warehouse!” You crossed your arms, “I doubt you have a magical garden of scrap.”

 Troy seemed unsure, deep in thought before responding, “At my private shop… If I show you the scrap, would you be able to get the wires, hooks fixed..?”

 “You… you have a shop…?” you asked, surprised. Troy didn’t strike you as the type for mechanical work, all he ever wanted was blood, sex, and probably bloody sex.

 “Yes, I have a shop…” Troy growled, feeling judged, “Would you be able to fix it..?”

 You rolled your eyes, “I need to see the scrap metal, then I can tell you.”

 “Fine, follow me,” Troy gestured towards the door. You followed, hoping he wasn’t wasting your time.

 ---00000----

 “Holy shit…” you whispered, observing the tools on the walls and work bench, “I-Is that a diamond grade saw…?” You hunched over the equipment, letting out a small squeal, “Oh… that’s a freaking 6000 edition Dahl laser cutter… That’s a Jakob’s forge…!”

 Troy eyed you with a mixture of confusion, surprise, and amazement. You were mumbling and ranting about things that could have happened to him in the process of ruining his mechanical arm but the moment you stepped into his private shop… your mood changed dramatically. You were practically bouncing around, identifying the tools and machine parts he had.

 Your hands shook as you pointed at the large hammer and anvil neatly laying near the forge, “You’ve got to be shitting me, you have a freaking Atlas Thor class anvil and hammer? The freaking metal is so rare only a few were made!”

 “That rare, huh?” Troy watched you, amused, “Well, I guess I’m lucky.”

 “The things… I could do with it…” you whispered, spacing out.

 “….What would you do with it…?” Troy teased, earning a glare from you.

 “Get your mind out of the gutter…” you hissed out. Troy laughed, “With you, I can’t!”

 “Ugh, whatever, show me the scrap to get this shit over with…” you growled, following Troy where he had several canisters of scrap metal sorted out. You knelt, rummaging through the pile that had -Atlas- labeled on it.

 “While I’m looking, get as much as the guts off the damn thing, arm will get rusty in some parts with chunks of flesh,” you waved off at Troy, already grabbing some scrap, “Looks like you got something here…”

 Troy nodded, venturing off to the large sink he had. He groaned, noticing the amount of flesh stuck in the small nooks and dents of the arm. As he washed, he kept glancing at you from time to time. You were putting the scrap you had gathered in a small metal bucket, heading to the forge.

 You looked around, lost.

 “Cabinet on the far right, some gloves, tongs, and molds are there…” Troy informed, resuming his own work. You flashed a thumbs up, heading over to retrieve the materials. Soon, he heard the whirring of the laser cutter and scrapping of metal. You were already working on creating the hooks, Troy surprised at how quick you started.

 “You don’t need the measurements?” Troy inquired. You shook your head, “Nah, I already got it memorized…. Just don’t distract me… I have to….” You zoned out, meticulously concentrated on the mold working. Troy blinked, nodding to himself. Well then, he thought.

 He left you to your own devices, the Calypso resuming his work to clean as best as he could his mechanical arm. Knowing from experience, it was best not to disturb an artist at work.

 ----0000-----

 You carefully inserted the wire through the small hole on the robot’s knuckle, feeding it and pulling it out through the end, grabbing it with a tweezer. You stuck your tongue out in deep thought, accidently biting yourself when the wire snapped.

 “F-Fuck!” you hissed out, crushing the wire more.

 “Hey, language!”

 Sniffing, you glared at your brother who was at his work bench, finishing up another job for a remote client. He raised an eyebrow at you, sticking his tongue out.

 “I hope you bite yours soon,” you said, albeit mumbled as your tongue stung. Hephaestus blew a raspberry at you.

 “So rude, I miss my cute baby sister who was very docile and mindful of her language,” your brother teased, dodging a wrench thrown by you, “Hey, what did I tell you about throwing tools?”

 “Aim where it hurts, in the balls.”

 “N-No! Not that!” your brother shouted.

 “Who what in the balls?” a woman’s voice startled you both. Cassie Wilkins entered the work room, carrying some plates with food, “I better not be hearing you teaching your sister that foul language, Hepha.”

 “I-I didn’t Cassie… I swear!” Hephaestus said, nervously looking at you. Giggling, you nodded, watching as Wilkins looked at your brother in disappointment. The old lady sighed, placing the plates in a small table.

 “Hepha, besides teaching her foul language, you are also teaching her lack of taking breaks!” Wilkins scolded him, hands on her hips, “She’s going to end up all scrawny and with body pains before she is a teen!”

 You gasped, laughing as your brother put on a sad face, sniffing. The three of you laughed, Wilkins going over to you, giving you a hug, “Oh dear, what shall we do with your brother?”

 “Stick him in the fridge, see if he chills for a bit with his foul language,” you teased, grinning at your brother.

 Hephaestus snorted, a small smile at the corner of his lips. The small mechanical right arm laid forgotten on his workbench while he ate with you, chattering about some modifications. A fresh coat of red paint and a black skull adorned the shoulder section.

 ----00000-----

 Donovan chuckled, watching the surveillance feed of the warehouse. He kept repeating the same scene over and over again of your brief fight with the three assailants. Amused, he took notice of the interference of Perseus, the mechanic taking you away as you held your bloody hands.

 “Small fry you sent to the plaything,” Donovan commented, leaning back on his chair. The body by the console shuffled, Helen appearing before him.

 “I should say the same to you. Your little men were no match for her,” Helen hissed out, taking out her ceremonial dagger, “You are afraid of fighting her in person.”

 Donovan growled at her, standing up, “Watch your fucking mouth, bedwarmer…”

 “I. AM. NOT. A. BEDWARMER!” Helen snarled, slamming the dagger into the console in anger, “He loves me…. Troy loves me… And I’m not going to let some stupid plaything get in the way!”

 “You are fucking delusional,” Donovan taunted, “Save yourself the trouble and let go, don’t end up like the others before you.” A small shred of sympathy the general imparted on the priestess. He had gotten tired of seeing a moping Troy.

 “Delusional? I have devoted myself to him and the God Queen…” Helen muttered, “You’re the one delusional into thinking a plaything will take my place… She will be discarded eventually…”

 “Think so? She’s lasted a lot longer than the other playthings as well. Besides, we both have seen her ferocity in the arena, nothing matches up to that level of brutality, Tyreen is not going to let her go,” Donovan sat back on his seat, “Troy has turned his attention to her.”

 “SHUT UP!” Helen shouted, clenching her fist, “She doesn’t even like him…”

 “Like that matters to Troy, besides…” Donovan smirked, approaching Helen, “You should watch your back… You’ve been getting too comfortable around Troy… Others have taken notice…” The general patted Helen on the head, the priestess smacking his hand away. He laughed, departing the room. Helen growled, turning to punch the screen that had your frozen image.

 All is fair in love and war.

 ----0000------

 You held your hands under the running water, slightly whimpering. The hot water stung the small cuts on your hands, the slightly large gash on your palms burning. Troy turned off the faucet, holding out a towel.

 “Put your hands there, I’ll dry them,” he ordered. You did as told, flinching as he patted them dry with both hands, his mechanical arm back in order. You had gotten a bit too eager while reassembling his mechanical arm, forgetting to wear heavy duty gloves and a wire snapped as you worked on it. You used your hands to prevent the wire from hitting Troy.

 “I don’t remember your hands being that bruised,” Troy commented, glancing at your face. The bruise from the punch was still present.

 “….I had a little incident on the way to my hut….” You replied, pulling your hands away from his grip in the towel, “Do you have any alcohol I can use…?”

 Troy sighed, going to another cabinet to retrieve a bottle of alcohol and a clean cloth, “Another ambush?” This time he didn’t sound too ecstatic as before, getting annoyed at the frequent cases.  

 “Yeah…” your hands twitched, remembering the feeling of the broken jaw under your fingertips. A small tug and…

 You hissed as Troy swapped alcohol on the cuts, taking a deep breath, “God fucking damnit….”

 “Such foul language,” Troy teased, biting his lip, “I wonder…”

 “No.”

 “I didn’t say anything,” Troy looked up at you, innocently. He eyed some chains discarded on the floor.

 “You are imagining it, and no, I won’t chain you up on the work bench,” you blinked, then grinned, chuckling, “Actually…”

 “Oh..?” Troy perked up, liking your change of tone. You licked your lips, trying to contain your laughter. Whatever you had in mind… it was going to be fun.

 -----00000------

 Tyreen snorted, then sniffed before erupting in laughter. Troy threw a pillow from the couch at her, embarrassed.

 “I shouldn’t have called you…” Troy growled out, hiding his face on another pillow. The tall Calypso was nursing a bruised ego from his encounter with you. Thinking you were going to indulge him in some weird kinky foreplay, you left him chained up on the work bench and left the shop. Luckily, or by your grace, he was able to ping Tyreen to come help him. A few awkward talks and Tyreen freeing him, he was completely duped.

 “Oh, little brother, you are a delight sometimes with my plaything,” Tyreen laughed more, avoiding another pillow, “I’m not even mad, I’m just… Pft.. HAHAHAH!” This time she was hit by a pillow, though, her laughter didn’t cease.

 “Shut up!” Troy muttered, running his hand through his hair in frustration, “This stays between us, okay?” Tyreen nodded, throwing a pillow back at him.

 “Yeah, yeah… whatever,” she waved off at him, giggling, “So how’s the mechanical arm? My little doll fixed it?” Troy extended his arm out, moving his hand around. It felt lighter, more flexible. There was no grinding of gears, hissing, or odd noises.

 “It feels fucking fantastic… You should have seen her work… I mean….” Troy nodded, unsure how to explain it, “She found more crap in it… that even I was not able fix beforehand… I felt like she… she just dissected me…”

 Tyreen furrowed her eyebrows, “What…?”

 “I mean, I get into my zone while working in my shop, you know? She just…” Troy waved his hands around, “The way she uses the tools… Not as an extension of her but as PART of her…”

 “Yeah… I’m not following…” Tyreen muttered. Her brother would go off tangent whenever he’d start ranting about pieces and mechanical equipment. As kids, she would get excited, but after learning more about her Siren powers, her attention waned.

 “She’s amazing…” Troy blurted out, eyes wide, “Oh..” He looked at Tyreen.

 Tyreen narrowed her eyes, upper lip slightly twitching, “……You know the rules, Troy.”

 “Yes, I know,” he hissed out, avoiding her gaze.

 .::No one is allowed to touch another person’s plaything without permission.::.

 “Hmph… speaking of rules,” Tyreen leaned back on her seat, a smirk replacing her scowl, “Your bedwarmer needs to learn her place.” She didn’t flinch when Troy crushed part of the couch he was sitting on.

 “Helen is not a bedwarmer!” Troy got up, snarling, “Get it through your thick skull, Tyreen!”

 “You were lusting after my plaything just five minutes ago,” Tyreen stated, drumming her fingers on the armrest, “Certainly speaks about loyalty.”

 “Why you….!” Troy growled.

 “Sit down.”

 “Tyreen-“

 “SIT DOWN, Troy,” Tyreen’s Siren tattoos flashed brightly, her eyes glowing. Troy looked at her defiantly, but sat down, glaring. Their roles were vastly different behind closed doors, away from everyone’s eyes.

 “Your fucking bedwarmer did this,” Tyreen threw your shredded jacket at Troy, “Jackal told me everything.”

 Troy looked at the shredded clothing in confusion, “What..?”

 “That’s all I’m telling you,” Tyreen stood up, her eyes still bright, “Tell your whore to stay away from my plaything. If she refuses, I won’t be as nice as I was with your other favorites.”

 Tyreen stormed off, stepping on the shredded jacket. Troy yelled in frustration, kicking the couch.

 ----0000----

 “I thought I told you to rest, damnit,” Perseus said, putting you in a headlock, rubbing your head. You laughed, smacking at him to let go. The other mechanics joined in on the laughter, raising up their bottles.

 “Can’t rest, always some shit coming up,” you sat next to Perseus at the bar, ordering a drink. Night fell on the hub, bringing out the ruckus from the mechanics that mingled after work. For once, you felt lonely and searched them out, missing their banter at the warehouse.

 The mechanics ranted to you about Moksha’s visit and how everything was prepped for the raid. It was their warning for you to prepare for another arena fight. One of the mechanics informed you about armed cultists inquiring about the dead bodies near the warehouse. You blurted out that it had been another ambush.

 “I swear, they better find those shits that keep sending those extra shits coming to get you,” one of the mechanics slurred out, taking a swig at his bottle, “Fuckers think they some hot shit….” You weren’t sure who ‘they’ was referring to, but you nodded in agreement.

 You were chugging non-stop the booze, angry, slightly drunk, “I tell ya, if they find those meat bags, I want them to meet the lead pipe.”

 You got several whoops, bottles rising up.

 “You give them hell, I join too, I bring me chair to lay a few hits,” Perseus added, clanking his bottle with yours, “I can’t feel my arse now.”

 Everyone laughed, some falling over to the floor, passing out on the spot. The bartender crossed his arms, “You lot are lucky I love you all, smacked you with the broom if I had to.”

 “Ey, to the bartender for being such a good sport!” a mechanic yelled. Everyone whooped, those on the floor letting out a long “yay.” Some showered the bartender with coins.

 “Hey, there’s a tip jar for that, you little shits!”  he yelled, but laughed.

 A good vibe had settled in. Several bottles of rakk-ale were littered everywhere. You were slumped at the bar, trying to toss coins into the tip jar. Majority of the mechanics were passed out by now, sleeping on the floor or against the wall. The bartender swept around everyone, picking up bottles that weren’t in a tight grip on the sleeping mechanics.

 Perseus sat next to you, watching you make it in with a coin toss, lifting his bottle up, “Another win for the God Queen’s plaything…!”

 You mocked whooped, “The crowd goes wild…!”

 Perseus laughed, taking another swig, “Brutal finish… You should get some rest, and I MEAN IT, if our God Queen and Father Troy return victorious from the raid, you know what that means…”

 A celebration.

 “Yeah, yeah.. They’re gonna have to come pick me up from my bed by then, too fucking tired…” you muttered, struggling to stand, “I’ll see you later.. maybe… I don’t know.. what time is it?”

 “Time to sleep…” Perseus passed out, beer in hand.

 “Right, right,” you slurred out, patting his cheek, making your way out of the bar. It was still the middle of the night as you tried to navigate through the streets again. You were too plastered to care if anybody tried to jump you.

 Nearing your housing complex, you felt a sharp pain on your back. You quickly turned around, stumbling to the side. Oh right, intoxication.

 “Ah shit, show yourself, you fucking arses…” you said, Perseus rubbing off on you. You could feel blood staining your clothes.

 You were disorientated when someone slammed into you, pushing you backwards. Grunting, you tried to sit up, only to feel a heavy weight on you, a sharp object under your neck. You could smell a sweet, soft scent from your attacker.

 It was the psycho priestess.

 “It’s the pretty lady,” you whispered, “How are you? I’m doing fine…”

 She hissed, digging her knife into your skin, “You.. Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

 You blinked, “I’m a mechanic.. plaything… fighter… I don’t know. Depends on the day and occasion.” You giggled, unfazed by blood oozing out of your cut.

 She brought up the knife to your face, “You think this is funny? You think this is funny! How about I gouge your eyeball out?!”

 “That’s not nice, I need my eyeball for work, I have a family to feed,” you ranted, trying not to pass out, “worked to the bone, no rest for the wicked.”

 Helen had a confused expression, narrowing her eyes, “You fucking bitch!”

 “I’m what now?” You looked at her, baffled, “Look, I gotta go home. I need to sleep. Come by some other day.” You pushed her off, getting up. Dusting yourself off, you waved at her, “I gotta go… places to see, bodies to maim…”

 You stumbled to the side, luckily dodging another attack from Helen, “Hey…” You flicked your wrist, holding the dagger in your hand, “Two can play… the game…”

 She stood up, playing with the knife, licking it, “Heh, a knife fight, a language we both speak.” She lunged forward, you grabbed her arm and twisted it, pinning her to the ground. Using her feet, she kicked you on the side, making you lose your balance. You cursed, landing on the ground. She stabbed several times down, you rolling around to dodge.

 “Even drunk, you’re still a fucking problem!” she yelled, jabbing again with the knife. One of them managed to land on your arm, causing you to howl in pain. Using your dagger as decoy, you flung it, making her dodge, with the opening used to punch her. She fell on top of a pile of rubble, screeching.

 “I’m gonna kill you!”

 “…try me…” you slurred out, ready again. She was about to run at you when the sound of metal on metal rung, caused you both to cover your ears. You knelt, dizzy. As the noise ceased, you looked up. Helen was gone.

 “Lucky…”

 Heavy footsteps approached you, a cold hand on your injured arm. You glanced up, seeing Troy’s icy blue eyes staring down at you.

 “Hello…” you whispered, poking at his mechanical hand on your arm, “is cold…” You giggled as he helped you up, “What’s up…?”

 Troy was quiet as he gently picked you up. You rested your head on his chest, patting the exposed skin, “You’re warm, soft, but warm…” You could feel him tense up, “I’m bleeding…!” You raised your arm up for him to see.

 “Can you kiss it well?” you asked. He complied, his tongue licking the blood. A tingling sensation went through you.

 “I said kiss it, not lick it…” You brought your dagger up, bloody from the fight.

 “Any other day I would be happy to, but right now, as much as it hurts me, I must pass,” Troy whispered, walking back to your hut, “You need to rest, you did a good job with my mechanical arm.”

 “Mhm…good job…” you passed out in his arms, “yeah…”

 Making sure his hold on you was tight, he proceeded towards your hut, eyeing the blood trail going the opposite direction down another alleyway.

 He knew the source, having tasted the delicious flesh.

 Troy entered your hut, keeping steady as he closed the door with his foot. You were lightly snoring, gripping tight on his jacket. When he placed you on your bed, you never let go, whimpering. Sighing, he removed it, caressing your cheek as you curled up with the garment.

 “I have shitty luck…” Troy whispered, planting a kiss on your forehead.

 ----00000-----

 Cold, cold. The shackles around your wrists and ankles were heavy, extremely cold, burning against your skin. Sniffing, you hugged your knees, hoping to get some warmth, but the room you were in remained the same temperature. Frigid, freezing.

 Your once long locks of hair were gone, you head shaved cleaned, a nasty mark burned on the back of your head. You eyed the other occupants of the room. Other prisoners were huddled together, their face frozen with a look of horror. One of them had their teeth chattering.

 The metal door hissed open, Cepheus walked in, chewing on a toothpick. You let out a growl, but remained on your spot.

 “Save your energy, I’m not here for you,” he muttered, whistling for others to come in. Two individuals sporting black uniforms approached the other prisoners, dragging them out. Your eyes widened.

 You had been in the same room as frozen corpses.

 Gulping, you lowered your head, frightened. Cepheus shot you a look, exiting the room. The same two uniformed people brought in more prisoners, shackling them to the opposite side of the holding cell. Then, they left.

 You avoided their gaze. You could hear their quiet pleas to ‘god’ and wondering if they were going to die here. From the quick glance of their entrance, their hair had been shaved off, wearing the same sterile white clothing as you.

 What seemed like minutes, turned to hours, perhaps days, you weren’t sure anymore. Cepheus would enter, met by a hiss or growl from you and leave. The same uniformed people would come in, take the frozen corpses with them, bring in new meat bags. You were the only one left behind. No matter how much you pleaded to the entity in the universe, death never came.

 You had shitty luck.

 This routine continued, you slowly devolved to grunts, hisses, snarls at Cepheus. Every time they’d bring in new prisoners, you’d growl at them, snapping your teeth. But you never attacked, only remained in your corner. Little by little, you inched closer to the door, then started attacking the uniformed people when they stepped in.

 That’s when the physical punishment started. They’d kick, hit, punch, and whip you when you lunged to attack. The first instances threw you off, but after a while, you learned the patterns, getting the upper hand, landing a punch or two before Cepheus would intervene.

 Cepheus was relentless, throwing you against the wall, choking you when you’d try to bite. You snarled, using your chains to whip at him, landing hits, and injuring him. As much as you tried, your weak state worked against you. With the small amount of adrenaline, you remained exhausted. Cepheus would then deliver his intense punishment against you.

 It went on and on, Cepheus would come in and you’d attack him until your body could no longer take it and shut down on you. For once, you were glad your brain decided to call it quits for the period of time that Cepheus beat you up. The aftermath was a bitch, you curling up, alone in the cold room, wheezing.

 The old man would still visit, watching you for a while to make sure you were alive before exiting. His way of caring? No. He was an asshole. His family are a bunch of assholes. His fucking bandit camp was full of assholes. You quietly wept, pleading for your brother.

 But he was gone.

 “Is this the one you were talking about?”

 You opened your eyes, trying to sit up. Cepheus was inside the room with another man who was donning a white suit, clean crisp. He was pale, his green hair combed back, his yellow eyes staring at you. Your gaze fell on his tie.

 Maliwan.

 “Yes, she’s the one who has lasted for months in here,” Cepheus stated, emotionless, “As for the other part I mentioned, she’d be an excellent asset.”

 You snarled. What was Cepheus doing this time? Hadn’t he done enough to torture you? You crouched, growling, glaring at the old man.

 “Down!” Cepheus barked out. You hissed at him. Cepheus inched forward, rolling up his sleeves but was stopped by the man.

 “Now, now, there’s no need for that,” the man stated, approaching you. You let out a tiny hiss, cowering back to the corner. The man knelt, removing his black glove, reaching out. Flinching, you closed your eyes, waiting for impact.

 But nothing came.

 You felt a gentle touch on your head. You opened your eyes, locking gaze with the man. He smiled, “You poor thing, this brute treating you this way…”

 You leaned more forward, desperate. It had been forever since someone showed you kindness. A small hiccup left your body as you tried to contain yourself. The man helped you up, holding your hand.

 “I’m taking her, Cepheus. I will still be needing your services,” the man replied, leading you out of the cold room. The rattling of the chains and shackles filled each step you took. You glanced at Cepheus, narrowing your eyes.

 The old man looked back at you, his face void of any expression. He was paying attention more to the man.

 “Let’s get you patched up, make sure you are good to go,” the man informed, rubbing your back. You nodded slowly, weak still.

 Perhaps you didn’t have shitty luck this time around.

 -----0000-----

 You had passed out for the entire part of the day, word reaching you that the Calypsos had departed for the raid via Mouthpiece announcing it. The hangover hit you bad, the splitting headache pounding at your senses. Weak, you hurried off to the bathroom where you became best buddies with the toilet. For once, no priests had come to bother you to drag you away for the departure of the twins. You were glad, your buddies the toilet and stomach wouldn’t have liked it.

 Jumping into the shower, you welcomed the cold splash of water on your face alleviating the headache a bit and help loosen your sore muscles. After finishing, you cleaned up, checking the cuts on your hands. Fortunately, majority of the them were healing up nicely.

 Feeling productive, you tidied up your room, your eye caught on a familiar jacket.

 Troy’s.

 “What the hell…?” you picked up the huge jacket, inspecting it. You didn’t recall seeing him on your way back to the hut. You rubbed your face, trying to remember. Nothing. He had it on when he took you to his private shop to fix his arm.

 “Everyone keeps losing jackets around here,” you muttered, folding Troy’s jacket and placing it on top of your dresser, “I just hope he has extras like Tyreen.”

 Tyreen.

 No word yet about the situation with your own jacket. You were expecting for her to show up, get angry, and probably punish you. Maybe she was waiting after the raid? One more thing to worry about.

 A knock at the main door snapped you from your thoughts. Cautious, you opened it slightly, then sneered. Jackal was standing there, nervous.

 “Greetings…” he bowed, shaking a bit.

 “You and I are going to have a little talk…” you growled out.

 ----0000----

 A soft knock alerted a bandit to the metal door, spooking him from his time reading a questionable magazine. Approaching the door, grunting, he slid open the peep hole slot, narrowing his eyes at the intruder. A psycho was jumping, holding a piece of paper in his hand.

 “The hell, are you lost!?” the bandit shouted at the psycho.

 The psycho carefully extended out the note, reading it, “H-Hi… D-Do you have t-time to hear about o-our Gods, the Calypsos?!”

 The bandit’s eyes widen, fear present, “Holy shit-!”

 The psycho shoved a grenade through the peep hole, “BOOM TIME!”

 BANG! BANG!

 The explosion thundered through the hallway, alarms going off. The metal door laid wasted on top of the bandit’s corpse, armed cultists rushing in, Basil and Donovan coming from behind, both of them brandishing shotguns.

 “You have your orders, eliminate the small fry, leave the bigger ones to us!” Donovan ordered.

 “Yes, Prophet Donovan!” the armed cultists shouted, going further into the hallway.

 “Fuck yeah, this is going to be intense, let’s go, Don!” Basil shouted, running down another hallway. Donovan cackled, following after him.

 Shots, explosions, screams filled the hallways. Donovan and Basil shot through rooms, meeting resistance with some bandits. The blaring red lights of the alarms painting the atmosphere red. Red. Red.

 “How’s it going on your end, Troy?!” Donovan said to the EchoNet. Basil and Donovan heard Troy roaring and laughing, screams from the bandits, “Its bloody fantastic, especially with my arm all tuned up!”

 Troy, wearing a black version of his common jacket, stood inside a warehouse, maiming and stabbing the bandits that rushed in, his jaw split open to bite down on several of them. He grabbed several individuals, crushing their heads with his mechanical arm. He was getting a rush, catching the prey unsuspected.

 “Come on, come on, is this the best you have!?” Troy shouted, picking up a bandit by the throat, “Worthless!”

 Several bruisers showed up with shotguns, running towards Troy and his group of armed cultists, engaging. Troy stabbed, sliced through them. Surveyors flew above everyone, recording the action. A lone red surveyor remained floating in the corner, beeping. It kept it’s focus on Troy.

 “Heh, so the fucker in charge is watching this, eh?” Troy snickered, grabbing a bandit and flinging it at the red surveyor. It dodged, immediately flying off through one of the warehouse windows.

 “Should we follow it, Father Troy?” one of the armed cultists asked. Troy shook his head, “No point, eliminate those assholes!”

 “Yes, Father Troy!”

 “Donovan, Basil, the rakk flew the coop!” Troy announced in the EchnoNet, “Tell me you found something good!”

 “We found an underground area as per Cepheus’s notes and the blueprints, under their storage units,” Donovan informed, reception static, “Basil and I are going in.”

 “Wait for backup, who knows what’s inside. Secure the perimeter,” Troy ordered, stabbing a bruiser. He received confirmation from his two generals, the line cutting off.

 The armed cultists managed to suppress the bruisers, the warehouse littered with corpses and blood spatters everywhere. Troy kicked several bodies aside, walking towards the crates near the decommissioned Altas trucks. With his mechanical arm, he pried one open, tossing the lid aside.

 Inside the crate were dozens of body bags, the plastic clear, giving Troy a glimpse of the contents. He stepped back, caught off guard. The bodies were shriveled up, some were missing limbs, bones, and their heads.

 “What the fuck…?” Troy muttered, looking at the other crates, “Open the other crates!”

 Several armed cultists pried the crates open, gagging at the smell of rotten flesh. The stench suffocated the air in the warehouse. He was used to carnage and bloody fights, but this was too much for the Calypso.

 “Gah, what the hell…!” Troy covered his nose, coughing, “Everyone out!” All filed outside, catching their breaths.

 “Why did they have bodies in there!?” one of the armed cultists questioned, gagging. Some of the surveyors remained inside, giving Troy live feed from the warehouse as he checked his EchoNet.

 “Donovan, Basil, are you seeing this?” Troy asked, coughing.

 “Holy shit… What the fuck were those rat bandits doing with the bodies…?!” Basil shouted, surprised, “I mean, I know we go all out, but this is…”

 “Troy… I don’t think we are alone in here…” Donovan said, shuffling noise head around, “I sent a surveyor underground… we lost feed…” Donovan sent over a still image to Troy.

 “You got to be shitting me…” Troy whispered, staring at the image. A sharp set of teeth, a blurred face with a grinning smile were the last things captured by the surveyor. When Tyreen brought up the idea to storm the old Atlas stronghold, he imagined just barging in and spooking the bandits. Now, it seemed they were keeping something in from running out.

 “I’m heading over,” Troy informed, turning to face the armed cultists, “Secure the area!”

 “Yes, Father Troy!”

 Troy pinged Donovan and Basil’s location, walking through the compound’s hallways. The alarms were still going off. As Troy near their location, he stopped in his tracks, staring ahead. On the other side of the hallway, the red surveyor stared back him, it’s light beeping.

 “How about you show yourself, you fucker?!” Troy yelled, pointing his bloodied blade at it, “Found your shit stash in the warehouse!”

 The surveyor beeped, taking off down the hallway, opposite of Troy. The Calypso gave chase, noticing that the surveyor was heading the same way of his generals’ location. He arrived at a small storage unit, several armed cultists alongside Donovan and Basil outside. Weaving past them, the surveyor disappeared into the open hatch.

 “What the-!” Basil turned to look at Troy, “That’s not one of ours!”

 “No shit, let’s go!” Troy ordered, going first down the hatch, the others following. The CoV surveyors entered the area, providing light. The lone light of the red surveyor glowed further down. There was a drop in temperature, the area extremely cold.

 “Everyone on your guard…” Donovan ordered, steadying his shotgun. The armed cultists raised their weapons, ready. Troy walked forward, stopping a few feet from the red surveyor.

 “Alright, show yourself,” Troy demanded, gesturing the surveyors to shine ahead. As ordered, the surveyors pointed at his direction. Troy could hear his generals and armed cultists scrambling, pointing their guns at the entity in front of him.

 Before him, a large man was chained to the wall, eyes bloodshot, grinning. He was wearing a white shirt and pants, bloody spots stained the majority of it, it appeared his hair was shaved off. The man licked his lips, giving everyone a good view of the sharp, serrated teeth and long tongue.

 “So noisy outside… was that you?” the large man asked, swaying back and forth, unfazed. The red surveyor perched on the large man’s head, beeping. Troy was fixated on the large burn mark on the man’s forehead.

 The same upside-down triangular shape mark that you and Cepheus sported.

 “Troy, he has..” Basil trailed off, breathing heavily, afraid. Troy nodded, quiet. They had found something thanks to Cepheus’ extensive notes about the place.

 “What should we do Troy?” Donovan asked, eyeing the sharp teeth of the man. It was still dark for them to truly see what else the man was hiding.

 “We should-“ Troy was cut off.

 “What is it, Master?” the large man said out loud, his head twitching erratically, “You wish to speak to this gentleman here?” The speech pattern was jarring to the man’s current appearance.

 Master?

 “Oh, I see…” the man continued, bringing a fingertip to rest on his lips, “My Master wishes for the presence of the one called ‘God Queen’ in order to initiate a pleasant conversation. My Master knows she’s around.”

 “How did you…” Troy growled, pointing his blade at him, shouting, “You are in no position to make demands! Who are you and why are you here?!”

 The large man wailed, covering his ears, “Cease this! You are too loud!” He sobbed, falling to his knees, “Master, please, this gentleman here is displaying a lack of etiquette, I must punish him!”

 The red surveyor beeped, delivering a small shock to the large man who calmed down.

 “All is well, my Master will wait. You want answers, don’t you?�� the large man’s tone shifted, standing up erect. He was no longer moving around, only staring at Troy and the others.

 Troy observed the man and the surveyor, noticing wires connecting both of them, revealing how the man was receiving instructions.

 “He’s had body modifications…” Troy commented, taking out his EchoNet device, “Tyreen?”

 “I heard everything, I’m almost there,” Tyreen sounded on the other side, “Keep him talking.”

 “Alright...” Troy put away his device, bringing his blade down, “The God Queen is coming, so you better have something good.”

 The man giggled, “My Master is most delighted to hear.”

 The hatch reopened again, the armed cultists backing up to help Tyreen down. She shuddered, hugging herself a bit.

 “Shit, its cold here…” she muttered, approaching Basil, Donovan, and Troy.

 “Tell us about…” Donovan replied, trying to control his breathing, “Let’s make this quick.”

 “The God Queen is here, whoever you are…” Troy hissed out, still keeping Tyreen behind him.

 “Most excellent, Master, shall we proceed?” the large man said, ecstatic as he received another shock.

 “What the hell is going on…” Tyreen glanced around the room. All around were empty shackles, dry blood splatters.

 “My Master wishes to gain confirmation that you saw the photos from the EchoNet,” the man inquired, pupils dilated, his tone going more robotic, “Confirm.”

 Tyreen and Troy glanced at each other, the latter responding, “We have. One with bodies and another with a woman laughing.”

 You.

 The large man took a deep breath, covering his face. The generals and the armed cultists brought up their guns, aiming. Keeling over, he started laughing, a mixture of sobs and pain. Troy pushed Tyreen back as the man thrashed around in his chains.

 “Oh, I’ve waiting a long time for this moment,” the large man said. The Calypsos blinked, eyeing him cautiously. The man’s voice went deeper.

 Someone was speaking through him.

 “She has a cat-like grin, doesn’t she?” the man asked, looking at the Calypsos, “It’s adorable.”

 Tyreen hissed, Siren tattoos glowing bright, “H-How..!?”

 “I’ve always loved her laughs, her smiles… However…” the man glared at them, “She doesn’t belong to you!” The man’s hands shook, the chains rattling, “You are to return her to me at once!”

 “I told you that you are in no position to make demands!” Troy barked out, snarling. The large man wailed again, mumbling to himself and another voice talking. Another shock was delivered.

 “You are to give us answers! What is going on in this place?!” Tyreen shouted, her Siren tattoos glowing intimidatingly.

 The large man giggled, ranting, “Cepheus was supposed to bring her back. Clearly, he failed. This is what happens when one relies on old people, time catches up to them. Their sins as well. Now, he’s dead.”

 “That damn Cepheus again, that old fart has caused us more trouble as a dead man,” Donovan muttered, watching the large man cackle.

 “I’m sure she was sad killing her old mentor. Very unfortunate,” the large man continued.

 Sad? The Calypsos and everyone involved had seen you kill him with no remorse. You practically lost it when fighting him.

 “What you have is child’s play,” the large man taunted, his head twitching more, “Those Let’s Flays and livescreams of the raids, crude and brute, a pathetic excuse for attention.”

 /This is mere child’s play./

 Cepheus had taunted the Calypsos with that phrase. Tyreen growled.

 “You fucking asshole…” Tyreen hissed out, Troy stopped her from approaching the man, “I should say the same to you! Pathetic excuse for attention using the EchoNet forums… hiding behind a screen and now hiding behind this lump of meatbag! You coward!”

 The large man wailed, “Master, she’s raising her voice…!” His tone shifted again, “Are you calling me a coward?”

 “If you’ve seen those livescreams, you know what we are capable of… Of what I AM CAPABLE OF,” Tyreen shouted.

 “Hahaha, alright, I’ll indulge you. I will show you how out of league you are, Calypsos…” the large man said, popping his neck. In a quick movement, he bulked up in size, lunging at the Calypsos.

 Troy swung his blade, blocking a punch from the man who ripped off the wall shackles. The armed cultists began shooting, Donovan and Basil unloading their shotguns at the man’s face. Tyreen reached out, her Siren powers activating. The man hissed out in pain, his energy being drawn out.

 “This ends now you fucker!” Tyreen shouted, clenching her fist.

 “HAHAHAHA, YOU ARE A SIREN?! TRULY WONDERFUL!” the man slurred out, his skin going pale, “Master, this is too easy for me!”

 “TY!” Troy shouted, lunging and grabbing Tyreen out the way from an explosive attack from the large man’s hand body mod. Cracking noises and hissing alerted the group of the ceiling and walls crumbling down.

 “Shit, shit! Everyone, regroup with our Twin Gods!” Donovan shouted, heading towards the Calypsos. Tyreen remained in shock, holding on to Troy who was bleeding profusely from his neck and head.

 “T-Troy…! No!” Tyreen pleaded, checking his injuries, “N-No, no! Stay with me!” Some of the armed cultists ran towards them. The large man had grown in size, his body twitching.

 “Get a taste of what’s coming to you for keeping what belongs to my Master!” the man’s voice devolved deeper and deeper, snarling, eyes bulging, “Your powers don’t work on this body, God Queen!”

 “Fuck, you lot get the Twin Gods out of here, we’ll keep this bastard back!” Basil ordered, shooting, the armed cultists providing backup.

 Donovan gasped, seeing Troy’s back ripped apart, Tyreen trying to heal him. He took out an adrenaline shot, plunging it on Troy’s side. The tall Calypso hissed out in pain, screaming.

 “Damnit, damnit! We got to move!” Donovan shook Tyreen who was frozen, “Don’t go into shock, Tyreen, we have to get out!”

 Tyreen nodded, bloody hands shaking, her eyes glued to Troy’s massive injuries. An armed cultist grabbed Tyreen, pulling her up as Donovan and another armed cultist picked up Troy. The group immediately retreated, the collapsed wall providing a makeshift ramp out in the open.

 “CALYPSOS!” the mutated man shouted, “YOU ARE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!”

 “Over here you asshole!” Basil shot a rocket, the missile striking at the man’s face. This caught the mutated man’s attention, going after Basil.

 “Fuck, we need to call for back-up, this is bad!” Donovan said, his clothes soaking up Troy’s blood. Tyreen held on to Troy’s arm, feeding him energy.

 Her powers did not work on the mutated man, a first that she’s seen. That had been her primary source of attack, instilling fear on others.

 “CALYPSOS!” the mutated man’s roar taunted them from behind.

 Tyreen was afraid.

 ------000000------

 Religion was never a thing for you, believing that any entity out there who claimed to be one was simply a false god. This sentiment extended to the Calypsos, it disgusted you how everyone was enamored with them. No one was immortal, even the gods in myths met cruel ends due to their hubris. Betting money on it, so will the Calypsos if they decided to continue on their current path.

 Or seek answers from your past. At least one outcome would be kinder, in your opinion.

 Walking into the main cathedral, you gazed at the stained-glass windows depicting the Calypsos. For all the trouble and mayhem in the waste, they played the god part very well, having the energy to command for such elaborate representations of themselves to the cultists. As an artist of the mechanic type, you admired the craftmanship.

 Observing the rest of the cathedral, a lone psycho was by the altar, lighting up candles and praying, giggling. At least the psychos were more coherent within in the CoV. You made your way to the side of the large hall, entering a small confessional tucked away. Leaning against the soft, velvet seat, you rested your head slightly by the screen window dividing the other stall of the confessional. Clearing your throat, you alerted the other person on the opposite side.

 “I’m here to confess my sins,” you whispered. The small screen opened, the film blocking the view of the other person.

 “Go ahead,” a woman’s voice was heard. A very familiar one.

 “I can’t stop thinking of this particular man, every waking moment, I crave for his attention,” you started, “I lust for him….”

 You heard the woman take a deep breath.

 “I want to feel his touch, I want him to make me feel alive…” you let out a tiny whimper, “How can I satiate this? How can I be absolved for wanting his flesh, this deep carnal desire?”

 “Drop dead.”

 You backed away, dodging a dagger plunged through the wood panel. Snickering, you grabbed it, nicking your palm, a little of blood smeared on it. The dagger was pulled back.

 “Helen, Helen, dear Helen…” you whispered, licking your lips, “Helen of Troy… has a nice ring to it, right?”

 “….He told you, Jackal,” Helen growled out.

 “It was bound to happen, you know,” you informed, peeking through the film, “Sooner or later I was going to find out who was sending those meat bags to rough me up. Thanks for that, really enjoyed the workout.”

 Helen hissed, “Don’t get cocky…”

 “No, you. I’m tired of this stupid little game you got going on. I told you I’m not interested in Troy,” you spat out, tense, “I’m not here to fight you.”

 Helen remembered Donovan’s words about Troy. It was irrelevant her and your opinion in the matter. It was a harsh truth, but Troy’s attention was shifting to you.

 “It doesn’t matter,” Helen whispered, “It doesn’t fucking matter… as long as you are alive… he’ll go to you…”

 “Well then, pray tell what is another way to get his attention off from me?” you inquired, “Everyone seems to be keen in doing their own shit while I’m in the crossfire.”

 “There isn’t any,” Helen sounded defeated.

 “Well then, I guess I should try killing Troy, get that over with,” you commented, jokingly.

 “You fucking bitch…!”

 “I’m joking, geez, calm down,” you rolled your eyes as you watched the dagger plunge through again, close to your face, “I’m surprised you and Tyreen don’t get along, you two have hair trigger anger attacks….”

 “….”

 “Jackal told me as well, a man will spill anything under duress,” you huffed, “You already know my stance on this. I expect no more attacks from you.” You were about to step out when she uttered something, your blood boiling.

 “Watch your back with Donovan, he sent other groups to finish you off.”

 -----0000-----

  You reentered the warehouse, immediately dodging a wrench. Perseus shot you a look of disappointment, sighing. You snickered, approaching his workbench. The mechanic was the only one in the place, no service work allowed during a raid in case of an emergency or backup mechanics were needed on the field, which was extremely rare from what you’ve been told. As such, Perseus always liked to mingle around, working on personal projects. Great minds think alike, you thought.

 “You don’t know the meaning of resting, right?” Perseus raised his eyebrow, putting away some items in a drawer, “The others are still nursing their hangovers, pft.”

 “I get antsy if I’m not doing something, plus, I need to get ready if I’m doing another arena fight,” you removed your wrist gadget, setting it on the workbench, “I got something I want to use.”

 Perseus got excited, “Is it the secret, secret box? Will I finally be graced by the presence of those contents?” You laughed, poking him on the forehead. He stuck his tongue out at you.

 “Maybe, if you behave, I’ll even let you help me tune it up!” You teased, smiling when Perseus let out a tiny squeal. The mechanic went to grab some tools from his locker, setting them out, “I’m ready when you are…!”

 “Hold on, I haven’t even said I was going to let you help,” you went to your locker, grabbing a small black chest you crafted for smaller projects, suspicious of others trying to steal ideas.

 “B-But I’m your friend…” Perseus offered, mock crying, “I thought we had something magical…” You both stared at each other before bursting out in laughter. You smacked the workbench, wiping a tear from your face, “Now I’m the one crying!”

 “As long as its not the sad kind, we’ll be okay!” He grinned, flashing you a thumbs up. Opening the box, you carefully set out a pair of silver brass knuckles onto the workbench, placing some wires and small gears on the side.

 “Oh.. This is your new… toy?” Perseus teased, “Is it similar to that ring cuff you had?” The same one that got busted in the fight against Cepheus.

 “…Something similar, I was using that ring cuff as a prototype, trying to mimic that on brass knuckles, but the gears keep busting,” you opened one of the brass knuckles, showing Perseus the bent gears.

 “May I?” the mechanic inquired. You pushed the brass knuckles over to him, grinning, “Go ahead.”

 “Heheh,” Perseus grabbed some tweezers, a soldering iron, and thin screwdriver, “I think I may have your solution…” He quickly got to work, the smell of the soldering iron wafting through the warehouse. Observing the mechanic, you were amazed at how concentrated he looked.

 “You need to wind up the springs, make sure the little lever stays stuck on the latch of the spring mechanism to prevent it from rewinding more and busting into the gears,” Perseus pointed out, showing you. Leaning forward, you nodded, impressed.

 “Hmm…”

 “What? Oh…” you and Perseus’s faces were close. Too close.

 You pulled back, embarrassed, “I-I… Sorry about that…”

 “It’s fine. It’s not every day I have a pretty girl nearby,” Perseus winked at you, laughing. You snorted, “You think I’m pretty? Even though most of the time I’m covered in blood or grease oil?”

 “I think it brings out the color of your eyes, either way,” Perseus ruffled your hair, teasing. You grinned, “Oh, dear, tell me more…” You both laughed. At least he wasn’t calling you a bloody killer like the Calypsos.

 “You two! Mechanics! Over here double time!” an armed cultist hollered, causing you to jump, “There’s an emergency! Quickly, let’s go!”

 “What-“ Perseus grabbed your arm, dragging you towards the armed cultist. You managed to put your brass knuckles away in the box.

 “Shit, shit, we gotta go, come on!” Perseus and you ran after the armed cultist, “Fuck, this isn’t good!”

 “Did something go wrong?!” you asked the armed cultist who ushered you and Persesus into an armored bandit technical. Two other bandit technicals had taken off.

 “We don’t know…! Prophet Donovan radioed in for backup!” the armed cultist pressed on the gas, tires screeching, “Ordered for mechanics to brought in for an emergency procedure!”

 Emergency procedure? Perseus went to the back part of the vehicle, rummaging through the drawers for tools. The other occupant in the vehicle was a medic who was going through supply bags.

 “Shit…” you held on to the side of the vehicle, bracing on the impacts on the bumpy, dusty terrain of the wastes. You went cold when you saw the Atlas stronghold in the distance.

“O-Oh no…No.. no…” you started mumbling, stumbling backwards, “No… No… they went there…!”

 “Hey, keep it together, I know this is your first emergency call, we’re gonna get through this!” Perseus yelled from the back, but froze when he saw your expression, “Andromeda…?”

 You had fear written on your face, pale, hands twitching, “I can’t go back… I can’t go back…”

 “Snap her out of it! We’re almost there!” the armed cultist shouted. Gunshots and explosions sounded off, your brain going numb. Perseus rushed over, grabbing your head, “Look at me, keep your eyes on me. You’re gonna be okay, take deep breaths!”

 You gulped, tears stinging your eyes, trying to breath. Your chest was on fire, your lungs pleading for air, your body refusing. Memories, deep dark memories were ready to burst. You wanted to scream, yell, run and hide. The Atlas red taunted you.

 “Andromeda, eyes on me!” Perseus caressed your check, “Breath in, breath out…!” You yelped when the vehicle hit a bump, causing you to stumble into Perseus. Instinctively, you clung to him, hands shaking.

 “Oof, not too tight! Can’t breath, wait, you are the one that needs to breath…!” Perseus grimaced, adjusting himself. Your face was on his chest, taking a deep breath. The scent from Perseus reminded you of the warehouse, the dusty, greasy tools, the smell of burnt metal shavings, the strong smell of chemicals….

 It reminded you of your brother.

 “Hepha…” you whispered, loosening your grip on Perseus.

 “What was that?” Perseus looked down at you, concerned, “Are you okay?”

 Before you could respond, the vehicle abruptly stopped, the back doors opening. Two armed cultist pushed forward, holding the doors open as Basil and Tyreen were dragging Troy into the vehicle. The tall Calypso was severally injured, part of his neck and shoulder bone exposed, the connectors on the back of his head ripped off, the metal plates on the side of his body were bent in, crushed.

 “H-Holy--!” Perseus stared in horror, your eyes wide at the sight of Troy.

 “Damnit! That fucking monster did this to Troy!” Basil wailed, smacking the side of the vehicle, “Step on the damn pedal! We need to get out of here! You mechanics, medic, patch him up!”

 “Y-Yes sir!” Persues replied, getting to work immediately. You eyed the extensive damage, unsure if you all had the necessary equipment and material in hand.

 Tyreen was holding Troy’s head, her Siren tattoos glowing, herself covered in blood. She didn’t notice you were in the vehicle until you started to inspect Troy’s wounds.

 “W-Who brought her!? Why is she here?!” Tyreen shouted, growling, “Damnit, this is your fucking fault!!”

 “My fault?! You couldn’t keep your fucking nose out of my business!” you shouted back, snarling. Everyone else watched in fear as you kept talking back at Tyreen.

 “If only you answered our fucking questions, none of this would be happening!” Tyreen hissed out.

 “Get after her later! We need to get Troy stable!” Basil interjected, feeling a common trend of him being the sane one.

 Tyreen hissed, you ignored her as you were given tools and the medic began administering fluids to Troy. Perseus and you checked the broken spine connector, taking out chunks of broken metal parts. Troy would let out small whimpers, driving Tyreen’s anxiety up.

 “Please Troy, hang in there!” Tyreen sobbed, yelling threats at you, Perseus, and the medic.

 SLAP!

 Tyreen stared at you, a bloody handprint on her cheek where you slapped her. Everyone gasped.

 “You better keep your fucking mouth shut, can’t concentrate with you shouting every second!” you snapped, a hand on Troy’s opened back, “Concentrate on feeding whatever fucking shit you have to him...”

 Tyreen gulped, nodding as she looked down at Troy, a bit scared. Her priority was keeping Troy alive. Your priority was making sure he made it out alive. No one made a comment about the slap, simply aiding you in reconstructing Troy’s spine.

 “Perseus, gives me a .55mm wire, medic, I need more clean gauze, seep up the spinal fluid,” you ordered. Perseus gave you the wire, resuming his work on creating a makeshift connector and spinal wire, the medic injecting more morephine into Troy, using a small suction to clear out the spinal fluid.

 Tyreen and Basil watched you meticulously work, your eyes not wandering as you fed the wire through several small connectors in Troy’s spine, carefully closing the seams of the body mesh wire serving as a conductor and cushion for the spine connector. Your fingers were all over Troy’s back, fixing up the broken, smashed pieces. Perseus handed you the complete connector, the medic administering fluids through an IV, keeping tabs on the monitor on the side of the vehicle.

 / You should have seen her work… I mean, I get into my zone while working in my shop, you know? She just… the way she uses the tools… not as an extension of her but as PART of her…/

 The white-haired Calypso stared at you, Troy’s words echoing in her mind. Your eyes would twitch a bit, glancing around the work before you, your fingers expertly handling the small, delicate tools, precise cuts, incisions, everything calculated. She was starting to see why her brother was smitten by you.

 And she herself as well.

 “You got any morphine left?” you asked the medic, not looking away.

 “No, we used the last vial, are you ready to reconnect?” the medic asked, Perseus nervous.

 “He’s gonna jolt when we do,” Perseus glanced at Tyreen, “We’re gonna have to hold him down.”

 “W-What?” Tyreen’s voice was strained.

 “Keep him steady, don’t pull, only hold him down, is everyone ready?” you asked, finishing up the closing the spine connector.

 “Yeah!”

 “Here goes…!” You reconnected the wires, Troy screaming out in pain, thrashing. Everyone held him down, Basil bearing the brunt of Troy’s mechanical arm. Tyreen wept, holding her brother’s head, feeding him energy, “Oh Troy… please hang on…”

 “Ty…” Troy’s voice was small, exhausted, “….Ty…”

 “I’m here little brother, I’m here,” Tyreen knelt down as much as she could, hugging him gently. Troy calmed down, no longer fighting.

 “We need to remove the metal plates, they are tearing into his flesh and any sudden movements could push them to puncture his organs…” you tugged at the plates, Troy yelping.

 “Be gentle!” Tyreen growled out.

 “I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut!” you yelled back.

 “Ty… let her work…” Troy was panting a bit, “She knows… what she’s… doing…” He lowered his head, passing out. Tyreen whimpered, still holding him. If he trusted you, then she would.

 “What do you need, mechanic?” Basil asked, rummaging through the drawers, Perseus setting up a small work area.

 “We don’t have the necessary metal plates, but check for more body mesh sheets, that will keep him intact till we get to the hub. Medic, you need to move over here and clean as much as you can of the shrapnel,” you ordered, moving aside to let the medic through. Basil threw some sheets at Perseus and you.

 “I’ll get the shoulder, you get the sides,” Perseus began working on shaping the mesh, you nodding. The ride was proving smooth for now, giving Troy a much-needed break.

 “B-Basil, anyone!” Donovan shouted from the EchoNet, “The fucker escaped! He’s heading your way!”

 Tyreen and Basil looked at each other in horror.

 “N-No!” Tyreen shouted, looking out through the windows of the vehicle.

 “What the fuck is that?!” Perseus yelled, holding the body mesh in his hands. You froze, hands twitching.

 The large man had furthered mutated, galloping across the land in all fours, gaining ground on your vehicle. From behind, several other bandit technicals were in pursuit, shooting at him.

 “CALYPSOS! YOU ARE NOT RUNNING AWAY FROM ME!” the man’s disembodied voice struck a chord in you.

 /Kill them all./

 You grabbed your head, wincing.

 /Kill them all./

 The headache was reemerging, a sharp pain coursing through your body.

 /Kill them all until you see red./

 You eyed some chains on the back part of the vehicle, going for them.

 “H-Hey! What are you doing?!” Persesus asked, Tyreen and Basil startled.

 “Patch up the sides, you know what to do,” you replied, voice distant. You kicked open the back doors, jumping off.

 “D-Doll, no!” Tyreen shouted, Basil holding her back.

 “She’s fucking insane!” Basil immediately shut down the doors, “Fuck, Mouthpiece, Moksha, eyes on the mechanic that rolled out! Donovan, keep that fucking monster away!”

 “Is that the fucking plaything that rolled out!?” Donovan yelled through the EchoNet.

 “Surveyors will pull a feed through!” Moksha alerted the group.

 ----000000----

 You immediately hit the ground, rolling in the dirt as the large mutated man cackled, skidding to a stop. The other bandit technicals stopped, quickly surrounding you and the man.

 “What is this?! Time to meet your maker, Master says so!” he shouted, snarling. The red surveyor was nested on the man’s head, beeping.

 You quickly got up, spitting out blood from the impact on your face, swinging the chain on your side. The large man’s eyes went wide.

 “I-It’s you! Y-You are here! You are alive!” the large man’s voice held excitement, “O-Oh… I must be fortunate! I must take you back! I must take you back!” He reached out to grab you. Dodging quickly, you whipped the chain to land a hit on the man’s face. He yelped, holding his face.

“N-No! No! NO! This isn’t how things are to be! You know that! You are not to fight back!” He hollered, snarling.

 “You lack etiquette…” you hissed out, swinging your chain again, “I must punish you…”

 “N-No! I apologize!” the mutated man fell to his knees, pleading, “Oh, Master, I have failed you!”

 “What is going on with that thing…?!” Donovan kept the others away, observing the fight. Your demeanor had changed, you were standing tall, a gleeful expression on your face. Several CoV surveyors arrived at the area, flocking near Donovan.

 “You failed to bow, I shall pass judgment,” you stated, voice laced with excitement, “But I will allow you the honor to fight for your life. Come on.”

 “I-I shall!” the man sobbed out.

 He wailed in pain, shrieking, his back further ripping apart, exposing the inner metal frame of his spine with various vials attached to it. His clawed at his own face, chunks of flesh falling off. Hunched over, his appearance became more animalistic, feral.

 Unhinged.

 You laughed, clapping, the chains rattling, “Yes! Just like that! Go all out on me! I haven’t had a challenge since I killed Cepheus!” Your eyes held a glint of enthusiasm, “LETS GO! LETS GO! BRING IT ON!”

 The mutated man roared, lunging forward. You cackled, jumping on his arm and landing a punch on his face, digging your hands into the soft flesh. Avoiding a punch from him, you ripped down flesh, splashing blood on yourself. With the chains, you viciously whipped the mutated man, striking at the spine. He stumbled forward, holding his face.

 You rolled towards the ground, dodging more kicks and punches, laughing as you took out your dagger to plunge it on his hand when the mutated man tried to grab you. With an upwards slice, his fingers came off clean.

 “Show mercy! Show mercy!” the mutated man slurred out, holding up his fingerless hand, “Please, show mercy!”

 / I’m the last person to ask for mercy… /

 “I’M THE LAST PERSON TO ASK FOR MERCY!” you screeched out, lunging at the man, aiming for his leg with the dagger, “I’M NOT GOING BACK! NOT GOING BACK!” You screamed, slicing through the thick skin, exposing the bone. Using the chains, you wrapped it around the wound, pulling hard. The mutated man hollered out in pain, falling to the ground as you tugged hard.

 With a strong pull, you ripped off his leg clean off, laughing as the body part landed ways off from you, but near the bandit technicals.

 “MERCY!”

 “NEVER!” you shouted, jumping on the man’s back, coiling the chains around his neck, choking him. No one showed you mercy. Why should they ask for something that was never given to you?

 You eyed the body mod on his spine, your mind going crazy. Falling into a fit of giggles, you stabbed into the flesh, digging a hand into the metal frame and surrounding body parts. Biting your lip, you remembered tinkering with Troy’s back, feeling his own flesh under your fingertips as you raced against time to save his life.

 So soft.

 So squishy.

 So delicate.

 So red.

 A wrong move and he died.

 His life in your hands.

 Not on Tyreen’s or Helen’s.

 But yours. A god’s life in your tainted hands.

 “Must kill… Dominate… Kill them all..” you muttered, pulling at the metal frame, the loud popping noise of the spine coming clean off from the man reached everyone’s ears. He thrashed, crying out in pain as you threw the body mod aside.

 Jumping off his back, you lifted the large man, laughing, plunging the dagger into his abdomen.  He cried out in pain, blood gushing from his chest and stomach onto you, guts pouring out.

 “A bloody sacrifice! A bloody sacrifice!” he shouted, twitching, “The Queen has passed judgment! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” He let out a loud shriek, eyes popping out, his head exploding. You plunged your dagger deeper, hearing the crunching, tearing of flesh. Shaking the body more, you flung it to the side, completely bathed in red. Red. Red.

 Red. Red. Red.

 The red surveyor approached you, beeping. You tilted your head, eyeing it. A small blue heart appeared above it.

 .: Come home, please. :. You patted the surveyor’s head before punching it on the ground, laughing. Injured, the robot beeped sadly, spazzing on the ground. You stepped on and crushed it under your boot.

 “I love you,” a voice message rang out.

 Your voice.

 A flash of an upside-down blue triangle reflected on the surveyor’s screen before dying out.

 You stared at the remains of the red surveyor, shrugging. Remembering you had company, you turned to look at the armed cultists. Hissing, you laughed as they looked on in fear, staying near the bandit technicals.

 You then stared at Donovan, your expression filled with bloodlust.

 “Send more meat bags and your head will be the one to roll,” you smiled, licking your lips. You then cackled.

 Donovan narrowed his eyes.

 You did have a cat-like grin.

 -----00000-----

 Tyreen glanced at Helen sitting on the medical bed, Troy’s head resting on the woman’s lap. She was gently caressing his cheek, Troy holding the priestess’s hand. You had bought them time to reach the hub unhindered, the medics and Perseus finishing and patching up the remaining parts of Troy’s metal plates. The information for the raid was kept hushed, but was later reported as successful, despite the small causalities and Troy’s injury.

 Donovan brought back the remaining survivors, you included. You never spoke a word to anyone, only sitting on the hallway of the main infirmary, completely covered in blood. After Perseus had finished with his work, he was the only one to approach you, sitting in front of you. Tyreen had seen the mechanic before on the feeds of the warehouse, chatting and joking around with you. Unlike with her and Troy, you were friendlier, outgoing with this other mechanic. Jealousy bubbled up in the God Queen.

 “Ty…” Troy whispered, glancing at Tyreen, “Where is she..?” Helen’s caressing stopped, her fingertips twitching.

 “Who…? My plaything?” Tyreen asked, exhaustion present in her voice.

 “Yeah…” Troy closed his eyes, whimpering a bit. Helen looked away, sighing.

 “She’s outside, down the hallway… Didn’t want to come in…” Tyreen said, shooting a small glare at the door, “She’s talking to the other mechanic that help her patch you up.”

 “I see…” Troy said, taking a deep breath. He recalled hearing Perseus rant on about your safety, about how he was worried if you’d make it back alive. He wanted to shut the idiot mechanic up, but when he had heard you jumped off the vehicle, Troy got nervous, believing you had taken the opportunity to run away.

 When he was brought in to the infirmary, Basil had the feed from the fight going. Troy and the others watched as you brought down the mutated man with ease with no help from Donovan and the others. You were more feral than before, relishing and soaking in the fear that the mutated man exhibited who begged for mercy. The more he begged, the more ferocious were your attacks. A complete opposite performance than with Cepheus.

 /I’M NOT GOING BACK!/

 You were adamant about it.

 /I love you./

 That was what the red surveyor said before dying, crushed under your boot. Troy swore that was your voice, sounding more alive than your current self. Had you said those words to someone? Was it the same person that had taken a picture of you laughing? Whoever this way, they had been intimate with you. Jealousy stirred in Father Troy.

 “Rest…” Helen pleaded, snapping Troy out of his thoughts, “I’ll be here with you…”

 “Thank you,” Troy whispered, closing again his eyes, squeezing her hand. Helen watched Tyreen leave the room, not sparing the priestess a glance.

 ----00000-----

 “Father Troy is fine now, thanks to you,” Perseus said, resting his hands on his knees, “You… You are a damn lunatic…” The last words weren’t in a fearful tone. He was scolding you.

 You looked down, rubbing your injured arm.

 “Jumping out of the damn vehicle, you could have gotten yourself killed!” Perseus waved a finger at you, upset, “Damnit, you need to stop being reckless!”

 “I’m sorry…” you mumbled out, shrinking.

 Perseus sighed, rubbing his face, “You better be. Promise me you won’t be doing anything like that again, please?”

 “I won’t be able to keep it, and you know it…” you said, hugging yourself, “I didn’t want you to see that side of me…”

 “What side?” Perseus asked, “The one that slapped the God Queen or the one that brought down that freaky thing?”

 “Both…” you let out a tiny chuckle, “You should… You should stay away from me….”

 The mechanic stared at you, baffled, “…Why?”

 “Bad things happen to those around me,” you stated, looking at him. You were covered head to toe with blood, not bothering to change.

 “I’m your friend,” Perseus insisted, “Friends stick with each other….”

 “I never asked to be your friend…”

 “I know what you are trying to do, but its not going to work,” Perseus narrowed his eyes, standing up, “Just… Just stay alive…”

 You snorted, shaking your head, “I wish I had your enthusiasm, sadly, its been dead a long time ago…” The mechanic sighed, then stood up straight at the sight of Tyreen approaching the two of you.

 “M-My God Queen…” Perseus bowed, “I was heading out, my work is complete…”

 Tyreen nodded, waving him off, “Thank you for your work, mechanic. You are dismissed.” Perseus nodded, bowing again before leaving quickly. You got up, dusting yourself off.

 You had been waiting for Perseus to be done.

 The little jealousy monster stung Tyreen again. She breathed in and out, trying to keep calm.

 “Thank you for saving Troy’s life…” Tyreen said, clasping her hands together, “…How can I ever repay you…?”

 “Let me go. Let me leave this place,” you replied, voice distant.

 Tyreen shook her head, approaching you slowly, “That’s not possible. You are….”

 /My plaything./

 “You are part of the Children of the Vault, you have the mark.”

 /You belong to me, and only to me./

 You glared at her. Even after witnessing the carnage, almost losing her brother, and picking a fight with the wrong person, she still held on to you?

 Tyreen grabbed your arm, not forcefully. You didn’t pull back this time around. She leaned to kiss you, looking at your eyes. You didn’t respond, your gaze empty.

 “Why.. why do you keep looking at me like that?!” Tyreen yelled, “Why do I get the hissing, the glares, the snarls!? WHY?!” She slapped you, tears falling down her cheeks, “Why do you keep denying me?!”

 You merely stared at her.

 “Stop looking at me that way!” She shouted, clenching her fists, “Answer my fucking questions!”

 “I hate you, you’re a monster,” you hissed out, disgust oozing with every word uttered, your bloody appearance not helping, “A Siren monster…”

 Tyreen felt her heart squeeze.

 ------000000-----

 “You are back early, Professor Juno.”

 “That’s not my name, that’s my father’s,” the black-haired man replied, eye twitching as he saw Steele approach him, “What do you want?”

 “No need to be rude, I came to see my Siren sister,” Steele stood next to him, looking into the observation room.

 Tyreen was provided with several plants, the medical staff tallying up notes as she took the energy from some of them and transferred them over to another plant, watching them grow and sprout flowers and fruits. The moment this was discovered, the Atlas jarheads were delighted, finally happy that progress was being made. Troy remained by her side, observing. Their mother, Leto, looked on, uneasy.

 “Supreme Commander Gaia would be proud to see this,” Steele commented, standing erect, “Knowing that Atlas was able to procure another Siren to continue her vision for the Crimson Lance and the Atlas Corporation.”

 The man growled at the mention of the commander.

 “I will do my best to emulate her image, she was a role model for all of us,” Steele continued, proud, “Wouldn’t you agree, Hephaestus?”

 “She’s dead,” Hephaestus stated.

 “Pardon?” Steele turned to look at him.

 “If you wish to follow her footsteps, you’re going to end up like her, dead,” Hephaestus spat out, taking out a cigarette, lighting it up, “She was a nasty piece of work, that woman.” Hephaestus stared at Tyreen playing with the orbs of energy she created. The white-haired Calypso yelped when they popped, frightening her and Troy as the twins ran towards their mother for safety.

 “That’s an odd way to speak about your mother,” Steele furrowed her eyebrows, “There must be something you found inspiring in her.”

 Hephaestus took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing out smoke, “Nothing inspiring about a Siren monster.”

 A message pinged on his wrist device, Hephaestus glanced down.

 The upside-down blue triangle flashed.

 .:We have another job for you.:.

 ----00000------

 Well, I hope it wasn’t too crazy for people to read. Rewrote this chapter a lot of times. @_@

 The chapter concentrated more on the twins and worldbuilding than on the reader. The mixture of Atlas and the Calypso twins was inspired by cruddyborderlandstheories from tumblr, of course, adding my own twist to it. I see the twins as an inspiration from Apollo (red) and Artemis (blue) which is why I named their mother Leto.

 This is probably going to get destroyed when new info is released on E3, which is why I was rushing to post it before the weekend xD

#the calypso twins thirst #the calypso twins #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #troy calypso x reader #tyreen calypso x reader #angst all around #good old angst

[kae-karo]

lmao so i thought someone asked for an analysis of the gwf vid like i could’ve sworn i had that ask so y’all just have to deal with me posting it anyway here ya go lads golf gone sexual™: the final edition

the fucking. the pirate outfits. the. i’m. i don’t. i can’t. (x) ‘left over from somewhere’

fucking phil ‘u lost ur stick last time i think’ yeah phil sure yeah sure okay buddy

‘choke me daddy festive edition’ @ dan pls stop

what cuties i love them just not actually knowing what they’re doing and messing it up and these awkward long pauses before they burst into a fit of giggles i love them

why did they even bring up the ‘winter update’ like it had no relevance??

crinkly boye

don’t worry i can host dan what are u even on about

phil out here coming up with a great vid name (yo ho ho) and they went with battle for the booty smh that says everything u ever need to know abt dnp

wow even in this year of 2018 we got yet another ur mum joke (and phil’s right we do love kath)

@ dan pls stop ur bf from making weird hand gestures okay that’s,,,,,it’s unnecessary

hi they cute

‘u absolute twit nipple’ how on earth does that still sound so fond what the fuck

and another ur mum joke wow i just,,,,wow

the way dan says ‘oh my god that was good’ like. he never sounds like that??? it’s a good sound he should sound like it more often idk it’s like soft and genuine in a sort of ‘wow i did okay??’ kinda cute surprised way??

‘stop talking about how close this is’ dan,,,,,,really u thought that was bad??? really??? really?????

phil’s deep-voiced yarr and dan’s literal only reaction being that he should’ve made a pun out of it leads me to believe philip does that deep voice often enough that dan is entirely unfazed and idk how i feel abt that

‘just bounced off the rim that’s how i like to play it, don’t go in, just bounce off it’ that cheeky fuckin smile daniel please can u not

lmao the pirate outfit is unlucky hm

hi i love dan’s lil trying-not-to-smile-but-just-about-to-smile smile when he’s staring at phil it makes me happy

how did they spend ten minutes (okay ten full seconds) trying to figure out the name of the wheel

dan: makes f/phat booty pun, phil: ‘they’re just filled with ass they’re not even coins’

same dan

important content

ik everyone’s said it by now but dan’s choice of adjective was great and i’m here for it (’gaily jumping off the ship’)

dan’s lil smile when phil’s ‘gaily adjusting his stance’

dimply boye

how does phil just blatantly ignore ‘phil’s edging us guys’ like idk i mean i hyperfocus too but like damn they really must just talk about that kind of stuff on a regular basis bc u don’t just tune that out y’know

phil’s distracted ‘that is so much ass’

‘yarrs’ carries the same energy as when dan made the ‘ain’t no gravy up in this kitch’ joke in the bunny biscuits vid and stared at phil and waited for his joke to be acknowledged

my kink is dan looking hilariously fond abt phil making bad sex-related comments (’it’s a strap-on’)

hey phil u know if u swear in another language it’s still swearing right?

did dan just absolutely commit to the harder flag?? without saying anything abt it? even though he lost?

phil just. out here. purposely almost-swearing. we stan

ik i saw this joke elsewhere but phil ur literally staring at a posh pirate mmkay b

i just wanna know what was going through dan’s head with ‘oingo boingo i’m a dick’ bc like. u okay there b??

ye dan we know ur geometry skills are quite lacking but glad the whole reference thing just keeps on coming up

‘they’re gonna do an exam about me and everyone’s gonna get an A star’ i mean that’s living in the phandom isn’t it? We all aspire to be phil trash, even though only One can hold the ultimate title

okay like take five seconds and take a step back they’re literally just playing golf i love how stupidly competitive they get it’s adorable

‘oh dear’ makin a comeback

plankspank.com why are they like this (at least phil didn’t buy the domain this time)

danny u have picked up ur husband’s habit of making a cawing noise whenever u get a birdie

why does he do this

physically in pain

fucking hell dan why do u have to make this so goddamn sexual i didn’t ask for this i didn’t want u talkin bout how it was a slow one and u put it in and jfc look i read phanfiction for a reason i don’t actually wanna know what ur sex life is like okay

britney spears references wow is it 2010 again or is that just all the foreplay golf,,,,,play,,,,,

dan,,,,,,,,

re: the tentacle: ‘that is gonna be right,,,,somewhere’ dan we got it u did not have to add ‘right in the poop deck’ and ur fucking noise okay we did Not need that

i lied earlier my kink is dan saying he cannot believe smth

this is just becoming a masterpost of all the weird faces dan makes

‘it’s part of the loser station for idiots who get everything wrong’ ???? dan help i can’t tell are u a seven y.o child who makes up mean insults when u lose or a twenty-seven year old adult who makes sex jokes n innuendos bc this vid is giving me mixed vibes

🎶🎶there she goes, there she goes again🎶🎶

awwwww matching nerds

dan n his fuckin squeaky i’m-making-fun-of-u voice

‘some people are just skilled booty raiders’ #dantops2k18

Important Dan Fact™ if u can see his lil corner of his mouth u can bet u could see his dimple on the other side and i’m suing bc we can’t see it

why did it take them like 3 tries to figure out they had to time it with the cannons i mean it’s like they’ve never played a vid game in their lives

bite it danny boy u know u want to u also know if it were the other way round phil would’ve bitten at dan’s finger

more dan face

phil absolutely going off topic with ‘sometimes i want to explore with fashion’ and dan’s immediate ‘oh do u now phil lmao’

‘so many textures out there’ he cute

i mean dan cute too but phil cute for sayin it

we stan boyfriends with literally the same brain whining abt lazy rivers and rude kids

hi sorry i just love watching phil when dan’s talking bc he pays so much attention like he used to not do that (back in the day) but like he just really turns and focuses on dan now and it makes me happy

i know we all adore dan’s ‘shut up’ but it always gives me life hearing phil tell dan to shut up

fond daniel

also phil’s super cute soft natural voice when he’s talking about how he keeps saying ‘watch this’

has phil ever gotten this frustrated with gwf lmao

‘bollocks’ as if that’s a thing they say

just kiss him phil goddamn i mean u wanna win right what better way to throw him off his game

why did maximum yeet have to become a thing i s2g

‘why am i helping’ bc u have absolutely no willpower and u want phil to be happy bc it makes u happy that’s why

why,,,,,,,why does everything satisfying have to be sexual phil, why. just. why. and then? golf gone sexual? as if that’s not a better title for the goddamn vid than ‘battle for the booty’ at least it’s accurate??? ‘battle for the booty’ i expect them dueling irl over who gets to top next or some shit that is why u call a vid ‘battle for the booty’

dan,,,,,,pls let ur bf make the weird noises okay

hi sorry what the Fuck is this

is that meant to be a monkey or some shit like what???????

that is a skeleton pirate thing what the hell

why does he have such a long face

idk they cute when they look at each other like they're like having a serious convo even tho they aren’t (although i wouldn’t be shocked if making puns is an important point of communication between them)

also fun fact i heard phil saying ‘jewel’ for the first like five times instead of duel

phil, realizing he’s said something he shouldn’t have

a cute

hi once again i love them

phil doing his face covering thing why does he always look at least 3x cuter when he’s doing it whilst staring at dan

‘i got the octopus, he’s gonna marry me, we’re gonna have tentacle hooked babies with parrots on the crib’

same dan same

and then he turns around n says ‘spank me with a plank and call me poopy susan’ wtf is wrong with them

‘u love a good tentacle don’t u’ show me where i asked

dan, actually considering how that would feel with all the tentacles:

how did they go from phil saying ‘you love a good tentacle’ to saying ‘(you/we) should get some of those’ to dan saying ‘no, you shouldn’t’ like uhm. wot

this

#dnp #dan and phil #dapg #danandphilgames #phan #golf with friends #pirate edition #vid analysis #moonshine gifs #kt #and yes to the person that asked for an analysis for the heartthrob vid #that's coming give me like ten mins lmao

[bigskydreaming]

gingerjab replied to your post “ANYWAY. The petition/prayer circle for Michael Trevino to be cast as...”

I’m forever an asshole obsessed with fire/ice ships so Thunderbird or Sunfire, fuck the inhumans one off and St. John. Also, Rahul Kohli as Neal Shaara/Thunderbird/Agni. Also I’m sposed to be asleep so ignore if this is a shit idea.

For the record, I actually kinda like the Inhuman guy, cuz I mean, its not his fault he’s part of a trash franchise. I think it probably helps that I’ve only ever read one issue with him, so as to render it absolutely impossible for his writing to piss me off. I like to just close my eyes and pretend he’s a mutant. Y’know. Like I do with Kamala!

Who is obviously a mutant.

(And like.....let’s be real. The dude is a pyrokinetic with a demon form, the codename INFERNO, and his REAL name is DANTE Pertuz. DANTE. INFERNO. Like, that’s the on-the-nose-fuck-your-subtlety-we-came-here-to-be-pretentious-as-fuck-with-our-literary-references-look-how-dignified-it-makes-our-character balls to the wall character concept I am HERE for. I’m like OH HAI I SEE WHAT U DID THAR. And they’re like “oh yeah? You got it? Hahaha, we were worried nobody would, phew, good job tho. Totally adds to the character right? Pretty clever of us.” And then I’d be like Hahahaha no, not even a little bit, but ‘scool, I like him anyway cuz I’m easy like that. I put out for puns.” And then they’d be like awwwww, dammit, we worked so hard on that. And I’d be like....well, that doesn’t speak highly of your abilities, I mean it was a super obvious joke. And then I stopped making up conversations with hypothetical people in my head.)

Also, in defense of comic book St. John Allerdyce and absolutely NO OTHER VERSIONS EVER because agreed, they all suck....

Comic book St. John is a snarky Australian asshole who in between acts of mutant mass destruction, has a side career as a successful romance novelist under a pen name.

(I’m not even joking. Comic book St. John, in canon, writes romance novels in his spare time as a hobby. LOLOLOL c’mon, how is that not a great character beat for a supervillain slash occasional kinda-if-you-squint-superhero).

Anyway.

I too am also trash for fire/ice ships because SCREW SUBTLETY, WE SHIP THEMATICALLY. But like, its gotta be the RIGHT fire/ice ship. I weirdly have standards with my fire/ice ships? Probably just because I’m obsessed with Bobby Drake but whatever, who cares, how is that relevant.

I mean, OBVIOUSLY, you have your proto-fire/ice ship, the one, the original, the Word I came out of the womb prepared to preach and ship and like, spread to the masses....Bobby Drake/Johnny Storm. Because like. They are elemental dorks whose competitiveness is only matched by their dumbness, how can you not love them, I DEFY YOU TO SAY.

I’m kinda meh on Iceman/Pyro, because like, original comic book Pyro and Bobby never even interacted I think? And in cartoons they’re always totally different generations/age groups, and in the movies they’re like....boring and stale and not even all that attractive and also did I mention boring, omg no offense to whomever wrote them, but I tried reading Bobby/Pyro movie fanfic years ago because like, that’s the only movie Bobby fic there is, unless you want to read about him being an asshole to Rogue and/or cheating with Kitty and just generally driving Rogue into the arms of the much (much much much much, like ewww) older Logan or Gambit. Because srsly, so appealing. So obviously, I caved and tried reading Bobby/Pyro fics because like, they had the word ‘Bobby’ in them, and the bar is too low in my X-Men fic reading habits. And omg I fell asleep. I just. It was all just the standard m/m cookie cutter generic ‘good boy plus bad boy uwu yaoi-zowey’ bleh starring two not at all deeply written or well-acted meh-looking white dudes, and just. Why.

But that’s what I mean when I say I’m wary of fire/ice ships, because sometimes with powered characters like, authors think oh hey, LOOK ONE IS FIRE AND ONE IS ICE, THIS TOTALLY COUNTS AS THEM HAVING OPPOSITES ATTRACT PERSONALITIES AND THUS I DONT NEED TO GIVE THEM A PERSONALITY, RIGHT? Like. They’re just very boring and unimaginative in execution, just because they expect the basic premise of fire and ice/’obvious opposites attract, obviously’ to do all the work for them.

(Katey if you’re reading this I’m super for sure not talking about YOUR superpowered romances, because you are wonderful and GOOD at writing and imaginative, and thus none of this applies to you. Requisite disclaimer.)

So, when they did this random Bobby/’New Pyro Dude like where did he even come from I still dont know’ hook-up, I was prepared to like, yawn endlessly, because I figured it would be more boring imaginationless ‘ooh look what an obvious pair they are and yet still praise me for how clever I am for pairing them’ crap. 

And I was absolutely right!

(But I mean, it was written by Marc Guggenheim, the odds of it sucking were totally in my favor. Betting against them being well-written under his pen might feasibly be construed as cheating. Whatever).

And also, the art did them ZERO favors, like I know they’re both generic blond dudes in their twenties, but I LITERALLY COULD NOT TELL WHICH WAS SUPPOSED TO BE WHICH in any of the panels that they were like, in bed together or dressing or talking or literally anything until they started using their powers to fight bad guys. It was soooooooo bad. Like the art just manifested every ‘look at the white gay date his mirror reflection lol what is variety even’ cliche and beat you over the head with it.

(Also Bobby is supposed to have brown hair, which at least would’ve helped a LITTLE bit. Meh. Still was gonna suck because like, nobody had any intention of WRITING them together, like, developing their characters and laying the groundwork for a possible relationship. It was just ‘oh look, the fire and ice dude got drunk at a wedding and hooked up, cool deal, now on with the story.’)

Anyway, the ONLY redeeming potential for a Bobby/Simon relationship in my opinion is ENTIRELY due to a fic I read with them. Its probably the only fic written about Simon ever, lmfao, so its not like the writer’s characterization of him has any competition among either canon or other fans’ renditions of him. But it was pretty well written, I actually liked their portrayal of Bobby, which I’m SUPER picky about in fanfics, and they actually invested time in developing Simon and his POV and giving him an actual personality and shit, that wasn’t half bad. So if Simon was written like that in the comics and their relationship progressed in similar ways, I could feasibly be on board with them.

But it won’t, so I’m not. Meh. Anyway.

I actually really REALLY like both Shiro AND Neal, with the caveat that I hate Neal’s stupid offensive-ass codename, I know Claremont only named him Thunderbird because he introduced him in an anniversary issue that was supposed to be a call-back to the original Giant Size lineup, and he needed a stand-in for John Proudstar, but like....wtf Claremont, just use your brain and save Neal to introduce a whole issue later and stick Jamie in John’s place the way everyone else does. He literally went by Thunderbird in the comics already in his Hellion days, which YOU wrote, so why the fuck did you feel the need to be stupidly offensive and act like Native American people and traditions are interchangeable with those of a guy from India? Ugh he’s so....gah.

Anyway. So I actually like both Shiro and Neal, though pretty much only when people other than Claremont are writing them, lololol. Which is admittedly...rare. Because of all his pet characters, they’re both at the top of the list of ones nobody else has any interest in touching. Bizarrely, my favorite run involving Shiro was when he was randomly shoe-horned into that Alpha Flight relaunch in the late 90s, that only lasted a couple years? Dunno if you know what I’m talking about, the team with Radius, Flex, Murmur, Heather as Vindicator and Mac was a robot or some weird shit.

I have no real thoughts on either of them with Bobby though, for a fire and ice pairing. Tbh I can’t really see Bobby/Shiro like, at ALL lmfao. For one, Shiro’s always felt written as though he’s a good ten years older than Bobby at least. Like they’re not really compatible dialogue-wise lol. And he’s pretty much never had any patience for Bobby in the comics, which has a lot to do with most of their interactions being written by Claremont himself, and Claremont infamously haaaaaaates Bobby’s character and trashes him any chance he gets, aka the few times editorial makes him actually use Bobby in a script. But I also think even under other writers, like....Shiro honestly is not the type to have any patience for Bobby’s antics or brand of humor, like.....he’s like JP but without the superficial crush JP used in canon to view Bobby’s idiosyncrasies as endearing instead of migraine inducing. I don’t think any readers would buy someone of JP or Shiro’s personality-type crushing on Bobby twice, lololol.

I DO however kinda like the idea of Neal/Bobby? If someone ever actually brought Neal back and gave him a new codename and stuck him on a team with Bobby? They’ve also barely interacted in canon, and the only time I can think of, Neal was super rude and dismissive of Bobby, because like, Claremont was writing it of course, so it made total sense for him to have the dude who’s literally been an X-Man for two issues talk down to the X-Man of several decades like the latter had no clue what he was doing, lol. Oops, still slightly salty there. 

But honestly, I doubt anyone who didn’t have hyperfixation fueled grudges on a fictional fave’s behalf would ever even remember that one canon interaction, and tbh Neal’s pretty much a blank slate character wise. His only defining traits from what little he’s been used are that he’s fairly young, in his early to mid-twenties, from a wealthy family, a little full of himself but in a ‘really wants to impress people and prove himself’ kinda way instead of an overly entitled ‘i genuinely believe I am superior to all you buffoons’ kinda way. And he was always endearingly enthusiastic and eager about new stuff he encountered from being with the X-Men.

(He was also randomly obsessed with Psylocke, but I truly think Claremont was like, well I’m just gonna write him like I would Warren Worthington because why not. So yeah, obvsly he’s super obsessed with Betsy. Duh.)

Anyway - I would like someone to do something interesting with Neal, and I think his and Bobby’s chemistry has a lot of potential and they could bounce off each other well. 

Also, I like Rahul, but I was randomly fancasting some of the more obscure X-Men awhile back for Reasons (I forget what they were tbh, but I’m sure I had them. I usually do). I came across this Indian actor named Karan Tacker and was like ohhhhhhh he totally looks like he could be Neal Shaara.

I mean, I’ve literally never seen him act, so who knows what his acting is like, but since we’ve established Neal’s character is essentially whatever the person to actually use him next wants it to be, I don’t think that’s a big deal lol.

So this is totally superficially based casting, like I think this guy looks and ‘feels’ the way Neal’s typically been drawn and the kinda vibe he gives off.

Also, incidentally, having absolutely nothing to do with anything, let alone my selection process, by pure coincidence the dude just so happens to have abs for daaaaaaays.

But I mean. Like I said, that is neither here nor there. Obviously.

Of no relevance whatsoever. I didn’t even notice, tbh. Don’t even know who hijacked my body and ghost wrote these last few sentences, quick, call an exorcist.

....oh noes, is this one of the consequences of being an ‘anti’? IS THIS MY COMEUPPANCE? *flees*

#gingerjab

[slusheeduck]

The Way You Keep Me Guessing: Coco Teacher!AU

@im-fairly-whitty and I are co-authoring this fic for the monster that is the Coco teacher!AU!!

(AU started by @scribblrhob, with inspiration from @upperstories, @hyucktor and SO SO MANY OTHERS AND IT’S A MAGICAL EXPERIENCE FOR ALL.)

Warning: I got creative with formatting and POV in this chapter, so I have no idea how it reads to someone who’s not me. Hopefully you enjoy!!

[Part 1: Unexpected Responsibility] [Part 2: La Directora] [Part 3: Skipping Class] [Part 4: An Unannounced Visit] [Part 5: The Roommate][Part 6: Día de Muertos (Pt. 1)] [Part 6: Día de Muertos (Pt. 2)]

Part 7: A Birthday Livestream

               The tweet goes out late on the 29th. Even so, by 6:45 a.m. the next day, the stream is packed. The cheery little “Stream will start soon!” sign is up, and the chat is already lighting up with thoughts about what the surprise stream’s going to be.

Littlebear119: I bet they’re releasing a new album!

veramaj: then héctor wouldn’t be surprised tho

Littlebear119: Truuuuuueee.

hectorriveraseyelashes: Do…you guys not know what day it is?

veramaj: what?

Littlebear119: It’s Sunday?

hectorriveraseyelashes: omg you guys don’t know lmao. Preciosooooos.

               The chat quickly devolves into “CRUUUUUZ” and “NESTO HI NESTO <3” as the stream switches on. The screen’s fairly dark, but Ernesto’s face is just visible as he whispers to the camera.

               “Hola, Cruzcitos. So I know a lot of you were upset that Héctor couldn’t be there with us on Día de Muertos.”

               There’s a general burst of agreement from the chat.

               “I know, I know.  So, since we couldn’t spend the day with you, I figured you all could spend the day with us.”

               There are several crying-face emojis and “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”s in the chat.

               “And today’s no ordinary day. I’m sure some of you know it’s my amigo Héctor’s birthday today. So, Cruzcitos, we need to start the day off properly.” He switched the camera to face forward as he slowly opened the door. Beneath a heap of blankets, a gangly leg hung off the bed and a lanky arm was slung over a pillow. “Mira mira, here’s our Sleeping Beauty now,” Ernesto whispers as he creeps into the room. “And there’s only one way to wake someone up on their birthday.”

               The chat goes quiet as Ernesto sucks in a deep breath. He pauses when Héctor shifts beneath the blankets. Then, once he goes still…

                                       “ESTAS SON LAS MAÑANITAS                                        QUE CANTABA EL REY DAVID…”

               Héctor flies up off the bed as Ernesto belts “Las Mañanitas” as loud as he can, and immediately a pillow is thrown toward the camera.

               “Tú maldito hijo d—!!”

               “There are children watching this, Héctor!”

               “It is seven in the morning, tú pin—”

               “Cruzcitos, cover your ears!” A sweatshirt collides against the camera; both Ernesto and the chat are dying.

Littlebear119: OMGGGGGGG

musiica-vida: lmao

p0c0l0c0: I CAN’T BREATH OH MY GOD

veramaj: pobre hector but rip cruz

               The camera jostles as a thud that sounds suspiciously like a shoe hitting a wall rings out, and it quickly turns as Ernesto runs out and shuts the door. He switches the camera back to face him, a big grin still on his face.

               “So our Héctor might not be much of a morning person. But our celebration of Héctor’s birthday is just starting; come back around eleven for the next stream.” Ernesto ends the stream with his trademark wink and smile.

Littlebear119: Aw, boo, I can’t come to the next one :’(

p0c0l0c0: Don’t worry someone’ll record it.

hectorriveraseyelashes: I hope poor Héctor gets to sleep a little bit more.

~

               The next stream starts promptly at eleven. Another chorus of “HI NESTO!!!” and “CRUUUUZ” fills the chat, but Ernesto looks none-too-pleased. He lets out a sigh before sending a withering look to the camera.

               “So Cruzcitos, tell me this. What do you think is the best way to spend your birthday?”

               The chat rings in their answers.

hectorriveraseyelashes: Backstage passes to one of your shows.

hectorriveraseyelashes: And getting to pet Héctor’s hair for an hour.

veramaj: a nice dinner with my bf

musiica-vida: UM SORRY WHAT @hectorriveraseyelashes

hectorriveraseyelashes: You heard me.

Cruzita41: I would party ALL DAY!!!

               Ernesto nods at the answers that pour in (He does a double-take at one of them, and the chat is generally certain it’s hectorriveraseyelashes that earned it.), then huffs and shakes his head.

               “See, you all have good ideas on how to spend your birthdays. But Héctor…my friend Héctor decides that the best way to spend his birthday—”

               He turns the camera around, and the punchline of his joke is lost in the chat’s reaction.

musiica-vida: GLASSES?????

Cruzita41: GLASSES!!!!!

veramaj: since when does hector wear glasses?????

p0c0l0c0: GLASSES

musiica-vida: @HÉCTOR PLZ WEAR YOUR GLASSES ALL THE TIME

(hectorriveraseyelashes merely posts several crying faces and prayer hands)

               Héctor is tucked up on the sofa, green pen in hand and thick-framed glasses on his nose as he goes through several papers. Ernesto snorts as the reactions come in.

               “Héctor, look up.”

               Héctor sighs, but does in fact look up. “What?” he asks exasperatedly. (hectorriveraseyelashes floods the chat with various heart, crying, and prayer emojis)

               “Apparently you should wear your glasses more often.”

               “No.”

               (The disappointment in the chat is almost audible.)

               Ernesto sighs. “Sorry, Cruzcitos, but as you can see, Héctor Rivera is a tough man to sway. He won’t wear his glasses, and he spends his birthday grading papers.”

               “Well, they need to be graded by Monday. Do you have to shove that in my face? It’s hard enough reading these kids’ writing without a phone in my face.”

badnugg: omg profe héctor is actually youtube famous

musiica-vida: HE’S YOUR TEACHER??

badnugg: lol yeah

p0c0l0c0: IS HE A GOOD TEACHER???

hectorriveraseyelashes: IS HE HOT WHEN HE TALKS ABOUT MUSIC??

Littlebear119: I’m back!

Littlebear119: WAIT IS HÉCTOR WEARING GLASSES

veramaj: lol u missed a lot bear

               “Hey, Héctor, I think one of your students…” Ernesto trails off as the sound of a door opening comes from a distance. Héctor immediately perks up and smiles off screen.

               “Morning, chamaco. We’re going out for breakfast once I’m finished with these papers.”

musiica-vida: CHAMACO!!!!

p0c0l0c0: HI CHAMACO!!!

 Littlebear119: Who’s Chamaco?

hectorriveraseyelashes: It’s baby Héctor.

Cruzita41: Aww, did he just wake up? Buenos días, chamaco!!

Littlebear119: BABY HÉCTOR??

veramaj: it’s his nephew.

musiica-vida: Preeeetty sure he’s his kid. They look like exactly alike.

hectorriveraseyelashes: They definitely don’t. Also he calls Héctor Tío so checkmate.

Littlebear119: OH!!! HE’S SO CUTE!!!

               “The chat thinks you’re cute, Miguel,” Ernesto says as Miguel walks on-screen. Miguel sends him a surprised look and a shrug.

               “Thanks?”

               “Oyé, what did I say about filming Miguel?” Héctor asks, voice slightly sharp.

               “The kid has his own channel, it’s not like you’re hiding him,” Ernesto brushes off, then focuses the camera on Miguel. “So, Miguel, do you know what day it is?”

               “Uh, Sunday?”

               “Okay, but do you know the date?”

               Miguel presses his lips together, then looks down at Héctor for help. Héctor’s head falls back as he sighs.

               “It’s my birthday. Ernesto’s making it into a…thing.”

               Miguel’s eyes widen. “It’s your birthday?! Why didn’t you say anything?”

               “Because Héctor hates having fun,” Ernesto cuts in. “So Miguel, what do you want to wish your Tío Héctor on this very special day? He’s twenty-seven, you know.”

               Miguel blinks. “Oh. That’s how old you are?”

               Héctor returns to grading. “How old did you think I was?”

               “Super old. Like thirty-five.”

               The snort Héctor lets out is deemed pure and good by the chat.

               “Thirty-five?! Ay, Díos mio, then how old do you think Ernesto is?”

               “Anyway, Cruzcitos,” Ernesto says before Miguel can hazard a guess. “What are some of your wishes for Héctor’s twenty-seventh year on this earth?”

Cruzita41: I hope he has a wonderful year!!

p0c0l0c0: I hope he doesn’t join the 27 club :(

veramaj: what’s that?

Littlebear119: I hope you guys really make it big!! Being a teacher looks so boring

p0c0l0c0: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/27_Club

p0c0l0c0: Did the link work?

Littlebear119: OH NO :’(

veramaj: HÉCTOR PLEASE DON’T JOIN THAT CLUB

(hectorriveraseyelashes’ wish for Héctor is reported as inappropriate by several members.)

p0c0l0c0: Lashes plz

               “Aw, qué amable! Well, we are trying our best to get more gigs and…”

               Ernesto’s words are ignored, viewers instead focused on Miguel as he climbs onto the arm of the sofa and peeks down at what Héctor’s grading. Several heart emojis flood the chat as they talk too quietly to be heard over Ernesto’s talking. Héctor asks something, Miguel pulls a face, and Héctor laughs as he pulls off his glasses (much to the disappointment of the chat.)

               “All right, all right, I won’t let you starve, chamaco. I’ll bring these with me.” As he stuffs his papers into his backpack, he sends the camera with a withering look. “And if you bring out that—” The chat doesn’t miss the quick glance toward Miguel. “--darn phone while we’re out, Ernesto, I’m throwing it right into the street.”

               “And then you’re paying for it.” The camera switches back to Ernesto, where he gives a dramatic sigh. “Looks like that’s all for now, Cruzcitos.” He glances up as Héctor and Miguel’s voices trail off and a door shuts. He smiles, then adds in a whisper, “Come back around two. We’ll be having another stream then.”

               The screen goes black, and the chat is all abuzz.

Littlebear119: Héctor really doesn’t seem like he wants to do these streams…

p0c0l0c0: It’s part of an act they do. Héctor’s all smiles on whenever he’s on Chamaco’s channel.

Littlebear119: CHAMACO HAS A CHANNEL???

p0c0l0c0: YES AND IT’S THE SWEETEST THING.

p0c0l0c0: My heart grows three times bigger whenever I get a notification from him.

veramaj: yeah héctor’s definitely just playing.

Littlebear119: I hope he is.

hectorriveraseyelashes: I don’t care if he is. I’ll take any excuse to see that man’s beautiful face.

musiica-vida: WE KNOW, LASHES.

~

               The next stream starts without so much as a word from Ernesto. The chat goes quiet as the camera focuses on Héctor and Miguel. Both have their guitars in their lap, and Héctor picks out a simple tune.

               “Okay, no looking. See if you can play what I just did.”

               Miguel starts to pluck out the same tune, but he groans as he messes up a note. “It’s so hard!”

               “I know it’s hard, that’s why we’re practicing. You gotta train those ears just as much as your fingers, chamaco.” He plays the tune again. “All right, una vez más. I bet you’ll get it this time.”

querida9512: Can Héctor Rivera please be my dad?

p0c0l0c0: This is SO CUTE, I can’t handle it. Gracias, Nesto.

Littlebear119: Does Héctor know Ernesto’s filming?

veramaj: probably.

musiica-vida: It doesn’t seem like it, but I’m sure he doesn’t mind.

               A knock sounds out. Héctor doesn’t look up.

               “It’s open! All right, chamaco, play it one more time.” He turns and grins from his place on the floor as a woman pops her head in. “You’re just in time, diosa, Miguel’s just learned a song by ear.”

               The chat is a STREAM of activity.

querida9512: IS THAT THE POCO LOCO LADY???

hectorriveraseyelashes: Um, I am the Poco Loco lady.

Littlebear119: Diosa’s such a pretty name!

badnugg: wait, dire imelda?

querida9512: YOU KNOW HER????

badnugg: I think she’s the directora of my school…

badnugg: omg

badnugg: téodora was right about her and profe héctor

veramaj: she’s so pretty, she can’t work at a school

p0c0l0c0: Héctor works at a school.

veramaj: but she’s actually PRETTY.

p0c0l0c0: ARE YOU SAYING HÉCTOR ISN’T???

hectorriveraseyelashes: The rule in this stream is that we love and respect Héctor Rivera’s beautiful face.

hectorriveraseyelashes: Can we block @veramaj?

veramaj: omg u guys chill out

               Diosa smiles fondly as Miguel picks out the tune, correctly this time. (The chat is full of praise for him.) “Perfecto, Miguel. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you remembered that our reservations are at—” She glances up midway through the sentence, then freezes as her eyes lock onto the camera. She quickly pops her head out and slams the door shut.

               Héctor jumps at the slam, then glances down at Miguel before setting his guitar aside to get to his feet. “Imelda? Imelda!” he calls as he heads to the door and steps outside.

               Miguel’s brow furrows, but he looks up at the camera with a shrug. The camera moves slowly to the door, and the barest bits of conversation can be heard through it.

               “Why didn’t you warn me? I would have texted you.”

               “Warn you about what?”

               “That your roommate was filming.”

               “What? No, he wasn’t.”  

               “Did you not see the way he was holding his phone?”

               “He just does that sometimes.”

               “Well, why don’t you go and ask him?”

               “He wasn’t filming! He knows he has to ask before filming if Miguel’s in the room.”

               “He doesn’t have to ask with you?”

               “It’s different. This is what we make part of our living off of. I’m used to it by now.”

               There was an irritated huff. “I can’t help you there. But you’d better be taking care of that little boy.”

               “I am, Imelda.”

               A thrill goes through the chat as Héctor’s voice, quiet as it is, goes sharp, though everyone quickly quiets as they hear his sigh.

               “I’m sorry. It’s…been a long day. Would you believe I woke up at seven?”

               There’s murmuring outside, but it’s too quiet to be picked up by the mic. What is picked up is the creak of a doorknob and a bitten-off word from Ernesto before the screen quickly goes black.

p0c0l0c0: So…he didn’t ask permission?

Littlebear119: I thought it was off.

dlcswaifu: I’m sure it’s fine. Cruz probably thought Héctor knew.

veramaj: i hope so. i don’t want them to fight.

~

               There’s no announcement when the next stream is, so everyone is pleasantly surprised when they get a notification that Ernesto y Héctor is streaming an hour later. The first thing everyone sees is…

p0c0l0c0: CHAMACO!!!!

Cruzita41: CHAMACOOOOOO

Littlebear119: AAAAA it’s Miguelito!!!!

veramaj: omg look at that precious face.

               Miguel’s brow furrows as he tries to figure out how to best hold the phone, but he grins at everyone’s greetings. “Hola! Cruz let me take over the livestream for a little bit!”

Littlebear119: OH MY GOODNESS HOW PRECIOUS!!!

veramaj: we’ve been blessed today

querida9512: I mean we already knew November 30 was a holy day.

musiica-vida: @hectorriveraseyelashes BE GOOD

p0c0l0c0: @hectorriveraseyelashes BE GOOD

veramaj: @hectorriveraseyelashes BE GOOD

dlcswaifu: @hectorriveraseyelashes BE GOOD

hectorriveraseyelashes: OH MY GOD YOU GUYS SHUT UP

hectorriveraseyelashes: Of course I’ll be good. My future step-son doesn’t need to know how thirsty I am for his tío.

               Miguel’s eyes dart down to the chat, reading the responses before frowning slightly. “Um, I don’t think you can drink my tío.”

               The chat collectively dies.

Littlebear119: So how are you doing, Miguel????

Cruzita41: We saw your practice earlier, you’re so good!!

dlcswaifu: Where’s Cruz???

               Miguel grins brightly as he catches the praise among the questions, then settles back in his seat. “I’m fine. Tío Héctor said that he and Cruz needed to talk for a bit, so Cruz set me up here so I could talk with you all!”

               There’s one comment from quetzalcoatl-kun about how they came for Cruz and not some stupid kid, but it’s quickly drowned out by the wild enthusiasm from other Cruzcitos over how they get to talk to Chamaco.

 musiica-vida: So big fandom question, are you Héctor’s kid or his nephew?

               “Actually, we’re primos! My abuelita is his tía,” Miguel chirps.

dlcswaifu: So do you live with him?

               “I do for now.”

dlcswaifu: Why?

               Miguel opens his mouth, but closes it and swallows hard without answering. The chat is quick to flood him with other questions.

p0c0l0c0: Is your tío a good teacher?

querida9512: You’re a fan of Cruz, too, right? What’s it like living with your YouTube idol?

hectorriveraseyelashes: On a scale of 1-10 how willing would you be to have me be your new tía?

veramaj: have u been to any of their concerts yet?

hectorriveraseyelashes: There hasn’t been a concert with both of them since Chamaco came around.

musiica-vida: Not that we mind! It’s so sweet to see Héctor taking care of his primo <3

veramaj: he could have gone to one before he lived with héctor

Littlebear119: What’s your favorite subject in school, Miguel?

querida9512: And when’s the next update on your channel?

               “Espera, espera, this is a lot!” Miguel laughs, discomfort gone as he scrolls up through the chat. “Tío Héctor’s a really good teacher, even though he keeps making me do boring things like scales. I used to watch Cruz’s videos to figure out how to play better, but now I can just ask him!” He scrolls a little more. “I really like math. Is that weird? Oh! And P.E.! I’m definitely the fastest on my class’s fútbol team.” He shrugs. “And I don’t really know about updates, I—” He stops suddenly, glancing up as a sharp voice comes from somewhere, just loud enough to be picked up over the mic. “I, uh…” He glances back at the phone. “One second.”

               He sets the phone down, livestream still going on. A creaking door is picked up over the mic, and the two voices are a little clearer. Nearly every viewer turns up their volume to max to catch what’s being said.

               “You’re absolutely sure you weren’t filming?”

               “Honestly, Héctor, it’s not like I can do it by accident. You’ve gotten so paranoid since bringing in the kid.”

               “I’m his godfather. I’m supposed to be.” A frustrated sigh. “Look, I’m done, okay? I don’t want anymore filming today. Just let me enjoy my birthday in peace.”

               “We wouldn’t have to do this if you’d come to the Día de Muertos show, you know.”

               “But you couldn’t even ask me before you burst in at seven a.m.?”

               “It wouldn’t have been funny if you knew. And it’s gotten us a stable audience all day.” There’s a beat of silence, then a long sigh. “Look, I’m sorry you’re bothered. I thought you’d be more game for this. Guess I was wrong.”

               “It’s…it’s fine. Just no more filming Miguel unless I know.”

               “I didn’t.”

               “I know, but you might. And if I find that damned iPhone around him I swear…”

               Miguel gives a little gasp, and quick footsteps come back toward the phone before he’s back onscreen.

               “Gotta go! I’ll see you all around!” he says, then quickly ends the livestream.

Littlebear119: So Héctor really didn’t know…

musiica-vida: Did…Ernesto lie to him?

dlcswaifu: He probably didn’t know he was filming.

querida9512: But he just said that he couldn’t do it by accident.

dlcswaifu: I’ve done a lot of dumb things by accident without knowing I could. He’ll probably delete the footage once he realizes.

veramaj: i think it’s scripted. cruz’s done drama things in the past; maybe the views are down.

musiica-vida: Ooh, that’s a good point. I think you’re right.

dlcswaifu: Nothing gets views like a fight and a kid.

Littlebear119: :/ I dunno. I feel weird about this stream.

~

               The last livestream comes late that afternoon. Once again, there’s no notice before the notification goes off on everyone’s phone, and everyone who can manages to pile in to the chat as quickly as possible.

               There’s a general air of confusion as they get a very nice shot of the kitchen.

               “Is it recording now?” Héctor asks off-screen.

               “I can’t see. Is there a red circle?” comes Miguel’s voice. The camera tilts, shifting the view to the ceiling. “Yeah, it’s recording, but you’ve got the wrong camera on.”

               “How do I change it?”

               “You see that camera button? Just tap it.”

               “Just tap—” The camera abruptly switches to selfie-mode, and Héctor’s obviously startled by it. “Ah! Okay! Okay, there we go. Hola!”

               The chat is FULL of heart emojis and !!!!!!!!!!!!!’s.

p0c0l0c0: FELIZ CUMPLEAÑOS, HÉCTOR!!!!

musiica-vida: FELIZ CUMPLEAÑOS!!!!!!!

Littlebear119: FELIZ CUMPLEAÑOS!!!!! <3 <3 <3

(Needless to say, the chat is flooded with “FELIZ CUMPLEAÑOS”es.)

Héctor looks caught off-guard by the response, then laughs. “Gracias, gracias! I’m, ah, I’m not really good with this whole livestreaming thing, but I wanted to thank you all for such wonderful wishes!”

musiica-vida: IT’S NOTHING WE LOVE YOU HÉCTOR <3 <3 <3

hectorriveraseyelashes: That blazer tho…

Littlebear119: We all hope you had a wonderful day!!!!

               “That’s, ah, that’s really all I have to say. I actually have to leave in…” He glances off-camera. “Now. But I wanted to let you all know that I appreciate your…” He trails off as the chat bursts to life again.

hectorriveraseyelashes: GLASSES.

p0c0l0c0: YES PLEASE WEAR YOUR GLASSES.

p0c0l0c0: JUST FOR A SECOND.

musiica-vida: HÉCTOR PLZ. DO IT FOR US.

hectorriveraseyelashes: GLASSESSSSS…

               He sighs as he looks over the chat. “Diosa, look at this.”

               The woman from earlier (“IMELDA!!!” as musiica-vida pointed out), just peeked over Héctor’s shoulder to look at the chat, then tilted her head up with a smirk.

               “See? It’s not just me who thinks you should be able to see.”

               “I can see just fine.”

               “It took you three times to hit the record button,” Miguel pipes up from off-screen.

               “Here.” Imelda looks down as something that sound suspiciously like a glasses case opens, and she holds up the glasses. “You should at least do it for your fans. And for me.”

               Héctor rolls his eyes, but smiles a bit as he leans down slightly so Imelda can slip them on. “Only if you wear your hair down on your birthday.”

               “Deal.” She smiles at him as he stands up straight and pats his cheek. “Muy guapo, cariño.”

               He shakes his head, then looks back at the camera. The chat has devolved into a mess of “SO CUUUUUTE!!!” and “SÍÍÍ MUY GUAPO” and more sparkle emojis and hearts than could be counted. (Save for hectorriveraseyelashes, who floods the chat with crying emojis.)

               “Well, that’s it for today. We really do appreciate your guys’ support, and thanks again for being part of one of the most memorable birthday’s I’ve ever had.” He gives a little wave with his free hand. “Adíos!”

               The video ends, and the chat is beside itself with delight—all the drama from the last stream completely forgotten.

Littlebear119: They’re all so cute I just can’t.

musiica-vida: I KNOOOWWW

hectorriveraseyelashes: I don’t know if I want to KILL Diosa or BE Diosa.

p0c0l0c0: Please choose “be”

hectorriveraseyelashes: FINE.

hectorriveraseyelashes: For now.

hectorriveraseyelashes: Those glasses, tho

dlcswaifu: I’M A CRUZ FANGRIL AND I LOVE THOSE GLASSES???

hectorriveraseyelashes: I found God in those glasses tonight.

badnugg: omg i can’t wait for school tomorrow.

hectorriveraseyelashes: #jealous

veramaj: i’m just so glad that everything’s all right. i knew it couldn’t be a real fight. cruz is way too nice for that.  

As always, thank you so, so much for reading! Wit’s got the next installment, so be sure to check over her way in the next week or so! Also we have tons of headcanons we’re ready to scream about at any given moment, so don’t be shy and come talk to us!

 Also, if you like my screaming-in-written-form and want to indulge my caffeine addiction, feel free to buy me a coffee (or not, of course.)

Thanks once again, and we’ll see you around!

#coco fic #teacher!AU #OH MY GOD I POSTED AT A DECENT HOUR #CAN YOU BELIEVE IT #IT'S NOT THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT #Also the formatting isn't a complete nightmare and I am LIVIIIIIING #hector #ernesto de la cruz #miguel rivera

[briteboy]

okay i’m gonna be real with you. i have...a LOT...of messages. going as far back as like...january? probably? i know...i’m so bad...don’t crucify me. i tried to get through all of them but there were a lot that i didn’t have a worthwhile reply for so i’m sorry if i didn’t answer something you sent :{

so here we have: a lot of nice things, a lot of santisms, reactions to the lou and cillian punchout, a few responses to my portfolio and other stuffs...i wanted to put astrology asks in at the end but it’s...a lot more than i thought it was and it’s 3 am so i’d rather die than answer all of those LMAO sorry. i’ll get to it next time

Anonymous said:

u can delete the snorting cum asks but it will still follow you for eternity

okay so I saw the ask about snorting cum and it reminded me of a time that cum came out of my nose. It was gross but my boyfriend and I laughed it off. idk. I thought it would be a funny thing to share!! i'd understand if you didn't want this on your blog!! (maybe it makes you laugh!!)

wELL. WE’RE OFF TO A GOOD START HERE. i’m screaming at this...i hope nothing EVER comes out of my nose ever in life...i hate this but ur right it did make me laugh

(Winry anon again) Also, did you get her name from FMA Winry Rockbell because if so I love it

hehe...yes...

hornybodies

this is what bartsim calls me and i hate her for it

whats the truth bitch

I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER WHAT THIS IS ABOUT BUT I’M LAUGHIGN

i never realised how much i actually missed santi but now im CRYING AND I WANT HIM BACK IN EVERY SINGLE POST WITH LOU BY HIS SIDE LIVING HAPPILY EVER AFTER PLEASE

I missed santirat's beautiful face there are literal tears rn

me too...i hate that i miss him so much it’s so freaking dumb...i haven’t cried to my own story in a while but i bet i’m gonna once santi’s comeback rolls around. i’m already bracing myself

nvm u can have the lovely rat back, that way my heart wouldn’t be hurting like it is now

honestly yeah that’s fair

Been silently following your blog and though I'm more of a "ghost"(? What does that even mean¿) follower, I can't help but express just how chocked I am to see Santi again OMG. Gutted Lou has had a flashback, she does not deserve this. :'(

hello casper the friendly ghost...i love having santi pop up with surprise flashbacks hehe...ur right though she DOES NOT NEED THIS in her life, but it will get better for her soon do not fret my ghoulish friend

I need more pics of Lou and Santi together I’m not satisfied, thankssss

ELI AND MIYU GETTING SO EXCIted WHEN LOU TOLD THEM SHE LIKES GIRLS MY HEART :’)

HEHEH i love it cause that’s literally how my friends and i act, it was fun to write in a scene :~} i’m glad you liked it :’}}

Yeah when I cut my hair short everyone assumed I liked girls I found it kind of odd, but I didn't care too much. It mostly just made me end up realizing all the shit lgbt people go through, one time a guy literally went up to me and my friend, my bff who no one really knew was a lesbian was terrified because he said "oh dont worry lesbians are hot, but gay guys are just disgusting" it ended up he was talking to me, i just rolled up a piece of paper as tight as I could and smacked him on the head

EWW first of all that guy can take his weird fetishization and homophobia elsewhere thanks...i’m glad you threw a paper ball at him LMAO. but yeah on one hand, coming from ignorant/straight people it’s like “uhhhh why would you assume that about me”, within the lgbt community it’s like...common ground...an inside joke...i guess? so it’s weird. the link between hair, clothes and sexuality is can definitely be harmful in certain circumstances

fiona is my spirit animal and i love her ok thanks for coming to my TED Talk

that was illuminating thank you

i re-read santis story and i s2g i've read it so many times idk, but like its so easy to read i dont mean like emotionally but it flows really well. and like its not too confusing i hate when people make overly convoluted stories in an excuse for being deep its some good shit good job my dude

AKJSDKGKSJD THAT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i never expected anyone to read it oNCE let alone REPEATEDLY...that really makes me so happy though because it’s definitely something you have to go back and read to catch all the details. ahhhhh thank you so much, i never ever want my story to be too complicated so i’m glad you don’t think it is!!

im crying because your recent post reminds me so much of my relationship with my mom when i was younger... she was always out of a job and sometimes we had to resort to living with other family members, it was all really hard on her and especially with having a kid she had to take care of at the same time. even though these are fictional characters, it’s comforting to know that other people have gone through the same situations i have. i love fiona and lou so much, they’re my heart and soul <3

OMG ;_________; i’m crying i’m so glad it resonates with you...i had a lot of friends growing up who were in similar situations and i think i kinda based lou and fi’s relationship on that, so you’re definitely not alone <33 i’m so glad you love them i love u

basically what I’ve learned from these asks is that Gianni is a perfect god-like human and I want one

he is. one time an anon told me they were like santi but they wanted to be rooney and i was like “i’m both santi and rooney on different days and i want to be gianni.” now u know why

hi, i just wanted to pop in and say that i really, really love your blog and i admire your editing skills SO much, i think you are EXTREMELY talented and i don't think you get told that enough. i've been following you for awhile now and i am in love with ALL of your stories, characters and edits you've put out! you're really an inspiration to me and i hope someday my edits can turn out as good as yours!! i don't have reshade so it's harder for me, but i'm trying to learn!! ok have a good day :-)

OMFG ;-; I DO GET TOLD IT A LOT AND IT STILL SEEMS FAKE...you don’t have to go out of your way to compliment me ;___; but thank you so so so much i’m crying...it makes me so giddy that i might inspire someone like WHAT...i don’t even know what i’m doing half the time i edit so u will definitely be able to catch up to me one day even if you don’t have reshade, i know it. i edited without reshade for like 2 and a half years on this blog so you can do it i promise!! have a good day/night/life i love u

fuck my succ

I'm in need of some giannti in my life

we all need some gianti in our lives

Hey! I just wanted to say that ur an amazing writer. You portray everything so well, it’s insane. I want to be a writer someday and I hope my writing is at least somewhat close to yours. Have an awesome day my dude💕

WOW I’M CRYING...i still have a lot of room to grow and so do you, i hope you are able to become the writer you want to be :’} and thank you so much for the wonderful compliment i’m emo have a great day as well

aver is my queen, confirmed.

avey is everyone’s queen confirmed

oksy but listen, look up the model Charlotte Ray Spencer

i did but i couldn’t find her?? all that came up was ray spencer obituaries in charlotte, SC LMFAO...charlotte spencer is an actress tho it seems, is that...who...? omfg

MAY I JUST OFFER THIS NEW SONG OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD CALLED VOID BC I HAVE A FEELING SANTI WOULD LOVE IT (it's also meant for my aggressive sadboi oc)

OH I LOVE THIS IT FITS PERFECTLY WITH THE PLAYLIST I’M MAKING FOR THE NEW ERA OF SANTI...THANK YOU I’M TOTALLY ADDING IT

I had a ectopic pregnancy when I was seventeen but I feel like I got off lightly compared to Molly. Your story is so beautiful in so many ways, I think it’s incredible how much character development you’ve managed to pull off honestly I’m amazed. Thank you ❤️

omg ;_______; i don’t even know what to say to this, but it means so much to me i can’t even put it into words. thank you thank you thank you so much, and i’m so sorry you had to go through that as well. molly was an extreme case and i hope no one has to go through what she went through. i’m glad you’re okay now, and thank you so much for reaching out to me and reading my story at all ;-; <3333

just a heads up: the links button on your ccfinds blog goes to the femmefinds url still

oh yeah i know i’m gonna be real with you...i’m too lazy to fix it lmAO

Luv your stick n poke tats u posted!!! Could u do more? Maybe on diff places on the bod?? Ur so talented. Xx

omg that was FOREVER ago...maaaaaybe in the future...we shall see...but thank you <33

Can u do a family portrait for all ur characters like u did w Lou!!!

oooooh hehe i probably will in the future!!

Kill v maim is one of my favorite songs of all time omg it makes me wanna wear ripped jeans and a leather jacket and cover myself in glitter and smash some windows with a baseball bat MMMMMM

HELL yeah me too...i become a cyber punk alien vampire when i hear that song

maybe do a casting call posted here ? u have many followers and im sure a good chunk live in ur area and would be willing to model ^_^

omg SCARY...i probably could tho tbh that’s a good idea, thank you!

hi sunny, what program do you use to merge your cc and what do you use to detect and remove broken cc that just doesn't work in game anymore? thanks!

i actually haven’t merged on my new laptop yet but i used s4s for merging and there’s the mod conflict detector!!

My game hasn't been working since the first Cats and Dogs patch but I uninstalled and reinstalled and it finally works again 😭

sunny!! would you recommend your computer to play ts4 on? has it good graphics, can handle the highest settings and so? i really need a new computer but i have no idea which one to go for

yes i would recommend it!! i have reshade, ultra settings and like 8 gb of cc.

thanks for answering my ask eee ur story is probably the best ive read on here and yeah. i love how everything connects and everyones just so real. you dont have to post this i just wanted to thank you for being my inspiration and making me smile, laugh, cry, and scream in the middle of the night with your characters.

I LOVE U...it still sounds so fake to me when people say i inspire them, i don’t even know how to respond to all this ;-; just thank you for sparing a glance my way and resonating with my creations. <3 we scream and cry 2gether

I listened to Separator by Radiohead on repeat whilst reading Santi’s story and now that song just reminds me of him and Lou. I’d totally suggest listening to it’s so good! As is your story :3 xxx

oh radiohead that’s good sh*t...i’m listening to it now and i feel the santou vibes...especially when santi’s feeling out of his mind and she’s the only one who can calm him...haha cool..anyways THANK YOU!!!!

how do you make poses for the roof? i'm not sure how i can know if the sims will clip into the roof or float

honestly i just...eyeball it...because all roofs are different and you can’t put them into blender so. i just winged it lmao...i just made a pose that looked like it could’ve been lou climbing out the window, only the rig was still ground level, and then i used alt + 9 to lift the teleporter onto the roof as best as i could. that’s why it probably wouldn’t be a very practical pose to release, because i have no way of making it easy to use 

Lou punched him and I knew it would happen. 😀👌 nice, nice I like Lou whopping ass.

hehe i’m glad you enjoyed it...who knew she had a freaking hook like that

ok a theory... santi went to look for molly's mother and yea

omg tell me cillian sings every other freckle at some point

OMFG well...that song came out in 2013 and the current flashback year is 2008 so. i would personally murder cillian myself if he was still in lou’s life 5 years after this honestly

hey kitty girl! i was wondering if you could answer this teensy lil question i got. im writing a "story" anddd i was trying to figure out how to make some parts not cliche. like i hate reading about whatever and being like girll ive done seen this before so i just needs to know. kisses

i absolutely love how this is worded and the fact that u called me kitty, very cute. anyway...this is pretty broad, perhaps you could clarify what kinda cliches you want to steer clear from? a lot of the time when i know something is gonna be cliche and there’s no avoiding it, i just kinda own up to it and try to subtly point out how cliche it is and somehow that makes it work out better...like being self aware somehow adds another more realistic element to the story that makes it better? idk...anyway dm me if you need help!!

so.... lou can remember more of what happened? this is good! go 2 the police bitch! tell them!!!!!!!

she should!! but the only problem is she doesn’t have proof. so... 🤔

how do you write your stories in a way that everything is organized and you're certain and not confused with everything? i mean, do you have any way for writing that let you develop your stories with not so much difficults? i'm trying to write an story for months but i only have a few of the most important events on my mind, i don't know how to develop another important details, i always feel that everything is confuse or crap

hmmmmm well my mind is very ah convoluted so it’s a wonder any of this comes out even somewhat cohesive? but basically i have a very good memory and utilize google docs a lot hahaha. i’ve gone in depth about my writing process here!

whats a good way when it comes to starting a sims story? i mean like the first post? :/

ummmmmm maybe test the waters a bit and just make a post introducing your character(s) first? or dive right in and get sh*t started. it could go either way tbh

boyish by japanese breakfast is a santixlou bop

oh sh*t!!!!!! i love japanese breakfast!! and i love this thank you!

So is lou like into cillian in a way? Making him kinda be in her type

as of right now (in the flashbacks)? HELL fucking no. but you’re right, she did say those things in the future to santi. so 🤔

Everyone guessing shit stupidly annoys me haha. I'M UNOBSERVANT AND I DON'T WANNA GO BACK AND CHECK SHIT, LET ME LIVE. *Like* if you a ~dum~ reader who doesn't want every bit of foreshadowing called out. lol

i respect this honestly whenever i drop the hottest foreshadowing of 2018 i never expect my inbox to flood like it does but here we are and i am amazed

CILLIAN NEEDS TO FUCKING FIGHT ME (TYPING THIS ON MY COMPUTER BC I SAW HIS DINOSAUR ASS AND CHUCKED MY PHONE OUT THE WINDOW)

i’m screaming...i’m so sorry it’s my fault about your phone but like also i’m poor i can’t pay for that

i'm studying your latest posts because they're beautiful and my hatred for that long necked bitch is intensifying -- what makes me burn even more is that he's still wearing her necklace, can we say let the bitch burn?

burn babey burn

Why don't you use quick tags?

i’m dumb is why

CILLIAN IS SUCH A SHITASS I HATE HIS FACE WHY R U DOING THIS TO ME

BRUHHHHH THE DINOSAUR LOOKIN ASS BOY IS B A C K run

WAIT THE NECKLACE. HE STOLE THE MCFUCKING NECKLACE BROOOOO

What if Fi's blue eyes are from... Cillian..?

wHY did you have to make him cute and fucking cool though? I still hate him but it's harder.

NVM I JUST LOOKED AT THE POST AGAIN HES WEARING HER NECKLACE INHOPE SHE CHOKES HIMS WOTH IT THIS TIME

I SCREAMED AT THIS SERIES OF QUESTIONS OISDFNGJKDSKJN yeah sorry he’s conventionally attractive but unsettlingly so and i feel uneasy when i look at him and plus the fact that he’s literally evil so .

im like, to 90% sure that cillian is in ace joker. so that song might have reminded lou of him...

this was sent right after that scene of lou hearing the song at pippin’s, so

My conspiracy theory is that cillian is Lou's father. Speakimg of which are we gonna get to that soon, I'm dying of curiosity;.;

I’M LAUGHING I THINK U MEANT FIONA’S FATHER AKSJDKJGDSJ but yeah well. You’ll See

what do u resize ur photos to?

whatever 33% of 1920x1080 is i forget. i have a resizing + sharpening action so i just run that

im about to kill those kids if they keep fucking with my baby

THESE BITCHES BULLYING MY BABY LOU? CATCH THESE HANDS

me @ these ugly kids:

Who are the best creators for mens clothing? I struggle so much to find good cc creators with men specifically!

badabing badaboom

I’m not sure if you’ve converted things before but do you know any good sims 3 cc to sims 4 tutorials? Or your followers?

errrrrr i have no idea i’m sorry :x

would you consider making like a photoshop psd file with all the layers in your editing process?

omg...heck no it would be so unhelpful OMFG mostly because my editing is just my own action + shading and highlighting unique to that pic

would you ever do an editing timlapse of your gameplay pics? 💖💖

ahhhhh maybe!! probably in the future!

OMG HEATHERS WAS FILMED AT MY HIGH SCHOOL AND IM JUST HYPED UP SEEING IT BEING MENTIONED ON THIS ACCOUNT!!

OMFG THAT’S RAD...i’ve literally only seen it once tho i’m fake

I'M SHOOK. my friend kinda asked me out and I wanna say yes but my parents won't let me date. I'm 18! I need your advice! -signed 18 and alone anon

um UR 18 BUDDY UR AN ADULT...DATE WHOEVER THE F*CK U WANT HONESTLY

Can you pretty please link some photoshop tutorials you recommend? I really want to make my photos more cinematic and like your's without totally copying you or someone else. All I do right now is sharpen, color balance, and add some noise and then resize. I really need some more ways to get better looking photos such as yours.

ahhhhh the problem is i don’t know of any i’m sorry...lmao this is totally unhelpful :\ i have my own editing tutorial which is outdated but can probably help you out with the basics of lighting effects and shading n stuff?

Heyyy, I saw that you answered a question about making a ps action like your reshade, and I just wanted to say that I would love that! Unfortunately Mac users like me, can’t use reshade unless boot camping Windows onto our computers...☹️ and your reshade is just soooo pretty...

i don’t know if i’ll be able to replicate the reshade effect totally but i could release the action i’ve made for myself? it warms up screenshots but is totally adjustable to your liking for different color tones so in that way it’s kinda similar to the reshade. i’ll seeeeee what i can do...i know the woes of mac users all too well, my friend

i just wanna give lou a big ol cozy hug :o((( pls

pls hug her she needs it.

Do you post on tumblr from your phome or from your computer? Just curious.

mostly from my computer, sometimes i answer messages on my phone while i’m out and you can tell because autocorrect actually makes me use proper capitalization for once in my life

how many hours have you played the sims? for me i have 4,070 hours. haha help

OMFG i think mine is like...900 or something...i can’t tell if that’s too much or too little, but it’s definitely inaccurate

if i could only look at one person's tumblr from now on it would be yours. ur literally the queen of tumblr #shookaf and also i really hope i die before you ever say ur leaving tumblr cause when u do, i will legit die and bury my own grave. i really appreciate u and hope one day i can be on ur level but rn im at level 1.5 while ur up in the millions :D

I’M SCREAMING PLEASE I AM A PLEB.............i cry u flatter me too much ;-; i genuinely hope i never leave this place because it’s been so fun and it’s helped me evolve so much as an artist and a writer, plus i made some of my greatest friends on here. so i hope that day never comes!! but who knows life is wild. anyway i’m sure you’re actually like at level 578 and are just being modest. it’s okay you don’t have to be humble

i think its so cool that you and wanderlust and other simmers use multiple worlds to make your own town and stuff. idk why but thats just so cool to me and i would have never thought of it. love your blog and story <3

omg!!! well i couldn’t resist, i love a bunch of them and can’t limit myself to just one ya know. plus the more i thought about it, the more my gen 2 story kinda centers around these kids from this one town and the town itself is very relevant. so i felt like i had to make my own!! and i’m very excited to get started with that hehe

I just met a guy named Rodrigo Santiago and I sCREAMED HOLY SHIT

Update (tho idk of you got the first one): I just got a text from a classmate named Rodrigo Santiago. I'm sCREECHING

no freaking way. there’s no way i don’t believe...i want proof...

YOU SO FUCKIN PRECIOUS WHEN U SMILE

dont worry about posting this or do idc but i just wanted to say you should write about whatever you want and not care about whether people think you condone it or not. if i (a gay male) were to write about lesbians its not like im saying YOU HAVE TO BE LESBIANS BLAH BLAH BLAH you know what i mean? or if im writing about a robbery doesnt mean im like condoning robbery so like idk you do you boo and keep it coming ;D ilysm btw

OMFG no yeah i get it, i mean i think now especially in this online environment, people are hyper aware of Problematique things and so they’re a little too quick to point fingers without looking deeper than the surface. and whatever it’s fine people are always gonna be like that because people are mostly inherently judgmental, especially when it comes to consuming media. artists/writers face stuff like this all the time because people refuse to look past the surface, hence why works have gotten misconstrued all the time. but yeah i really appreciate this sentiment, thank u i love u

hope this isnt a weird question but what is the image size that u used for your character page?? thnk u 💕

omg it’s 300x300

have u listened to visions of gideon by sufjan stevens i was listening to it while reading ur stories and it made me so :(

oh my boy sufjan aka gianni’s personality claim i love him...and this song is :{ but i love even if it’s from the nasty age gap peach fucking movie

If i was married to Jamie and he treatin’ our daughter like that… oh I swear HES GOT TO GO!

it’s 2 am i’m so tired answering all of these i forgot who jaime was for a sec i was like um why are we talking about GoT anyways good night

how does alpha hair work with reshade? it seems so good in your screenshots and i’ve seen that in others screenshots it looks bad? whats the secret?

well good morning haha jk i never went to sleep anyway here u go

hooow do you make adorable toddlers in ts4?? teach me, gimme some advice please :(((

chubby cheeks! big eyes! small faces! little but plump lips! a good skin! dats all

how did u get ur sim onto the fire escapes?

ze teleporter mod, that’s it

I snickered at the, THE RETURN OF SANTI. Like I imagine it written in red horror lettering and santi just busts down the door and says ho ho ho im back bench, Did U miss me?

honestly i own a calendar and if i knew a definite date u already fucking kNOW it would be up there

ahhh im sorry for asking but im wondering how you find voice claims?? i'm looking for some for my sims, but it's tough to find one that's *right*, you know?? and your voice claims are great!! thank you <3

OMG voice claims are HARD, i literally just like “collect” them over time...i have a list in my phone of voices i like/may use in the future lmao, but try to think of actors or musicians and search interviews/movie or tv scenes with them speaking!!

i don't even read your story but i still follow you because i love your personality, sim style and just your whole entire tumblr

u follow me for ME? UM...what are u doing here...i’m so sorry (i love u...)

do you have a different reshade preset for flashback screenshots and for the present ones?

i do not!! i just edit differently

what happened to the honeycomb?

OMFG it’s still there...but we legit haven’t seen it since girooni’s wedding so um...it’s gonna have to get a makeover. i’m gonna do it when girooni come back home so i can finally show rupi working there like...wow...she deserves to be seen

lou's dad is the biggest asshole and i am waiting for the day that bitch dies

us when he dies

shit theory: caroline goes to find and confront cillian about what he did in teen lou timeline. care ends up forming a crush on cillian and goes back to meet him several more times, but cillian ends up liking lou more which makes caroline jealous. and that's why they don't speak currently, 'cause cillian ruined lou's life in more ways than one.

uM holy fuck that’s all i got to say

pls tell me that Caro killed the dude that choked Lou (or beat his ass)

god i hope so !

how many people do you follow? are you “strict” with who you follow?

i follow 264 people and yeah i’ve gotten a bit stricter with it just cause like...i only want to follow people whose content i truly care about/will actually notice on my dash

would you ever do a sim dump?

probably in the future, it seems like people want more male and female sims from me SO

ramona got some moves tf

the girl is out here bobbing to the chicken dance like nobody’s business

have u seen the end of the fucking world? if u did what are your #thots

UM......................i watched the first episode ‘cause i heard so much about it and um.............................it was so bad OMFG i hated it. way too edgy for me. completely missed the mark. not into it at all. hard pass

CAN LOU PLEASE HAVE A MAN IN HER LIFE WHO IS NOT A COMPLETE TWAT PLEASE

HOPEFULLY ezra will follow through with that and i don’t necessarily mean in a romantic way but like...as her new roommate MAYBE he will be a blessing we can HOPE

I'm not sure if you've been asked this or not, but your poses are so good and I was wondering if you have ever considered making a pose pack? Sorry if this came off as rude! I love your posts!

i will probably in the future!! but first i gotta figure out which ones i’d actually include

okay so this is random but I just wanted to say that I absolutely love your sims stories. Everything is so perfect and I'm forever shook because I can't believe the "sets" you use are actually the game. Your sims are so fleshed out and you are a huge inspiration to me. Anyways sorry if this was weird but I'm like obsessed with ur blog. bYe

AJHSDHJFSD THANK YOU!!!!!!! yes somehow we work miracles into this game can u believe it...ahh but thank you so much, it means everything that i would inspire you in any way...like what...omg

Santi is actually standing outside present Lou’s apartment wondering where the fuck he went wrong

he’s been there for 6 months just on the street standing there please someone let him in .

LOUUUU OH MY GODDD SKKDSNSJDH MY BABY. SO THATS HOW SHE GOT THE SCAR. WOW

there it is fellas. this message is sooooo old i’m so bad

Have you read/heard of The Lunar Chronicles

i have not!! but i’ll jot it down!

I was wondering if you’ve ever had any problems with skins? For me some on the palm side of the hand it’s noticeably darker than what the skin is supposed to be.. like the rest comes out find but the hands are darker.

hmm...that’s weird, i haven’t seen that. i think it probably depends on the skin? or maybe your sim detail settings?

santi my daddy, honeybodies my mommy, lou looking like a cutie when she saw dat tiny puppy. my name is rappin anon, and i just wanted to say, ur are my favorite simblr basically saving my day. rappin anon OUT

o...my god

i love u

i love u...

#nonsims #saviorhide #sunny answers #where is the anon that loves these...i always think of you when i make these...enjoy

[marmolita]

belonging, ch1 (kink week day 1)

Heeeeeeey there!  So I wanted to write a chaptered fic for @ffxv-kink-week​ but then I ran out of time, but then, I wanted to do it anyway, so I started writing a sequel to my other D/s-verse fic heart and soul.  If you haven’t read that one, all you need to know for this is that it’s D/s-verse, Noct is a dom, and Iggy and Gladio are his collared subs.  Once I get a bit farther along I’ll start posting to AO3, but for now, here it is on tumblr!  For the kink week day 1 prompt of authority kinks.

Title: belonging  Pairings: Noctis/Prompto, Noctis/Ignis/Gladio, eventual OT4  Rating: Explicit  Words: ~2300 Warnings: none, at least none in this chapter

Teaser: Prompto taps his phone, rewinding the clip to the beginning to play again. Bless IBC for always putting news clips online right away, because after watching the live feed of the Kingsglaive swearing-in ceremony Prompto immediately wanted to watch it again.  And again.  And again, and okay, maybe he's got one hand in his pants while he's watching it but Noct looks so good all dressed up.

"It'll be the exhibition match on Thursday afternoon, then the swearing-in ceremony Friday evening, then the banquet right after," Ignis says, thumbing through email on his phone as he pulls on his clothes. "Gladio, I assume you'll have His Highness in top form for the exhibition?"

"'Course I will. He's been training with the Glaives for the last couple weeks, right Noct?" Gladio prods Noctis with the ball of his foot, and Noctis swats him away.

Laying back on the pillows, Noctis says, "As long as I don't have to go against Nyx I'll be fine. That guy could kick Gladio's ass."

"Yes, well. I'm sure he'd let you win for show anyway," Ignis replies as he buttons up his shirt.

"I don't want to win for show -- that wouldn't help with the whole filling-in-for-my-dad in the ceremony. People already think I'm too young, or too weak, or too . . . whatever."

Ignis sits on the bed next to him, setting a hand on Noct's knee through the blanket. "Don't worry about what they think. You're going to do just fine."

"You think so?"

Ignis leans in and kisses him, soft and light. "I know so."

*

The exhibition is in the courtyard, with bleachers erected on both sides. Gladio eyes the crowd briefly, then turns to survey the arena. "Don't forget the Glaives can warp just as well as you can," he murmurs in Noct's ear. "You can't just warp out of the way and think you'll be able to hang out and catch your breath."

"Right," Noctis says, and Gladio can read his nerves in his tone of voice.

"You're fast, and you're flexible. The magic is yours, it's not borrowed. If you want to swap weapons you can probably do it faster than they can. Don't forget to watch your back, and watch your left side -- they probably know you're a little weaker there."

"Got it." Noctis is clenching and unclenching his hands, like he's ready to pull his blade from the ether, but his eyes are still darting around the crowd. Gladio steps in front of him to block his view, forcing Noctis to look up at him.

"You got this," he says. "Even if you lose, you're gonna put up a good fight and show 'em what you can do."

Noctis takes a deep breath, holds it, then lets it out. "Thanks," he says, and Gladio claps him on the shoulder.

In the middle of the arena, Drautos raises his arm and the crowd falls quiet. "Ladies, Gentlemen . . . new recruits," he says expansively, "thank you all for coming. Today we'll see a demonstration of the power of the Crystal, and the power of the Kingsglaive. His Royal Highness Prince Noctis will battle one of our fiercest warriors." Noctis takes another breath, and Gladio can see his public mask settle into place. He walks out into the arena, smiling and waving.

"Now," Drautos says, "let us see who his opponent shall be."

An assistant brings out a bowl full of scraps of paper and holds it out to Noctis, who reaches in and selects one. Noctis looks at the paper for a moment, his face carefully blank, then announces, "Nyx Ulric." Shit.

The audience bursts into applause and Nyx takes the field, grinning. Drautos backs away to the sidelines, and Noctis summons his Engine Blade in a shower of sparks. Nyx makes the first move, throwing his short blade and warping straight for Noctis. Noctis phases through the attack, then swings hard, nearly connecting before Nyx warps away again.

To a layman, what follows is just a blur of blue sparks and phase shadows, clashing blades and flying kicks. To Gladio, it's Noctis putting in his best effort and having it be just enough to keep him on his feet, barely dodging each of Nyx's attacks. Their weapons clash together a few times, but the fight is mostly a series of fast warps as the two of them flicker from one end of the arena to the other.

Noctis throws his sword up so it rams into a high post, warping to hang from it briefly, then as Nyx starts to follow him, Noctis yanks the sword from the post, lets it dissolve back into the ether, and pulls out a javelin instead. He throws, warps, executes a mid-air backflip, and dives down toward Nyx with the javelin in his hand. For a moment, Gladio's breath catches as he thinks Noctis might just pull this off.

But then, Nyx throws up a crystalline shield, and Noct's attack is blocked entirely. Before his feet hit the ground, Nyx drops the shield and swings, his blade slicing into Noct's arm.

"First blood to Ulric!" Drautos calls. Both men drop their weapons and step back, breathing hard. Gladio's heart is in his throat, waiting to see how Noctis will take his loss. But Noctis ignores the blood running down his arm and turns to Nyx with a smile. Nyx executes a perfect bow, and when he rises, Noctis extends a hand to him, which Nyx clasps firmly.

"Lucis is honored by your skill," Noctis says, loud enough to carry to the crowd. "May all the new recruits grow as strong as you."

"The honor is mine, Your Highness," Nyx replies, appropriately deferential like he never is in training.

Drautos reminds everyone of the ceremony to be held the next day, and the crowd begins to file out as a page brings a potion to heal Noct's arm. By the time Gladio gets to his side, any sign of the injury is gone.

Noctis keeps his polite smile on until they're alone in the locker room, then sinks onto the bench with a groan. "Damn it," he says, slamming his fist into his thigh, "why did it have to be Nyx?"

"Hey, that aerial attack with the javelin was quick thinking," Gladio says, tossing Noctis a towel. "You did good."

"I got my ass handed to me," Noctis grouses.

"But you did it well. Iggy's gonna be proud of you for how you handled that."

"I'm supposed to swear in the new recruits tomorrow but all they're gonna be thinking is, 'Why should we swear our allegiance to this kid?' Ugh. Remind me why Dad can't do this again?"

Gladio sighs. "His Majesty is tied up with the ambassador from Accordo. You know that."

"Ugh," Noctis says again, slamming the door to the shower stall on his way in.

*

Noctis is still fuming when he flops into his bed after dinner. Ignis and Gladio have gone home, since Noctis is too tired and cranky to be good company despite Ignis's best efforts. Spending the night alone isn't unusual -- Gladio only stays over rarely, and Ignis often prefers an earlier bedtime and can't sleep with Noctis still awake. Some day, Noctis will get a place with enough bedrooms for all of them to be comfortable, but in the meantime this works well enough.

He rolls onto his back and flings an arm over his eyes. His mind keeps replaying the fight, searching for everywhere he could have done something differently. Of course now that it's over he can easily see a hundred opportunities he missed, but it's too late now.

His phone chimes and he groans and wrestles it out of the pocket of his jeans.

Hey buddy, the text from Prompto says, saw a clip of your fight w glaive, those moves were awesome!

Noctis's face does something between a smile and a grimace. Nyx kicked my ass, he types back.

[Prompto] u kidding bro he's like the biggest war hero and ur 18 of course he did [Prompto] u looked awesome tho, flipping around and stuff [Prompto] flexible ~.~

He laughs at that, imagining the way Prompto is probably wiggling his eyebrows, and types back, lol u make it sound way sexier than it was.

The return message comes right away: ur always sexy. Noctis can't help the little thrill that runs through him; Prompto has been dropping hints that he's interested for a while now, but he always backtracks before making anything clear, leaving Noctis to wonder whether he ever really meant it at all. Speaking of which . . .

[Prompto] I mean [Prompto] the whole royal authority thing, bet it really works for you w Iggy and Gladio

Noctis types out does it work for you? but then hesitates over the send button and ends up erasing it.

[Noctis] guess so [Noctis] sometimes I just want to be me

He sighs, thinking of the royal duties waiting for him in the morning.

[Noctis] gotta do the swearing in ceremony tomorrow bc dad is busy [Noctis] rather be playing kings knight w you

[Prompto] the night is young, and your phone is already in your hand

Noctis grins and opens the app.

*

The ceremony is held in the throne room, with the recruits lined up in formation and Noctis standing in front of the throne. He holds himself tall, and nobody would know that only minutes before Ignis was adjusting the drape of his cape and fixing his tie and cufflinks while Noctis frantically repeated his speech over and over.

"On behalf of my father, the king, I welcome you all to the Kingsglaive. Today you join the ranks of Lucis's most elite warriors, and begin your service to the people and the Crown." Noctis's voice is strong, and Ignis sees a hint of his father in the tilt of his chin. He hesitates for a barely detectable moment, then says, "Are you ready to pledge your loyalty?"

As one, the recruits fall to their knees and bow their heads, a hush falling over the room as Noctis descends the stairs. He approaches the first recruit and lays his hand on the back of her head. "I give myself in service to the Crown and the Crystal," she says, "and pledge to use the power granted to me to protect the people of Lucis."

"Do you give your life to the Crown?" Noctis asks. Normally, with Regis performing the ceremony, the line would be, do you give your life to me? but Noctis had felt it would be disingenuous, and Ignis finds he rather agrees.

"I do."

His hand slides around the side of her head and cups her chin, lifting her face. "Then rise, and join the ranks of the Kingsglaive." The recruit stands, and Ignis can see the shine in her eyes as she rises. Noctis smiles at her before moving on to the next recruit. The ceremony is repeated for the whole group, Noctis receiving one oath after another, until they're all standing.

As the audience bursts into applause, Noctis ascends the stairs again. When he reaches the throne, he materializes his sword and swings it high above his head, then spins it in a flashy circle and slams the point down into the floor in front of him, in the crack left there by this very same ceremony in the past. "The Crystal welcomes you, as do the people of Lucis," he says strongly, and the newly minted Glaives cross their fists over their chests and bow.

The applause is thunderous, and when it finally starts to die down, Noctis banishes his sword and makes his way down the stairs. Ignis meets him at the bottom as the recruits and the audience begin to file out of the chamber. "Well done, Your Highness," he says.

"You think so? My sword has nothing on Dad's armiger."

"You saw the look in the recruits' eyes. They were proud to be swearing their loyalty to you."

"To my dad," Noctis corrects.

"It may have been him in intent, but it was you in practice. I remember swearing my own oath of loyalty to you, you know."

Noctis laughs. "You mean when we were kids?"

"We may have been children, but I've always taken it seriously."

Looking at him with a small smile playing at his lips, Noctis says, "Me too."

"Well then," Ignis says, "I believe the banquet is ready to begin."

*

Prompto taps his phone, rewinding the clip to the beginning to play again. Bless IBC for always putting news clips online right away, because after watching the live feed of the glaive swearing-in ceremony Prompto immediately wanted to watch it again.

And again.

And again, and okay, maybe he's got one hand in his pants while he's watching it but Noct looks so good all dressed up. Even the ridiculous cape lends him an air of authority.

Are you ready to pledge your loyalty? Noct asks in the video, and Prompto's hand tightens on his cock. There was a time when he hesitated to jerk off to photos and videos of his friend, but these days he's accepted the fact that his feelings aren't going away any time soon and he can still be a good friend to Noct despite wanting to suck down his dick until he chokes.

Do you give your life to the Crown? Noct asks, and Prompto breathes, "I do," as he jerks himself faster. The clip is almost to the end, and he bites his lip as Noct ascends the stairs, then gasps, "fuck, fuck, fuck," when Noct materializes a sword and swings it around his head. He comes as the sword slams into the ground, the camera catching the steely glint in Noct's blue eyes, the hard set of his mouth, the perfect fall of hair over his forehead. He looks like a king, and Prompto would gladly lay down his life for him.

As the clip finishes, he pushes weakly at his pants, shoving them down to keep them out of the mess. He doesn't feel guilty for jerking off to Noct, but sometimes he feels guilty for how much he likes it when Noct acts like the royalty he is, because he's still got the texts on his phone saying sometimes I just want to be me.

#ffxvkinkweek #ffxv #promptis #polyship roadtrip #fanfic

[jaylos]

i hated descendants 2 and here's why

a collection of reasons why i am utterly disappointed in this sequel.

warnings: there will be swearing and negative commentary about these ships: Mal/Ben, Evie/Doug, Carlos/Jane. (so basically all the canon pairings lmao)

buckle up this is gonna be long and salty. (also spoilers, duh) (and i take artistic liberty in the capitalization of words and i like to be dramatic)

also check out other rant posts i made bc they kinda tie in with all of this (reading not required in order to understand it tho): magic ban Rise of the Isle of the Lost my thoughts during my first time watching it Bal

1. Characters

Ok i need to go back to d1 for a second: they already did a bad job on introducing the characters to us there. For exapmle: Carlos and technology. He does that thing where he locates the museum or when he turns off the alarm, but without the first book (the isle of the lost) the fact that he is supposedly a tech genius would've flown over everyone's heads. And this is the problem: the movie(s) rely on spin-off media (the books, wicked world) to explain the characters to us. A movie shouldn't have to do that in the first place, but what makes it worse is that the books and the webseries are inconsistent like no tomorrow and also contradict each other on several occasions. Now that wouldn't be so bad if the movies were enough to solidify the characters, but they're not. They also try to patch up plot holes in the books so they don't have to deal with it in the movies. But someone who hasn't read them might wonder how the pirate crew got their ship, and they're offered no explanation in the movie whatsoever. (i'm pretty sure this could've been avoided with a few tweaks to the script tho??)

What I think happened here is that they simply had too many characters and so basically all of them fell flat because they didn't have time to explore them properly. And what did they do in d2? they dragged that problem with them, introduced more characters who's arcs they could half-ass and got rid of what little personality the original characters had.

We don't actually know shit about them. What are their hobbies? What are their interpersonal dynamics like? What are their struggles in Auradon after a life of abuse and neglect? (i'm convinced that that last one can absolutely be dealt with in a child-friendly manner, but instead they brushed it off almost completely. I say almost because we got a few tidbits here and there but those were about as deep as a puddle on a sidewalk)

1.a. Jay

Why is he depicted as a main character when he has less lines & relevance to the plot than Jane?  Even the gotdam dog had some purpose. wouldn't change a thing if Jay wasn't there at all.

l i s ten i love Jay for the character that i made him out to be in my head and through some of the things the fandom has contributed but in canon he is redundant as all fuck.

Also i'm not gonna go into the outfits in this rant bc that's too subjective and is not what contributed to d2 being a bad movie but let's just say i found most of his looks kind of.. off-putting. why they didn't take advantage of Booboo Stewart's beauty is a mystery to me. Especially since his looks are supposed to be Jay's strong suit.

2.b. Chad

He was a completely different character. Not only did his personality shift from deceitful to moronic but his morals changed?? like in d1 he didn't actually play by the rules - he let other people do his homework, and he didn't tell on Evie because he found her cheating wrong but because he wanted payback.

And in d2 he suddenly cares about rules word for word because the writers and the (young) audience already hate him so he can be sexist too i guess. Instead of making him a meaningful threedimensional character that offers a different perspective as the child of a disney hero he was turned into the comic relief and the overdone trope of the jock that lost his status and is now laughed at. Groundbreaking. you hate him i get it i g e t i t. (also stay tuned for the sexism part i'm not done with that)

1.c. Carlos

to get super subjective again: i absolutely hate the direction they went in with his character. why not make him even more nerdy now that he has the freedom to do so? the only thing that referenced his tech stuff was that he supposedly improved their 3D printer. wow. his new hairstyle, the golden headphones etc. were things that don't fit into the impression i got from the first movie and/or the books at all. they didn't even show him tinkering with some device or whatever? how tf am i supposed to believe that he's a techie???

Also in Rise of the Isle of the Lost he is anti-magic for some goshdang reason, but in d2 he asks Mal to help him with magic, which is one of those inconsistencies i was talking about.

1.d. Evie

here's what i would have done with her instead: make 4 Hearts less relevant (do show her sewing and talking about commissions) and let her care for the remaining isle kids from the very beginning. her introduction in d2 could've been her talking about wanting to bring them over, but having difficutly to make it happen (maybe the royal council pushes back or whatever).

instead she spends 6(?) months doing jackshit about the isle kids and only remembers it like halfway through the movie.

1.e. Ben

he just pisses me off. not only is he dismissive and ignorant of Mal's struggles and blames her for when she fails to be perfect, but he is also incompetent as a king, at least when it comes to the Isle. Why the fuck did it take him so long to bring more isle kids over? and why does he need to hear it from Evie first? it was his idea in the first place but then he completely forgets about it for some reason even though he is literally dating a vk. "i guess i've just been busy" with what? being a fuckboy? (also sidenote: there it is again with the "tell don't show" that i've already talked about in the rant about Rise linked above. it's one of the biggest problems i have with the storytelling across all installations in this franchise. Ben is not shown being busy one single time. We're just supposed to believe it because they said so.)

(another sidenote: why the fuck does he have those beast traits, by which i mean all that redundant roaring like i get they want to reference beauty and the beast but do the writers realize that his father was cursed he does not actually have those furry genes)

1.f. Jane

? per s onalit y ?¿?? literally who is she

There's not much to say about the others (some i will cover later when i talk about relationships). Do you know that thing when a character's potential is wasted? In descendants this happens with every last one of them. They're like those cakes that are just for show: they look amazing and tasty but when you take a bite it's cardboard.

2. Plot

pretty basic for the most part, but i personally found the suspense curve really weird. it has two climaxes (? what is plural): 1. the sword fight and 2. at the cotillion. Also i hated that it took place over the course of like 2 days, but that might just be my personal taste. There are some plot holes of varying degrees of annoying. For one, Maleficent probably starved to death in that box because Mal and the writers forgot about her. And her moped is gone, it left, like i should have as well, good-fucking-bye.

Then there's the fact that Mal didn't go back with them because she learned some kind of lesson or grew as a peson or whatever but because she didn't have a choice and they never talked about her initial struggles except "my hair and dress are purple again so it's fine". i mean yeah she said her piece about not fitting in or whatever but we don't actually see it working out after all that trouble?How did the dynamic in their relationship change? who knows.

Then there's the fact that Uma is somewhere in the ocean, she's a giant monster and 100% capable of using magic but no one gives a shit??? at this point i'm willing to bet that in the next isle book it will be explained what happened to her so it doesn't have to be dealt with in descendants 3 and i will scream.

By the way i didn't understand what it was that Ben said that convinced her to retreat, his speech was so lame.

Also the octopus/dragon "fight" was ridiculous. they didn't do shit? Uma was just wiggling around and Mal was floating, which looked stupid because she made flying/gliding motions but stayed in the same spot.

And one thing that really annoyed me is how they only made 5 smoke bombs and then also needed exactly 5. b better prepared u idiots. that whole thing was so weird anyway bc the point was to avoid a fight but it didn't work. maybe it would've worked if they had made more than 5 who knows. and the plan to make them in the first place came completely out of the blue. (-plan? -smoke bombs -k)

Also why did Uma expect the wand to work under the barrier? The only explanation I can think of is that it's because the wand was what created the barrier (although the whole thing about the Isle is that magic Does Not Work and we should have been given an explanation as to why the wand is an exception) but 1. How would Uma know that and 2. If it had been the real wand they could've used it to knock the pirates out or whatever and Uma should've expected that. This whole trade-off thing was sketchy and holey as fuck.

You know what was one of the best things about d1? The parents. I mean this was probably a budget issue but the parents were arguably one of, if not the, most entertaining aspects. and boy could it have been interesting to see the confontation between them and their kids...

The isle was really weird and underwhelming btw. i saw people say it was great bc we got to see more of the isle but did we really? it was just a bunch of disjointed locations and we still have no idea how anything is located in relation to one another, how big it is, or how and how many people actually live there. And why did no one there give a shit that the rotten four were back? most of all Mal, whom the people hated the most for betraying them and becoming a princess. Also why did Mal not go back to her old home instead of this building that was a.. warehouse? their gang hangout?? that came out of nowhere??? correct me if i'm wrong but do they say something along the lines of  "we used to hang out here" even once? why was there a bed in there

And hey remember tourney? It's not even like roar was necessary so that they'd have swords? Also it could have been mentioned like "now that tourney season's over we're focusing on roar" but no?? Let's just forget about it like the writers did.

3. Music

not really much to say, except that they used way too much autotune but i guess overall it's an improvement compared to the first movie but it's whatever. the only thing that confused me about what's my name was that in the movie (as opposed to the music video on youtube etc) there was this weird echo that made it sound like it was playing in another tab with a slight lag??

and another thing that stuck out to me was it's going down: the rap parts were already hella uncomfortable to watch but when ben started singing i just about died of secondhand embarrassment it's so bad lmao.

4. The Thing With Lonnie

Don't get me wrong, i love that she got a bigger part and that she's a good swordfighter and whatnot.

BUT:

First of all, why is it even a thing that the roar rule book has gendered language like that? i mean aren't there countless women in auradon who have proven over and over again that they're just as capable as man? why does Lonnie need to prove anything. especially since her mother is mulan of all people???

listen, the exploitation of gendered language has brought forth some great moments (eg: lotr "i am no man") but it's getting old. Girls and women have proven countless times that they can do "anything a boy can". how many times more does it have to happen until we can take the next step?

And it wasn't even handled well in d2. Sure, Lonnie's captain now, but do we really have to wait until d3 (or god forbid the next book in the isle series where the movie can lean back and let the book do all the storytelling work) for something to actually change in a system that is still misogynistic for whatever goddamn reason??

for this sideplot not to fail miserably like it did, what should have happened is that Lonnie changes the rules so that anyone can join the team, because as we were left it was still "captain and 8 men". we did not see the actual change happening and this was a half-assed attempt at this tired old "girl power" shit.

in this kind of storyline we only ever see the first step, we never see the actual progress that follows. it's always just "huh, i guess girls aren't useless after all" it's 2017 get with the program and move the fuck on.

OR just drop this overdone trope and have a team consisting of different genders from the very beginning.

It's time to tell girls that they don't need to prove themselves in order to be respected.

5. Relationships jesus christ here we go

okay okay there is a number of things that get my blood b o i l i n g and one of them is lazy fictional heterosexual romances and boy oh boy is this movie a fucking gold mine in that regard.

5.a. let's take a look at janelos first (don't worry i will talk shit about bal and devie individually as well): it's boring, shallow, if it was a spice it would be flour. look, if you ship it, by all means be my fucking guest. i even encourage you to write fanfiction or do something to make something out of this bland ass mess of a supposed romantic relationship.

it's a perfect example of what is wrong with this kind of fictional romance. first of all i will disregard the books bc 1. the movies shouldn't need the books for that, yadda yadda and 2. they don't do much to save it anyway. so. it's the easy route, the tried and true formular, and that's the problem. he was a boy, she was a girl, and that's enough to make their interest in each other believable, right? the answer is no. it's lazily written and i am tired™. why, how, when did they fall in love? are they even friends? what do they have in common? what activities do they enjoy together? those are all things we don't know, this relationship comes out of nowhere. how did they go from not even so much as look at each other in the first movie to being head over heels for each other? and not to mention, was it worth sacrificing their personalities for? you guessed it the answer is no yet again. Neither Carlos nor Jane receive any character development whatsoever. None. They could have done so much with them (if you hear a strange sound it's me weeping).

And it is replaceable. Change their names and it won't make the slightest bit of difference, because this relationship does not have one single distinguishable trait (in fact it has no traits period) compared to the 87632947 others out there. it is so. generic. and frankly i don't understand how people can settle for it. i mean i get how people can just watch the movie and not care bc why would they, but how does someone look at this and go "yes, this is a well-written romance" ????? ? ? up your standards people.

and now some predictions that came (somewhat) true from that Heterosexual Romantic Subplot Bullshit Bingo i wanted to make for d2 but never finished:

- by the end their relationship won’t have developed like at all, but they dance together to show us that they’ve come sUcH a LoNg waY

- one wants to ask the other out/they both want to ask each other out, but they’re too shy and also the plot keeps interrupting them.

- it will take away screentime they could have used to give them actual character development.

- jane won't receive an arc besides being and obligatory love interest.

- carlos tries talking to her but he stammers and it’s supposed to be cute.

5.b. Devie

Like i get that Doug is jealous bc of his own insecurities but what is hip with the kids in the year of our lord 2k17 is mutual trust and communication. To think that Evie would cheat on him is such an insult tbh?? And why did Evie not tell him where she was going in the first place? i mean granted i could think of a few reasons why she wouldn't but we don't even see her give a shit bc Doug is irrelevant in her quest to go and sing a duet with the person she'd rather be dating. She probably just forgot about Doug like I, the viewer, did the second he left the screen.

Also it's just the same bs again. We don't know shit about their relationship. What is it like? What do they enjoy doing together? What is their dynamic? Doug could literally be a pair of Pradas and it wouldn't make a difference.

But for real tho can we go back on how he accuses her of cheating?? like wow dude that's so gross  pls don't present that to young viewers as cute because i assure you it is not.

5.c. Bal (h e r e w e g o)

Ben is such a bad boyfriend omg. I mean i get that he couldn't possibly understand what Mal is going through, but he isn't even trying. She changes everything about herself and he doesn't get suspicious in the least. And apparently they don't talk about anything that matters because 1. Mal can't be honest with him (she dragged all that shit around with her for ~6 months!!!) and 2. he would know more about the isle (but he has no clue).

out of all the relationships in this movie this is the one they should've put some effort into. i mean they succeeded in making Ben look like a dick but that wasn't their intention so i just ended up feeling sorry for Mal for being stuck with him bc it's ~true love~ .

Mal to Ben: "you've always known who we were" he didn't tho?? just bc he gave her a purple dress in that stained glass picture? he could've just told her that instead of letting her suffer for months bc she thought he'd leave her if she was more like herself. and that's the resolution, Mal shouldn't have been worried oh how silly of her! i guess everything is fine after all!

but you know actually their love for each other is totally believable bc they had an emotional and heart-wrenching duet together - oh wait.

A big reason why Sofia Carson and Dove Cameron got a duet is probably because they're professional singers and Mitchell Hope apparently can't get out a single correct note without 10 layers of autotune but when the story is about true love saving the day shouldn't that aspect get a little more attention? i mean don't get me wrong i like that the duet between mal and evie is there at all (but hey @disney make it gay you cowards) bc the friendships between the characters and especially the vk's don't get nearly as much attention as they should.

not to go on a tangent about how hand-holding and forehead-touching can totally be platonic but put next to Ben and Mal who Do Not Do That it makes their romantic relationship even less exciting. like, i don't know why i should care about it.

also while typing this i realized that it's not really that different from other movies and i thought hey, maybe i'm being too hard on it, but then i remembered that 99% of all canon heterosexual romantic relationships are bland and boring and i need writers to try harder (or try at all) because i am bored to death by the same shit over and over again.

i know i'm wasting way too much energy on this but i was already too invested in descendants so might as well go all the way amirite. i just had to get it all off my chest. if you need me to elaborate on anything feel free to message me.

and the first movie wasn't all that good btw, it is trashy in a way that was enjoyable, but the second one is just trash.

so yeah all in all that script was just straight up a pile of garbage consisting of washed-out tropes and no amount of bright colors or catchy songs can save it.

#disney descendants #descendants 2 #descendants 2 spoilers