#im never gonna get to dig down into the root of things if new things keep happening every week

[tempestaurora]

im starting to feel like the universe conspires for bad things to happen on a thursday because it knows i'm going to therapy today anyway so it might as well give me as much bad news as possible so i have something to talk about

#talk #im never gonna get to dig down into the root of things if new things keep happening every week

[honkhonkrichard]

Theory: Stanley Uris was Murdered.

Tagging @vvanini I hope you can follow this okay it’s very word vomity lol

Okay So TW because this post will touch on Stan's death ad the methods behind it

I propose that Stan Uris was murdered. by IT. In his home on that fateful night. I think that Stan posed the biggest threat to IT and therefore IT felt the need to take him out before the battle even started.

Allow me to explain.

Okay, so, I need to lay out some basic "rules" or "facts" before I make my case. They are as follows.

- IT planted it's roots in Derry, and finds it difficult to leave, but still can at it’s own wil.  If you read the book (I honestly don't blame you if you haven't) You'd know that once the Losers kill IT for the final time, Derry (the Physical town) is obliterated. Buildings explode, sinkholes appear, things are flooded. The town is in ruins by the time that the Losers leave the sewers. The movies don't adapt this so If this is news to you thats fine. the bottom line is that destroying IT destroys Derry, like ripping a tree out of the ground with all it's roots. Because of this, we can make the claim that while it can Leave Derry (as it does every 27 years) it probably takes tremandous amount of power to do so, which is why IT only goes when the cycle is over. Why does this matter? Well, what if IT left Derry to get to Stan? The murders had stopped for about a week when they're all in the Jade of the Orient. Plenty of time for IT to cross from Maine to Georgia. Side Note: We KNOW IT leaevs Maine to elsewhere in the world because of King's extended universe all interconnecting. it's not far off at all to make the claim that IT is the same evil that haunts, say The Shining's Overlook Hotel, which is in Colarado.

- IT is omnipresent This is also a given, IT lives everywhere, and can fuck with time and space in godlike (or maybe eldritch like) ways. in IT: Chapter Two, when Mike claims "IT Doesn't know I know what I know" he's unfortunately wrong, because we know that IT can be in A) Multiple places at once, B) can manipulate anything on the drop of a hat (See: Stan being teleported away from everyone else in Chapter One, Everything about Neibolt, etc) and C) Knows everyone's deep fears. This is further proven by IT Saying things like "Beep Beep Richie" (although this is Horribly Horribly executed in the films, ugh.) and so on and so forth. On top of all of this, We can make the claim that IT can exist outside of Time as well, given that IT is immortal. SO, what's stopping IT from Knowing Mike was going to call them all back (Espically considering that IT TOLD Mike to do this?). Even if we keep IT's omnipresence to the location that IT inhabits (in this case Derry) IT would still have knowledge of where the losers are through Mike. And if you take the Lucky Seven/Chosen Seven route (oh my god I got theories on that too) you could argue IT knows where they are inherently due to their cosmic status.

- Stan is the "most Powerful" loser So, obviously all the Loser's are powerful, espically considering they're the ones who Defeat IT (Again going on to the Lucky/Chosen Seven theory). This next claim is going to be less focused on what the 2019/2017 Movies do because they are Bad Movies and that's a whole other rant. However, in the book, Stan is (to my knowledge feel free to correct me on any of this) the only loser to Actively ward off and 'defeat' IT on his own without running away. He uses his belief in this what is Real (birds) to ward off what is "not real" (IT). The other losers do manage to take down IT in their own Right, but Stan is ultimately the one to Really get IT. This is because Stan's character revolves around Belief and Willpower. These are, in some form or another, the ways to Defeat IT. the ritual of Chud is a battle of Wills. in the book, Bill takes IT down and Eddie does the final blow. In the Remake (ugh) the losers can defeat it Technically using the belief that IT isn't as powerful as it claims because IT's "just a clown" (Ihatethatfuckingendingsomuchugh). Stan being much more skeptical than the rest of the group in his ability to understand Reality vs IT's illusions is a powermove, and IT knows that ability doesn't go away as Stan grows up, but rather he gets more powerful. Stan is the Only loser out of the 6 who left that has any sort of knowledge about IT, where the other losers have nothing. Bev has nightmares, yes, but she still forgets them. We're told in his chapter (Chapter 3, Six Phone Calls (1985), Part One: Stanley Uris Takes a Bath) that he has some hazy knowledge of his place in the Lucky Seven, and even goes so far as to MENTION it sometimes, even if he doesn't quite remember or understand any of it, his knowledge of IT and Derry is worlds more prominent than that of the rest of the losers.

(page 52 of IT:  "Stanley, nothing's wrong with your life!"  "I don't mean from inside." he said. "From inside is fine. I'm talking about outside. Something that should be over and isn't. I wake up frmo these dreams and think, 'My whole pleasent life has been nothing but the eye of some storm I don't understand.' I'm afraid. But then it just... fades. The way dreams do." OR  page 45: He had been smiling a little. Now the smile faltered, and for a moment he seemed puzzled. His eyes had darkened, as if he looked inward, consulting some interior device which ticked and whirred correctly but which, ultimately he understood no more than the average man understands the workings of the watch on his wrist. "The turtle couldn't help us," he said suddenly. he said that quite clearly.)

So, Stan has some cosmic knowledge of IT and Maturin and his role in the battle against It. What does any of this have to do with his death? Well, let me point out some other things about Stan's death that always stuck out to me. - His death chapter is narrated by his wife, Patty, rather than himself. The other chapters - almost all the other chapters - are narrated by their respective Loser (the caviot for this is Ben, but Ben is also wasted out of his damn mind so its understandable.) - Stan's personality is few and far between in the book, but we know he has a weird little sense of humour and that he's incredibly logical. I think that this logical part of him would be able to understand that Suicide is Never Ever the answer, and that it would cause FAR more problems than it would solve. (the 2019 movie tries to reexplain his death and it's crap and i hate the letters i hate the letters so much im gonna explode) The other losers try to rationalize his death by saying "He would rather Die Clean than Live Dirty (Page 506, Chapter 10, The Reunion, part 3, 'Ben Hanscom Gets Skinny') but he had already BEEN Dirty when he defeated IT the first time, and I think he would've recognized that. - upon finding him, Patty (in her narration) notes that Stan's head is bent back over the edge of the bathtub, so from his sight she would have been upside down. If Stan DID kill himself, why would he be positioned like that? It's unnatural, like someone Posed him. - the cuts on his arms are two length wise cuts. I'm no expert but.. that's suspicious. That's weird. - IT is written in blood on the wall. Why? Why would Stan right THAT of all things? You know who DOES like to paint with blood? IT.

Alright, returning to my thesis statement, Stanley Uris was murdered. Do I think Stan genuinely was going to take a bath at 7pm (which we're told is weird for him)? Yes. I think that's absolutely a thing he could have done or planned to do. Do I think he slit his wrists and commited suicide so he wouldn't go back to Derry? No. Not even remotely.

Let me paint a New Picture.

It's May 28th, 2016, or 1985. Stanley Uris gets a call from Mike Hanlon. Stan is incredibly hesitant to go to, and says he needs time to think about it. Or tht he'll try. He can feel the starts of a Panic attack, and as he's remembering the circles of Hell he went through as a child, he tries to hold himself together. He doesn't want his darling wife to see his break, so he says "I think I'll take a bath" and nothing else before going upstairs. he hides in the bathroom. He closes and locks the door, because, well, he's panicking. Locking doors is one of The Small things he does. Is it usually the bathroom door? no, but still (OCD is a bitch, and even with medication, but this is a special case). He looks in the mirror and tries to breathe. This is fine. He can do this. They killed IT once before and they can do it again. He thinks about his younger self, the promises made, and how he could explain all of this Patty in time to catch a flight to Maine. It's terrifying, but if his friends are going to bite the dust, he wants to be there with them, wedding vows be Damned. Then he looks at his reflection again. A younger, rotted version of himself stares back at him. IT crawls through the mirror. Stan freaks out, obviously. This isn't real. This Can't be real. But IT utilizes this notion against him. It digs it's claws into his arms, and forces him to bleed out in the bathtub. IT then sets the scene nicely. Razorblades on the counter, a bloody signature on the wall, a horrible posture of Stan's neck. So on and So forth. and then IT returns to Derry. IT's a little weak, yeah, but Stan is dead. That's what matters. the Lucky Seven has now Officially broken, and the balance shifts in favour of the clown.

So that's the theory. feel free to correct me on anything or engage I have plenty of theories on this story and I like discussing this stuff :).

#anyways #Stan #stanley uris #Stan uris #mine #Murder Theory #honktheory #thats a tag now I gues ?? #pw #analysis #meta

[reynie-muldoons]

'The Dance of the Celestial Orb' liveblog!

for real this time lmfao

book and show spoilers below

I'm ✨nervous✨ please let our children be okay

0:10 this Sticky arc hurts me so kuch

1:35 this music is BUMPIN

2:22 I just wanna know how she got under there without the dude seeing her

2:47 "all systems go" for the Improvement.... yikes 😬😬😬

2:55 she didn't wait even 5 seconds after they left, the door was still closing when she popped up 😂 can you imagine if one of them doubled back right at that moment

3:18 they look like the dudes from that veggietales movie, I think it was Esther- the island of perpetual tickling?? Anyone??? 😂😂😂

4:00 Kate vented.......

4:51 "not a rat" yeah no shit

5:07 if not for the suspense, I would be jamming out lmaooo

6:10 Mr. Benedict is looking at the shoreline, is he about to watch Kate dive in???? Because I mean that's where she's gotta be going

6:20 "memory challenges"? Is Rhonda talking about Milligan's amnesia, or has short term memory been affected as well??

6:29 .....thank you for answering so efficiently 😂

6:42 "I buy it. I completely.... buy it." RHONDA THAT'S NOT HELPFUL AHSKSHDJKD

6:56 can you imagine seeing your friend go down in a sub then hours later seeing the sub float up in fucking PIECES

7:06 KATE! KATE! KATE! KATE!

7:06 please let it be reunion time

7:25 oh hello that's a drop

7:38 *to the tune of Bezos I* come on Katie u can do it pave the way put ur back into it

7:51 she craves that mineral

8:06 Sticky, my child

8:20 oh my gosh they went out and LOOKED FOR HER I care them 😭😭😭

8:23 SHE KNEW HIS DREAM SHE KNEW HIS DREAM TELEPATH TELEPATH TELEPATH

8:34 STICKY STOPPPP

8:40 "jumping to conclusions is a failure of character" wow that really is something Curtain would say

8:52 angry Reynie. He is in rare form

8:54 "and you helped put her there!" OOOOOOOH I SCREAMED

9:03 "I shouldn't have yelled" okay but you kinda should have Sticky needs a wake up call

9:06 "dont apologize. I like this side of you." IS THIS THE START OF REYNIE AND CONSTANCE HAVING THE BEST SIBLING RELATIONSHIP

9:22 "if you really cared about me, you'd want me to be happy instead of standing there telling me who I am" oh Sticky my dude I am NOT digging the manipulation

9:36 Reynie pulling out the BFF card!!! Also Reynie digging in his feet because he knows he's right!!!! That's great setup for his arc as a strategist later

9:48 "I'm telling you, Kate's fine." Narrator: Kate was not, in fact, fine.

10:03 "they'll notice." Sticky has made one (1) good point.

10:11 oh dear god are they fingerprinting this bitch

10:19 all this equipment, has no one walked up to the cliff and looked down???

10:23 HAHAHAHA WAIT THEY ACTUALLY HAVEN'T

10:27 "we've been out here all night" that means Kate has been clinging to a cliff by her fingers and toes ALL NIGHT????

11:04 babe I know it's been a long night but maybe wait a second for them to actually leave before you climb back up

11:15 BUCKET NO

11:22 she has to go get it. There's no way someone wouldn't find that shit, it's in plain view

11:37 "WAS"???? WHY ARE WE SAYING WAS????? NO PAST TENSE HERE MILLIGAN'S FINE

11:43 "I only wish we could've known him better" NOOOPE NONONO WE'RE NOT DOING THIS

11:47 Rhonda back at it as the voice of reason!!!!!

11:59 "I have never met a more competent swimmer" throwback to "the baaAAAYYYY"

12:10 MR. BENEDICT'S FACE HAHAHAHA HOLD ON LET ME TAKE A PICTURE IM DYING

12:11 NUMBER TWO, NOT HELPING

12:14 RHONDA'S FACE HAHENDJDKDN

12:33 "we will go rescue him" because of COURSE he would

12:36 Rhonda is his best wingwoman omfg she's so consistent

12:54 MISS PERUMAL??????

12:56 MISS PERUMAL!!!!!!

13:00 SHE KNOWS HE'S RIGHT GAKSHDBDHEKSNND

13:09 "how hard can it be? It's an island!" PFFFFT

13:16 oh SQ baby boy please get out of there

13:25 "I certainly have my own suspicions" he said, looking at SQ why are you looking at SQ like that

13:31 SQ GET OUT OF THERE PLEASE IS2G

13:36 here we fuckin go

13:43 the captions have the f in forest capitalized like it's this special place

13:43 new hc that the Forest is a magical place like pixie hollow

13:57 TWO THINGS: 1. YES stand up for yourself baby!!!! 2. Shepard Quaid? Interesting! I don't think we ever got SQ's full name in the books, I hope TLS made that decision!

14:08 your "father hat"??? Oh my gosh shut the fuck up right there don't even continue

14:16 oh yeah real fuckin cute put on your "steward of this institution hat" and call that a good reason to be a shit person

14:43 "No." GOOD FOR HIMMMM GOOD JOB SQ

15:03 Kate's struggling right by the shore where a certain someone would be returning after a very hard swim, it would be a great time for a meeting wouldn't you think

15:09 KATE THE GREAT

15:11 "THE TRAPESE GODDESS" I WILL REFER TO HER AS NOTHING ELSE

15:26 sorry but that green screen of her falling was kinda funny

15:28 soooooo is someone, a very certain someone, gonna catch her...??????

15:36 YEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

15:43 IS THIS IT????@?@?!?

15:46 awww poor baby girl you can tell how tired she is

15:46 just putting this out there- they look so good in frame together

15:46 the actor who plays Milligan is fucking huge in stature so I wasn't sure how that would go but it looks so good

16:00 THE WAY HE'S LOOKING AT HER WITH HIS HAND ON HER SHOULDER I CANT DO THISSSSS

16:20 "keep going." 😭😭😭😭😭

16:23 "you dont understand." Ohhhh I think he does

16:25 "I think I do." What did I tell you, he's got your back babygirl

16:45 I'm so glad she's talking this out, and with Milligan of all people

17:01 it makes so much sense for Kate to feel alone in that situation, and when Kate feels anything less than positive she goes and does something, whatever that something is.

17:05 "So.. I...." "fell off a cliff and nearly died." Thanks for putting things into perspective Milligan

17:05 Milligan is such a good dad stop

17:19 "most of the way" is an understatement LMFAO

17:29 I'm so glad we know the intimate details of Milligan's illustrious swimming abilities 😂 out of all the new things wfrom the show that one wasnt on my radar

17:52 leave it to Milligan to come up with an escape plan off of an island with no water vessel with four kids in tow

18:08 THEYRE SO CUTE 😭😭😭😭

18:08 lowkey I'm super surprised they didnt take this opportunity to have Milligan's arduous swim force his memories out and have the father daughter bonding time they deserve. I hope they give that moment ample time to flesh out.

18:13 BUCKET!!!

18:13 wait that shot is so artsy hold up lmfao

18:13 this looks like someone's photography final hahahaha

18:26 THE TENDER MUSIC STOPPPP 😭😭😭

18:41 Sticky is still on that jumping to conclusions bs he got from Curtain

18:44 WETHERALL'S WIDGET 😭

19:31 "Kate... she's in danger..." NO SHIT SHERLOCK

19:36 "and it's all because of me." Not just because of you but love to see you taking responsibility

19:52 once again I am asking WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT THIS IN THE OPEN

20:26 "Kate. She has changed." "Not really. She's always been who she is." "Her clothes. She changed clothes." PFFFT HAHHAHA they really took a moment of self-reflection and made it so much better

20:55 AYYYYY KATE'S DEPENDENCY ARC CONTINUESSSSS

21:35 yikes yikes yikes

22:16 I love that Mr. Benedict got closure in telling Miss Perumal that her words stuck with him

22:40 the way she just knows Reynie took the position of leader 😭😭

22:54 SHE WROTE HIM A LETTERRR

23:02 "Would it be possible to get this to him?" Ma'am what part of undercover spy don't you get

23:54 it's still really weird that we are now in a position where Reynie is the one who is not trusted and Sticky is the one in Curtain's favor

24:13 and here we see Curtain's thinly veiled anger issues shining through

24:21 "the little things matter. Every minor detail, it all matters!" CALLBACK TO MR. BENEDICT TELLING THE CHILDREN THAT THEY ALL MATTER

24:55 "I can tell with complete accuracy when a person is lying." first of all, no. second of all, I cannot wait for him to talk to Constance.

26:33 why is Mr. Benedict graphically explaining the children's potential trauma so funny to me

26:40 "you're catastrophizing." "Yes. I am. Quite severely. Thank you." WHY IS THIS FUNNY

26:58 MADGE!!!!

27:16 she's so prettyyyyy

27:33 GOOD JOB MADGE!!!!!

27:36 wait did she just take the LETTER??? she's delivering the LETTER?????

28:05 WHAT DOES "OKAY FINE" MEAN??? REYNIE??????

28:22 it's sad because it's true 🥺

28:24 "I miss my teacher from the orphanage" the best lies are the ones rooted in truth 🥺🥺🥺

28:48 roll credits

29:16 Reynie honey Orion's Belt isn't on the ceiling

29:29 the way he was so confident that he had it right 😑 Curtain Stop Being a Pretentious Fuck challenge

29:52 our babygirl is so smartttt

29:55 did Milligan plant his prints 😳 oh no OH NO

29:57 MARTINA???? WHATSUEJHDKD

29:57 is this the replacement for when they pin cheating on her????

30:03 THE KEY CARD!!!!

30:11 MADGEEEE

30:21 "one attacked me as a small child" honey you are a small child

30:24 "it did not win," she said, smiling menacingly

30:40 "so we dance again" WHY DID THE MUSIC REV UP WHEN SHE SAID THAT HAHAHAHA

31:01 ✨woodworking is a passion✨

31:58 "was it functional?" "Well I guess that depends on how you define functionality" RHONDA'S FACE IN THE BACKGROUND HAHAHAHA

32:10 OH HEY MARTINA

32:17 wait 🥺

32:22 that has to be SQ :)

32:28 hi sweet boy

32:34 please tell me they did that shot of the sandwich because Madge is about to take it

32:39 LMFAOOOOO

32:44 hi good girl!!! Enjoy your snackies

32:50 oh god oh no the LETTER

33:25 oh wow we're doing this NOW??

33:52 and here we see another example of Curtain's thinly veiled anger issues bubbling to the surface

34:10 hey what if you uhhh weren't such an asshole

34:33 that man's voice is buttery

34:52 REYNIE'S TRYING TO TELL SQ????

35:02 and they're talking about this right in front of the office door, WHY??

35:24 AND THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT THIS RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE OFFICE DOOR, WHY????

35:55 he's letting him go 🥺🥺🥺🥺

36:14 why does that look like a body bag

36:17 oh my gosh it definitely is a body bag, hey Martina

36:25 yep, that's about what I expected

36:36 "whoever did this to me, they're gonna pay" oh girl do I have some bad news for you

37:12 ahhhh, so Martina is the burnt out gifted kid who keeps going out of spite and sheer force of will

37:12 everything makes much more sense now

37:30 ohhhhh my gosh feelings time

37:44 "I think it's awesome." "Yeah. I know you do." THE SHIPPERS ARE THRIVING

37:54 THEY REALLY WANT TO MAKE THIS AS PAINFUL AS POSSIBLE HUH

38:10 "it's the least I can do" that's an understatement 😬

38:14 AAWWWWW SHKSHSLSBDK

38:20 "I don't know what I'd do without you, Wetherall" STOPPPPP

38:30 HEY BUD UH MAYBE CLOSE YOUR DOOR???

38:38 he's been writing letters to her every night and now he finally gets one back 😭😭

39:34 so Miss Perumal wrote this letter with the intention of it being sent to him, right- why did she write it like that?? 😂

39:34 they've gone to such lengths to communicate in code but the letter kind of undermines that- it was written in such a way that an onlooker would know Reynie was a spy but wouldn't know what he was doing or why. No wonder SQ was pissed

39:41 KATE!!

40:10 BREAKING NEWS: local bastard man treats everyone like shit

40:15 ohhhhh SQ bud please be careful

40:30 "always have time for my son," he said in a clipped voice that implied that he does not have time for his son

40:35 ohhh he's getting RIGHT INTO IT HUH

40:41 you mean to tell me he's never asked about Mr. Curtain's work?? Ever???? Somehow that doesn't seem right to me

40:57 hey uh what if you didn't talk down to SQ at every opportunity

41:02 "would you care to reconsider that answer, son?" "No." DIG THOSE HEELS IN SQ!!!!

41:22 I'm really not digging that Curtain is using the guise of openly expressing his feelings to communicate his anger and his unasked question. Not cool bitch head

41:33 the fact that he didn't answer SQ's spoken question kind of also answers his unspoken question

41:45 "I knew there was something off about that girl. But espionage?" "How do you so convincingly fake a tetherball obsession?" I love that this entire conversation could be about Martina or Kate interchangeably

42:34 WELL THAT'S NOT GOOD

42:36 IF IT WAS THAT EASY TO FIND WITH BINOCULARS HOW HAD THEY NOT BEEN SPOTTED UP UNTIL THIS POINT?!!?#? HOW????

43:05 Kate advocating for Martina with the Society 🥺🥺 the interaction I didn't know I needed

43:58 "I definitely don't like to leave anything unfinished." "That's true, I've seen you eat." PFFFFT

44:05 YESS YOU GO STICKY USE YOUR ACCESS FOR PRIME INTEL

44:19 "well, you can't succeed without me, so..." baby girl you have no idea how right you are

44:28 please let that be Milligan PLEASE LET THAT BE MILLIGAN

44:32 YEAAAAAHHHHH

44:35 I simply adore him

44:45 "would you mind helping me down, please? I'm stuck." Your honor I would die for this man

44:54 oh shit, Martina's tryna sleuth it out herself.. this can't end well

45:04 is she about to find Kate's marbles or something?? Callback to the book?

45:26 the absolute MURDER in her eyes

45:31 FUCKIN YIKES

45:41 "the clothes of someone who had given up" ASEJDGEIDNDLFK

45:47 well that's not good

46:00 WELL THAT'S NOT GOOD

46:04 PLEASE let them be on their way already, please

46:14 THEY MADE A BLIMP????

46:17 Goodyear is QUAKING

46:35 why the fuck is Number Two in red, that's upsetting on principle

THEYRE JUST ENDING IT THERE???? goddamnit!!!!

How surreal is it that next week is the finale?? Idk if I'm ready for that????

#mbs disney+ #mbs liveblog #the dance of the celestial orb #the mysterious benedict society #charity's talkies

[scatter-kinnin-patter]

YOU WANT MORE COMABUR MEMORIES??? IVE GOT MORE COMABUR MEMS FOR YA!!!

A continuation of this post because I've been digging around and the memories are coming back more and more! Mostly pre-dsmp and S2, S3 is still mostly a blur to me b u t! Under the cut~

So I'll start with some pre-dsmp memories of mine. So as a refresher, my canon had Phil as my dad, Techno as my twin but older by a few minutes, and Tommy as our little brother. I don't remember our mom, though I know we always joked about Philza and the fridge XD I think Tommy was our half-brother, and had a different mom than Tech and I? Still a bit fuzzy on that.

I mentioned how my Tech was a piglin-human hybrid, while I was more "human with very few piglin traits". One thing I remember though was I actually had naturally pink hair that matched Techno's, but I dyed it brown and often wore my beanie to hide when my roots were coming in. I'll explain more why I did this later.

I remember pre-dsmp, I grew up in another smp. SMP's kinda... worked like varying realms one could teleport between? The teleportation was difficult though so there was rarely anyone who'd frequently swap between smps. But I grew up in Earth SMP's Antarctic Empire! Phil raised Techno and I, and later we had Tommy with us too! I remember it was always cold, but in our castle and fortress it was much warmer. Techno, being Techno, was extremely skilled in combat and strategy and Phil took him under his wing(hah!) as the technical heir to the throne and taught him everything he'd need to know about conquest. Me, I preferred teaching myself diplomacy, fighting wars with words rather than with blood. For a time this worked actually, Techno and I really balancing each other out, but soon things got... Eh.

Tommy brought it up to me first, I think he trusted me to open up to more than the others(sorry Tech and Phil but I'm the favorite xoxo /J) and basically opened up about how unhappy he was there. He wanted to explore the world, not be holed up in some frozen corner of the planet going and conquering a bunch of strangers just so we could follow Phil's and Tech's legacy. He felt suffocated in their shadows and... tbh I felt somewhat similar. So we made a plan, and one night we ran away without saying a word... Well, I left Techno a letter, but.

We ran to the portal, and somehow convinced Dream to give us access to the dsmp. I think he agreed because he knew that would knock Techno down a peg(my Dream and Tech were rivals for p obvious reasons). And we started over there. I dyed my hair, we got ourselves a new wardrobe, and we thought starting over in a small place without many people would be good! We lied about our past, though. We didn't want to be connected to the Antarctic Empire... both because we were trying to leave that part of us behind but also so no one would tell Tech and Phil where we were. This was our new start!

AND WHAT DOES TOMMY DO. START A FUCKING WAR WITH DREAM HIMSELF.

Tommy. Ily. But you're so stupid. /lh

So I've talked about how my mems from S1 and half of S2- up to Techno's execution- went, but I've remembered a bit more!

After Techno brought me back to his cabin, we talked for a long time about what happened. I told him I didn't remember anything leading up to my "death", and Techno filled in the gaps for me. I also didn't realize Phil was in the server because... Well I don't remember my confrontation with him. I also didn't remember my hypnosis, and since Dream is the only other one who knew, Tech didn't know and didn't relay that to me.

We agreed that for now, it'd be best if I stayed with him instead of back in L'manburg. And for a while I did!

One day though, Techno finds Tommy. ... Specifically the Tommy that was living under his house like a raccoon. Techno was furious and started chasing Tommy around, who was still hoaring his Gapples and whatnot, and when I finally walked outside to see what the hell was going on, I locked eyes with Tommy, and we both stopped.

He was white as a sheet, and looked about to cry, and luckily Techno stopped chasing him after seeing this. Again, Tubbo Quackity and Ranboo never told Tommy about me, he thought I was dead. I spoke up first with a "Tommy?" And he goes "Wil... You're alive?" To which I started tearing up- "Yeah... Yeah, I'm alive!" And we both just- broke at that, we ran to each other, I nearly crushed him in a hug and we were just sobbing. He thought I was gone, and I had gone so long without seeing my favorite lil bro that just... Aaaaaaa

After that Tommy explained his exile to Techno and I, and why he ran away and lived under Techno's house. I think Techno was softened up by seeing how happy Tommy and I were to be reunited, but also Tommy's his brother too, so he agreed to let Tommy stay too.

Now, Tommy was salty at L'manburg for exiling him, and Techno is anti-government. But- I think Techno was even more against L'manburg because of how hurt Tommy and I came out of it. So Techno and Tommy swore vengeance and decided to start doing crimes against L'manburg. I stayed out of it though- I was in good enough shape to take care of myself by this point, but I still way too injured to be in any sort of fighting shape.

And then one day... Techno came home without Tommy. Turns out Tommy sided with Tubbo in the end... and Techno was still determined to destroy L'manburg. Eventually they broke Philza out and- hoooooo that was an awkward reunion. Dream also came over from time to time to plan for their attack. I was. V uncomfortable around my Dream for reasons I couldn't explain(spoilers: it's the hypnotism that I forgot happened). I wanted nothing to do with their plan. I didn't want Tommy hurt, and I wasn't going to help them hurt him. I should've done more to stop them, but... Can't change the past.

After making a crater where L'manburg was, I confronted Phil. I called him out on doing something so awful... And he called me out for doing the same. He said to me, "Power corrupts, Wil. I've seen it with Schlatt, I've seen it with Tubbo, and most importantly I've seen it with you!" To which I retort, "You see it in everyone but yourself, Phil!" Because... ANTARCTIC EMPIRE ANYONE??? Turns out the Empire disbanded shortly before Tech and Phil came to the server, I don't remember how exactly that falling out occurred, but there was a reason why Tech and Phil were so strongly against any governments at this point.

After our fight, I left Tech and Phil. Tommy needed me. I built my own place not far from the crater, and frequently visited Tommy, Tubbo, and the others. Not Ranboo though, since Ranboo stayed with Phil and Techno. And Niki kinda wouldn't talk to me because she was... def also upset at thinking I was dead.

I was with everyone who confronted Dream when he had his finale with Tubbo and Tommy. He was NOT going to hurt my boys fuck no. Tommy took 2 of Dream's lives and you BET YOUR ASS I WAS CHEERING HIM ON(sorry Dream kinnies ily)

And then. Oh boy. Before Tommy could go for a third... Dream turned to me, and said something- I forget what, maybe it wasn't English, but it snapped something in me. I may have forgotten being hypnotized, but the effects were still there. Something came over me and I everything in my system was screaming at me to attack Tommy... so I did. I screamed, and lunged at him, but I was only able to tackle him and couldn't even get a hit in before Quackity and a few others were able to grab me and pull me off of him. I was thrashing to get free, but thank fuck they held me down.(Big Q ilysm /platonic)

It was then Dream revealed what he did to me way back in Pogtopia. He spoke something again, and I just felt that urge in me drop like a rock through my body, and I fainted then and there. When I came to, Big Q filled me in on what happened. Dream said he was the only one who knew how to undo what was done to me, and if he was killed, they'd run the risk of me doing that again. So they put Dream in the prison.

Now most of S3 is still blurry to me, but I remember breaking into the prison with Tommy. And that confrontation(which would've been Ghostbur if I was canon compliant but nope my canon is OFF THE RAILS). Tommy was with Sam, and I was stuck on the other side with Dream. Dream threatened that if he wasn't let go, he would "reset" me, whatever that meant. There was a lot of arguing and tbh I was terrified, but I knew I couldn't let Dream go. So I looked at Tommy and I told him "It's gonna be okay, Tommy."

And then everything went black. My memories after this are VERY blurry but- I think Dream somehow reverted my mind back to how it was during my Pogtopia corruption arc. And I had that itch in the back of my mind again. I'm the villain. Time to act like one.

... HECK THIS POST GOT REALLY LONG HUH... UHHHH ANYWAYS HOPE YOU LIKED IT IF YOU GOT THIS FAR IM JUST A V CANON DIVERGENT COMABUR >>

#💙wil💙 #dream smp kin #dsmp kin #wilbur kin #alivebur kin #vilbur kin #I count as a Vilbur right? #anyways I love how this post became a Tommy Appreciation Post #long post #~memories~ #wilbur soot kin

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

March Ado About Nothing

Series Summary - A series of one-shots and  drabbles written based off of prompts posted in the TSS Fanworks Collective server. The goal is to take traditional whump prompts and fill them in the least-angsty way possible every day through March.

A note that though some of these fills are written bait and switch style (written in a way you think is going in one direction but reveals it to be the opposite towards the end) they are all written in a fluffy or silly style with very little, if any at all, actual angst.

Day 7: To Make the Broken New

Summary: After much begging from Roman and Virgil, Logan and Patton decide to make fixing up the old treehouse they find one day into a summer project.

Prompts: Burned, *Broken Down*, Blackmail            

Ships: Dad Patton to kid Virgil. Dad Logan to kid Roman. Platonic Logan & Patton. Platonic Roman & Virgil.

Warnings: none. Let me know if there are more!

General taglist (ask to be added or removed): @/janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi  @/im-an-anxious-wreck  (in an effort to not flood your inboxes I’m only tagging in the first part ^-^)

WC: 881

“You sure you got that kiddo?”

“Mhm.” Virgil stuck out his tongue in concentration as he hugged the paint can tighter to his chest and carefully walked around bumps in the lawn and fallen sticks that might trip him up. They could just hear hammering the distance and Patton readjusted the two cans he was carrying so the metal handles didn’t dig too much into his skin. They still had a little ways to go before they made it to the long forgotten treehouse that sat broken down and lonely about a quarter mile into the woods behind him and his neighbors backyard. They were quite friendly with each other and loved talking their kids out to play and explore, using wildlife as mini lessons that all of them could enjoy. One of these outings had them stumbling on the wreck as they had been following a shallow creek to see where it ended up- or in Virgil and Roman’s case to see how many frogs they could catch before they got back home. After much pleading from the boys and a quick visit to the people in the area to see if anyone actually owned the thing, he and Logan finally relented and began saving up little by little to fix up the old house to make it a safe new spot to play in.

Logan and Roman should be just about done fixing the new ladder boards to the tree by the time Patton and Virgil would get there with the paint- a striking red and purple the boys had picked out themselves to color and waterproof the outside. Logan wasn’t sure how well the colors would actually work together and the house would surely stick out like a sore thumb amidst the blooming green wildlife around it but as long as it made the boys happy they both agreed it was probably fine. He smiled down at Virgil as the stubborn six year old stomped confidently with the paint can still held firm in his arms. He was glad moving here had turned out so well for Virgil. He didn’t struggle to make friends at his old home he was just never interested in it- something that Patton had struggled to let go of his worry for since he seemed perfectly content and happy on his own. But once they had moved here and he had met Roman he had come out of his shell completely as they hit it off right away, and Roman’s father Logan being fine company himself made moving to a completely different state that much easier for both of them.

“Be careful!” Virgil had started walking a bit faster as the house came into view. Roman was searching diligently for any stray nails at the base of the tree while Logan was putting his tools away and grabbing out the painting supplies from the box he had carried up earlier that morning. Patton truly didn’t know how to thank the other man enough for everything he did with and for them- from helping them move in and accepting Patton’s admittedly awkward attempts to pay him back with dinner and breakfasts to offering to let Patton and Virgil join him and Roman when they went on their adventures as the latter dubbed them.

“Roman! Dad got paint!” Virgil stumble ran the rest of the way, stopping just before the tree and crouching down to carefully set the paint can down next to the twisted roots. Clapping his hands excitedly Roman grabbed up a couple of paint brushes and bradished them like duel swords, casting a glance at Logan to make sure it was okay before striking a princely stance in front of his friend.

“We’re gonna have the best house on the block and everybodies gonna be so jealous we’ll have to find a dragon to guard us from burgers!”

“Patton snorted as Logan turned around and handed Roman a paint tin before reaching to open the can. “Burglars, Roman. You eat burgers.”

“I don’t eat people!” Roan squealed in distaste, making Logan shut his eyes for a moment before shaking his head as his son quickly jumped to a different topic, energetically talking Virgil’s ear off to the delight of the quieter child.

Patton crouched next to Logan and started separating the pans to pour the paint into, smiling at his tired but amused expression. “Thank you again for doing this, you know they’ll have a blast every time we come up here. We could even try and plant some flowers; I think Roman especially would enjoy that.”

Logan nodded. “It’s been nice for both of us to have the company. I appreciate just as much.”

Patton amiled wider and nudged his shoulder gently against Logan’s, earning an eye roll and a small nudge back as the paint was poured and a warning to be careful given to the boys before they got paint all over themselves within the first five minutes. Neither of them had expected anything less, exchanging signature parent looks with each other and simply shaking their heads. They were smiling and laughing and scaring away any animal within a ten mile radius, and neither of them could ask for anything better at the height of their first summer together.

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#false wwrites #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #kid roman sanders #kid virgil sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #dad logan sanders #patton sanders #dad patton sanders #march ado about nothing

[solynaceawrites]

SMEARED LIPSTICK

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Rating: Explicit A/N: The one-shot is set sometime during my upcoming fic, Memory of the Waters, and features my OC, Lirael Thorne, who some of you might recognize from the AU story Promise Me Forever. @lickitysplitfic​ and I were talking about how she tries to get under Dante's skin and knows that he's got a thing for messy blowjobs featuring smeared lipstick, and this one-shot was born. It's 6k words of pure smut with just enough plot to justify it, and we hope you have as much fun reading it as we did writing it!

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Lir knows exactly what she's doing when she takes a photograph of herself with artfully smeared lipstick and sends it to Dante.

Two weeks ago, and at Nico's urging, she'd bought her second ever tube of lipstick, a dark, sinful red named Lust, and she'd worn it while going to help Dante at his branch of the Devil May Cry. He'd gotten a strange look on his face when he'd seen her, and it hadn't taken much prodding on her part for him to say that he really, really wanted her to give him a blowjob while wearing it because the idea of making a mess of her mouth was incredibly hot.

Of course, she hadn't agreed right away. While Dante is, perhaps, the most considerate lover she's had in terms of her always having the reins, so to speak, she'd never seen him that desperate, and aren't all good things worth waiting for? So, she'd continued to wear the lipstick around him, and sent him selfies of her wearing it and not much else, and, given the fact that she hasn't really seen him in a week due to the sudden influx of jobs on both ends, she knows that what she's done is just adding fuel to the fire.

Doesn't stop her from grinning as she carefully wipes the smudge away and reapplies, though.

Behind her, Nero taps his foot impatiently. "You ready or what?"

"You driving?" she asks, stowing the tube in her shoulder bag.

"Yeah. Let's go."

They head to the job site with little conversation. The portals around Fortuna had been getting little rips despite having been sealed four years ago, probably someone messing around with some unaccounted-for Order stuff. That's why Lir had been sticking around the city and helping Nero out rather than working with Dante: until they figured out why the rips kept happening, it was way safer.

Her phone buzzes and she swipes the screen, adjusting the brightness now that the sun had gone down. Lir snorts when she reads: Where are u?

Working, she replies.

A moment later: Are you coming here tonight?

No, don't know when we'll be done. Fortuna’s still crazy.

Lir smiles to herself knowing why he is asking. Truthfully, she's itching to get her hands on him too, it being days since she got her fill of Dante. What had started out as a bit of fun had turned into a full addiction, but one she didn't mind too much.

I need to see u babe!

"What are you laughing at?" Nero asks from the driver's seat.

"Dante's whining about the workload," she replies, and he snorts and drapes an arm out of the open window.

"Tell 'im he shouldn't have let a bunch of wackos open gates, then," he says, but there's no real bite to his tone. "Speaking of, can you ask him if he's plannin' on comin' out anytime soon? I wanted to ask him about this new demon we've been seeing."

"Sure." Unlocking her phone, she types: Nero wants to see you about a demon. After a moment's debate, she adds: Do you think it'll dye your skin if I go down on you?

His response is immediate. Don't care, that mouth is going around my cock.

"He said he'll swing by when he can."

Nero nods, then jerks his chin towards the radio. "See if that thing's workin', will ya? I want some music before we kill these fuckers."

She sends off a kiss emoji before stashing her phone, deciding if he answers she should leave him on read. Lir is glad they are headed for a fight, because her heart is racing now at his last text, and she is definitely going to need to work out some of this adrenaline.

The demons are easy enough, not powerful at all but so many that it keeps them busy enough. Nero gets more kills than she does, which kind of bothers Lir, even though she was busy finding the tear and sealing it up. Her knack for opening doors that was unlocked during the Order incident has extended to closing things up as well, so once she figures out where they are slipping in it's easy work.

Once the demons are gone and the hole plugged up, they are sweaty and dirty and trudge back to the van. It's coming up on 11 already, and as Lir flips down the visor to look at her smudged hair and the smeared red on her lips, Nero asks, "Want to get a drink?"

"No, I want a shower," she sighs. "Drop me home?"

"Sure." They pass the rest of the ride in their usual post-fight silence, which is comfortable and much needed for the both of them. It's not until the van is idling outside of the garage she shares with Nico that he says, "Kyrie's making meatloaf tomorrow and wants you to come."

"Tell her if she puts that special sauce of hers in, I'll eat the whole thing."

"Not if I eat it first," he fires back.

With a grin, she leans over to punch him lightly on the shoulder. "See ya tomorrow, loverboy. Give Kyrie some kisses from me."

He waves her off, though he's smiling too, and she climbs the steps to the second floor, fumbling for her keys. To her surprise, the door is open a crack; with a frown, she carefully draws her revolver from it's holster and clicks the safety off, gently nudging the door open with her shoulder. The sight of Dante sitting at her small kitchen table is almost comical since he's so damn large next to it, but the humor dies when she catches sight of the positively ravenous expression he's wearing.

"Good way to get yourself shot," she greets as she flicks on the light and leans White Queen next to the door. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Came to see you." He nods to the revolver in her hand. "You had any trouble?"

"Nope." Lir slips the gun into its spot before unhooking the holster and hanging it up.

"Good. Where's Nico?"

Lir chuckles to herself. "She's gone until Thursday. Went to see a vendor about some material."

"Good." There is movement behind her, and when Lir whips around Dante is right there. She sucks in a breath as he crowds her, stepping forward until she steps back and presses on the door. "You ready?"

"Ready for what?" she asks innocently, smiling up at him.

"For me to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours."

She blinks, then stifles a chuckle. "Sorry to disappoint, but you're gonna have to wait. I'm sweaty and covered in demon blood, so I'm gonna shower. You can sit on your hands if you're worried about keeping them to yourself."

"Nope." He leans down, one arm braced on the wall beside her head while he cups her chin with the other hand. "You can shower after. You know I can't stand being teased."

Lir grins and gives him a little shove, not at all surprised when he doesn't move an inch. "Poor thing. Leftie not cutting it for you anymore?"

"Leftie and rightie have retired," he murmurs. This is his thing: flirting, jokes, a sweet bit of self-deprecation . . . but tonight it's different. It's like there's no humor in his tone, and when Lir swallows, his eyes go to her throat.

"Like I said, I need to shower," she replies, her mouth dry.

"Ain't got nothing to do with your mouth, babe." His thumb smooths over her bottom lip, dragging hard across her flesh. Then he holds up his hand and glances at the light red streak on the pad of his thumb. "You still got that lipstick?"

She nods, fishing the tube out of her pocket, and he studies it for a second, his lips curling up in something that's not quite a smile. "Put it on."

Without hesitation, she pops the top off and runs the cream over her lips, rubbing them together to make sure it's applied as evenly as it can be without using a mirror, and then she closes it and deposits it back in her pocket. "You're a fiend," she tells him, only partially teasing.

Dante doesn't reply to that. Nor does he step back. His hands settle firmly on her shoulders, and Lir lets him guide her to her knees, her heart thrumming in her chest at this new display of dominance from him. Can't handle being teased, sure, but that usually ends with him beneath her, growling her name as she rides him. It's never caused this sort of reaction, and she'd rub her thighs together if she weren't kneeling with them apart, because there's an ache that's quicker and fiercer than the ones she's had before.

She runs her hands up his thighs, looking up as he unbuckles his belt. "I haven't stopped thinking about you," he growls as he yanks his jeans open.

Lir smiles and scratches the denim. "Must have been hard."

Dante laughs as he pulls out his cock. It is fully erect, and he pumps his hand a few times as he adjusts the waistband around his hips. "It's hard alright."

He aims the length towards her, and Lir opens her mouth and runs her tongue over her lips. Then she carefully licks the tip, playing with it gently, softly pressing kisses to the head. She slurps a bit around the opening, playing up her lips around his flesh, her eyes steady on his. He tastes like sex, plain and simple, and her body clenches when he rubs his thumb to the tip and reveals that it is already dripping.

Dante winds a chunk of her hair around his fist, using the strands to pull her forward, his cock sliding slowly over her tongue until it nudges the back of her throat. There's already a strain from his girth, and having his eyes focused on her mouth makes her feel a bit awkward, and the tug on her roots is just shy of painful, but all of that is worth it when he rumbles deep in his chest before drawing back. The first few passes are almost gentle, and she appreciates the fact that he's trying to let her adjust. After his behavior, though, the sweetness is almost a letdown, so she reaches behind him and digs her fingers into his backside through his jeans.

Dante huffs a laugh as he cups both sides of her face, his fingers curling under her chin. Then he begins to move in earnest, fucking into her mouth, the sharp jerks of his hips giving her just enough time to draw in short breaths. It's hot as hell, and already she can feel arousal slipping from her to soak her underwear.

He fills her mouth until it almost chokes her, the head pressing into her throat. Lir swallows around him, taking a deep breath as best as she can, tears pricking at her eyes. "Feels so good," Dante groans, his thrusts shallow enough to keep him buried.

This isn't what she normally likes; Lir likes to be on top, in control, but Dante is still somehow as gentle as he is demanding, and it makes her want to please him all the more. She had started out wanting to drive him wild enough to fuck her, but now she only wants to make him come. Lir closes her eyes and sucks his length repeatedly, shivering when he lets go another deep groan.

She drops her hands to brace them on his thighs, trying to ground herself in the solid feel of the muscles beneath his jeans. The sensation of his thumb swiping a line of spit and fluid from her chin makes her moan, the sound muffled to a whine around his flesh, and he curses as he pauses with his cock buried in her throat. "Should've put you on my face," he groans. "Nearly forgot how good it feels when ya do that."

Lir's breath stutters, and she tries to pull back to speak, but the hand in her hair tenses. "Nuh uh, babe. You gonna finish what you started."

Her eyes flash when they meet his, and she moves on her own, her head bobbing up and down with renewed effort. Lir adds a hand, grabbing the base and moving with her mouth, twisting a bit as she works him. 

Needing a quick rest, she slowly pulls her mouth off. Dante frowns, but she smiles at him flirtatiously, dragging her tongue along the underside. "You have something on your cock," she says; Lir tries to sound sexy, but her voice is as raw as her throat.

Dante grins. He tugs her hand away and grabs his length, stroking himself quickly. The other hand in her hair tilts her head back, and he presses the head to her lips. "Open up," he says, his tone a clear order. "I want to give you something."

She parts her lips obediently, and the warm rush of his seed coating her tongue has her insides clenching deliciously, as does the guttural moan that tears from him. Lir does her best to swallow every drop, but with her mouth open and how much of it there is, some of it spills over her chin, dripping along her throat. His knuckles brush her face as he milks his cock; by the time he's done, she's certain of two things: one, she probably looks utterly debauched.

Two, if he doesn't fuck her soon, she's gonna wind up begging for it.

Dante strokes her face with one hand, continuing to pump his cock with the other and, while he's moving leisurely, she's startled by the fact that he's still hard. They've gone more than one round before, but there's also been a bit of rest period between, and her mouth waters as he pulls her to her feet. "That's one," he says, his eyes alight with a dark mirth. "Now, when I'm all riled up, I've usually got about six shots in the chamber, so to speak, and I think you've earned some payback for winding me up like this."

He gathers some of his come from her chin, pressing his fingers between her lips until she sucks them clean. "So, what we're gonna do is get in the shower, and I'm gonna fuck you there. Then I'm gonna eat your cunt until you forget everything but my name before fuckin' you until you can't walk straight."

His words are crude and his voice is rough, and Lir can't stand the effect he has on her. Her mouth hangs open as he tugs her to stand, but before she can move to obey he presses her back against the door and kisses her. She grabs his shirt but he pulls her hands away, trapping her wrists over her head against the wood with one hand; the other drags down her front, massaging one breast, then the other, as his tongue fills her mouth.

Lir's jaw is aching still from taking his cock, but she responds when he tilts his head to force the kiss deeper. Their lips slide together as she whimpers, completely under his spell. Where was her sweet, funny Dante? He really is a demon tonight, she thinks, and when he finally lets her go she is panting and looking at him in a daze.

Dante smirks at her, and she sees the lipstick now smeared around his own mouth. She licks her lips, making his eyes narrow. He jerks his chin towards the bathroom, and Lir leads the way, feeling his presence behind her like a great cat on the prowl.

The click of the latch as he closes the door behind them has her swallowing thickly, and she doesn't have to turn to see the way he's watching her; she can feel it, as absurd as that is, as heavy on her skin as his hands had been moments ago. She leans into the stall to turn on the water, setting it scalding like she prefers, then begins to undress, keeping her back to him. There's a low, satisfied hum from Dante when she pulls her shirt over her head, before she hears rustling that means he's taking his own clothes off.

He comes up behind her, his chest pressed to her back as he herds her into the shower, and she's barely got time to say anything before he has her pinned to the wall, the cool tile sending goosebumps up her arms. "I want to actually bathe," she complains, and he laughs as he kisses just below her ear.

"Don't worry, I'll get ya nice and clean," he teases.

Lir bites her lip, loving and hating how much he's affecting her now, and the faint pop of a bottle being opened nearly makes her jump. The scent of her body wash fills the air as his soapy hands land on her shoulders, massaging the knots out. She relaxes with a moan, and he answers with a chuckle as he shifts to cup her breasts, his palms and fingers slippery and wonderful.

"You always feel so good," he murmurs. She feels his cock nudging her backside, the soap that streams down her body now making it slick as he grinds against her. Lir presses her palms flat on the tile to keep herself steady, her eyes closing as his cock pushes against her seam as his hand drags through the hair on her pubis.

Lir gasps when his touch presses to her hood. Her body is soaked in more ways than one and the glide of his fingertips against the sensitive bud as her legs shaking. "Yeah," he groans, thrusting up against her, and Lir gives a choking cry when his cock pumps against her hole.

Dante laughs and turns her around, pushing her back against the wall. "Maybe I'll take you there later," he murmurs, his voice dark and dangerous as he covers her. "Right now I need to be inside your pussy, so open up babe."

She spreads her legs and he grabs the backs of her thighs, hoisting her up with ease and pulling her down to impale her on his cock, smothering her cry with a kiss. They've barely gotten started, and already there's the familiar tightening in her core that leaves her breathless; when he grinds against her, her head spins, her fingers scrabbling against his shoulders for something to grip onto. Has it ever been this quick, this raw? She can't remember and, as he starts to thrust in earnest, she doesn't care.

"Baby, you're so tight," Dante pants. 

She turns her head to capture his mouth, groaning around the kiss as his cock batters in and out of her. The orgasm builds faster than she can keep up, and after another minute she pulls back with a gasp, gripping his shoulders and dropping her head back.

Her mouth drops open as the pulsing starts, sharp and intense. "You coming already?" he growls.

He leans in as if to bite her neck, his teeth gripping her skin but not closing. Then he sweeps his tongue across her skin, sending another shudder through her, the contractions continuing on. "Dante!" Lir yelps, yanking on his hair.

He groans in answer, his hands sliding up to knead her backside. "God, I love it when you say my name like that."

His hips slow, and she moans helplessly as he rubs leisurely over her walls; because he doesn't stop, neither does her orgasm, and soon the overstimulation draws a whine from her throat every time he thrusts into her. It's tender, and sweet, and entirely too much, a pleasant sort of torture that drags on and on and on until, with a hoarse whisper of her name, the first waves of his release turn the friction of his cock silky.

Lir is trembling when he finally slips out of her body and sets her down. Her grip on him stays tight to keep herself standing, and Dante presses his forehead to hers, leaving dotted kisses on her lips. "Fuck you are so hot."

She smiles and huffs a laugh, dragging her palms down his chest. "You got me dirty again."

"Easy fix." He eases back, the spray of the water aiming between them. Through lidded eyes she watches him soap her sponge and then gently he washes her body. It's almost charming as he lifts one arm, then the other, then draws large circles around her breasts, before finally dragging the sponge in a long stripe from her chest downwards.

"Don't forget your dick," Lir jokes as he washes her thighs.

Dante looks up with a wink. "If I wash that lipstick off you're gonna have to replace it."

"Don't tempt me," she warns. "Now that I know you've got a fetish, I'm gonna wear it every day."

He grins, a little sharp. "I'm not gonna complain about fuckin' you every day."

Lir snorts and relaxes as he continues to scrub her before turning the sponge to himself. As he soaps up, she sets about washing her hair, sighing as the grime rinses down the drain, her scalp feeling much lighter once she's done. Dante nudges her, and she lets him rinse off, wondering if he's planning to stay. Threats about fucking her until she can't walk are all well and good, but she knows they'll either just go to bed or, if he's got somewhere to be in the morning, he'll head home, and she's almost sad to think about it.

Which is ridiculous.

He turns off the water and steps out, looking around for a moment before he spies the shelf with the towels. He grabs one and she leans against the tile to enjoy the sight of him drying off, his muscles covered in droplets of water that flex as he works. "You like something, sweetheart?" he jokes, peeking through his bangs.

"Fuck yes." Dante tosses a towel to her, then holds out a hand to help her from the shower. They crowd together on the bathmat, and after a quick sweep over her body, Lir winds the towel on her head to squeeze the water from her hair.

"Sexy," he teases, tugging at the end of the towel, and she swats at him with a laugh. "Hope you enjoy the break, darlin', 'cause there's a lot more to come."

She peers up at him. "Thought you were just talking big."

"Now, you know I never make a promise to a lady I can't keep." His arm snakes around her waist to pull her flush to his body, and he grins at her as he carefully pulls the towel from her hair and runs his fingers through the damp strands. "You got somewhere to be tomorrow?"

"Dinner with Kyrie."

"Guess I better get started, then."The kiss this time is more playful, but just as forceful. It does give Lir's head time to clear a bit, though, and by the time he is walking her back to the bedroom, his hands roam her body and his lips and teeth tease her mouth. This is a Dante that is more familiar, and she reaches around to squeeze his backside before snaking her hand over his hip. "Let's get you ready."

"Not yet," he replies.

Lir frowns, but he lifts her easily, half-carrying and half-dragging her to the bed. He flops on top, pulling her easily and lifting her by the hips until she is over his face. Lir leans forward to brace herself on his stomach as she feels his lips graze her slit. In the corner of her eye his cock twitches, and she gasps when his tongue nudges her clit.

Normally, he takes his time, making sure to kiss every inch of her sex until she's a writhing mess. This time, his attention stays focused on her clit, his tongue rubbing over it firmly, and she scratches over his stomach when her hands curl into fists, her head dropped as she pants raggedly. He's relentless, his thumbs keeping her folds parted to expose her pearl that throbs; it's not until his own hips roll the tiniest bit that she realizes that his cock is stiff and weeping, and Lir leans forward to lap at the fluid dripping from the tip.

Dante gives a deep groan. She feels his lips slide along her sex and then his tongue enters her, pressing deep inside. Lir pants as she rocks her hips, her movements restricted by his grip on her waist, but she manages to ride his tongue slightly, forcing the tip to press against the front wall.

She mouths at his cock, not taking it into her mouth, but tracing her lips with the tip and flickering her tongue on the opening. Too distracted by the thrust of his tongue inside her body, Lir opens her mouth to let the head sit on her tongue. Dante pumps his hips to fuck in and out of her mouth as he laps at her until his lips return to her hood and wrap around her swollen clit.

Her back bows with a keen that's choked by his length as her orgasm snaps along her spine, sharp enough that her toes curl. Dante yanks her back so she's seated firmly on his face, his tongue flicking harshly over her clit, keeping her pinned by his hands and his hips so that all she can do is endure, even when the pleasure gains a thin edge of pain.

Finally, he stops, and she slumps against the blankets when he carefully slides her off of him. "Damn," he sighs. His hands smooth over her backside, his fingers teasing along the seam of her body. "You got a choice now, doll, though it ain't much of one."

She turns her head to stare at him. "What?"

"Where I'm gonna fuck you." Dante nudges her legs apart and settles between them, leaning over her. "See, I figure I've had your mouth and I've had your cunt, but this?" He squeezes her rear. "Haven't fucked this yet. But I know it ain't really your favorite, so it's your call."

Lir peeks over her shoulder. "How do you know what is my favorite?"

He laughs and presses a kiss to her shoulder. "I can't stand how goddamn sexy you are."

His mouth moves across her back, pressing kisses against her shoulder blades before trailing down her spine. She sighs and settles into the mattress, her limbs heavy and her body relaxed from the orgasm. When Dante reaches the small of her back, he squeezes her backside again, and pushes so her hips tilt up. She feels him shift on the bed as he nibbles over her flesh until reaching the back of her thigh.

Lir gasps when she feels his tongue at her sex again. Dante pushes her up on her knees, her ass in the air as he licks her slowly. She grips the bedsheet with a groan, unable to help herself as she tilts back to open herself for more. "Greedy girl," he admonishes.

"You can't keep your hands off, and I'm the greedy one?" she mutters. He bites her thigh, drawing a yelp, before returning to her slit, where he laps at her lazily. "You're an ass."

She feels him shrug before he says, "Might wanna choose before I do it for ya."

Her lips press into a thin line as she presses her face to the quilt, thinking. Or trying to between the little jolts every time his tongue nudges beneath her hood or dips playfully into her opening; if she uses his metaphor from earlier, she's got about three rounds, and two have been used, leaving her with one to his three. She's already sensitive enough as it is, so, with a huff, she mumbles, "Next time."

"Next time?"

He moves again, and Lir feels him tug on her arms until she is kneeling, his broad chest against her back. His hands grip her hips and maneuver her to sink down on his cock, her body so wet now he glides inside with ease. Lir sighs and rolls her head back to his shoulder, and when her backside goes flush with his thighs he holds her there for a long moment.

One hand moves to her neck, cradling her chin so her head stays tilted back on his shoulder. The other moves between her legs and strokes her clit, but gentle, feather-light touches that barely register. Dante teases her as he starts to fuck her deeply, his lips dancing on her exposed neck and pressing to the juncture of her shoulder. "Next time? You realize I'm going to fill you again and again tonight?"

"Dante . . ." she groans.

He uses two fingers to open her lips, exposing her clit as his cock drags in and out of her. Then another finger begins to tease it, flicking and pressing in unguessable patterns that have her jolting. "No coming then, Lir," he warns. "I'm nowhere near done with you."

That's easier said than done. At this angle, his cock hits all the right spots, and the haphazard little shocks from her clit every time he touches it already have her in knots. But she can't find her voice, or enough of it, to do more than moan every time he fills her, so she can't warn him. His mouth trails over her shoulder, his teeth scraping lightly over her skin, and she gasps when they go sharp for a second. "Next time," he rumbles, "we'll see if you can handle all of me."

Her mouth is dry as she tries to speak, but in truth Lir can't do anything. Her body is one roll of pleasure after another, his cock pushing her closer and closer to her end, so that when she feels it becoming inevitable she lets go a whine. "Dante, please!" she gasps breathlessly.

He lets her go and she slumps forward, but his hands go immediately to her hips and yank her up and back. Dante begins to pound into her, drilling his cock inside her at a hard, fast pace so that moments later she explodes around him. She presses her face to the bed to cover her screams, her body quickly going oversensitive.

When she is sure she can't take anymore, she whimpers, and Dante pulls out. She catches sight of him looming over her as her eyes close, and then a hand covers her sex, massaging her lightly. "I'm not done with you yet," he says again. Lir feels something nudge at her lips, and when she immediately opens his cock slides into her mouth, burying into her throat.

She's too tired to do much, but that doesn't seem to bother him. He pumps his hips, the tip of his cock never leaving her mouth, as his hands roam her body; one stays over her sex, stroking lightly over her slit, while the other cups her breast and rolls her nipple between his fingers. The pleasure now is dull, soothing, and if it weren't for his touch, she'd doze. Just as she starts to, he slips a finger within her core, and her eyes fly open to find him watching her with a grin that's damn near predatory.

"Need to tap out?" he asks, the taunt clear, and she reaches up to grip the back of his thigh, urging him to keep going. He laughs, rolling her breast with his palm. "Didn't think so."

Lir shakes the haze from her mind as she purposefully begins to suck on his length. Her hand slides around his thigh to reach under for the flesh hanging there, and as she stretches to deep throat his length she strokes him gently. "Goddamn," he curses, his finger teasing her opening, and a second later he pushes his cock deep in her throat as he starts to come.

She swallows the seed as best she can, and when he pulls out there is still plenty in her mouth that she gulps down. Her head rolls to the side as she catches her breath as he lowers himself on top of her, settling between her thighs. Dante nuzzles her chest, biting along the curves of her breasts and flicking his tongue against her nipples as she sags limply under him. 

Lir watches as he tastes the pink buds, swallowing thickly when he looks at her again, his expression and his voice back to the predator he has been all night. "I want you again," he growls.

She should tap out. Probably. At least, that's what Nico would say, along with a litany of curses for her being so damn stubborn, but, fuck, he'd challenged her, and she's not going to take that lying down. Or, well, she is, but she's not gonna give in and give him the impression that she can't handle it. "What the hell are you waiting for, then?"

The moment the words leave her lips, he surges forward, and she can't even cry out when he sheathes his cock within her because it knocks the air from her lungs. They've played around with overstimulation before, plenty of times, but it was always playful, while this is rough and, if she didn't know him better, dangerous. His hands clamp around her hips to cant them off the bed, and she sucks in a breath when draws back, only for it to leave her with a groan as he thrusts back in, the pace he sets near brutal.

Lir reaches up and grips the bedsheet, biting her lip as he fucks her. Her toes curl and her knees fall back and open, holding in a scream of pain and pleasure. He is simply so powerful, and it is both frightening and exhilarating to have this man, this demon, holding her and taking her like this. Never once has Lir wanted to be toyed with, to be submissive, to give up control. But with Dante she feels as though she can, she should, and so she arches her back and wraps her legs around his waist.

He groans her name, a hand on her breast, the other on her thigh. Lir is drowning in pleasure, her sex too sensitive for this, feeling every inch that pounds in and out. Dante leans forward to brace one palm on the bed and the new angle scrapes against her clit, swollen and exposed and aching. It is an exquisite sort of torture, being so desired to the point where she may not survive.

Then he drapes over her, his mouth hot and hungry as it seeks her. "Come on my cock," he orders as he kisses her, and Lir knows she has to obey. The new angle puts additional pressure on her mound, his pelvis grinding against her clit, so when her orgasm hits she barely registers except to feel the intensity of the pleasurable contractions sharpen as a fresh wave of arousal covers them both.

Through the haze, she's dimly aware of his grip on her going bruisingly tight and the warmth that fills her, so much of it that it slips out and onto the sheets. Dante pants as he kisses her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as he fills her, and she forces herself to drape an arm over his shoulders and hold him close until he begins to slow. Even when it's over, he doesn't pull out, instead blanketing her with his body, his cock twitching within her. "Goddamn," he sighs.

Lir makes a noncommittal noise and blinks up at the ceiling. His tone and posture mean he's done, at least for now, and she's got some new things to mull over, namely how insanely fucking hot it was to be dominated by him so completely. Despite the ache already blooming between her thighs, she's thinking over different things to try to get this reaction from again: lingerie, maybe, or, hell, just sprawling naked on his bed with the lipstick on? Him kissing her shoulder draws her back to the present, and she tilts her head to peer at him.

"Where'd you go?" he jokes.

"I'm here," she says weakly.

Dante smiles and moves up, his cock sliding out of her body. Lir stifles a moan as she tries to stretch her limbs, everything feeling sore and overused, like she had spent the whole day climbing. Her eyes open and close as she hears his footsteps on the carpet, and a minute later he returns with a glass of water, nudging her to sit up.

Lir gulps it down gratefully, the water cooling her sore throat. She grabs the bottle of aspirin next to her bed and pops a few before finishing off the water and handing him the glass. "Thanks," she sighs, wiping her mouth with her hand.

Dante studies her face, his brow drawn down. "You want me to go?" he asks.

She considers it. "Nah," she says, after a moment. "Might as well stay. You've still got a toothbrush stashed in the cabinet, right?"

He has the decency to look sheepish. "You know about that?"

"Yeah. And the duffel bag kicked to the back of my closet." With a yawn, she lays back, wrinkling her nose at the wet spot on top of her quilt. "Nico's not due back for a few days, and Nero doesn't come over unannounced. Though if you stay, I'm dragging you to dinner tomorrow."

Dante grins and stands again, heading into the bathroom. Lir takes the moment to admire his backside before he disappears behind the door, and then she stares at the ceiling again, wondering what the hell she is doing. Sleeping with him is one thing; but these overnights are ridiculous. They are gonna get caught, and every time they sleep together Lir promises herself its the last time. It's important to keep the sex just sex before it becomes not just sex.

He returns a few minutes later, turning off the lights before climbing onto the bed. Dante flops in a now-familiar way, using her like a pillow with his head on her stomach. Lir laughs to herself, too tired to protest as her eyes start to close. His fingers trace nonsense patterns on her thigh that lull her into sleep, his strong body solid and sinking against hers.

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #lirael thorne #lir #dante/oc #dante x oc #dante/lir #smut #writing #oneshot #smeared lipstick

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Luckenbach, Texas

A/N: Back at it with the Play The Hand You’re Dealt event, this time with Ryan Brenner, and darn did it feel good to write him again. This one actually felt really good to write. It takes place pretty far on down the road for you and Ryan so you have a lot to get through before you get here, but this is a little look at where you’re headed together. Also, 4th of July is just fun. All of it. 

(if you want to know more about Luckenbach, Texas, population 3, click here.) 

Word Count: 1,856

Prompt from: @thesumofmychoices - Ryan, fluff, Ryan’s POV & Celebration or Holiday (omg that’s a crazy story about your dog!) 

Ryan stopped a few feet from where you sat, watching as you talked animatedly to Georgie and Layla. Her hair’s gettin’... he felt his cheeks lift as his lips parted in a smile. The humidity had wreaked havoc on your curls, pulling frizzy tendrils out from the braid around the crown of your head. You raked your fingertips over it in a halfhearted attempt to corral the strays, but let your arms drop back to your lap as you laughed, hair completely unchanged. No use. He knew it just as well as you did. Condensation ran down the plastic cups Ryan carried, pooling between his fingers and dripping onto the dry, brown dirt, but he stayed rooted in place for a beat or two longer as you threw your head back in another laugh, giving Georgie a playful shove. Get ‘im. 

Grin widening, he laughed to himself and resumed walking toward the three of you. Georgie slung his arms one at a time around you and Layla drawing you both into a tight hug. Layla flipped her long yellow hair over her shoulder before rising on her toes to plant a kiss to Georgie’s round cheek, burnt bright red from the day in the sun, his bowler nearly toppling from his head as she took him by surprise. They’re havin’ fun. Sweat licked at the back of his neck where the unruly ends of his hair stuck out from beneath the canvas hat he wore, but the warmth in his chest had nothing to do with the summer heat. Looking around, he saw that the same was true of everyone gathered - music and laughter filled the night as the mouthwatering smells of sugary confections and grilled meats wafted from the snack stand attached to the general store. I’m glad we did this.

The sky was just starting to fade from blue to purple, lightening a shade before the thick, black night came to swallow it up. Fireflies hovered in patterns and formations through the warm air, their bioluminescent signals adding to the golden glow of the lights strung across the square. The pluck of guitar and banjo strings from the stage to the left mixed with the boot stomps emanating from the open doors of the dance hall as people gathered in clusters or strolled here and there. Flags, banners, pinwheels and bunting decorated the stage and various small buildings, stars and stripes in bold Americana colors. Kids darted by hopped up on funnel cakes and clutching sparklers, their eyes wide in awe of the flickering pyrotechnics that their parents only let them play with this one night of the year. He stepped to the side to avoid a collision with a sticky-fingered boy, a popsicle in each hand and his sister chasing after him. Woah. Taking care not to slosh the contents of the cups he carried onto the troublemakers’ heads, he trained his eyes on the level of liquid as it splashed in small waves and finally steadied back out. 

“That was a close one, Brenner.” 

He looked up in time to see your fingers curling around one of the cups that he held, just below his own. Your pointer finger slid over his pinky to trace the lines that were inked between his knuckles, teeth digging into the corner of your fire-engine red bottom lip as you gave him a crooked smile that made the sparklers and fireflies seem dim. Handing you your beverage he bit back a groan, letting it out as a throaty laugh instead. Tease. “Yeah, but did you see that save?”

You scrunched your nose at him as you smiled and reached up to push a sweaty clump of his hair back behind his ears. Ryan tilted his head into your touch, eyes falling closed as your fingertips grazed the bottom of his earlobe, but opening again as your hand fell down to clasp his empty one. “I did. That was some fancy footwork there, I’m impressed.” Your laugh brightened your eyes as it tumbled from your open mouth, your thin fingers squeezing his rough palm. “You been holdin’ out on me, Ryan?” You shifted your eyes and took a sip of your beer.

Never have, never will. It was no secret that while music and rhythm seemed to flow in his veins, Ryan Brenner was not a very good dancer. “Nah,” he shook his head, and slowly, so that you had plenty of time to react, lifted your joined hands to turn you under his arm. Your surprised gasp of his name hit him in the chest as a few drops of cold beer splashed onto his forearm and soaked into the hem of his white tee. You leaned into him and he felt the last shakes of your laughter leave your lungs. He dropped your hand so he could press his to the small of your back, fingers grazing your skin under the bottom of your navy blue tank top. I love this woman. “You know I save all my best moves for you, Junebug.” He kissed your forehead, the wispy little rebellious frizz along your hairline tickling his lips. 

Humming contentedly, you wrapped your free arm around his waist and looked up at him, chin tucked into the crook of his shoulder. “Yeah, you do.” You licked your lips as he took a swig from the red cup. “I’m lucky like that.”   

Ryan’s fingers flexed to push you even closer to his side, but before he could continue the pointless conversation of which of you were luckier, Georgie called over, his raucous tone cutting through the ambient sound easily. “Hey you two comin’ back anytime soon or you just gonna stand there all night?” 

He looked up to see his friend waving his arm from the rock wall surrounding the big Cedar Elm where the four of you had been sitting enjoying the music after your set. You laughed again, turning your face into his chest before meeting his eyes once more. Ryan trailed his fingers up your back until his palm reached the center of your shoulder blades. He took a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the scent of your floral shampoo mixed with dirt, sweat, and the sweet coconut smell of the sunscreen you’d slathered on all day. Still got a tan though, and I see some new freckles. His cheek twitched to the side pulling his lips along with it, and he leaned in to drag the tip of his nose over the bridge of yours and down to the crest of your cheek where the sun had painted new speckles on your skin. He kissed them, and you smiled under the bristles of his beard as he dropped his lips down to capture yours. Love her so damn much. 

Three and a half years had gone by, but it hadn’t taken Ryan that long to realize that you were right for him in a million ways that he hadn’t even considered. You’d taught him how to stand still and spend more time thinking about where he was now instead of where he was headed next. But you’d also showed him how easily you could pick up and head back to the road when it was time, how you’d completely accepted his wandering ways. He’d let you into every part of his life, all the secrets that he kept close to his heart like the treasures that you knew he kept hidden safely in a zippered inner pocket of his big canvas coat that he wore in the winter time- an arrowhead, a clover, others things he’d collected that no one else knew existed aside from the people who he’d gotten the items from. A penny, a guitar pick, an old zippo lighter. You’d fit into his family as though you’d been there all along, both on the road and back home; in that zippered pocket, and at Aunt Holly’s table. 

She fits here, too. He’d had the thought earlier in the night, standing between you and Georgie on the small wooden stage. The three of you had played a set of eight songs together while Layla joined the small crowd that lingered nearby- mostly songs that he’d been playing for years, ones that he’d played with Cowboy and Virginia, way back before he’d even met the bright eyed button nosed fiddler to his left. But then you’d also played the song that you’d helped him write back on your apartment floor in front of the fireplace, and it felt just as right as the other songs. Ryan and Georgie hadn’t been back to Luckenbach for the Fourth of July festival in the nearly five years since Cowboy had been gone. It felt right to come back this year with you, with Georgie bringing Layla. Next year Ginny and Henry’ll come too, he’ll be old enough, he’ll get a kick outta the tractor parade in town. The thought of the six of you being there together lightened his heart.  

“Brenner? You hear me or-” Georgie called again as Ryan finally broke the kiss, eyes locked on yours as he brought his hand up, fingers tracing the freckles he’d just kissed. 

“Keep your pants on, Georgie,” Ryan called, tearing his eyes from you to turn towards the other man. “I’m kissin’ my girl an’ takin’ my time.” He’d lowered his voice, no longer shouting for the entertainment of everyone around, speaking only for you to hear. Dipping his head back down, he caught another quick kiss, enjoying the way you sighed into it and how you gathered a fistful of his tee. Never gets old, never will. 

“Ryan,” slightly out of breath, you whispered his name through a grin that only got brighter as the sky darkened. Shaking your head you asked, “What was that for?” 

Ryan swallowed and narrowed his eyes. It hadn’t taken him three and a half years to know that you were it for him, but it was moments like this that reinforced that fact; moments that made him sure that you were all he wanted, all he’d ever want. He blinked and lowered his hand from your face, reaching for your free hand. Smiling, he took another swing of his beer. “Nothin’,” he tugged your hand and started walking back towards Georgie and Layla as a guitarist wearing a harmonica neckstrap stepped up to take the mic next. “Let’s get over there’n rescue Layla.” You laughed and Ryan pressed his lips together to try to keep from joining you. “Poor girl, he’s probably talkin’ her ear off or somethin’, you know how he-” 

You cut him off, rising to your toes to kiss him quickly. “I love you, Ryan.”

There weren’t any fireworks planned in Luckenbach. Might be able to see ‘em from Fredricksburg if it’s a clear night, Georgie had explained to you and Layla earlier in the day. It was the Fourth of July, but it was also just another night in the heart of Texas. It was a night of music and festive celebration, good food, good people and good feelings. Who needs fireworks?

.

.

.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @thesumofmychoices @songtoyou @traeumerinwitzhelden @gollyderek @obscurilicious @malionnes @with1love1anu @beautifuldesastre​ @luminex3​ 

if you would like to be added or removed from the tags, please let me know! (and if you have let me know and I haven’t changed it please tell me again because I am a well intentioned albeit forgetful fool)  Thanks for reading! 

#play the hand you’re dealt #card game prompts #ryan brenner #celebration or holiday #ryan's pov #ryan brenner x you #ryan brenner x reader #ryan brenner x junebug #passing through masterlist #Passing Through #PT #jackie & ryan fanfiction #fourth of july #luckenbach texas #it's a real place #and a real song #and willie nelson had his picnic there #and it basically exists for music #and i cannot think of anywhere else for Ryan to spend the 4th

[themaskedwriter]

Home

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Cursing

Summary: Saturdays are not for housing superheroes, and you don’t care if one of them is your army buddy and the other a cyborg who, okay, is kinda cute when he’s not clutching his twitching arm like it’s his goddamn teddybear. So of course, your tiny house becomes a tiny superhero central.

Author clues: An occasional angst queen with a sweet tooth who lives in a very fine country.

Generally, when the phone rings in the middle of the night, it’s never good news. It’s death and mayhem and all manners of misdeeds just waiting to ruin your night, your morning and possibly the entire week that follows. Your solution had been to move around a lot. If you never stay long enough in one place, then death and mayhem and all those misdeeds never get a chance to catch up with you. Unless-

“Someone better be dying,” you grunt when you answer, not bothering with greetings or pleasantries. Anyone calling at, fuck, 3.22 am can frankly go fornicate themselves.

“I need your coordinates.”

“No.”

“Come on, I promise, it’s just for the night.”

“Last time you said that, Wilson, you stayed for a week and Captain America bled all over my couch.”

At the other end of a very unstable line - is he fucking flying and calling? - Sam winces, because yeah, last time was a fucking rollercoaster of bad, and you ended up moving as soon as they were out the door and refusing to answer Sam’s texts for two weeks just to be sure you could get some actual peace and quiet.

“No one is bleeding. Much.”

“Sam…”

“I swear on my sainted nana’s grave no one will be bleeding when we get there.”

We? Jesus, did someone shoot Captain America again? You groan and roll over, pressing your face into the pillow.

“It’s just one night, I swear, we just need someplace to lay low before we can move on and haul ass back to base.”

You hate Sam Wilson. You do, you’ll put it in writing, you’ll write a goddamn op ed for the fucking New York Times listing all the reasons he is a terrible, terrible friend. All you wanted was a nice, quiet life, a little time to figure shit out after an honorable discharge from the Army, and then that idiot had to go and become a goddamn superhero with his goddamn wings and the goddamn Avengers as his goddamn squad. He owes you. He owes you so much and he’ll owe you even more- Aw, fuck.

“I’ll give you twelve hours before I kick you out on your asses.”

“You are the best, I’ve always said that, you know. The best. The goat-”

“Please, never call me that again.”

“Sourpuss.”

“I’ll bill you for anything you destroy,” you mutter, ending the call before Sam can say anything.

Rolling over on your back again, you breathe in deeply through your nose, staring at the light ceiling panelling. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You text Sam your coordinates, telling him where to find the spare key because you draw the line at getting up to act as a welcome committee at this unholy hour.

>>Thanks, I owe you one. S

>>U owe me several. Don’t expect mints on the pillows and dont. fuckin. wake me. >:(

>>You’re adorable when you’re cranky. We’ll be there in about an hour.

>>Fuk u

Sam Wilson is a terrible, terrible friend, but at least he doesn’t actually wake you. He’s even up and looking far too chirpy when you crawl down from your sleep loft four hours later. Seriously, fuck Sam Wilson. Fuck Sam Wilson, and-

“I like your digs.” He hands you a cup of coffee and thankfully does not attempt a hug.

“Yeah, well, makes running away from unbidden houseguests easy,” you grunt back, taking a sip of the glorious coffee.

Sam snorts, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “As if you could fit actual houseguests in here. You’re lucky I spent half my childhood playing Tetris, or we would’ve had a problem getting in here.”

You glance over his shoulder, at the blanket-covered lump on your couch. Granted, the damn thing is from IKEA and required at least five curse words for every step in the assembly instructions, but the covering is a nice, pale shade of beige. “So who’s bleeding all over my place this time?”

“No one’s bleeding, I patched ‘im up just to preemptively get you off my ass.”

“So he was bleeding. That why you needed to crash?”

The way Sam hesitates makes it clear that blood loss is not the culprit here. You glare at him, and Sam Awful Terrible Friend Wilson rolls his eyes at you and walks past you and up to the couch, pulling down the covers.

“That’s…” You stare. There’s no better way to put it. “Sam, he’s- Why is his arm detached? Why is it wriggling?”

“We had a minor snafu. Barnes got dosed with something and it made his arm go a little haywire. It’s wired into his nervous system, so we had to do an emergency detachment until the thing is out of his system so he won’t helicopter himself into the sky or, you know, hurt anyone.”

“So why is it still twitching like a zombie limb? Please, don’t tell me he’s turning into a zombie. I can’t deal with a zombie apocalypse. I use Zombies! Run, but that’s the closest I ever want to come to the undead because even with that I fucking jump out of my skin when I start hearing heavy breathing in my ears and-”

“He’s not turning into a zombie, jeez!” Sam tosses the covers back in place, covering up Barnes and the twitchy arm. “It’s still receiving faint signals, so it’s acting like a nervous grandma. It’s completely harmless. Ha! I gotta remember that one when he wakes up.”

Jesus H. Christ. Where is a brick wall when you need one? “Sam!”

“Stark’s coming to pick us up in two hours, we’ll be out of your hair. We’ll even take the arm with us.”

You give an indignant sniff, heading back to the little ladder that leads up to your loft. “Fuck you, Wilson, I’m going back to bed and won’t come down until you and Terminator over there are out of my house.”

“Aw, come on! We’re delightful! Look, Barnes is even more delightful because he is asleep so you won’t even have to deal with him being Mr. Personality!”

You could tell him that from your perspective, Barnes is the preferable option in this situation because he is asleep and thus not bothering you. Instead, you opt for a succinct reply in the form of your middle finger and start to ascend the ladder, coffee mug tightly gripped in one hand. Saturdays are holy, okay? Saturdays are for waking up late, having coffee and then crawling back to your bed where the covers are still warm and just wait for the sun to rise high enough in the sky that you’re tempted to go outside. Saturdays are not for housing superheroes, and you don’t care if one of them is your army buddy and the other a cyborg who, okay, is kinda cute when he’s not clutching his twitching arm like it’s his goddamn teddybear.

To be fair, Sam cuts out his little comedian act, and shuts up. There’s the odd shuffling from below, but nothing more, and you manage to doze off, wrapped like a burrito in your covers. It’s almost enough to make you forget that you have houseguests.

Until Sam pinches your toe.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he whispers, shaking your foot and you’re surprised you don’t kick him in the face.

“Piss off.”

“Delightful. We’re rolling out in five. I told Stark to bring you some decent breakfast as thanks.”

Well. Breakfast is an acceptable offering. There better be waffles, or you might need to kick Stark. With a grunt, you start extricating yourself from your covers, rooting around until you find a cardigan to wrap yourself in. Sam’s by the couch when you get down, ripping the covers from Sleeping Barnes and shaking his shoulder.

“Hey, Princess Elsa, our ride’s almost here.”

Barnes, who seems to appreciate sleeping as much as you do, tries to turn over and away from the rude awakening, but apparently manages to tickle himself on the detached arm, because the man gives a very high-pitched yelp before he very ungracefully tumbles off the couch and lands on his ass.

“Morning, Barnes.”

“Fuck you, Wilson,” Barnes grumbles with a glare that is… impressive.

“There’s coffee if you can inhale it in the next five minutes,” Sam tells him, shrugging of his umpteenth cuss-out in the last six hours.

“Bring… coffee…”

You’re not a rude host. Unwilling, but not rude. Coffee is a glorious drink, and you would never deny anyone the elixir of Life and General Functionality. You pour a cup for the man, bringing it to him, and Barnes stares at you, then at Sam, then takes a second to look around, mouth slowly falling open.

“Wilson, I think I’m-”

“What? You still not sobered up from the funky gas?”

“Either that, or I fell through the looking glass. Am I gonna grow and have my legs sprout through the window? Because that is not good,” Barnes says, gulping down his coffee and then peering up at you. “I’m not sure if you’re real, but either way, I have very impressive thighs. Hi, I’m Bucky”

He fires off a smile that is probably meant to look charming, but only succeeds in looking loopy. Sam, finally getting a fraction of the embarrassed he should be for dragging himself and this crazy ass man into your home, groans and facepalms. It is hilarious.

“Sam, I hate to say this, but I like this guy.”

“Sam, the hallucination is talking to you.”

“I’m not a hallucination,” you tell him, leaning down to pinch his left shoulder. “It’s a tiny house, made even tinier because yikes, you are built.”

Barnes, Bucky, yelps and his coffee sloshes dangerously against the edges of his mug.

“Well, that just seems very unfair to me. And Steve. Oh, jeez, and Bruce. Do you have anything against swole?”

“First of all, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, and second of all, if you’re Bucky Barnes then I’d very much like to know who the fuck taught you the word ‘swole’.”

Bucky Barnes, the most handsome centenarian in the entire world, is a delight, all smiles and jokes, and Sam is terrible for dragging him away. A godawful wind kicks up outside, heralding the arrival of Tony Stark, and you decide this is way too many superheroes. One is acceptable. Two is pushing it. Bucky, having realized he has in fact not shrunk, takes his time looking around while they head out and ends up clipping his head and oh, how people would blush if they heard the downright filth that Sergeant James B. Barnes lets out as he stumbles down the stairs.

Stark makes a joke about custody exchanges, and you tune out more than half because he brought breakfast, and oh sweet Mary above, there are waffles. Sam and Bucky say their goodbyes, and you wave them off, too engrossed in the gorgeousness of waffles drenched in maple syrup and topped with fresh berries. For this, you could almost be okay with a superhero or two crashing for a night.

Not that you’ll ever be.

You have limits.

So of course, your tiny house becomes a tiny superhero central. First it’s Sam, again. Then it’s Stark. He almost gets his ass kicked out when he goes on and on about how you can live with the bare minimum of technology. You definitely kick him out when he wants to chip your house so people won’t have to call you at the asscrack of dawn to let you know, not ask, they are incoming. He does get back in your good graces by giving you a double serving of waffles.

Then, in quick succession, it’s Steve, Sam and Rhodey, Bucky, Barton and Bucky again. Most of them are okay house guests. Barton wins points by appearing genuinely interested in how you’ve set up your living space, quizzing you about layouts and building and the pros and cons of having your entire life confined to 240 square feet. He also loses those points when you wake up to find him sitting on the edge of the sleep loft, overlooking the house. Sam and Rhodey together is not as big of a disaster as one might think, mainly because Rhodey occasionally pulls rank on Sam and honestly? Thank god. Steve, bless him, tries to bend over backwards to not put you out, and his calls all include at least 75 permutations of an apology for calling.

Bucky.

He keeps his arm in place for the next couple of times. On the rare occasions when he’ll call in the middle of the day, he’ll always knock and wait until you open, he’ll insist on “earning his keep”, which is how you come to be the recipient of flowers, breakfast, and a very rare bathroom concerto that Bucky doesn’t know you overheard. The man has a very good singing voice, and it makes your heart skip a beat when he croons “It’s Been a Long, Long Time”. He’s the easiest to get along with, even one early morning when you wake up to his shuffling and cussing because your coffee maker refuses to cooperate. He doesn’t mind the quiet, doesn’t fret around like Stark (who insists that the laptop loaded with every streaming service imaginable and the usernames and passwords for each laid out on a sticky note that he left there is absolutely not a pity gift but a sound investment for both of your continued sanity).

“D’you like this?” Bucky asks one evening, his voice floating up from the living room area.

“I mean, it could be worse. I could be housing Stark for the night,” you quip, rolling over and making something that might be construed as a tumble to get to the edge of the bed.

“I feel like that might have been an insult wrapped in another insult. But that’s not what I meant.”

You can only see Bucky’s feet in the soft light of a lamp, peeking out from the covers. He always sleeps with his feet facing the door, always on his back. The only time he hasn’t was the first time when Sam brought him, and something in you feels bad that Bucky can’t relax even in his sleep.

“No?”

“I meant… this. Living in a small box. Moving around all the time. It’s… Doesn’t it ever get hard? After I got- When I got back, Steve almost had to fight me to move into the Tower. I wanted to go home, you know. To Brooklyn. I don’t know, it was a stupid thought, but I kept thinking if I go back, it’s all still there. The apartment we lived in, the same streets and the same shops and… my family. It felt weird to make another home, but now I don’t know if I could move again.”

His voice is soft, a far cry from the persona he’s portrayed as in the media. The Winter Soldier is hard edges and cold steel, but Bucky Barnes… Bucky Barnes is soft, a whisper in the darkness and a longing for something that’s no longer there.

“It wasn’t that hard for me, because I needed this. I was out there, in all of that big space with nothing but orders and trusting that someone else knew what we were supposed to do. I’d had a place back in Atlanta before, and I’d packed up all my stuff and rented the place to some college kids. They’d already moved out when I got back, and I thought I was gonna go nuts the first night back. That place had felt like a shoebox before I shipped out and now it was so… big. Had a friend who made these kinds of houses, so he helped me build one pretty much from scratch and my first night here I slept like a baby.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it.” God, he sounds almost a bit panicked, like he’s insulted you.

“No, I don’t mind. It’s not for everyone. I just feel I have myself better together on less than 300 square feet. I mean, I don’t go from house to house. This is still a home. It’s just a home I can move around with when I need to see new places.”

There’s a little huff. “Like the middle of nowhere, New Mexico?”

You glance back to the small window next to your bed, at the clouds tinted in burnt orange and vivid pink, the sun setting slowly into the vast horizon. “Yeah. I’ve never been here. I wanted to see it, and now I have.”

“You know, that sounds like I’m gonna wake up in the desert tomorrow morning because a bird is trying to steal my covers.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Barnes,” you tease, crawling back to roll yourself into your own covers again. “I wouldn’t leave you with that blanket. It’s my favourite.”

“Yeah.” His voice is almost a whisper, but you can still make out his next words: “Mine, too.”

When he leaves the next morning, something feels different. He’s tentative at breakfast, burns a few pancakes and once again clips his head on the doorway heading out when Nat touches down the quinjet to pick him up. Breakfast changes hands, Nat fills you in on some gossip. Bucky’s shoulders are slumped when he trudges up and into the cargo hold.

“Wait!”

You run inside, depositing the bag of breakfast on your counter, grabbing the blanket from the couch and folding it into a mess that would pass exactly zero inspections before heading back out. Nat’s joined Bucky on the quinjet landing, and she quirks and eyebrow when you all but thrust the bunched up fabric into Bucky’s arms.

“A bit of home,” you blurt out, immediately feeling heat creep up your cheeks. “Can’t hurt to have more of that.”

Bucky chuckles, “No… I guess it can’t.”

You move three days later. The New Mexico desert makes you restless, makes you itch for something else. For a couple of weeks, you drift further and further north, looking for a place that doesn’t put you on edge. You plough through the Midwest, but there’s always something. You text Sam just to become annoyed and feel something else. He calls a couple of times, facetimes you on your birthday so the whole gang can wish you happy birthday. you smile, taking a screenshot to save the memory for a rainy day. They’re all there, sitting around an obscenely big dinner table, glasses raised, mouths open mid-sentence. Stark looks magnanimous as always, sunglasses perched on top of his head, Steve’s got an expression that’s somewhere between his Captain America-smile and a genuine Steve Rogers-grin. Bucky… Bucky is not there. Or at least you can’t see him. Maybe he’s at the very end of the table, obscured by the others. Not that you care. You don’t. You absolutely don’t. You definitely don’t look for him in the picture every time you bring it up.

You move again. It’s too calm. You’ve had no superheroes visiting in two months, no late night calls inquiring about coordinates. Stark’s laptop is shoved into a drawer where you can’t see it, there’s a new blanket draped over your couch pretending it’s always been there.

>>Coordinates?

The text from the unknown number comes in late one evening when you’re gearing up to let bygones be bygones and forget the Midwest ever existed. You could cry with how happy it makes you, even though a text means one or more of them is in trouble and maybe you should be a little worried, too. The Avengers are good people, but they’re not unlike cats, dragging others with them. Like murder bots and weird aliens. You dutifully send your coordinates, biting your lip before adding:

>>Don’t wake me, and don’t make me wake up to bad guys on my porch

>>They scare the neighbours

>>I have a reputation to think of

Your only neighbours are trees, but still. No one likes bad guys.

Setting your phone down, you tuck yourself into bed. Whoever’s coming knows where to find the key to get in. Stark, again, wanted to set you up with some biometric doohickey that would make it impossible for anyone not in the system to get in, since “keys are so unreliable, look at Parker, he could probably pick it after five minutes on youtube”. He stopped talking when you pointed out your house is a glorified box on wheels, and that there are far easier ways to get in than to pick the lock or even rush the door. You’d had to tell him he was not allowed to turn your house into a tank.

When the sun rises, waking you up with a well-placed ray right in your eyes, you expect to hear… something. Sam, Nat and Steve are all early wakers, there would be the telltale sounds and scents of breakfast being prepared. Tony, much as he tries to vehemently deny it, snores. God, is it Barton? You raise your head, and let out a sigh of relief to see the loft empty save for yourself and the sparse furnishings. Could still be Barton, he’s just learned to stay out of your nest and accept that he’s not top of the pecking order here.

But when you get down from your loft, there’s no one there. Blinking, you look around, as if whoever texted you last night will jump out from some impossible corner. The couch is untouched, everything is where you left it. Was it Bruce and he couldn’t de-Hulk so he slept outside? You check your phone to see if there are any unread text or missed calls, but there’s nothing.

>>Did you leave already?

The reply comes within seconds.

>>No. Outside.

So… Bruce? Furrowing your brow, you go pull a pair of sweats from the hamper, yawning wide before you head for the door. You’re not exactly sure what to expect, but finding the clearing you’ve set up camp in empty is… anticlimactic, to say the least.

“Hello?” you call out, stepping down the stairs, a shiver running down your spine from the cool morning air.

Nothing. The wind sighs in the tops of the trees, a crack from a branch breaking the calm. Ahead of you, something catches your eye, far too colourful to be part of the wooded area.

“What the hell?”

Folded neatly on the ground is your blanket, your old blanket, the one you gave to-

“Sam told me you’d been moving around a lot. Figured maybe you could need a bit more home.”

You yelp and whirl around to find Bucky sitting on the stairs, filling up the doorway and smiling smugly at you.

“How-” You look at him, then around at the clearing and back to Bucky, pointing at him. “You- What?”

“Sorry, I… thought it would be fun. It was creepy, wasn’t it?” He scratches the back of his head, getting of the stairs, approaching you slowly. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Are you okay?” It’s second nature by now to give him a once-over, to expect bruises and scrapes and, let’s be honest, blood. Seeing nothing doesn’t necessarily mean he’s okay. These yahoos are notorious about playing off little things like internal bleedings, cracked ribs and concussions.

“What, no! I mean, yes, yes, I’m okay. I wasn’t in any scuffle. Haven’t been for a while. You can check me if you like.”

Pursing your lips, you look him up and down while you circle him, prodding at his ribs, his hands, his cheekbone. Satisfied that he’s not injured, you come to a stop in front of him.

“Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you again, but… why are you here?”

“Been travelling. Sort of like this, but without the… tiny house, was it? I thought about what you said, about home and all that, and I realized that maybe I need to reevaluate what home means. Going away to figure out what I miss and what I need.”

He raises his right hand to drag the fingertips along the soft blanket, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It sounds cheesy as all hell, but your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat, because he looks so content, so relaxed.

“Yeah? Did you find the answer then? What’s home?” you ask, cursing your voice for sounding breather than you ever intended it to.

“See, I packed light. Couple changes of clothes, toothbrush, the regular stuff… and this.” He takes a firm hold of the blanket with both hands, pulling it from you, shaking it out. “And I missed a lot of things in the beginning. People… things… comforts. But I learned to make do without all of those. Only thing I couldn’t get past missin’…”

You watch wide eyed as Bucky wraps the blanket over your shoulders, tugging at the ends to bring it in tightly over your chest, cocooning you in it.

“…is in this blanket,” he finishes, his gaze focused on where his hands holds it close. “I missed mornings with you. Even the first morning when I woke up feelin’ like a drunk sailor after pub crawl thinking Stark or someone had shrunk me down to the size of a bean. I missed your tiny house and your couch and your coffee and… and you.”

And you.

Maybe it’s another cliché, but you can’t help the smile, the sudden joy that bubbles up along with the sensation of right. All these days that have somehow bled into months of moving, of unease, they are drawn into this moment. They breathe a sigh of relief, settling. This is it, this is what all that drifting was about. Finding the spot where your roads would lead you to stand toe to toe, wrapped in a well-worn blanket and realize that home can grow from a warmth that accumulated over so many mornings. You push at Bucky’s hands, making the blanket part, tugging the ends from his grip to sling your arms around his neck, bringing him into it.

The kisses don’t happen until later. First, there’s the quiet, the seconds and minutes wrapped in the blanket. Then, there is breakfast and coffee strong enough to make a spoon stand up straight and slightly overscrambled eggs and Bucky’s voice drifting from the bathroom with hums breaking up the lyrics. You kiss him like you want to taste him, commit him to memory, pulling him down by his neck and drawing in a sharp breath when drops of water fall down the neckline of your t-shirt. He kisses like he’s finally at rest, safe even when his attention is diverted.

>>Coordinates? Bit banged up, wings took a hit, out of your hair before tomorrow

>>image.jpeg

>>Sorry, find another safehouse, this one’s occupied

>>TMI WAY TMI DO NOT SAY ANOTHER WORD

>>It was just a selfie!

>>IN BED

>>Get ur head out of the gutter /JBB

>>I hate you guys

You smile at the final message, setting down the phone and curling up against Bucky with a sigh. The sheets are a mess by your feet, Bucky’s body heat enough to keep you both warm.

“Occuped, huh?” he smiles, tracing your lower lip with the pad of his thumb.

You nod, pressing a kiss to the finger.

“Welcome home.”

#fic

[eye-raq]

Pandora’s Box Chapter Two

Erik x Black Original Character

(Erik will be mentioned in Ch 3)

Today the weather decided to change up giving LA it’s normal spring weather of 70 degrees or more. Raven entered her apartment sweaty with a pair of black biker shorts and a black nike sports bra. Her hair was in two buns to keep her freshly washed hair untangled. She heavily breathed as she walked to her fridge to grab a bottle of water. She sat on a stool next to her kitchen island and pulled out her cell phone from her fanny pack and pulled up Siri.

                                   “Siri, call Monica.”

 “Calling Monica”

 The phone rang twice before picking up

 “Hey wassup Rae.”

 “Wassup is you giving Ferrah my number yesterday.”

 Monica didnt respond right away.

 “She said she had relationship advice for you I was desperate, I didnt feel like what the hell I was saying helped you out one bit.”

 Raven rubbed at her tacky skin annoyingly before speaking again,

 “Its cool I’m kind of glad you did, she talked some sense into my ass- gave it to me straight up. Donovan will be here in about another hour I’m gonna call the whole thing off I’m tired of his mess.”

 Raven heard Monica gasp on the other line, “Girl that's what she said? I kind of thought that too but I wasn't sure.”

 Raven kissed her teeth shrugging her shoulders,

 “Yep just like that, exactly what I needed to-” Knock Knock Knock.

 All confidence in Raven faded a little as she heard Donovan at the door already.

“Shit girl I gotta go he’s already here.”

 “Good luck you know where I am if you need me.”

 That was all Monica said before the line went dead. Raven got up again hearing the three knocks as she walked to the door. Opening it sure enough was Donovan. He had on a pair of dark green joggers and some gray new balance with a white t shirt and his hair freshly cut. Raven stilled her courage to not take in his 6’3 Chocolate body so she moved to the side to allow him to enter. As he brushed pass he pecked her cheek gently noting that it left a pink tinge of a blush. Raven needed to get this done before her courage wore thin. She looked into his deep brown eyes as she closed the door crossing her arms over her chest.

 “Don.. where you been? And when I ask that I mean mentally and physically, Like let me know wassup cuz I’m really confused.”

 Donovan let out a sigh choosing to sit on the love seat stretching his legs out. He scratched at his waves as if trying to rake his brain. His eyes met yours for a split second but it was as if he didn’t want to stare at you directly. That fucking nervous feeling started up again.

 “Shit I've been busy Raven you know that, with this new job taking up most of my time… taking a tole on me.”

Raven walked a bit closer still keeping her stance.

 “Your never really home gone maybe two days at a time, come here and you don't even interact with me I mean..? what the fuck Don! I’m over here making a fool of myself trying to get your attention that's obviously somewhere else and on someone else and I’m getting tired of the constant games witchu its hell-”

 “Yeah its hell for me too Rae, so let me get this over with; we through baby.”

 “Excuse me?”

 “We done Rae. I’m not feeling this no more. Its dry and I cant see myself putting up with it anymore honestly.”

 Raven felt her chest go tight. She shook her head putting up her hand to stop him in his tracks.

 “Nah nigga that's what I called YOU here for. I’m ending this shit because clearly YOU ended it months ago so I don't wanna here that lame ass bullshit coming out your mouth better yet, why don't you get up and bounce homie cuz I deserve better I’m tired Don.”

 She hated that her voice began to crack and tears formed in the corners of her eyes. She had a slight tremble and she breathed slow to try and contain but the more he stared nonchalantly the more she began to break.

“yeah well, I guess you are the one that should be saying it.”

 Donovan stood from his seat and walked up to Raven he stood his ground for a few seconds before walking pass her to the door. In that moment Raven felt it appropriate to let the tears finally fall. She let out a little whimper that she hoped Donovan didn't hear.

 “My things are already gone. I came to get them last night before you came home. Hope things go well for you Rae...Honest.”

next thing she knew the door opened behind her and Donovan exited the apartment letting the door close with a soft click. Like clockwork, Raven fell to her knees and cried out, wrapping her arms around her waist to ease the pain (oh God I didn't know it would hurt that much).

 The day eased by quickly, so Raven seemed as she was on again off again sleeping. She picked up her cellphone from her night stand and read that it was 7:30 pm (Fuck). Lifting herself from the bed she walked over to her floor mirror to admire herself, and boy was she a mess. Hair semi dry after she took down her buns, a frizzy mess. Her college t shirt draped over her body and some fuzzy socks. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy from crying herself to sleep at least 4 times. Maybe that's what she needed though, because the pain eased up again and she started feeling more like herself. Raven went to the bathroom and began doing her hair deciding to style it in a wash and go because it was quicker. Half way through styling her hair she heard her phone rang from her room. Dropping her hands Raven walked over to her bed to pick up her phone. Ferrah’s number was there and she made a mental note to save it in.

 “Hey Ferrah wassup?”

 “Hey.. Monica told me. Are you alright?”

 Raven walked back to her bathroom putting her phone on speaker so she could finish her hair.

 “Yeah I’m better, had to rid my body of the many buckets of fucking tears but I’ll pull through.”

 “One less lame nigga to worry about.” Spoke Ferrah knowingly. “you still on for tonight though right?”

 Raven shrugged her shoulders focusing on a section of hair that was tangled at the root.

 “Yeah I’m still down I’m almost done my hair then I’ll figure out what I’m putting on.”

 “I was thinking maybe I could come over, you know and help you with that? Plus I can drive to the spot.”

 Raven figured that was okay giving Ferrah her address before hanging up the phone. It took about 20 minutes for Ferrah to show up. She opened her arms to give Raven a hug that Raven accepted and both girls walked back to the bed room. Ferrah walked straight to the closet so familiar while Raven sat and admired Ferrah’s outfit. One things for sure Ferrah had a banging body. She had deep chocolate skin that seemed to glisten like she had on body glow. She wore a tight red lacy slip dress with black pumps and a leather jacket with a black leather cross body bag. Her braids had silver hair accessories on it and lets just say she radiated black girl magic.

 “Hmmm I think I found something little, black, and sexy to compliment your caramel skin..”

 Ferrah pulled out a black mini dress from the back of Ravens closet with a low cut back. Digging lower she found some black pumps as well.

 “You should do this, it would hug your curves.”

 Ferrah handed Raven the dress and she took it with her towards the bathroom.

 “Girl you can get dressed here I don't bite, trust me were girls what I got you got.” responded Ferrah with a soft chuckle before walking towards the mirror to give herself a once over.

 You smiled playfully shaking your head as you walked back to the room and began undressing. You took your shirt off feeling exposed instantly since you wore nothing under. You took the dress and slipped in turning slightly noticing Ferrah eyeing you from the mirror. You faintly smiled turning back noting to yourself that maybe Ferrah liked girls too. The rest of the prep was quick since you wore little to no make up deciding for just lipstick and mascara, Ferrah commenting that you had natural beauty and you didn’t need it anyway. The ride was smooth with Travis Scott booming in on the radio. You let the window of her car down a little to let some breeze in. You wondered where you were going but you decided not to ask, it made it even better. About 20 minutes later you both pull onto a side street on a hilltop overseeing Oakland. Getting out of the car you watched as Ferrah began walking forward so you followed closely behind. Not too far you come up on a little complex building faintly hearing the sound of low husky music. You look around noting that this was an okay part of Oakland before staring forward. A tall Bouncer dawned in all black from his shades to his shoes stood outside the door peering over at you and Ferrah. Ferrah suddenly turned to you causing you to bump into her a little, she spoke low

 “Now there are some things you need to know about this club before we enter. I decided to bring you here first to tell you because I figured you’d go in anyway.”

 Raven stared into Ferrah’s eyes with sudden nervousness.

 “This place is called the Pandora’s Box. Its not known to many, but beyond those doors lie a world not like you have seen I’m sure- maybe heard of, but not experienced.”

 Raven gulped and peeked at the entrance before staring back at Ferrah.

 “When we enter you will be asked what are you looking for? You say im looking for paradise...then they will ask you is this what you seek? You tell them yes.”

 Raven didn't know what she was getting herself into here but the nervous feeling finally set in and she began to wonder if this was a good idea. Ferrah noticed and rubbed comforting circles on her forearm.

 “It’s okay Rae. Trust me, I’m sure.. this may be something you need.”

 Raven stared at the entrance then back at Ferrah before grabbing the girls hand that she only met yesterday and continued walking to the entrance. The bouncer held open the tinted doors allowing both ladies to enter. As they walked pass they came across a narrow hallway with walls draped in purple velvet it seemed. It smelled of incents and vanilla candles giving off a romantic vibe. Raven was definetly thoroughly confused at this point looking around her surroundings. As she looked forward she noticed the absence of Ferrah looking behind and in front of her finally coming to the conclusion that she had already entered. Straight ahead was a Man standing off to the side peering between a set of black velvet curtains with a lit cigarette in his had. He took a long drag before turning to Raven eyeing her up and down intently. Raven turned away from his intimidating stare before timidly stepping closer (well this is the moment of truth).

 @thehonorablekingerik @bartierbakarimobisson @killmongurl

#black panther #erikstevens blackpantherfanfiction blackgirlmagic sex nightlife

[dent-de-leon]

Yoo can we get a ficlet of Shiro trying to claw his arm off after nightmares

im so sorry this is the latest thing ever. I vaguely remembered this prompt and had to dig through hundreds of asks to find it but last night I was finally in the mood to write it so uhh,, here we go: (warning of course for self harm)

“Shiro.”

The paladin startles, stiff legs leaping back on reflex. Everything blurs, a lazy haze of sunken shadow and lingering light. Sharp pinpoints of light prick away at the edges of his vision. Soft afterglow of fading gold strikes him—the last drop of sun trickles in. And then they’re calling him again. Shiro. Shiro.

“Shiro?”

He blinks, eyes heavily lidded. Bleary. He inhales slowly, nose crinkling when the scent hits him. It’s his own breath, pungent and thick, the kind you get when you wake up sick. Sick. Did he feel sick when he left the house? And if he just woke up, how long was he out? Stuffy air escaped his lungs in a muffled cough, his cheek buried in the stifling fabric of his sleeve, back aching as he arches forward. He doesn’t notice that the light filtering in is tinted a shade of bright blue, emitting an ethereally artificial glow. And it escapes his mind that the whole room is sealed off. He doesn’t remember that he hasn’t seen the inside of his house—or the sun—in well over a year, doesn’t take in the advanced technology and sleek, modern design so characteristic of the castle ship, doesn’t know they’ve been adrift in the vast expanse of space for days, weeks, months—

A gentle hand alights on his shoulder—startling at first, elicits a slight cry as he jolts forward. But its grip grows stronger and soon he finds it to be a comforting weight, lets it lay there and keep him grounded in place. Like an anchor, dragging him down to the deepest depths of the sea. He wishes he could just lose himself in the water.

“Are you alright, Shiro?” he asks. He. At least, Shiro thinks it’s a he, but everything still seems so foggy. “Are you okay?” he asks again, hand pressing down a little tighter.

Shiro gasps.

No, he thinks, a sharp pang of acid burning in his throat. “Yes,” he says instead, the word hanging heavy on his lips.

He’s had better nights.

The bedsheets rustle softly, the mattress easing as a weight lifts. Bare feet stumble up and over, then sink back into place. Shiro doesn’t shy away when his partner creeps closer, lets their knobby knees bump and toes brush together. He startles at the touch, so much colder than he remembers. He misses the stuffy dorms and warm summer nights. But then, space is cold. What else could he expect?

“Bad dream?” someone asks, and all those evenings out on rooftops slip through his fingers like desert sands. The last grains of a broken hourglass.

How much time have we lost again? We, me and—

Keith, he remembers belatedly. Of course, that’s Keith kneeling down to get a closer look, brow furrowed in concentration. His eyebrows look kind of cute, all scrunched together, and his eyes shine bright with worry. Light refracts off his sharp features, hard edges and soft shadow bathed in a warm amethyst glow—Wait. No, no—

Shiro jerks back a beat too late, and Keith chases after him. Catches his hand just in time, never once shying away from its fierce light. The glow pulses and shines, casting long shadows below burning eyes. Its beam is reminiscent of the harsh lights flooding out shapeless silhouettes. Of the eerie glow that follows him down dark halls. Why were they empty again?

The light dies down, and still Keith never strays from him. Their fingers thread together in a clumsy dance, Keith purposefully lacing his with Shiro’s. For a moment, his heart flutters. Like a bird rattling around its cage. Every fibre of his being screams to get up, to get away, but then Keith is already pulling him closer and all of his resolve drains away. He goes boneless under Keith’s gentle ministrations. The tender touches, the rise and fall of steady breaths. Warmth seeps down his frigid spine, the soft call of a siren singing Let me in. He wants to run away. He never wants to leave again.

Flip a coin. Never and forever. You only get one, so you might as well choose neither. In a few days Keith will be back with Marmora, and who knows when you’ll see him again. If you can even stand to, anymore. If you can bare to look him in the eye and smile like you don’t mind that he might go blow himself to pieces. Of course he’d go out like that. It’s always the unassuming stars, isn’t it? The larger ones evolve gradually. But lower mass stars have a helium flash—burn bright and burst fast. Exploding stars eject shells of mesmerizingly ethereal, iridescent nebulae. A brilliant luminosity to blot out the night sky. Even if Keith burns out, his light will eclipse every other star in sight.

The thought makes Shiro sick.

“You were tossing in your sleep again,” Keith says.

Thrashing, more like. He’s had his share of sleepless nights. But Keith knows that all too well, right?

It’s like this—lots of stars are never alone. There are binary stars, two beacons of light closely intertwined. They’re conceived at the same time, and spend all their lives side by side. And then, one has to move on first. So the more massive star evolves off the Main Sequence. You have to leave the pack sometime. You know, leave home, fly from the nest. Fly off to Kerberos. But those two stars? They’re still combined. And when stars evolve, they blast off clouds of matter. Which, you know, has to go somewhere, right?

“As one star loses mass, it transfers it onto his friend,” Professor Montgomery said. Friend. Shiro thought the choice of wording had been cute at the time, almost made a joke about it. But then, that was kinda nice, right? That they were friends? Even if one star leaves the other behind, it still pours its heart and soul into them.

Until the lesser mass star surpassed the other, evolving at a much more rapid rate. It was natural. “Keith, I want you to lead Voltron.” It was inevitable.

Keith’s voice anchors him back in the present, a dim glow amidst the dark.

“Shiro,” he chokes out, his voice a hushed whisper. “Your arm.”

His stomach drops like a rock.

“Oh,” is all Shiro says.

The skin where metal melds with flesh is angry and red, gnarled scarring that climbs up into his veins like twisted roots. Over that though new marks have appeared, faint red lines scored all along his forearm, reaching up, up past his elbow and digging away at the bone in his shoulder blade. The marks themselves are nothing new. He’s woken up with lines burning red and darkling blue. Clean cuts and gentle curves all along his arms and torso. He’s seen them dragged across his stomach or down his thighs. He’s gasped awake unable to breathe and found a bright red ring wrung about his neck.

He doesn’t remember leaving any of them.

“Hey.”

Shiro jerks back, and Keith is there to steady him. Always steady, always so self-assured. It’s the kind of easy confidence that first drew Shiro’s gaze back at the garrison. But he’s no cadet now, and the dark circles rimming tired eyes are so much deeper. It’s the softness that betrays his youth—the way he’s always been on the scrawny side and hasn’t quite filled out, the slight fullness to his face. He should still be back at the garrison, standing tall at graduation, unmarred by the stakes and scars of war. Shiro would apologize again for tearing Keith away from all that. For ripping his life right out from under him and dragging him halfway across the universe. But Keith’s spark would just catch fire at that, and he has no desire to fan the flames. So he settles for sagging against Keith’s shoulder, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Easy,” Keith says. “You’re okay. I’ve got you, Shiro. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

But what about you?

Shiro’s head bows. He doesn’t speak, and the two lapse into eerie silence.

For a moment there’s nothing. Then careful fingers wander up, the barest brush of nails tenderly grazing skin. Keith scritching at the short hairs on the back of his neck is pleasant, but not a surprise. Shiro hums when he leans into it, eyes fluttering shut.

He’s had worse nights.

#sheith #voltron #keith #shiro #self harm tw

[auideas]

Ask the Admins 13.0

anon asked: For any of the admins! I’m not sure if this was asked previously, so I apologize in advance. But what's everyone’s favorite au / prompt? (Also thank you guys for starting this blog, im forever grateful this exists)

Chamomile: awww! I’m grateful that this blog exists too (lol). My current favorite type of au’s are murder mystery au’s because of the Rabbit Doubt writing group I’m in so like, expect so many of those coming up soon. I’m also really digging superhero au’s.

M: I’m a fan of the whole “kidnapping / assassin / mob / killer” sort of a trope for some reason - it’s loads of fun to try and mess with original tropes and make them ridiculous, funny, modern, etc.!

Jynn: My fave AUs are ones that incorporate real life twists on typical AUs, like including people with disabilities.

@tomorraw​ asked: How many of you guys are there? Do certain people answer in certain genre? Or does everyone write what they are given? How did you guys meet? (Btw, this is one of my favorite idea blogs. They are so many different views on different ideas and so many genres.)

Chamomile: Currently there’s four of us! I know admin m and admin jynn from a loooong while back -- like two years back. Admin jynn and I go back to our homestuck roots (love her for that) and we’ve stuck together ever since. We all just kind of write whatever floats our boats! M: I met both Jynn and Chamomile through working on the Night Unvaled, which is a Night Vale Fancast that we wrote and produced. We’ve been friends ever since!! As for the certain genre thing, I can’t really say that we all write solely one genre, but we all certainly have our specialties!! Jynn: We have a posting schedule for who posts what when, but when it comes lists we all just take what interests us. Chamomile and I met more than two years back… in a Homestuck role play. Shortly after, we met M in a podcast project we were all working on and we've all be friends since!

Anon asked: what are some of your favorite tropes?

Chamomile: does “I love the way that you understand me and make me feel like I’m the only person in the world when you pay attention to me” count as a troupe? Like an OTP troupe? Bc that’s my ultimate favorite.

M: My favorite trope is messing with tropes. Best thing.

Jynn: “Flaws” turning out to work to someone's advantage!

Anon asked: What is pastel/punk or pastel and punk? I don't get it and google isn't explaining it to me because it's a meany

Chamomile: I remember this AU! It was an AU Friday list that I did and loved doing it! Basically, there’s  ‘pastel’ aesthetic which is very like, cutesy baby pink and pastel blues and other ‘soft’ colors being worn with other ‘soft’ aesthetic items like, glitter or hair clips or oversized sweaters ands stuff like that. Then there’s punk aesthetic, which very like, ‘heck all of you, I want to be comfortable and show that I’m rebelling against the social/political norms’. It can vary from person to person, so it might be better just to google ‘punk fashion’. The whole tag is supposed to be sort of an ‘opposite attract’ type deal.

Anon asked: So in regards to the color au in which you only see color once you touch your soulmate: what if you were born blind? Or when you touch your soulmate, it turns out that you are colorblind?

Chamomile: mmmmmm I’m not a fan of this AU bc of reasons I’m too longwinded about. Skipping this question for me.

M: I guess it’s possible and would make for quite the interesting change in AUs from the usual soulmate trope, but make sure you’re careful when it comes to writing AUs about topics you’re not personally familiar with (such as being blind), but go for it!

Jynn: Idk about it. Lmao I'm picky as heck when it comes to soulmate AUs, and this one has the potential to be interesting but never “stuck out” to me.

Anon asked: hi there! i'm new {ish}, and i've been looking thru ur old posts. i think it's really cool how u help ur followers, school related or not. out of curiosity tho, who is the person who according to that school survey watched so much anime? if u have time, would u mind asking?

Chamomile: Anon I want to know too like, please, show yourself.

M: We support you. Maybe. For the most part.

Jynn: Show ya self ur among friends. I too have consumed too much anime.

Anon asked: Just wanted to say I love your blog. It gives me inspiration! :)

Chamomile: Aaaaa! Thank you <3

M: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jynn: Awwwww!

Anon asked: just poppin in to ask if its okay for us writers to adopt these aus? and claim the whole plot as ours but still credit the bunnies (ie linking it to this acc)? thanks for clarifying!

Chamomile: Totally! We completely encourage it because it brings more people to the blog and also, we get a lot of satisfaction from seeing people enjoy our prompts! Here’s a link on how to cite our au’s: link

Anon asked: omfg, i still think the admins are gorgeous. like f***, you are cute.

Chamomile: Bless your heart, thank you! We really should update what we look like...

M: OKAY YEAH WE SHOULD PUT OUT UPDATE PICS!!!!!! BUT THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!

Jynn: :o ! Thx!

@genosha-meiuqer asked: Weird question. If you woke up one morning and realized you could grow a beard made out of cotton candy, how happy would you be on a scale of 1-10; one being not happy, and ten being extremely happy.

Chamomile: Genosha, I would be so hype, you wouldn’t understand. Like a 10/10. Even if I did get tired of my new cool cotton candy beard like?? I can just wash it off?? Because cotton candy is water soluble?? I see no problems here?? 

M: maybe a 2. Too sticky.

Jynn: 7/10. Might get sticky and tedious (and I work in and pool so it'd probably get in the water) but endless free cotton candy? Yes.

Anon asked: Deadpool 2 boyfriend? yes or no?

Chamomile: consider this….boyfriend….and girlfriend…..dating both at the same time….

M: yus

Jynn: Yes on boyfriend but NOT at the expense of a lady characters story ending badly.

Anon asked: what's your dream job?

Chamomile: whatever makes me happy? Right now I’m happy serving coffee and doing odd writer jobs in exchange for gift cards (#hit me up y’all), but in the future I might want something different so like, it depends as I grow!

M: Creative Producer in Hollywood!!

Jynn: Aaaa I wanna work in entertainment. Running tech, performing, whatever. Gotta be near that world.

Anon asked: Are you a part of any fandoms? Which ones?

Chamomile: oh jeeze well uhhhhh -- I still hold homestuck dear to my heart, but I’ve mostly moved into podcasts (SAYER, The Adventure Zone, WTNV, Carpe DM) and a lot of like, writing niche groups with my friends? If I can count those as ‘small fandoms’.

M: soooooo many: Nightvale, Merlin, Doctor Who, Supernatural, Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, etc. Too many.

Jynn: Still Homestuck like Chamomile. Various Nexflix series: Voltron, Stranger Things. Miraculous Ladybug too. Lots of Max Fun and Night Vale Presents podcasts, McElroy products. I work about 60 hours and week so I like things I can listen to while doing other things.

Anon asked: If you were a dragon, what would you hoard?

Chamomile:....scraps of paper. I have so many. I write down AU ideas and story lines on them and then just like, shove them into my bags and pockets and forget about them.

M: pens. so many pens.

Jynn: Useless cute stuff/LUSH products/stim toys probably.

Anon asked: M, did you draw the illustrations in your piece "The Beacon"?

M: I made it in photoshop, yeah! If anyone is curious, here’s the link to the fic (https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BxP7qW60hE6fUmdSWDJMNHBhRGs/view?usp=sharing). The first draft was written by Admin Chamomile for a speed write but adapted and extended by Admin M just for fun. Go for it and read it if you’d like!!

(Chamomile: just gonna….slide this first draft right here….shhhhhh)

Anon asked: How long would you survive in a zombie apocalypse?

Chamomile: hopefully until humanity can find the cure, lmao

M: maybe a month. maybe.

Jynn: Mmmmm no.

Anon asked: Which Never Book quote is your favorite?

Chamomile: “What were you thinking in that last moment between life and oblivion?” Jynn: “So you take another hit, and sick into a whiskey flavored kiss because he’s not there to tell you no.”

Anon asked: Unicorn or Pegasus?

Chamomile: Unicorn! No real reason why. M: Pegasus. Fly bitches. Jynn: Pegasus is more utilitarian.

Anon asked: this is probably too late for ata, but have you ever wanted to write a piece where the characters are southern but you don't know how to write their drawl or accent or dialect? (currently going thru this for the walking dead)

Chamomile: This sounds like a really interesting “How Do I Write” segment soooooo check back on Thursday ;D 

M: ^^^^^^^^^^

Jynn: Not this specific situation. I live in Missouri so I know well how they talk lmao. I have run into something similar with an Irish character though, lots of research!!

#ask the admins #faq #admin jynn #admin m #the admin chamomile #admin syren is absent so we'll have us all together for the next one!

[hdawg1995]

DnD Antics: “Man up and be a farther, ZACK!”

before rebegin Ryan (frost crystal) changed his name to Sam recently so if you’ve been following our antics for a while know that Frost Crystal is played by Sam. carry on~

we leave the earthen sanctum as it is collapsing. Envoy’s wing is crippled and the Monk tried to save her but got his arm smashed by falling rocks. the everything is crumbling and our witcher almost dies so many times!

DM: roll reflex. elizander: *rolls* DM: okay you trip but flow into a summer salt so you’re still running. elizander: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

everyone gets out BUT Zack!

me: Bardic knowledge! DM: you sense that someone is in trouble. me: I cast fish face folly! DM: odds or evens? me: eeevens? ryan: Odds just to be evil. me: *rolls 17* ryan: ODDS! DM: you cast FishFace’s folly. there is now a moose standing before you. Envoy: *silently screaming* DM: hes eating walnuts. he was gonna get attacked by a bear. me: oh okay. i roll to pet the moose. Envoy: *nat20* me: OF COURSE SHE WOULD! Ryan: this is envoy’s attention span: we are in danger! save the frie- OMG A MOOOSE!

there is now a moose named Oscar that hangs around the pokeball.

*WARNING. THE FOLLOWING IS A DESCRIPTION OF WHAT WE HAD TO DO TO SAVE ZACK. ITS GONNA GET GRAPHIC PRETTY FAST.* 

Zack was in the mouth of the cave but it was collapsing. Tim was rolling horribly and fishface folly was our best bet but it failed so we went with the ranger’s idea: a arrow with a rope tied to it. the original plan was to shot the arrow and hit a leg or something fleshy so it wouldn’t be so bad and would be easier to heal. unfortunately Tim wanted to try and grab the arrow with his good hand. im pretty sure you know where this is going.... the reflex wasn’t high enough so the arrow shoots threw Zacks hand- and into his and out his elbow. his bone is splintered in the process but he can still grab firmly onto the rope. Spine (in his sadistic glee) helps Valekimin pull on the rope to get Zack out of the still collapsing cave. hes at 5 health and is confirmed for worst rope burn/road rash in the history of ever. it was taking too long how ever and Zack was bleeding out, so the ranger has her bear yank on the rope. this cause the arrow to go half way back into Zack’s arm.  once hes out the ranger (in a very bad case of miss wording) yanks the rope and arrow out of his arm, knocking him out. the necromancer boops him on the nose to give him 10 false life but he goes out again when we do the math for the rope burn ON THE INSIDE OF HIS ARM and the bleeding hes doing so the necromancer heals him again. why am i including this you ask?

lindsy: i give the bloody, gory bits of the rope to Rose. Rose: *takes the rope. licks it.* Spine:....do you like it??? Rose: >_>.....>u>....*starts pealing the gore off very slowly* Tim: *horrified into going unconscious AGAIN.*

*OKAY YOU’RE GOOD!*

we all go running off in our own ways to avoid a land slide (Envoy Nazul and Zack are in the pokeball, Spine blink daggers away, Vale flies with her companions, Frost Crystal plan shifts and Elizander....)

DM: roll reflex. coolie: *rolls* DM: you land on your hands and spring into several back flips before righting yourself. you keep running. elizander: FUCK YOU GUUUUUYYYYSSSS! (we actidently left him behind....>_>)

so alicaria goes to the plan where all the deitys are and finds no one there so she goes back to the normal plain HOW EVER....

Vale and Spine try to tree teleport and end up in Frank’s forest.

vale: *casts speak with plants* Frank? hello? Frank: Sup bruh? Ryan: *facepalm* hes a teenager now....

Vale has to go kill a evil yant to prove her worth to her qticotal and spine goes with to watch.

*vale and evil radio active yant fighting* Ryan: is there such thing a necrotic popcorn?

Alicaria brings everyone to the steam punk gnome village. its very bad. Envoy wants to stay and help but she needs to go visit Frank and do some things so they tree-port there. once there, Envoy does a song and dance of prayer to the moose asking for advice. she is told to return to the gnome city and help the people there, and that there is a meeting with all the deities at the moment.

Envoy: okay. i’m going to get some wood for a personal project and then head back to cogsworth! me: *nat 1 on finding some wood* Envoy: *picks up stick* this should be enough! Elizander: Envoy that stick isn’t enough for what ever project you’re doing. Envoy: and how would YOU know me I-Don’t-Have-WoodWorking? elizander: what are you making...? Envoy: rings. elizander: that stick would make 1/3 of a ring, Envoy....

Elizander and alicaria look for a log for Envoy and Alicaria nat 1s.

DM: you turn into a tree. you are comfortable as a tree. its very nice. Envoy: *flies up and sits in the Alicaria tree* Issac shelab and the griffion: *same* Elizander: come on alicaria! we need to go! Envoy: you ARE my only way of getting back to the steam punk city... Sam:.....im a tree :D Alicaria: *cats vines. lifts elizander up* coolie: PUT ME DOWN! Sam: IM A TREE MOTHER FUCKER! :D

evenutally Envoy (who can’t fly, is too far away to ride the yak or teleport) decides to ask Frank the blue flying moose tree for some help.

Frank: sup bruh. Envoy: Sup man.  Frank: wut ya need? Envoy: my ride is kinda tree right now. shes chillin so i ain’t gonna throw off her grove, but i promised the BFM id help out at cogworth. any ideas on how to get me there? Frank: nah bruh...sorry. Envoy: thats alright homie *pat the tree* Frank: wait. hang on i have an idea. *summons tree spirit* yo homes help her out. Spirit: why doesn’t she just fly? Envoy: this ones broken *pats wing* Spirit: *fixes it* eh... still got a job to do.

the spirit lifts Envoy high into the air and we all think shes gonna get thrown. she gets planted into the ground instead and she is sent flying through roots in the ground. still fun! 

DM: you stop. everything is dark. Envoy: *remembering everything Spine taught her about being buried alive, she takes some dirt and drops it to find where ‘up’ is* (this is funny cause it took Spine 12 tries to figure out what direction UP was when he too was shot underground and was trying to dig out)

Envoy pops out of the ground and, with no best friend necromancers to hurt with her ultra awesome flute that heals people, she spends the next 24 hours healing wounds and lifting spirits with her music. mean while...

Envoy: eli- elizander: Envoy. Envoy: i can’t get her to let you go- Elixander: EN-Voooy. Envoy: and i promised the blue flying moose i would help- Elizander: EN. VOY. Envoy: IGattaGoImSorryBye Elizander: DONT LEAVE ME HERE ENVOY! *envoy gets planted* Elizander: ENVOY!....ENVOY DONT LEAVE!....EEENNNVVVOOOYY! Alicaria: do you want up? Elizander: fuck you do you want to play chess???

Elizander plays chess and alicaria is a shore loser. she puts him on frank.

eventually Zack comes out the pokeball with the yak and he tries to help Eliznder but drops him. Eli hangs upside down thanks to the vines alicaria cast to catch him and the Yak boops him about with her snout before eating the vines.

Elizander: i want to go home... Shiba: *bumps the witcher* Elizander: oh? you... you want me to get on? okay. *gets on the yak* are you gonna take me to Cogsworth or- Shiba: *starts to buck him around, rodeo style. this is how she has fun*

Vale kills the thing and Spine takes the remains into his necropolis so he has a new friend.

when we FINALLY get everyone back together, Envoy has a surprise for everyone! While healing the gnomes non stop and keeping spirits high, the gnomes gave her the title “The Healer” (she gets a +10 to heal checks now) and as a thanks for her work, they gave her a air ship.

Tim: so wait- me: I HAVE A AIR SHIP YALL! WOOT WOOT! Ryan: wait JUST her??? DM: YES JUST HER! shes the only one that was helping the city. its HERS.

the wrecking crew has a air ship now. its piloted by flick!

Envoy got some wood along the way and after we fix Zack and stuff and blah im getting tired LETS GET TO THAT TITLE, SHALL WE?

so while Nazul was a baby, Zack decided to be his dad since Slyvia was bent on being his mom. adopting the assassin was pretty nice, and Zack even continued to refier to Nazul as his son when we fixed him. (this is hella sweet cause Nazul never had a mom or dad so this is like major awesome for him).

so what does our grateful neutral evil Assassin ghost boy do? WHY GO BACK TO THE DWARTH CITY AND BUY DRINKS FOR EVERYONE WITH ZACK’S MONEY AND NAME!

he gets caught at first. Drawth: arn’t you that prick that stole everyone’s money while the trolls were attacking? Nazul: are you sure it wasn’t the TROLLS who stole your money? DM: Roll Bluff. Nazul: *Nat 20 cause when DOESNT this group get nat 20s???* Drawth: YOU’RE RIGHT! DAMN TROLLS!

he gets up to alot of mischief. he also turns all the dwarths racist towards gnomes. eventually he gets caught caught and is sent to the king.

King: you bought the town ale with your farther’s money, sent the lot into a drunkin rampage resulting in many citizens breaking into the royal whine cellar, you cheated two times in the pits- Nazul: i was having too much fun. (he killed a orger, a 4 armed gorllia, and a lizard person. he broke the rules cause his rune brought him back to life 2 times) king: -and all this in your farther’s name. how do you think he will react to this? king: *teleports Zack there* this your son?

the result is Zack owes the drawths 100,000,000 gold OR he can return the cane algres stole from them.

and at the moment hes buying cheese for master spliter so he can be level 20 with the rest of us.

SEE YOU ALL NEXT TIME ON DRAGON BALL Z!

#DnD #antics #dungeons and dragons #the wrecking crew

[saltandsilverstories]

Gargoyle

A blob of hand cream, pale pink and scented more like FreBreeze than the cherry blossoms on its packaging, rolls onto my palm. I cap the tube with my teeth, rubbing the cream into my skin. February’s chill had seeped through my gloves, drying out my hands. The cream seemed to coat my fingers more than repair the damage the cold had done.

My legs vibrate against the seat, the keychains on my purse jingling just louder than the rumbling of the subway car.

Most people were sitting, while one or two people stood up, swaying in place as the subway turned down a tunnel. Someone’s music was turned up too loud, the faint screeching of electropop prominent over the shuffling of shoes and crinkling of jackets. Someone down the car coughs, the sound overlapping the voice of the PA system.            

“Arriving at: Museum. Museum station is this stop. Doors will open on the left.”

I drop the hand cream back into my purse, swapping it for my phone. The train jolts as it stops, the doors chiming as they slide open. Bodies change places beyond the threshold of the doors, a biting breeze slipping in between them.

My phone lays in my hand, face down. I flip it over, my finger tapping the screen twice. We flood its blackness. 10:24 in bright white rests on our heads. Me and you, the “One Year Sober” chip between your teeth, the stick of a lollipop between mine. Your hair’s parted in the middle, mine a bit to the right. Our outlines are fuzzy, blurring us into blobs of grey sweatshirt and blue jeans.

---

You had a few of the same sweatshirt, keeping them on-site for convenience, you said. You wore one at the graduation party, its sleeves and chest all dotted with stickers of stars and moons.

They didn’t have a lot of food at the clinic, so I left ten minutes after I got there to pick up a cake from Fortino’s. They were still setting up decorations -- sad, droopy things -- when I got back. Staff placed the cake between the cups and plates, the bubblegum pink and canary yellow of the streamers making the room look a little more like it was meant to house a celebration.

“Jackie!” You held a celery stick in your fingers like a cigarette, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Your hair smelled like dad’s shampoo when we hugged. “Hey.”

With how often I visited, you didn’t bother with a tour, but instead brought me to your dorm.

“No cards today.” You were rooting around in a drawer where the deck usually was.

“Why not?” I shifted where I sat, trying to see over your shoulder. “Hey, wait.”

“What?” A pair of socks landed on the tiles.

“You’re making a mess.” My arm reached for the socks.

“Stop it,” you swatted me away, “It’s fine.”

“Okay, okay.” My legs crossed themselves.

“Here. Look.” You held a package, wrapped in napkins from the cafeteria, held together with tape and elastic bands.

In my palms it seemed so tiny. “What is this?” My voice was tinier still.

“A lil’ something.” You hooked some of your hair behind your ear. “A thank-you.”

The elastics came off easy, and the tape didn’t resist my tugging at all. The bare box seemed like it used to house earrings, or maybe it still did. I popped off the lid.

An envelope lay inside, folded, bent in place with two bobby pins. They clattered inside the empty box as I fished open the envelope.

“Dear Miss Evelyn Santos, we are pleased to inform you…” My voice tapered off so my brain could process the meaning of each word. “Do mom and dad know?”

You nodded, your smile warping your tone. “Called them when it came in the mail. I wanted to tell you in person, though.”

“Evelyn, holy shit.”

“I’m back in action, baby!” Your arms went up in a cheer.

A giggle, mine. The first of the day. It built beneath my tongue until laughter broke free. I embraced you, tighter this time.

“U of T, huh? You’re really cleaning up.” You let go of me. I hoped you could hear how proud I was.

Your left cheek dimple peeked out as your smile deepened. “Wouldn’t have tried if not for you, so thank you.”

“You know I’ll always look out for you.” I handed you back the envelope. The letter had details you needed for registration, or I would’ve kept it in a frame.

“I know, and I hope this, uh, shows you that I’ll be okay. You’ve done a lot for me, and I’m gonna be fine now. It’s time you get back to focusing on you, Jackie.” You placed your hand over mine.

In the main room an hour later, you stood on a fake stage, behind a podium, and a mic on a crooked stand. Your sponsor was right beside you, hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt.

You tapped the mic. “I just wanna say something real quick, if that’s okay?” There was four of your voice, all in different pitches, all muddled by the prehistoric speakers they’d dug up.

Your sponsor nodded.

“Uh, so, heh. I guess, one year ago, this isn’t where I thought I’d be. I was supposed to have graduated by now. From school, not here. There was a point where I, like, wasn’t really myself at all, not even just because of the morphine. It came after, and I don’t remember a lot of it, but I do remember my sister, who’s here with me today--” You pointed me out like I was the one graduating. The warmth that blossomed somewhere under my ribs… If I could’ve bottled it I would have. “--just about dragged me out of our house and got me here. I’m on this stage because of her, and I promise you, Tony and Jackie, and everyone else I’ve come to support here, that once I leave here tonight, I’m never gonna be back.”

Someone else beat me to starting the standing ovation. It died down too quick, just as your sponsor handed you your chip.

You brought an extra lollipop with you when you came back to your seat. Yours was gone by the time the last of the graduates had finished up on stage. I saved mine for after, when you hooked your arm through mine and pulled me over to the windows. The sun wasn’t out anymore, but the streetlamps were, dropping spotlights every few feet along the sidewalk.

“Here,” I handed her my phone, putting the lollipop in my mouth. Rainbow didn’t really have a flavour more complex than just ‘sugar.’ “Take a photo of us.”

Your eyes got really wide as you took the phone, holding it out in front of us. You held the chip between your teeth, maybe trying to match me and my lollipop stick.

“Don’t do that.”

You turned your head before I could grab the chip. “Shh! Just smile.”

We did smile, yours wrinkling by your eyes. You tapped a few things when you were done, holding up the screen for me to see after.

“It’s your lockscreen now.” The chip was in your pocket.

“It’s perfect.”

---

Our selfie vanishes, the screen tired of waiting for my input. My reflection blinks up at me from within the confines of my phone screen. I tap the screen again, opening up WhatsApp. Nothing new greets me in our chat. There’s no service anyway.

“im out w friends”

                                                                                                        “Do they use?”

“it doesn’t matter m’m not like that anymore”

                                                                  “Yeah, but what if you get hurt? You’re 

                                                                                    almost done your master’s. 

                                                                     Don’t let all our  hard work slip away.”

“relax if i was gonna relapse i woudlve already”

                                                                                     “I just want you to be safe.”

“i am safe i am more than safe u gotta let me live a little”

“Now arriving at: St. Patrick. St. Patrick Station is this stop. Doors will open on the left.”

I blink, glancing at the blinking lights of the line map. Just two more until Union. I lock the phone, shoving into my coat pocket.

Laughter trickles down the car until it’s beside me. I follow it to its source: two girls, one in pink earmuffs, the other in a black toque, hunched over a phone in earmuff’s hands.

My gut folds itself in half, sharp edges digging into the inside of my abdomen.

---

I was in the bathroom. Listerine sloshed around inside my mouth, my study sheet taped up on the mirror. Still had to get to my skincare, and floss before going back to review the rest of the review notes I’d left lying in my room.

The exhaust fan was on, and it clunked every few seconds. The squeak of the knob on my bedroom door was only just louder than the fan.

I spat the mouthwash out, wiping my mouth with one hand, the other unlocking the bathroom door.

The light was on in my room. A shadow flitted around inside. Papers rasped, drawers groaned open and shut.

You were in jeans and a shirt I didn’t recognize. Your hair was up in a bun on top of your head, off-centre. You knelt by my bed, one of your arms lost beneath the space between it and the floor.

My lips pressed together, leaning against the doorframe. I faced the hallway.

The box scraped along the hardwood as you unearthed it.

Maybe you’d leave the change in there. Maybe you’d only take the change. Maybe you’d only take what you needed. Maybe you were adding to my savings. Maybe you’d pulled out a normal shoebox instead.

Coins jingled, and any other maybes dissipated.

           The photo of us, of me, you, mom, and dad, hanging by the stairs was obscured. The glass caught the light leaking from my room, blotting out the four of us.

The box replaced itself, your footsteps dampened by your socks.

The light switch clicked. The door shut.

Your eyes were on me, and mine were searching for you in a photograph.

---

“Now arriving at: Union. Union Station is this stop. Doors will open on the left.”

My legs wobble as I cross the car, the motion of the train working against my heels.

The walk to the Tim’s is short, or maybe it’s long and I’m fast-forwarding the in-between. My phone buzzes in my coat pocket. Once, twice, again.

I forget to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Hey. You close?” The inside of the store spills out with your voice.

“Yeah, I’m coming in now,” I huff, my breath blooming in front of my face. I pass through the cloud, pulling open the door.

“Jackie!”

I turn towards the call and see you in a booth for two, one arm waving me over, the other placing your phone into the pocket of your scrub shirt.

I drape my coat over the back of my seat. A French Vanilla sits on my side of the table, mirroring yours.

“Cold out there, huh?” You start, pulling your drink towards you.

I nod, taking my seat.

Your scrubs are clean and without wrinkles. You iron them. Your hair is smooth and curled at the ends. You style your hair. Your eyes are lined with thin wings, your skin airbrushed. You do your makeup now.

My jeans were bought two years ago. My hair is in a bun. I’m bareface and in a sweater I wore two times this week.

Chatter and a grainy remix of Bad Romance fills the space between our words.

“How’ve you been?” I ask right away. It’s all I really need to know.

You sip from your drink, nodding. “Good, good. Work’s good, I’m good.”

Are you using? “That’s good, yeah.”

“What about you? You guys working on anything new?” You sound curious. Genuine.

“Uh, not yet. We’re between projects right now.” I rotate my cup with my fingertips. “The last game didn’t do very well, so we’re just brainstorming.”

“Ah, okay. I’m sure you’ll figure out something.” A smile.

I return with my own smile. It ends at my cheeks.

We take a sip from our drinks.

“Okay, I’m just gonna say it before I can’t.” You exhale sharply.

“Say what?” I hear myself ask.

You look down at your drink, then at me. “I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean?” I regret drinking anything at all.

You nip your lower lip, pushing some of your hair behind your ear. You match the tiny photo of yourself on the ID pinned to your shirt. “I can’t… If… I don’t want us to not talk, you know? And if you’re gonna freak out and try and micromanage me again…”

My head bobs. “I get it, Evelyn. I… I will always look out for you, but I get it, and I’m trying. I’m trying to give you what you want. Youve gotta know why I worry, though.”

You hold your drink with both of your hands. “I know, I know, but sis, it’s been like six years. I’m around the stuff every day and I don’t have urges. I don’t wanna be where I was before. I’m okay now, and I need you to know that, like, really know that if I’m gonna let you back in again.”

What if you get hurt? What if I could stop you but I don’t? A long exhale escapes through my nose. “Okay. Yeah, okay. I, uh. You’re right. I backed off for this long. I trusted you, I do trust you, and yeah. I get it. You’re okay now.”

You don’t need me anymore.

“Thank you.” You take my hand across the table, squeezing for a second before letting go. Your smile is large, pushing even your eyebrows up higher. Those used to be untrimmed, bushy things, but now they were slim, framing your eyes. You’re okay.

I smile back. It goes a little farther this time.

#from the same portfolio as memento mori #this one is called gargoyle bc #what do gargoyles do #they guard things #but this is guardianship to an extreme #it was a lot more surreal in its earliest drafts #mywriting

[popofventi]

Take A Wissen! Favorite 100 Songs of 2018 :: #20-1

Cooking, driving, working, blogging, cleaning, playing, parenting…whatever. I’m listening to music. Throughout the year. All the time. Every day.

These are my favorite 100 songs from the past year. Notice I’m not egotistical enough to proclaim my love of them makes them the “Best Songs of the Year” like other year end lists. They are simply my favorite; the ones I do not want to forget and are now in Jay’s musical rotation from now til eternity. OR until Spotify goes under and all my playlists are lost or the world ends. Or my world ends. May they make you move, sing, cry, close your eyes, smile, do the white man’s overbite or the Elaine dance. Like Eddie Murphy’s Buckwheat said, “Take A Wissen!”.

20.  “Shallow” by Bradley Cooper & Lady Gaga

"In all the good times I find myself longing for change And in the bad times, I fear myself"

19. “What Do You Want” by Nico Vega

"You can go ahead and hate me For bringing in news"

18. “Heavy” by Birdtalker

"If your face is down Take a look around Do your fingers move? Do your lungs inflate? Are you tired are you weary Of the hidden hate you've been holding?"

17. “Me & My Dog” by boygenius (Julien Baker, Lucy Dacus & Phoebe Bridgers)

"I didn't wanna be this guy I cried at your show with the teenagers Tell your friend I'll be all right In the morning it won't matter"

16. “Mariners Apartment Complex” by Lana Del Rey

"I fucked up, I know that, but Jesus Can't a girl just do the best she can?"

15. “Summer’s End” by John Prine

"Well you never know how far from home you're feelin' Until you've watched the shadows cross the ceilin'"

14. “Geyser” by Mitski

"Though I'm a geyser Feel it bubbling from below Hear it call, hear it call Hear it call to me Constantly And hear the harmony Only when it's harming me It's not real, it's not real It's not real enough"

13. “The Right Time” by Ural Thomas and The Pain

"Ural Thomas could have been a crooner, a funk singer, a smooth R&B artist. He could have bounced between Otis Redding and Isaac Hayes. Instead he disappeared for decades. Fortunately, his reemergence shows roots across the R&B spectrum, but isn't indebted to any of them. Instead of a throwback to a given line, we get simply Ural Thomas in the present, something that's easy to dig."  -- Pop Matters

12. “Neon Moon” by Cigarettes After Sex

"There's a rundown bar 'cross the railroad tracks I've got a table for two way in the back Where I sit alone and think of you"

11. “Come Out And Play” by Billie Eilish

"But I love it when you're awfully quiet"

10. “I Only Dance When I Want To” by The Spook School

"You say "it's my favourite song" You said that about every one And you're reaching for my hands now But I don't wanna dance now"

09. “The Hype” by Shopping

"The drums wallop, the guitar skitters, and bassist Billy Easter's corkscrewing bass urges the track forward, lending extra oomph to their provocations. Around the halfway mark, Aggs lets loose with a brash guitar solo that explodes like a piñata. “The Hype” is Shopping at its best."  -- Pitchfork

08. “The Wish” by Bruce Springsteen

"Well, last night we all sat around laughin' at the things that guitar bought us And I laid awake thinkin' 'bout the other things it's brought us Well, tonight I'm takin' requests here in the kitchen This one's for you, ma, let me come right out and say it But if you're lookin' for a sad song, hell I ain't gonna play it"

07. “1933” by Frank Turner

"If I was of the greatest generation I'd be pissed Surveying the world that I built slipping back into this I'd be screaming at my grandkids: "We already did this""

06. “Is That Alright?” by Lady Gaga

"Nothing you say wouldn't interest me All of your words are like poems to me"

05. “You’re Somebody Else” by Flora Cash

"Well you look like yourself But you're somebody else Only it ain't on the surface Well you talk like yourself No, I hear someone else though Now you're making me nervous"

04. “New Birth In New England” by Phosphorescent

"The most significant things can happen at the most insignificant moments. With a sultry swing, and a relatively joyous piano melody, the track chronicles Houck meeting his new love in a random bar in New England."  -- The 405

03. “Normal” by Sasha Sloan

"Keep on playing that song that I don't like I just wanna feel normal for the night"

02. “This Is America” by Childish Gambino

"What Gambino put together is a true picture of America, where so many of us get to dance and sing and laugh and create. All the while others are largely ignored and trapped in the background, struggling and sometimes dying in a sea of ugliness that many of us would rather not acknowledge, knowing it would ruin the pretty pictures we’d rather focus on. By the end, Gambino’s carefree dancing becomes a full sprint from the madness. He couldn’t escape the reckoning. Neither can America."  -- CNN's Issac Bailey

01. “Seventeen” by Welles

"In our heads we're like winners Though we're just beginners At some miserable game I'll take you out to Ar-kansas Where there's beer and molasses We'll let the times fly on past us The whole world, kiss our asses Through red trees and white trashes"

#100-81

#80-61

#60-41

#40-21

2018 Favorite 100 Songs :: SPotify Playlist

2017 Favorite 100 Songs :: Spotify Playlist

More Ventipop Recommended Music

#Seventeen #Best Songs 2018 #Favorite Songs 2018 #Indie Music #Lady Gaga #Nico Vega #Birdtalker #Julien Baker #Lucy Dacus #Phoebe Bridgers #boygenius #Lana Del Rey #John Prine #Mitski #Ural Thomas and the Pain #Cigarettes After Sex #Billie Eilish #The Spook School #Shopping The Hype #Bruce Springsteen #Frank Turner #Flora Cash #Phosphorescent #Sasha Sloan #Childish Gambino #Welles