#revelations nevada

[fanciedfacts]

Area 51 Is Government top secret location - But Why?

#Area 51 secrets #Military mysteries #UFOs and Area 51 #Secret government projects #Conspiracy theories #Alien technology research #Cold War history #Nevada Test Site #Black projects #Extraterrestrial life #Advanced aircraft #Top secret military bases #Area 51 revelations #Unexplained phenomena #National security #Roswell incident #Skunk Works projects #Secret testing facilities

[heartforchrist]

#nevada earthquake #arizona #earthquake #jesusiscoming #jesuschrist #raptureready #rapture #antichrist #endtimes #bibletruth #great tribulation #revelations #bible prophecy #salvation #Youtube

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 22/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, angst, hurt

Word Count: 6428

A/N: This is part 22 of “His only exception”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Two weeks later, you walked towards Annie’s office, to hand her some reports, but as you were about to knock at her door, you overheard her talking.

Annie’s voice rang out, laced with frustration and urgency, as she bellowed into the phone to Butcher. "Why the hell is Soldier Boy still in America?", she demanded, her tone tinged with incredulity. "He should have been transported to Russia by now. What’s the holdup?".

Your breath caught in your throat as her words echoed in your ears, sending a shiver down your spine.

With bated breath, you pressed your ear to the door, straining to catch every word of the conversation unfolding within.

Inside the office, Butcher’s voice came through the phone, gruff and strained. "The Russians are afraid to take him back", he explained, his words heavy with frustration. "They don’t want to deal with the fallout if he escapes again. They want assurances, guarantees".

Annie let out a frustrated sigh, her voice tinged with exasperation. "Well, we can’t keep him here forever", she snapped, her irritation palpable. "We need to figure this out, and fast".

Your heart raced as you listened in, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together in your mind.

As you stumbled back from the door, clutching the reports tightly in your hands, a whirlwind of emotions churned within you.

With each step back to your office, your thoughts raced, grappling with the implications of what you had overheard. The tension in the air seemed to thicken around you, suffocating you with the weight of the secrets and lies that permeated Vought.

Once safely back in your office, you sank into your chair, your mind reeling as you tried to process everything you had just heard.

As you sank into your chair, the weight of the revelations pressing down on you, you couldn't shake the nagging questions swirling in your mind. Why would your friends hold Ben captive? There´s no way you misunderstood the hole situation.

The thought of Ben being returned to the Russians, to face the horrors of his past once more, sent a shiver down your spine. Your heart raced like crazy. You knew the extent of the torture he endured during his time in their captivity, and the idea of him being subjected to it again was unbearable.

No matter what he had done, to you or anyone else, this was just cruel.

With a heavy heart, you began to piece together the fragments of information, trying to make sense of the tangled web of secrets and lies that surrounded Ben's disappearance. But the more you delved into it, the more questions arose, leaving you feeling more lost and confused than ever before.

As someone who had spent countless hours tracking down supes in your previous job at Supe Affairs, you knew the ins and outs of investigative work like the back of your hand. If anyone could uncover Ben's whereabouts, it was you.

You should have done something sooner. Damn it, you hated yourself right now. Why did you trusted your team so easily? But… they were your friends, so you never thought about them lying to you.

For eight grueling hours, you poured over every piece of data on your laptop, leaving no stone unturned in your quest for answers. It was a tedious process, but your determination never wavered, fueled by the hope of finally finding a lead.

And then, just when you were beginning to lose hope, you stumbled upon a promising clue—an upcoming shipment from Nevada to Russia. Then it hit you. Your heart raced. A shipment from supe affairs. Fuck.

This could be it, you thought to yourself, the breakthrough you had been searching for. This had to be it. This had to be Ben.

Thats when Annie and Hughie knocked on your door. You were jolted out of your intense focus, the sound pulling you back to the present moment. Blinking away the remnants of your concentration, you forced a smile as you greeted them.

"Hey, come on in", you said, trying to sound cheerful despite the turmoil raging inside you. "Sorry, I lost track of time. I'll be ready in just a minute".

Annie raised an eyebrow at your distracted and stressed demeanor, her expression tinged with concern. "Everything okay?", she asked, her voice gentle.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. Finally, you shook your head, plastering on a false smile. "Yeah, just got caught up in some work stuff", you replied, hoping they wouldn't press for more details.

You joined Annie and Hughie for dinner, you did your best to push aside the rage and confusion swirling within you. The possibility that your friends had captured Ben and kept it from you gnawed at your conscience, but for now, you chose to keep silent about what you had overheard. If that shipment was really connected to Ben, or worse, was Ben, the last thing you needed was them, to react in a hurry.

Throughout the meal, you engaged in polite conversation, masking your inner turmoil behind a façade of normalcy. Despite your efforts, however, a part of you remained preoccupied with thoughts of Ben and the unsettling revelations you had stumbled upon.

As the dessert arrived, Annie and Hughie engaged in light banter, discussing their latest mission at Vought. You joined in sporadically, offering a smile or a nod while your mind wandered to darker thoughts.

Annie noticed your distraction and placed a hand on your arm, concern etched in her features. "Is really everything alright?", she asked, her voice gentle.

You forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, just a bit tired from work and stuff", you replied, your tone carefully neutral.

Hughie glanced between you and Annie, sensing the tension in the air. "If there's anything on your mind, you can always talk to us", he offered, his expression earnest.

You nodded, before you asked cautiously, "Did either of you happen to see anything about Ben lately?", trying to sound casual.

Annie and Hughie exchanged a glance, their expressions guarded.

Annie sighed softly before responding, "No, we haven't heard anything about him. But it's not uncommon for supes to keep a low profile".

You nodded again, but the unease in your stomach only grew. "It just seems crazy", you continued, "that someone as powerful as Ben hasn't been seen by a fan or caught on camera or anything. Especially now that Homelander is no longer a supe, Ben is essentially the most powerful being on the planet. The media should be going crazy about him".

Annie's brow furrowed in thought, but she didn't offer any further insight. "Maybe he just want to have some private time for now", she suggested vaguely.

You knew pressing further would only raise suspicion.

Annie let out a heavy sigh, her gaze distant as she mumbled, "You still miss him, don’t you?".

You bit your lip, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Yeah", you admitted softly, unable to hide the ache in your voice.

Her next question caught you off guard. "So… there wasn´t just friendship between you two, right?", she asked.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "At first, maybe", you replied carefully. "But… it got complicated. I don't know".

Annie nodded understandingly, her expression sympathetic. "Well, if you ever need to talk about it, about your feelings, I'm here", she offered sincerely.

You offered her another fake smile.

How could she sit there and lie so badly to your face? How could the whole team, your friends, lie to you like that and keep you in the dark? And how could you have been so stupid and naïve as not to question Ben's disappearance?

With determined resolve, you booked a flight to Nevada as soon as you arrived home that evening. As you started packing a small bag, you continued your research, driven by the need to uncover the truth. There was no way you could ignore the possibility that Ben might be in danger once again.

If there was even the slightest chance that he was enduring another hellish ordeal, you had to do everything in your power to prevent it. You owed him that much, after everything you had been through together.

With each item you packed, you felt a sense of urgency coursing through your veins. Time was of the essence, and you couldn't afford to waste a single moment.

As your flight took off in the middle of the night, you felt a sense of urgency propelling you forward. You had booked the soonest flight available, unwilling to waste another precious minute while Ben's fate hung in the balance.

Touching down in Nevada in the early hours of the morning, you wasted no time. Calling in sick to work, you made your way to the nearest taxi stand, determined to reach the small airport where the mysterious shipment to Russia was set to depart. With each passing moment, your heart raced with anticipation, fueled by the hope that you might find some answers about Ben's whereabouts.

As the taxi pulled up to the airport, you stepped out, your pulse quickening with each step you took. With every passing second, the weight of the unknown pressed down upon you, but you refused to let fear hold you back. Steeling yourself for whatever lay ahead, you marched forward, ready to uncover the truth no matter the cost.

Taking a deep breath, you approached the guards stationed at the entrance to the airport. "Starlight sent me to make sure everything is ready for the shipment", you explained confidently, hoping to gain their trust. Well, you had a few hours to prepare yourself for every possible argument.

The guards exchanged suspicious glances, their eyes narrowing as they scrutinized you. "We weren't informed of any additional personnel", one of them remarked, his tone skeptical. But they knew your face. Your new position at vought was pretty much being Annie´s PA.

Undeterred, you maintained your composure, offering plausible explanations for your presence. With each carefully chosen word, you worked to assuage their doubts and convince them of your legitimacy.

After a tense exchange, the guards finally relented, allowing you to pass through the security checkpoint. As you stepped inside the airport, a sense of relief washed over you, knowing that you had cleared the first hurdle.

You walked through the airport. For a while.

As you finally entered the security room, you were met with the scrutinizing gazes of another two guards. Keeping your composure, you approached them with even more confidence.

"Starlight is waiting at the entrance", you lied smoothly, your tone authoritative. "She needs to discuss some urgent matters with you both".

The guards exchanged hesitant glances, clearly uncertain about the unexpected interruption. However, they seemed hesitant to defy the authority of someone claiming to be sent by Starlight.

Nodding in acknowledgment, they quickly vacated their posts, eager to address the purported issue at the entrance. As they hurried off, you took advantage of the opportunity to slip further into the security room.

"Idiots. This was way too easy", you rolled your eyes.

As you monitored the security cameras and navigated through the building's system, a mix of disbelief and amusement washed over you. The familiarity of the security system, reminiscent of Vought's own setup, struck you as both ironic and unsettling.

With each click and keystroke, you delved deeper into the labyrinthine network of corridors and chambers. It wasn't long before your keen eye caught sight of a series of heavily guarded rooms nestled within the bowels of the basement.

The sight sent a shiver down your spine, the gravity of the situation sinking in. These rooms held the answers you sought.

As you pocketed one of the access cards from the guards, a surge of adrenaline fueled your resolve. With each step towards the elevators, your heart pounded in anticipation and sure some fear.

With a steady hand, you inserted the card into the elevator panel, the soft beep signaling acceptance as the doors slid open before you. Stepping inside, you selected the basement level, your breath catching in your throat as the elevator descended into the depths of the building.

As the doors opened to reveal the dimly lit corridors of the basement, you steeled yourself for what lay ahead. With each step forward, you drew closer to the truth. Hopefully to Ben.

With each door you passed through, the tension in the air grew thicker, your nerves coiling tightly with each step. Using the access card, you navigated through the labyrinthine corridors of the basement, encountering occasional guards whom you managed to deceive with well-rehearsed lies and a calm demeanor.

As you ventured deeper into the bowels of the facility, you couldn't shake the sense of urgency that gnawed at your insides.

With each encounter with a guard, you maintained a facade of confidence, engaging in casual conversation and deflecting any suspicion with practiced ease. The guards, unaware of your true intentions, offered little resistance. Again, fucking idiots.

Finally, after navigating through a series of winding corridors and heavily guarded checkpoints, you stood before the imposing bulk of the last big steel door. Your heart raced as you reached for the access card once more, steeling yourself for whatever lay beyond.

A wave of shock and horror washed over you as the door swung open, revealing the grim scene before you. There, chained up on an examination table, lay Ben, his once-powerful form now reduced to a pitiful sight. Tubes snaked from his body, connected to machines that hummed softly in the dimly lit room.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him, his face obscured by a large mask, his body restrained by heavy chains. He lay still and silent, completely vulnerable and at the mercy of his captors.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you took in the sight before you. The reality of the situation crashed down upon you with force, filling you with a mix of anguish, anger, and despair.

But amidst the chaos of your emotions, one thing remained clear: you had found Ben, and now it was up to you to free him from this nightmare.

As you approached Ben, your heart pounding in your chest, you cast a wary glance around the room, ensuring that you were alone and undetected.

Reaching out with trembling fingers, you gently lifted the mask from Ben's face, revealing his features beneath. His expression was serene, his features softened in sleep.

Your heart ached at the sight of him, your fingers tracing the lines of his face as if to reassure yourself that he was real, that he was still here with you.

As Ben's eyes snapped open, a primal fury ignited within him, driving him to break free from his restraints with a fierce determination. With a low growl emanating from deep within his chest, he lunged towards you, his movements swift and predatory.

In an instant, his hands closed around your throat, crushing the air from your lungs as he pinned you against the wall with a vice-like grip. Your vision blurred instantly, the world fading around you as you struggled to draw breath.

"Mm…Ben", you managed to gasp, your voice barely a whisper as you gazed up at him with pleading eyes, hoping to reach the man buried beneath the rage.

In the final moment before his grip tightened, Ben's gaze locked onto yours, recognition flickering in his eyes as he registered your presence. With a sharp intake of breath, he released his hold, allowing you to crumple to the ground beneath him.

His voice trembled with a mixture of anger and disbelief as he demanded, "Did you fucking know about this?".

You choked back a sob, tears welling in your eyes as you shook your head frantically. "No, no, no", you gasped, your voice barely audible as you struggled to find your breath. He believed you, at least for the moment.

But Ben's rage erupted quickly, his voice reverberated through the room, filled with fury and betrayal. "Those fucking bastards tricked me!", he roared, his chest beginning to glow with a dangerous intensity.

You couldn't blame him for his anger, quite the opposite. You were at least as angry. But when you saw his chest begin to glow, you knew it wouldn't end well if he didn't calm down.

Fear gripped your heart as you pleaded with him, your voice trembling with desperation. "Ben, please, calm down", you begged. "You'll kill me if you explode".

Despite Ben's seething anger, your trembling hand reaching out to touch his. "Ben, please", you pleaded, your voice cracking with fear and urgency. "I know you're angry, I know it´s a lot, but… but we need to find a way out of here… now".

His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with the intensity of his emotions. For a moment, his gaze softened as he looked into your eyes, but the fire of his rage still burned bright within him.

He knew you were right.

With a wild intensity in his eyes, Ben growled at you to stay behind him. Without hesitation, he strode through the door, his movements filled with purpose and determination. As you followed closely behind, your heart raced with adrenaline.

Just beyond the threshold, a horde of guards awaited, their weapons at the ready. But Ben's grin widened, a fierce gleam in his eyes as he cracked his neck with a primal snarl. With a swift, savage motion, he launched into action, tearing through the guards with unmatched ferocity.

The air was filled with the sickening sound of flesh being rent apart and the metallic tang of blood. Ben moved with lethal precision, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake as he fought his way through the opposition, his fury unchecked and unstoppable.

As Ben tore through the guards with unparalleled brutality, you followed closely behind, your stomach churning with each gruesome scene unfolding before you. The once pristine corridors of the facility were now painted in shades of crimson, the air thick with the stench of blood and death.

With each strike, Ben's movements were fluid and precise, his strength and speed unmatched as he dispatched his enemies with ruthless efficiency. You did your best to keep up, your heart pounding in your chest.

Despite the horror of the situation, you forced yourself to steel your nerves, pushing aside the overwhelming urge to vomit as you focused on staying close to Ben's side. With each step, you prayed for the nightmare to end, yearning for the safety and solace of escape.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you emerged from the building.

As the chaos subsided and you both emerged from the building, the weight of the ordeal hung heavy in the air. Ben's gaze swept over the scene, his expression unreadable as he took in the aftermath of the carnage.

Without a word, he made his way to the nearest car, dispatching the last few guards with a swift efficiency that bordered on mechanical. You followed closely behind, your mind still reeling from the violence you had just witnessed.

When you reached a car, Ben paused, opening the passenger door casual. Despite the grim circumstances, there was a sense of familiarity in his actions.

You climbed into the car, the leather seats cool against your skin as you settled in. Ben joined you moments later, sliding behind the wheel with a sense of purpose.

The engine roared to life and Ben quickly navigated the vehicle away from the scene of destruction. As you drove off, the weight of what had just transpired hung heavy in the air, the silence between you filled with unspoken questions and lingering tension.

You couldn't help but stare at him, your mind still reeling from the violent ordeal you had just witnessed. With a mix of disbelief and exhaustion, you blurted out. "Even in this situation, you open me the damn car door?", you asked incredulously, your tone a mix of bewilderment and irritation.

Ben glanced at you, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Hey, just because we're fucking knee-deep in chaos doesn't mean I have to abandon my fucking manners", he replied with a hint of amusement, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a small chuckle despite the gravity of the situation. Despite everything.

But his mood changed within seconds.

He turned to you, his chest beginning to glow once more. "Why the fucking hell did your fucking friends capture me?", he demanded, his voice tinged with frustration and anger.

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm as you tried to steady his rising temper. "I don't know, Ben", you replied calmly, meeting his gaze with sincerity. "I overheard Annie talking to Butcher about it, but I don't have all the details. They never told me anything".

Ben's expression softened slightly, his features contorting with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "They never fucking told you?", he echoed, his voice tinged with incredulity. "After everything?".

You shook your head, a heavy weight settling in your chest as you confronted the painful reality of the situation. "No, they didn't", you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Ben. I wish I had done something sooner".

For a moment, silence hung in the air between you, the weight of unspoken words echoing in the car's confined space.

As Ben's chest gradually ceased its ominous glow, a sense of relief washed over you both, the tension in the air dissipating slightly.

"I can't fucking believe this shit", Ben muttered, his voice heavy with disbelief as he processed the revelations. "Four months… I've been gone for four fucking months?".

You nodded solemnly, the weight of the truth hanging heavily in the air. "Yeah", you confirmed softly, meeting his gaze with empathy. "It's been over four months since… since everything happened".

Ben fell silent, his expression a mixture of shock and resignation as he grappled with the reality of the situation. The passage of time seemed to stretch before him, a testament to the countless moments lost in the void of captivity.

"How did you find me?", Ben's voice cut through the silence, his eyes narrowing as he studied you intently.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you. "I… I overheard Annie talking", you repeated yourself, your voice barely above a whisper. "She mentioned something about a shipment from Nevada to Russia, and I knew… I just knew it had to be you and I had to find you".

Ben's expression softened slightly, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "You risked everything to come after me", he murmured. "Why?".

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head. "Because you're not just 'anyone' to me, Ben", you replied, your voice tinged with emotion. "You're…damn it, even after what happened… you´re… you're everything".

As Ben's hand found its way to your thigh, a surge of electricity coursed through your body, igniting a fire within you. Despite the turmoil in his mind, his touch spoke volumes, conveying emotions that words could never fully express.

You met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the intensity of the moment enveloping you. In that fleeting instant, the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time.

With a silent understanding passing between you, you leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand against your skin. In that simple gesture, you found a sense of belonging, a connection that transcended the chaos and uncertainty of the world around you.

You missed him.

More than anything.

The landscape blurred past as Ben continued to drive, the silence between you stretching on. Unable to bear the weight of the quiet any longer, you finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper as you confessed, "I missed you".

Ben's grip on your thigh tightened slightly in response. Despite the absence of words, his touch conveyed a depth of emotion that resonated deeply within you, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty of your reunion.

After driving for what felt like an eternity, Ben finally pulled the car to a stop in front of a nondescript motel. The neon sign flickered weakly overhead, casting a dim glow over the deserted parking lot.

About 15 minutes later, Ben settled onto the bed with a heavy sigh, you moved to sit beside him, the weight of the recent events hanging heavily in the air between you. His gaze was distant, his expression inscrutable as he stared off into the distance.

You carefully asked, "Do you want to take a shower? I can find something for you to wear that doesn’t scream 'soldier boy went crazy'".

Ben grunted in response, his gaze still distant as he nodded slightly.

With Ben in the shower, you seized the opportunity to dash to the nearest mall. Racing through the aisles, you grabbed a small selection of clothes that you hoped would suit him. After paying in a hurry, you grabbed some food and rushed back to the motel. You didn't really want to leave ben alone, not in his state of mind.

As you arrived, you noticed your phone buzzing incessantly with missed calls and messages from Butcher and the rest of the team. Ignoring them, you powered off your phone, determined to focus solely on Ben's well-being for the time being.

You froze in the doorway, catching sight of Ben lounging on the bed naked, flipping through channels on the small TV. Your cheeks flushed crimson as embarrassment flooded through you, and your hand instinctively flew to cover your eyes.

"Uh, sorry", you stammered, averting your gaze. "I, uh, brought you some clothes and food",

Ben glanced over at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "About time", he remarked dryly, reaching for the clothes in your hand.

He watched you how you covered your eyes, a bemused expression crossing his features. With a raised eyebrow, he reached out and gently pulled your hand away from your face.

"You've seen it all before, haven't you?", he remarked. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?".

Your heart raced at his touch, a shiver running down your spine as his deep, husky voice washed over you. Instantly, you felt a familiar warmth spreading through your body, your arousal igniting at the mere sound of him.

Ben's smirk deepened as he sensed your reaction to his touch and words. "Guess the worst part of me getting captured was that I couldn't take care of you properly". He emphasized the word ´properly´ his gaze smoldering with desire.

As you looked up at him, your heart pounding with desire, you felt an overwhelming urge to close the distance between you. With a boldness born of longing and pent-up passion, you reached up to cup his face in your hands, pulling him down to you with a sense of urgency. It was too long. You missed Ben more than words could ever express. You loved him. Him. Ben.

Your lips met his in a fiery kiss, hungry and desperate, as if trying to convey all the emotions and desires that had built up during your time apart. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the electrifying connection between you and Ben, the raw intensity of your mutual longing washing over you both.

As Ben pulled you up onto his hips, the world seemed to spin around you, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of his body pressed against yours. Pressed against the wall next to the door, you yielded to the passionate onslaught of his kiss, feeling a rush of heat coursing through your veins.

With one hand beneath your ass, supporting your weight effortlessly, and the other cupping your face, Ben deepened the kiss with a fervor that left you breathless. Your fingers dug into his biceps, seeking purchase as you surrendered to the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

A deep, primal moan escaped your lips, reverberating in the small space between you, as the world outside faded into insignificance, leaving only the fiery passion that ignited between you and Ben.

Amidst the fervor of your embrace, Ben's lips danced along your collarbone, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. As his touch ignited a wildfire of desire within you, you couldn't help but let out a soft whimper of pleasure. You were his own personal drug.

Ben's deep voice rumbled against your skin, a hint of amusement laced with desire. "Told you to be fucking careful with those noises", he murmured, his lips trailing a path of heat down your neck.

With a shuddering breath, you tightened your grip on his shoulders, your nails grazing his skin as you surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch. Every sensation, every caress, sent waves of pleasure crashing over you.

With a swift motion, Ben tore away your shorts and panties in one fluid movement, leaving red lines marking where the fabric had been. You inhaled sharply at the suddenness of his action, but the surge of desire coursing through you overwhelmed any pain as you pressed your lips harder against his.

Driven by an insatiable need to feel him, to taste him, you deepened the kiss, your body arching against his in a desperate plea for more. The raw intensity of the moment consumed you both.

Lost in the whirlwind of desire, all you could think about was him—the weeks of longing, the ache of his absence—all of it culminating in this moment. His presence enveloped you, his scent, his warmth, his touch.

Desperation laced your voice as you begged for more, your words a fervent plea for the release of pent-up desire. "Please", you whimpered, your voice thick with need. "I need you".

Ben's amused grin widened as he teased. "Maybe I should disappear more often if this is the kind of welcome I get", he chuckled, his hand trailing down to his throbbing length.

At this point it became damn clear to you, that this was Ben´s way of handling his swirling emotions of what the team had done to him. Or wanted to do to him.

With a confident grip, he positioned himself at your entrance. As his tip brushed against your slick folds, you gasped.

With bated breath, you braced yourself against the wall, your muscles tensing in anticipation of his next move.

Slowly, tantalizingly, Ben began to push forward, his thick length inching its way into your welcoming warmth.

With one measured thrust, you felt yourself stretching to accommodate him, the delicious ache mingling with the throbbing heat pooling between your legs.

As he sank deeper, your senses were consumed by the heady sensation of him filling you completely. The friction between you driving you to grind against him in search of greater pleasure.

As Ben's hips pressed flush against yours, his breath hot against your skin, he peppered kisses along your neck, his lips trailing a path of fire along your sensitive flesh. Each brush of his lips sent shivers of pleasure racing through your body, intensifying the already overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

With a husky voice, thick with desire, Ben whispered against your ear. "You feel so fucking good", he murmured, his breath hitching as he fought to control his own rising arousal.

With that, he started to move, slowly at first. He would never admit it, but he missed you just as much, even though he wasn´t really awake for the last few months.

As Ben's thrusts grew more forceful, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over you, he struggled to stifle his own moans of pleasure. With each breathless gasp, he fought to maintain control, his lips seeking yours in a desperate attempt to silence his own cries of ecstasy.

Lost in the intoxicating haze of pleasure, you clung to each other, consumed by the raw, primal desire that bound you together. In that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the searing heat of your passion.

"Fuck, I missed you so much", you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Ben's movements became more urgent, driving you against the wall with force. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed in the small motel room, a symphony of desire and longing that reverberated through the air.

With a firm grip on your ass, Ben lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed where he hovered above you, his gaze dark with desire. His cock brushed against your slick folds, teasing you with its hardness as he groaned at the sight of your swollen, eager pussy.

“Fuck, Sweetheart. I nearly forgot how fucking beautiful you are", he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he continued to tease you with his throbbing length.

As you shuddered beneath him, your desire reaching a fever pitch, you pressed your hips against his throbbing length, craving the feeling of him deep inside you.

With a low, guttural groan, Ben captured your lips in a searing kiss.

As you press your hips against Ben's throbbing length, he groans in response, his desire evident in the way his eyes darken with lust. You reach up, pulling him closer as he positions himself between your legs.

Ben thrusts forward, sinking deep inside you in one swift motion. You gasp at the sensation, feeling him fill you completely as he moves with softer strokes. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, intensifying with every movement.

You writhe beneath him, lost in the pleasure of the moment.

As the tension builds and you feel yourself nearing the peak of pleasure, Ben's commanding voice cuts through the haze of desire. "Come for me sweetheart", he orders, his voice low and urgent, his gaze intense as he watches you intently.

His words ignite a fire within you, pushing you over the edge as you surrender to the pleasure coursing through your body. With a cry of ecstasy, you shatter into climax, waves of pleasure washing over you as you ride out the intense sensation.

With each thrust, Ben's urgency grows, his desire evident in the way he moves against you.

"Fuck, I'm close", he grunts, his words strained with desire as he drives himself towards the edge. "Gonna come inside you, baby".

You meet his gaze, nodding in response. With one last thrust, Ben finds his release, his body tensing as he spills himself deep and hot inside you with a primal groan.

As Ben's climax washes over him, he collapses against you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath comes ragged and heavy against your skin, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you bask in the warmth of the moment. His dick throbs inside you, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

For a few blissful moments, you both remain tangled together, lost in the intimacy of the aftermath.

As Ben slowly rolls himself beside you, he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his gaze softening as he looks at you.

"You okay?", he asks, his voice gentle as he caresses your cheek.

You nod, a soft smile spreading across your lips. "More than okay", you murmur, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his.

Ben returns your smile, leaning in to press a tender kiss against your lips, before you placed your head on his chest, trying to catch your breath.

Ben's chest grew warmer beneath your cheek, and a sense of panic flickered through you. "Ben, your chest", you exclaimed, pulling away slightly, concern etched in your voice.

Ben's gaze shifted to where your hand rested on his chest, his expression tight with controlled emotion. He inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling with each breath as he fought to calm himself down. His grip around your body tightened, seeking solace in your presence amidst the turmoil within him.

"It's okay", Ben muttered, his voice strained with effort. "I've got it under control".

You nodded, though the concern lingered in your eyes as you searched his face for any sign of distress. Despite his reassurance, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach.

As you leaned up and pressed your lips against Ben's jaw, trailing kisses along his stubbled skin, you hoped to distract both him and yourself from the rising tension in the room. His struggle to maintain control was evident, his muscles tense beneath your touch.

You lingered at his mouth, kissing him softly, pouring all your love and affection into the gentle caress.

As you continued to kiss him, you gently cupped his face, urging him to meet your gaze. His eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of desire and turmoil.

"Do you remember what you said to me the night before the fight?", you asked softly, your voice tinged with emotion. "The words that made me feel so angry and hurt?".

As your thumb brushed over his cheek, you felt the heat radiating from his chest, but you fought to keep your composure. With a shaky breath, you pressed on.

"I was angry because it's true", you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "I… love you, Ben".

Feeling the weight of your words, Ben's expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and vulnerability. It was a revelation for him, a moment that he never expected to experience.

For the first time in his life, someone had told him they loved him, and meant it with their whole heart.

———————————

A/N: First, sorry for the long silence. But, I'm back. Well, a lot happend in this chapter. And a lot will happen in the next chapters. I can promise one thing, no matter what you think will happen, it will definitely be different... And that counts for several upcoming chapters... The two of them definitely won't find peace that quickly. Otherwise we would already be at the end of the story <3 Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Part 23

-

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #smut #billy butcher #hugh #hughie campbell

[sleepanonymous]

This is a reminder to everyone in North America who is unable to get tickets for the pre-sale and general sale of Sleep Token’s Teeth of God tour. DO NOT buy resale tickets through third-party vendors like StubHub, Seat Geek, Vivid Seats, etc. Tickets for the Teeth of God tour are mobile-only and non-transferable. This means the seller will not be able to transfer the tickets you purchased from them. The only reliable way to purchase tickets to this tour is through Ticketmaster or your local venue’s ticketing system. Please protect yourself and do not get scammed. If you do not have tickets and need tickets, check out the list I’ve created below the cut. Once pre-sales/general sales are over, I’ll update this post with more links. For more context, check my post here.

Saturday, April 27 – Las Vegas, Nevada Sick New World Music Festival Purchase Tickets through Sick New World’s Website. Third-party sites and sellers can transfer mobile tickets.

Tuesday, April 30 – Phoenix, Arizona Arizona Financial Theatre 400 W Washington St, Phoenix, AZ 85003 [phone] Purchase tickets resale through Ticketmaster.

Wednesday, May 1 – Albuquerque, New Mexico Revel Entertainment Center 4720 Alexander Blvd NE, Albuquerque, NM 87107 [phone] Purchase tickets resale through Prekindle.

Friday, May 3 – Austin, Texas H-E-B Center 2100 Ave of the Stars, Cedar Park, TX 78613 [phone] Purchase Tickets resale through Ticketmaster.

Saturday, May 4 – Dallas, Texas Toyota Music Factory 316 W Las Colinas Blvd., Irving, TX 75039 [phone] Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Monday, May 6 – Tampa, Florida Yuengling Center 12499 USF Bull Run Drive, Tampa, FL 33617 [phone] Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Tuesday, May 7 – Atlanta, Georgia Coca-Cola Roxy 800 Battery Ave SE #500, Atlanta, GA 30339 [phone] Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Wednesday, May 8 – Asheville, North Carolina ExploreAshville.com Arena 87 Haywood St, Asheville, NC 28801 [phone] Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Friday, May 10 – St. Louis, Missouri The Factory 17105 N Outer 40 Rd, Chesterfield, MO 63005 [phone] Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Sunday, May 12 – Morrison, Colorado Red Rocks Amphitheatre 18300 W Alameda Pkwy, Morrison, CO 80465 [phone] Purchase Tickets through AXS. Third-party sites and sellers can transfer mobile tickets.

Tuesday May 14 – Des Moines, Iowa Vibrant Music Hall 2938 Grand Prairie Pkwy, Waukee, IA 50263 [phone] Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Wednesday, May 15 & Thursday, May 16 – Chicago, Illinois Salt Shed 1357 N Elston Ave, Chicago, IL 60642 [phone] Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster. Third-party sites and sellers can transfer mobile tickets.

Saturday, May 18 – Columbus, Ohio Sonic Temple Art & Music Festival Purchase Tickets through Sonic Temple’s Website. Third-party sites and sellers can transfer mobile tickets.

Sunday, May 19 – Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania Petersen Events Center 3719 Terrace St, Pittsburgh, PA 15261 [phone] Purchase Tickets through AXS.

Monday, May 20 – Philadelphia, Pennsylvania The Met 858 N Broad St, Philadelphia, PA 19130 [phone] Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Wednesday, May 22 – New York, New York Radio City Music Hall 1260 6th Ave, New York, NY 10020 [phone] Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster. Third-party sites and sellers can transfer mobile tickets.

Friday, May 24 – Boston, Massachusetts MGM Music Hall 2 Lansdowne St, Boston, MA 02215 [phone] Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Saturday, May 25 – Laval, Quebec Place Bell 1950 Rue Claude-Gagné, Laval, QC H7N 0E4, Canada [phone] Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Monday, May 27 & Tuesday May 28– Toronto, Ontario Massey Hall 178 Victoria St, Toronto, ON M5B 1T7, Canada [phone] Purchase Tickets through Massey Hall.

#sleep token #teeth of god tour #sleepanon rant #i don't mean this post to cause panic or distress #i'm just trying to help other sleep token fans out #this presale has been a massive mess #and i too am massively disappointed #i considered making a rant post too #but figured this is a lot more helpful and a lot less toxic #good luck to everyone who has yet to get tickets #i'm rooting for you and i really hope you get to see the eepy boys in may #please don't give up trying to get tickets #resale has come back multiple times for rcmh #and has been back for a while for red rocks #i'm sure these rituals will be the same

[keirawantstocry]

Gimme anything you want about tnt duo<3

hehheheehheeh giggling and kicking my feet and kissing you hard  and bloody on the mouth mwah mwah

-

Quackity took a long drag of the cigarette in between his first two fingers. He drug his eyes out to the horizon and watched the smoke drift up out of his mouth to join the dirty sky above Las Nevadas. 

“You wanna hit?” 

He shot his eyes over to the man perched on the settee across the room. 

Wilbur stared back at him with eyes of fire and a dangerous smirk. “Shotgun me?” 

Quackity huffed. “Always looking for an excuse to get close huh?” 

Wilbur picked himself up, all long limbs and smooth movement. With one arm he held himself up above Quackity, his hand pushing down into the arm of the chair he sat in. 

Quackity tilted his head to look Wilbur in the eye. Put the cigarette in his mouth while making direct eye contact and reveled in the way Wilbur's gaze dipped. 

He took a drag, pulled the cigarette away and cold lips were on his in an instant, pushing open his mouth and sucking in the nasty smoke. They stayed pressed together, Quackity refused to be the first to pull away. 

Wilbur pulled away with low lidded eyes and it was more addictive than any drug that Quackity had ever tasted. 

“Get out of my fucking country,” he said half-heartedly. 

Wilbur shrugged. “Too addicted to the drugs here I fear.” His eyes weren't trained on the cigarette. 

“I know.” Quackity took another drag and closed his eyes. “Gods, I know.” 

#I AM OBSESSED WITH THEM #CAN YOU FEEL IT IN THE WAY I WRITE THEM #IM LIKE A MADMAN #URRRRRRGH I LOVE THEM #my writing #tnt duo #fanfiction #tntduo #c!quackity #c!wilbur

[lostloveletters]

Bruised Fruit Chapter 5 (Michael Corleone x OC)

Summary: No child feels as though they'll ever live up to their parents' expectations of them, but it's almost worse when their fiance doesn't. Both Gloria and Michael find this out the hard way.

Note: Just a little clarity, there’s no “J” in Italian, and the name Giacomo is pronounced almost like “Jah-koh-moh” making “Jack” or “Jackie” a common nickname for Italian-American immigrants with that name. It’s obviously less common of a name now among Italian-Americans than in the past. In reference to the brief discussion about Laika between Gloria and Jackie, the truth about Laika’s fate wasn’t revealed to the public until the 2000s, after the fall of the USSR. Prior to that, Soviet accounts implied the below.

Warnings: A lot of family-related angst, and period-typical slut-shaming, but that's about it.

Chapter 4 | AO3 Link | Masterlist

Do not interact if you're under 18 or post thinspo/ED content. I will block you.

By the end of April, their lives had been packed neatly in boxes and transported to New York. Almost the entire family had relocated to the Long Beach area. Michael told Gloria that before the family’s move to Nevada, the entire block had been like the Lake Tahoe compound, walled off and closely guarded with only family living inside the perimeter. After the move, the wall was torn down, and all of the houses except theirs had been sold off to strangers. 

Gloria appreciated the change in the neighborhood’s occupancy, excited at the prospect of socializing with people other than Corleones and their associates. Some of the neighbors she’d met on her morning walks up and down the street were especially friendly and welcoming. She could hardly keep track of the number of invitations for coffee or dinner she’d tentatively accepted on her and Michael’s behalf. 

After all, a few of the housewives didn’t hesitate to tell Gloria how odd the old neighbors were. Nice enough, but kept to themselves. Always had people coming and going at all hours of the day or night. ‘Isn’t that so strange?’ they’d ask Gloria, eyeing her as if hoping for some insight on the situation. All she could do was shrug, promising that her family wasn’t antisocial and she’d just have to check with Michael when they’d be free to visit. At the very least, she could bring Anthony and Mary over in the afternoons for playdates. The mid-school year move hadn’t affected Mary much, but it was clear Anthony missed his friends back in Nevada. Still, it seemed like everyone on the block had kids around their age. 

“I ran into a few of our neighbors on my walk,” Gloria said one morning. “They want us to come over sometime and—“

“What did you tell them?” Michael asked.

“Just that we moved back here from Lake Tahoe because you thought it’d be better for the kids. Why?”

“That’s fine, just be careful what you tell people outside the family.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. In their years-long affair, she’d hardly told anyone about him. The only people who knew even any details had been his family. Her own family didn’t even know he was in her life until she called to tell them about the engagement. 

“Do you think I want these people to know about me ? ‘Oh, the slut moved into the neighborhood. Hide your husbands.’”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

“Michael, I was just—“

“I don’t care,” he said sternly. “I’ve never called you that. I’ve never let anyone else call you that or anything similar.”

Gloria fell silent as ‘let’ hung heavy in the air. Such revelations made her uneasy, reckoning with how she and Michael could have been on such different wavelengths in how they regarded their relationship for so long. She wondered who had called her that, or tried, at least, and what he’d said or done in response.

“They only know what I want them to know,” she said. “I understand you’re busy, but it wouldn’t hurt to be friendly. People noticed how whoever used to live here never bothered with anyone.”

He sighed. “Why don’t we work on seeing your parents first, and then we can socialize with the neighbors, alright?”

Her parents. Only two days until she and Michael went over to their house for lunch, her parents begrudgingly agreed to host her and their future son-in-law for a meal that wouldn’t be as significant as dinner. She wondered how he fared with Kay’s family, whether they had any clue as to what Michael did for a living the way hers did. 

She was quiet until he left for the day, giving her a soft kiss. She sat at the kitchen table, scanning over the day’s newspapers until her back began to ache from the hard wooden chair. As she made her way into the living room, she tried to think of how to occupy the rest of her day. The house had been almost completely unpacked and all of the new furniture delivered. Anthony and Mary were in school, and as much as she loathed the idea of housework, that was mostly taken care of by the hired help who puttered around the place, seemingly reluctant to socialize with her. She’d expressed to Michael that she felt uncomfortable being waited on, which to him meant that they should simply avoid unnecessary interactions with her.

She hadn’t bothered keeping in touch with any of her old friends when she moved to Las Vegas for the job at the casino, not expecting to move back to New York. After the novelty of her postcards had worn off, they’d simply lost touch. Not that it would have mattered, they were probably all in different houses with new phone numbers anyway, vastly different people than when she’d left them. She had surely changed over the years, too. So her greatest hope were her new neighbors, solidly middle class and her age or older, with their PTA meetings and Avon parties, nothing like the nightclubs and shows that had been at her fingertips in Vegas. Still, it was something. She didn’t dislike spending time with Connie or Sandra or any of the other Corleone women by any means, but if that was to be the extent of her social life, she may as well have been a dog following its tail for fun.

Gloria flinched when the phone rang, shocking her out of her thoughts. 

“There’s a man on the phone for you,” Margaret, one of the maids, said. She was the first to be hired when they moved into the New York home. An older woman with graying hair and kind green eyes who humored Gloria’s conversations every so often. “He says he’s your brother?”

“I’ll take it. Thank you, Margaret,” Gloria said, rushing over to the phone. “Jackie! How are you?”

“Good, I was wondering when you’re free to get coffee? Me and Viv have time this afternoon and–”

“I’m free right now. Where should I meet you?”

“How about that diner by my house? The one we went to when you were here for Thanksgiving.”

“Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Gloria said, hanging up with a wide smile on her face. 

Things had been so busy, she couldn’t remember the last time she went out for something besides errands.

On the notepad next to the phone, she quickly scrawled, ‘Getting coffee with Jackie and Viv. Be back later.’ She grabbed the car keys and dashed out the door. 

Since the neighborhood was no longer exclusively occupied by Corleones, the usual bodyguards couldn’t hang around outside the house so openly. A relief for Gloria, who despite being able to otherwise come and go as she pleased, hated feeling as though she were asking permission to go anywhere. With none of them to be seen, Gloria got into her car–a shiny new Cadillac that was another engagement present from Michael–and made the fifteen minute drive to the diner. 

As soon as Gloria saw Jackie and Vivian already sitting in a booth, she nearly lost a shoe in her rush to hug her brother, feeling her chest tighten at being around him again after so much had happened since they’d last seen each other. Her thoughts drifted to Fredo. From what she could tell, Michael was hardly on speaking terms with him when he died. Surely he must have regretted not reconciling sooner. 

She could still remember when Jackie finally came home from his service in the Pacific, he’d been thinner than she remembered, more haggard too, his hug feeling as though it were missing something compared to the one he’d given her at the train station before he shipped off for good after boot camp. For a while, she felt almost suspicious of him, as if someone who looked like her brother had come home. He didn’t act the way she remembered and had no interest in explaining why he was that way. It took only one night terror for him to decide to get his own apartment, quietly saying he needed space.

Things only seemed to look up a few months later when he met his wife, Vivian. He’d taken up working as a truck driver, making local deliveries at night to stave off the horrors that’d replay in his sleep. He’d regularly drop off medical supplies at the hospital Vivian worked at as a nurse, helping with receiving late deliveries sometimes when the night shift was slow. Most people regarded Vivian as brash and opinionated, but Gloria admired her tenacity. It had to have been what breathed some life back into her brother after so long. 

Since then, Jackie got a job at the post office, Vivian still a nurse, and Gloria never went more than a few months without seeing them. The thought of being able to see them more often made her feel at ease for the first time since the move.

“Hey,” Jackie said, laughing a bit, “I missed you too.”

“It’s great to see you again, Glo,” Vivian said as Gloria gave her a hug almost as strong as the one she gave Jackie. “We went ahead and ordered your usual for you.”

“We’re glad you’re back in town. I mean, I guess we could’ve tried harder to visit you in Nevada, but–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gloria assured him. “So, how have things been?”

“Every day’s the same,” he said. “It’s all going as good as it can.”

That was how he preferred things for going on fifteen years. Simple and predictable. A go-with-the-flow type of guy who avoided conflict to an almost problematic degree, which made him the perfect match for Vivian, a go-getter who preferred to take the lead. The first time Gloria met her, she admired her determination and audacity, traits that got her promoted to a nurse supervisor only a few years into working at the hospital. 

A waiter brought over coffee for the three of them, along with a slice of apple pie for Jackie, a cheese danish for Vivian, and Italian rainbow cookies for Gloria. She poured the milk on the table into her mug, sipping it to check the taste.

“Your dad says you’re marrying a gangster,” Vivian said.

“Not so loud!” Gloria hissed, practically slamming her mug down.

Jackie cracked the slightest smile. “We didn’t hear the end of it at Sunday dinner.”

“God, we’re going over there for lunch soon,” she groaned. 

“Glad I won’t be around for that,” Vivian said. “What’s he like, your fiance? I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.”

“It wasn’t that serious to begin with. At least, I thought it wasn’t. Up until two months ago, he was married,” she said, grateful Jackie wasn’t one who cared for details or specifics, though she knew she’d end up telling Vivian everything anyway at some point. “Michael cares a lot about his family. You could never tell, but he has a great sense of humor when I can coax it out of him. He’s…someone who knows how to get what he wants.”

“What does he want from you?”

“A son.”

“Is that what you want?”

“You remember a couple years back, when the Ruskies sent that dog into space, knowing she wasn’t gonna be coming back?” Gloria asked.

Vivian nodded. “Yeah, I remember. What about it?”

Laika. The papers called her Muttnik. A stray dog plucked from the streets of Moscow and lifted into the annals of scientific history. Survived about a week in space and then euthanized through poisoned food before her oxygen ran out. She wouldn’t have survived the return to earth. Sputnik 2 burned up as it raged back down through the atmosphere. Her demise was inevitable, essential, even, to the mission’s success. But she was alone up there. Terrified as the stars twinkled in her eyes the way no one else had ever seen them.

“I think I know how she must have felt.”

“You and me both,” Jackie said.

The days leading up to Michael meeting her parents for the first time flew by far more quickly than Gloria would have preferred. They wouldn’t be bringing Anthony and Mary to meet them just yet, not when Gloria knew her father was going to have choice words about her engagement to Michael regardless of who was there.

Her parents’ resentment toward the New York crime families stemmed from the organizations meddling in politics and union affairs for their own personal gain. The draft dodging during the war didn’t help either, though that thankfully wasn’t the case for Michael. Her parents worked respectable jobs, Jack a stonemason and a union man, and Julia a typist after two years of night classes when Jackie was barely a toddler. 

Despite her warnings about her dad’s inevitable hostility toward Michael, her fiance seemed unfazed, confident that he’d somehow be able to change her notoriously stubborn father’s mind. That confidence was unwaning until her mom welcomed them in through the front door, her dad standing a few feet behind her with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, hands in his pockets, brows furrowed.

“Dad, this is Michael, my fiance,” Gloria said. “Michael, this is my dad, Jack.”

Michael extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Marino.”

Her father’s tone was flat as he shook Michael’s hand. “Yeah, you too.”

“I’d like to speak with you privately—“

Jack shook his head dismissively. “I gotta talk to my daughter first.”

Michael’s jaw clenched, though he nodded, putting his hand on Gloria’s lower back. “Go on, darling. I’ll keep your mother company.”

She gave him a terse smile, kissing his cheek. She hoped her mother wouldn’t be so blatant in her distaste for Michael. Julia was an anomalous blonde among an extended family of brunettes and seemed to be keenly aware of the unfortunate stereotypes surrounding her intelligence as a result of her hair color. As a result, she read extensively and went to libraries and museums to attend talks by all manner of authors, historians, and artists. She knew more about politics than most of the pundits in the papers through her own personal involvement with campaigns. Gloria always felt as though she fell short of her mother’s academic aspirations for her, working service jobs and moving to Las Vegas on a whim instead of going to college.

She expected Michael to be thoroughly grilled by her mother on his attending Dartmouth nearly two decades prior. Her mention of the Ivy League school had piqued Julia’s interest, especially considering Michael abandoned his studies after joining the Marines. Then, he returned home to be pulled back into the orbit of the world he was trying to escape from, the one that made her parents reluctant to welcome him into their home, their family.

Sparing another glance at Michael, Gloria followed her father up the stairs, creaky old wood muffled by the carpeting that’d been laid down over it less than a year prior, easier on her parents’ joints as they got older. Vivian had already argued with them about moving their bedroom downstairs. That was a compromise. 

With both Gloria and Jackie out of the house for some time, their childhood bedrooms had been requisitioned into a craft room and a guest room, respectively. Gloria’s old bed had long since been moved out, replaced by mismatched tables and TV trays with spools of thread and paints left haphazardly on them. Some finished paintings and embroideries hung on the patterned wall along with framed family photos. 

“Dad, you really shouldn’t have spoken to Michael like that,” she said.

“I have to deal with that shit in the union and now in my own home,” her father huffed, lighting another cigarette. “Do you really want to marry him? If you don’t, I’ll tell him to leave you alone. I don’t care what his last name is, I’m not afraid of him.”

She had to turn away from her father slightly so as to not let him see her face become flushed, tears nearly welling up in her eyes. Her gaze landed on a clipping from a local paper he had framed, a short article about an award she’d won in grade school for selling the most cookies during St. Catherine’s annual bake sale fundraiser. The article had hardly been a margin in one of the back pages, the accompanying photo of Gloria with a nun was small enough to be laughable, practically a waste of ink, yet he kept it. 

“Gloria?”

Clearing her throat, she said, “I love Michael. This’ll be good for me. I’m not getting any younger, that’s what all of mom’s letters said.”

He groaned. “Him, though? Christ, Glo, when you said you were moving out to Las Vegas, we hoped you’d meet some nice, hard-working Western man out there.”

“A cowboy?” she joked weakly.

No, that wasn’t what her father had meant at all. Jack and Julia had raised their children as cultural chameleons. English was spoken at home, and only English. They were Americans, after all. Her mother was born to Napolitano immigrants in Brooklyn and given the Anglicized version of the name Guilia. Her father emigrated from Sicily with the rest of his family at the age of ten but took great pride in his adopted country. In his teens, he’d taught himself how to speak English without a heavy accent by mimicking radio hosts and began going by Jack, rather than his given name Giacomo.

“Better than a gangster,” he hissed. “They’re all disgraceful, but that family is among the worst. That farce of a hearing, as if they’d ever be held responsible for all the damage they’ve done, the lives destroyed, the blood in the streets, the drugs, the politicians, even my own damn union—“

“Please don’t—“

“Has he got you living in some fantasy world? Where all that shit won’t touch you? That if you look the other way or keep your head in the sand, nothing will happen? He has no right promising you peace or safety when he deals in the opposite.”

Gloria could only stand silent as her father ranted. She could hardly imagine what he’d say to Michael. In a brutal irony, this man of unwavering principles recognized that his daughter’s union would make him untouchable to this figure of the shadowy institution he so despised. From then on, every time he would see his son-in-law, he’d be a buzzing fly, an unwanted, brutal conscience until his natural death.

“When you come to this country, you scrape by and try to make an honest living while becoming part of things here. Him and his ilk? They bring their violence and barbarism over from their Stone Age caves to build themselves castles, and we hard-working Italian-Americans get lumped in with those savages.”

Jack and Julia considered themselves patriotic, envisioning the promises of American prosperity for their children. They couldn’t have been prouder when Jackie signed up to join the Marines after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Active in the war effort at home, they bought war bonds and rationed, even sold their car to contribute the steel and rubber. 

Finally turning to face her father again, she said, “Michael was a war hero. He has those dreams, like Jackie does, where he thinks he’s there again. The other half of the time he can’t even sleep because it stays with him.”

“I’m glad something has,” her father grumbled.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Look. I respect what he did for this country, and only that. You don’t forsake what’s right for what's easy, Gloria. If you want to marry into that family, fine, you’re an adult who can make her own decisions.”

After a few moments of silence, she sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Her father’s weathered face softened, and he took her in his arms. “Hey, c’mon, you could marry a Martian, and I’d still love you.”

“I think you’d prefer that.”

He laughed, releasing her from the hug. “I think I would.”

“Try to give him a chance, alright? Michael isn’t as bad as you make him out to be,” she said, as if her suspicions surrounding Fredo’s death hadn’t been occupying her subconscious since the move back to New York.

As far as she knew, Michael hadn’t killed anyone himself. She suspected he had committed the Sollozzo and McClusky murders despite his denying such at the hearing. No, the Don didn’t kill, from what she pieced together over the years, he ordered others to do so. Delegation was key in that thing of his. The hierarchy existed to protect those at the top. They were untouchable, at least, that was the idea. She’d never asked Michael about the murders of the Dons of the other families. The gossip mill at work had run strong for weeks following Moe Greene’s murder, surely no coincidence that he was dead, giving the Corleone family their opportunity to move in on the casino after he unequivocally turned down their offer to buyout his stake.

He nodded, patting her shoulder. “Alright, honey.”

Fear flashed in Jack’s gaze as he looked at his daughter, momentarily soul crushing, the prospect that he had told her what she already knew and didn’t care, not enough to do anything about it. Out of everyone in her life, her father had always been in the most denial about her selfish streak despite his and Julia’s best efforts to raise her differently. The wool had been torn from his eyes the second she defended Michael, however weakly she’d done so.

Gloria could hardly manage a weak smile as she and her father made their way back downstairs. Faint laughter grew a bit louder as they approached the two in the living room, Gloria relieved that it seemed like her mother wasn’t too hard on Michael.

Julia and Michael stood in front of a wall covered in family photos. Somehow, no matter the occasion, Julia always found a way to make room for more frames to be squeezed in. 

“—well, you know how she is.”

Michael snickered. “Believe me, I know.”

“Oh, you’re just in time. I ran out of embarrassing stories to tell your fiance,” Julia said upon noticing Gloria standing in the doorway. 

Gloria rolled her eyes, though her amusement fell slightly when she noticed her father had hung back by the stairs. “Dad’s waiting,” she sighed.

Julia gave Michael a fake salute. “Good luck up there, Marine.”

Michael smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Marino.”

As he neared Gloria, he took her hand in his and kissed the top of it, a fondness in his gaze that felt surprisingly intimate for him to express with others around. She watched as Michael followed her father as he trudged back up the stairs.

“C’mon, honey. Help me get lunch ready,” Julia said, leading her daughter into the kitchen.

“I hope you like Michael more than dad does,” Gloria said when the men were out of earshot.

“He’s polite, humored my little stories, but Glo, he’s divorced,” her mother lamented. “You won’t get a wedding mass.”

“He’s petitioning for an annulment. His ex-wife had an abortion while he was in Havana. He didn’t know.”

Julia’s eyes widened as she made a sign of the cross. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

“It’s been really hard on him.”

“Can I ask you—how long have you and Michael been…involved? It seems quite soon for him to remarry.”

“About four years.”

“Gloria,” her mother groaned. “I thought I raised you better than that.”

“I know, mom, but we’re doing the right thing now and getting married,” she said, hesitating before speaking the only words that could possibly salvage her mother’s opinion of the situation. “He wants to have a baby with me.”

“Doing things a little backwards, don’t you think?”

“When have I ever done anything forwards?”

“Never. I’m surprised all this is happening in the first place,” she said, silent for a moment as she took stock of her daughter. “A pregnancy hasn’t stuck yet, and you’re glad for it.”

Gloria huffed. “He has two kids already and I barely know how to interact with them—and they’re good. They’re sweet kids. But they know I’m not their mother, and he wants me to be.”

“Two kids? Why didn’t you bring them over?”

“I’m sure Anthony and Mary would love to watch their father get the third degree.”

Julia rolled her eyes. “Bring them over for dinner Friday night. We’ll behave. What do they like to eat?”

“About the same as me,” Gloria said. 

She watched in amusement as her mother stood up from the kitchen table, rushing over to take stock of what was in the refrigerator. The warm glow from inside the appliance highlighted the deep smile lines on Julia’s face and illuminated her excitement at the prospect of finally having children in the house again.

“I can make chicken cutlets and mashed potatoes. Maybe a nice Jell-O salad, too,” she mused aloud. “Then I can get a strawberry shortcake from the place up the street for dessert.”

“I gotta check with Michael, mom.”

“You love him?” she asked, as she closed the fridge, startling her daughter with the abrupt question.

Gloria struggled to find the words that would make her mother understand that she did, in fact, love her fiance, when saying as much did little to convince her father of it. “In Las Vegas—I didn’t see anyone for as long as I saw him. None of them were more than a few weeks, but with him, for years. Things have been so different since the engagement. I had a lot more fun loving him before all of this.”

“Love and marriage aren’t always the same thing, Glo. Most people only get one or the other.”

Except for Jack and Julia. Despite having gone to different high schools, they met their senior year at a multi-parish retreat that brought the city dwellers out to Long Island for a weekend. Their mutual admiration for St. Francis was the ice breaker that led to a bond over their shared idealism and passion for eliminating the inequality they saw so rampant in the city. For months, Jack and Julia were friends, crafting elaborate plans to change the world for the better. Neither remembered when exactly their friendship morphed into a romance, but by the winter of 1923, they were married. Less than a year later, Jackie was born, and changing the world was put on hold to raise a family.

“You and dad got both.”

“We got lucky,” Julia said, glancing in the direction of the stairway as they began to lightly creak. “Maybe we got too lucky, didn’t save enough for you.”

Michael and her father returned downstairs, both looking some degree of annoyed. Gloria almost thought they’d be leaving prematurely, but instead, Michael told her mother he was looking forward to lunch. Jack’s eye twitched ever so slightly.

They sat down at the circular kitchen table, Michael and Jack across from one another. Lunch was a simple pasta salad with antipasto that Julia set on the table. Gloria could hardly eat, waiting for the other shoe to drop and one of the men inevitably leap across the table and throw the first punch.

Instead, Michael was calm and collected as ever as he led most of the conversation, her father occasionally chiming in, but mostly eating in silence. Gloria was taken aback when Michael shifted his chair closer to her, resting his hand on her knee beneath the table. His affection was usually reserved for when they were alone. Then again, even without her father’s blessing, which she was sure Michael requested and was unequivocally withheld, they were a legitimate couple set to be married, no longer clandestinely meeting in hotel rooms.

Perhaps he wanted to prove as much, show them how seriously he took his relationship with their daughter despite Gloria already emphasizing it to them herself. 

After such intense conversations with her parents, lunch flew by, much to Gloria’s relief. As soon as she noticed her father becoming tense again, she mentioned Anthony and Mary, and both of her parents lit up at the prospect of having them over. She was grateful that for all that Michael had supposedly done, they didn’t hold any of it against his children. For their devout Catholicism, she found it interesting that the concept they had the most vocal opposition to was original sin, the idea that misdeeds are passed down, for each subsequent generation to shoulder and inevitably add on to. In their idealism, they believed people were inherently good and instead chose to do wrong because it was easy. 

Gloria felt exhausted by the time the meal was over, eyelids heavy when she and Michael got into the car.

“What did my dad say to you?” she asked, after he’d driven a few blocks away.

“You really wanna know?”

Gloria groaned. “Oh my god, was it really that bad?”

“He feels afraid and threatened right now. He’ll see reason soon enough,” he said. “Your mother’s more personable. She has the same sense of humor as you.”

“I can tell them we can’t do dinner Friday night.”

Michael shook his head. “It’s alright.”

“Really? After all that?”

“I know how much they mean to you.”

“You mean a lot to me,” she said, hesitant before adding, “and I’m embarrassed at how they treated you.”

“I wish my mother had more time to come around to you. She thought the family was changing too much by making you part of it.” His voice was quiet then, almost as if he were talking to himself. “Didn’t seem to matter that you’re Sicilian. That almost made it worse, like she expected more from you.” 

Gloria’s stomach dropped. She’d been unapologetically honest when speaking to his mother at the engagement party. They hardly interacted following that encounter, though Michael visited his mother often to check on her, especially as she became unable to visit their house. At the time, she’d chalked up his returning home distressed to Carmela’s failing health. She’d never considered some of it was because of her. Carmela already had made up her mind about Gloria before even meeting her, much like Jack about Michael, and Gloria merely confirmed her assumptions about her future daughter-in-law.

Calling herself a slut even in the context of outsider opinion just a few days earlier had triggered something in Michael. Undoubtedly Carmela, unimpressed with her son’s choice of a new bride, had thought the same of her and expressed as much to him. Bile rose in her throat. He shouldn’t have had to waste his breath defending her honor, or rather, lack thereof, to his sick mother, of all people. He could have let it go. She would have preferred he did. For how close the Marinos were, the Corleones were ten times that, and his taking up for her to the family matriarch, his own mother, made her head spin.

As her troubled gaze shifted to his profile, he reached over, taking her hand in his and giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#michael corleone x oc #the godfather #the godfather fanfic #the godfather x oc #michael corleone #michael corleone x ofc #michael corleone fanfic #the godfather part ii #the godfather imagine #michael corleone imagine #bruised fruit fic

[myemuisemo]

POLYGAMY. In "A Flight for Life," this week's Letters from Watson, young Joseph Stangerson just oh-so-casually mentions that he currently has but four wives, while young Drebber (proven uncouth by having his hands in his pockets and whistling) already has seven.

Poor Lucy! Having come into the chapter with the assumption that, since other wives hadn't come up in Brigham Young's original visit, Lucy would be wife #1, this revelation seems much worse. Women are not Pokémon: no need to catch them all.

As an aside, where are Lucy's friends among the girls of Salt Lake City? Ferrier attended religious services. She must surely have socialized with other girls. Making her Not Like Other Girls seems othering toward the rest of the women: whether they were stolen from wagon trains, born to the culture and miserable, or born to the culture and relatively happy in working the system to be comfortable-ish, they were also people with thoughts and value.

Utah's Adventure Family does a photo tour of the Jacob Hamblin Home, where the parlor seems plausible to envision as Ferrier's parlor, right down to the rocking chairs -- here. Hamblin's stone house was built as part of a mission to convert the local Paiutes. Part of the reason for that U.S. Army expedition in 1857 was fear that the LDS community was turning the native peoples against Americans (which, given how badly Americans and our government treated the natives, would not be that difficult to do).

Horror! Mystery! Ninja Danists! White hero who knows the ways of the native peoples! (That's a trope.) Does Lucy know anything that's going on? Her Victorian purity seems to be winning over her Spunky Western Girl nature, even before we get her "death before dishonor" line.

So we're off to Carson City, Nevada. This means it's definitely at least 1859, since the city wasn't founded until 1858, as a deliberate effort to set up a capital for a proposed Nevada Territory that would separate Nevada's small population from the Utah Territory. The miners and opportunists in Nevada didn't like being governed by the LDS leaders in Salt Lake City. (Brigham Young was governor of the whole territory until the 1857-8 Utah War that appears not to have happened in this timeline.)

Carson City is a long walk. Google Maps is giving me 192 hours, mostly along what's now US-50, known as "the loneliest road in America." Even if we posit more activity due to miners heading west, it is still a haul across rugged mountains, and so, so much desert. (The route does legit skip the salt flats.)

If nothing goes wrong, our little party will be on the road for about a month, through hostile terrain. When they arrive in Carson City (population 714), they'll still be technically within the Utah Territory, as Nevada Territory wasn't split off until 1861. However, it'd take a determined party to come after them, and they wouldn't get a friendly welcome.

(Carson City now has a population of about 60,000, along with the state capitol, some nice late Victorian architecture, and a bunch of antique stores. It may be my favorite spot in Nevada.)

#sherlock holmes #letters from watson

[jungle-angel]

Sticky Faces (Miles Miller x Reader)

Summary: It’s a hot night and you and Miles don’t feel like heating up the house, so your only option is to go on a little adventure

Miles let out an exhausted groan, hating the fact that it was the Friday before Memorial Day and that the thermometer outside was already reading close to one hundred. Already, there were reports of wildland fire crews making their way deep into the wooded areas miles away from Lake Tahoe and wealthy out-of-towners from the cities were making their way too and from California and Nevada. 

He stuck a rag full of ice on the back of his neck, shivering as the coolness hit his reddening skin. Miles felt pretty awful, knowing the kitchen staff were probably roasting and Dan was probably chewing out the lazy stoner teenagers for not doing their jobs. 

“Hey!” chuckled a familiar voice. “Hey, wake up! Wake up!” 

Miles lifted his weary head to find his father standing right before him. “Jeez Dad, did you have to wake me up?” Miles mumbled. 

“Hey I didn’t want you falling asleep on the job,” Otis answered him. “Besides, I’ve had a day from hell myself.” 

“How?” 

“Working the pits at the NASCAR track all week in a hundred degree plus weather,” Otis explained. “Stepping on the tarmac made my boots almost melt.”

Miles made a disgusted face as he and his father bitched about their day. When he was finally good to clock out, the rotating desk clerk came to take Miles’s place. What a fucking relief at last.....!!!! Miles thought on his way out. 

Back to the rooms he went, relieved that he had the next two seasons off and to himself. The only thing he hated was that he, his mother, father, you and Benny had to hang around the hotel while you were busy packing the last of your things up to move to the Miller land in Montana. 

The rooms were quiet as could be, the low hum of the fan going while one year old Benny lay asleep under the blue, bronze and white knit blanket that Miles’s mother, Kathy, had made when he was born. He looked adorable as he lay asleep on yours and Miles’s bed, his little fists on either side of his head, sucking away on his pacifier and his little tufts of light blonde hair clinging to his forehead. 

Miles smiled and quickly slipped into your shared bathroom, turning on the cool water in the shower, letting out an obscene groan as the water cooled him down. 

“Miles?” 

“In the shower (Y/N)!” Miles called out. 

He hurriedly soaped himself up and rinsed off before wrapping a clean, white towel around his waist, stepping out into the hot, humid bathroom to find you rinsing your face in the sink. The bright smile that was on your face when you looked up at him was enough to make Miles blush, his face, his neck and his chest going red at the sight of you in a filmy, lilac colored sundress. 

“Hi handsome,” you purred as you wrapped your arms around each other.

“Well hello Mrs. Miller,” he chuckled as he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. 

You gladly returned the kiss, reveling in the cool warmth of Miles’s body. You rested your head on his broad chest, the soft beat of his heart nearly putting you to sleep before a noise pulled you both from your sleepy state. 

“Here,” you said. “You get yourself in some clean clothes. I think that branch finally broke off the tree and hit the porch.” 

Miles laughed a little and gladly pulled some clean clothes from the dresser, throwing on a pair of khakis and a peach colored button down with short sleeves. A sleepy little coo caught his attention and sure enough, there was little Benny, pushing himself up with his little hands, his face meeting Miles’s own and a little giggle erupting from the one year old.  

“Did you have a good nap?” Miles chuckled, picking him up.

Benny’s little head came to rest on Miles’s shoulder, still sucking away on his pacifier as Miles dug around for a little t-shirt for Benny who had fallen asleep in his denim shorts. 

You came back in, your face reddened from the sun and a thin layer of sweat coating your face and neck. “Stupid branch,” you muttered. 

“Did it hit the porch?” Miles asked.  

“Finally,” you answered. “Can’t get it off but we’ll wait.” 

“Good, because I think little man here is getting hungry,” Miles half laughed. 

You groaned with annoyance. “Miles, it’s too damn hot for this shit.” 

“I was thinking something entirely different.” 

You gave him a puzzled look, wondering what your husband could possibly be cooking up in his brain at a time like this. All the restaurants within a five block radius were either closed or packed full. 

“There’s a little corner store where the summer camps all go for ice cream,” Miles explained. “And I think this little guy is overdue for his first one. Dad’s crabby, Mom’s been treating heatstroke patients all day long.....so why not? Nobody has to heat up the house and cook.” 

And you, yourself, had begun to think that Miles’s brilliant little idea was a brilliant one. 

You gathered up a little bag and a picnic blanket while Miles slipped a little white t-shirt over Benny’s head and put his tiny sandals onto his feet. Once you found Otis and Kathy had returned from working at the hospital, the three of you journeyed right down to the corner store that the summer camps frequented during the season. 

You picked a shady spot under the trees in the grass, spreading out the blanket before you, Miles and his parents all got their pick of what they wanted. You and Miles couldn’t resist the thought of a grape flavored popsicle with huge chunks of blackberries in it, especially for Benny. 

“Well, this beats heating up the house,” Miles remarked after he had stolen a lick of Benny’s popsicle. 

“Better than having to take stuff out of the freezer too,” you laughed. 

You and Miles shared so many laughs that you couldn’t have possibly counted them all. Miles teased Benny by stealing one lick after another of his popsicle, the little one’s hands and face already covered in dark purple smears of juice. Miles’s lips had turned purple from the juice, the two of you laughing as you teased each other, exchanging sticky kisses with one another before Benny began to do the same with the both of you. 

And you couldn’t have asked for a better start to your summer. 

#miles miller #miles miller x reader #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader #bad times at the el royale

[bleue-flora]

Fun fact: I actually rewrite and change whole scenes a lot. And last week when I lost hot water during the winter storm, in my longing to take a shower, I actually came across this old alternate version of a scene in Dreamcatcher… so as I sit here now, about to take a shower but ironically dragging my feet and dreading the work involved, I figured I’d share this fun little snip bit/blooper.

CONTEXT: Punz tending to Dream after he returns from Las Nevadas, injured and covered in slime.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Implied/Referenced Torture, Injuries, Profanity.

Punz rests Dream to sit on the bed before turning his back to grab medical tools. Thinking threw his next steps he voices clinically calm, “Dream, you should probably go wash off before we do anything about your injuries. Don’t want whatever that fucking slime is to like—fester in the wounds.”

He whips back around expecting an answer, but to his befuddlement Dream doesn’t reply, he just sits there looking at the floor. His eyes unfocused and clouded over, as if he isn’t seeing anything at all.

“Dream? Dude, you with me?”

“Oh right. Umm… I—I… Does that really seem necessary? I mean—it’s really just some scratches you know. Not really a big deal…” Dream mutters out almost desperately, not lifting his head.

Completely caught off guard, Punz sounds back stunned and confused with hints of worry, “What? What the fuck did you just say? Dream, surely you can’t be stupid enough to say that? Dude, we don’t have any idea what the hell this shit is. It could be dangerous. And letting it into your open wounds is not something I want to fucking experiment with.”

Punz, assuming he has convinced the man, turns back around and continues to organize and scrimmage for what he needs, not noticing that Dream has neither responded nor moved an inch. It’s not untill he goes for the enderchest that he catches a glimpse of Dream in the corner of his eye. He’s startled a bit at the sight of Dream completely still not fulfilling his request. Punz immediately stops noisily clamoring around with the supplies and spins around.

“Dream? Don’t be fucking stubborn with me. I’m really not in the mood, I’m already pissed that I couldn’t be there. Please just let me help.”

Dream doesn’t stir.

He just sits there facing the floor, shaking almost imperceptibly. His breath coming out in an uneven worrying manner. It’s at this point Punz finally realizes he might of fucked up.

“Dream?… buddy? You with me? You ok?… I’m here dude.”

The caring tone seems to break whatever trance Dream was in as he surprisingly admits, hushed and almost inaudible, “I—I can’t, Punz. I just can’t. You are right… but I—I can’t do it. I’m—I’m so—“

Not wanting to hear another fucking apology leave his lips, Punz cuts him off and asks softly, “What—why can’t you do it, Dream?”

Then noticing Dream’s breathing getting hitched at the question he adds, “Is it… Dream, is it like something—something Quackity did?”

Dream wavers then slowly nods still not looking up.

Right. That makes sense. Fuck. He’s an idiot. Of coarse Dream would have a hard time being under water. That’s a given. Hell, he even avoided showers for a week or two after he drowned to death in one of their tests. Oh god. How could he be so fucking stupid?

The revelation and implication crack into his rib cage and crush his heart a little bit. He didn’t know he could feel more guilty and outraged by the whole thing. But damn Dream can’t even take a shower for fucks sake. Not that he can blame the man in the slightest.

“Fuck… Right. Ok. That’s fine. We can just like clean up the best we can without it.” Punz responds encouragingly.

(for the rest of the scene and the version I actually went with check out Dreamcatcher)

#ah staged duo my beloveds #I wrote this last January that’s wild to believe… #let me know if y’all liked and want me to shared more bloopers/alternate versions :) #dreamcatcher #c!dream #dsmp #dreblr #dream smp #dsmp dream #dsmp fanfic #staged duo #c!stagedduo #c!punz #c!dream and c!punz #dreamsmp #c!dream and trauma #dang….guess that means I have to go shower now… such shift from last week XD lol #leftovers

[haveyoureadthistransbook]

The Days of Anna Madrigal by Armistead Maupin

goodreads

Now a fragile ninety-two years old and committed to the notion of "leaving like a lady," Anna Madrigal has seemingly found peace in the bosom of her "logical family" in San Francisco: her devoted young caretaker, Jake Greenleaf; her former tenant Brian Hawkins; Brian's daughter Shawna; and Michael Tolliver and Mary Ann Singleton, who have known and loved Anna for nearly four decades.

Some members of Anna's family are bound for the otherworldly landscape of Burning Man, the art festival in the Black Rock Desert of Nevada where sixty thousand revelers build a temporary city (Michael calls it "a Fellini carnival on Mars") designed to last only one week. Anna herself has another Nevada destination in mind: a lonely stretch of road outside of Winnemucca where the sixteen-year-old boy she used to be ran away from the whorehouse he then called home. With Brian and his beat-up RV, she journeys into the dusty, troubled heart of her Depression-era childhood, where she begins to unearth a lifetime of secrets and dreams, and to attend to unfinished business she has long avoided.

Mod opinion: I haven't read this book yet, but I did find a copy in a library book sale. So hopefully I'll get around to it at some point.

#the days of anna madrigal #armistead maupin #polls #trans lit #trans literature #trans books #lgbt lit #lgbt literature #lgbt books #contemporary #trans woman #to read

[twistedoverbloat]

Okay but the U.S Yuus telling the NRC guys the crazy things about their homes (California being always on fire, West Viriginia having dummy thicc mothman, Florida with all of the Floridamen stories & how there is an incident on everyone's birthday, Alaska having a town where a cat is mayor, Winsconsin being haunted AF, Georgia Texas and Nevada having weird laws, etc etc)

Califorina: yeah there was this big fire bc of a gender birth revele of a baby! It spread through a big ass forest. But there was another happening like 10 miles away too!

Twst boys: what?

West Virginia: HMM THICK MOTH MAN KISS ME!

Twst boys: wHAT-

Florida: there was this one guy from my state that robbed a store with a bagley bc the owner is scared of gluten.

Vil: ok I can reason with that-

Florida: also another stole a car got in jail broke out and stole another car.

Twst boys: um ok?

Alaska: we have a cat as mayor.

Riddle: Queen of Hearts rule number-

Wisconsin: there was a hunted house that was passed down for generations in a family killing them all. I think it's still on the market!

Twst boys: huh?

Georgia, Texas, and Nevada: *telling them weird laws.

Riddle: um I don't think they should be real-

Let's just say all the states told them stories and now scared of America.

#georgia yuu #texas yuu #nevada yuu #florida yuu #wisconsin yuu #alaska yuu #california yuu #west virginia yuu #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yuu

[melis-writes]

Prompt or blurb idea: Victoria would definitely be the fashion icon and “It Girl” of her time being mentioned high up in all the magazines’ “Most beautiful women” lists and maybe some magazine covers with all the pictures the media gets of her and Michael together or of her walking to and from the courthouse, the media would rave about her beauty, make-up, outfits, and impressive career 😌💅🏼

Oh she most DEFINITELY would!! 😍 We all know Miss Victoria was/is already making headlines in Moth to Flame no matter what! 🔥🔥🔥

‘New York’s Prodigy: Victoria Corleone Returns to the Courthouse!’

Before your marriage to Michael let alone the revelation that underworld boss Giuseppe Ferrari had a daughter, the notoriety and recognition you gained in your law career was solely how you chose and prosecuted your cases.

Involved in the family business to the extent that your brothers were, you bolstered your career while using the law to your advantage to prosecute and sentence members of rival families to lengthy prison terms in the eye of the media.

You had no interest in the spotlight and certainly not in your career, but it was a matter of fact that simply couldn’t be ignored after your marriage to Michael Corleone, who brought his own infamy and reputation to the table.

Before you made the move to Nevada with your family, your recognition and reputation at the courthouse in New York was at an all time high; crowds huddled in the streets as you entered the courthouse for a trial and an even bigger crowd eager to greet you after the end of one.

If the media and eager onlookers could catch a glimpse of Victoria Corleone, then it was guaranteed crowds, journalists and photographers would gather.

It was not just your illustrative career and your choice of cases that built your reputation, but that your prosecution of Alphonse Ricci’s brother had been a break-through case for you with the media swarming at the courthouse’s door for weeks once they found out it was Michael Corleone’s wife that was the prosecutor.

On top of that, nothing stopped you from further taking cases that grew into a media frenzy, and as the public saw it, Victoria Corleone was untouchable by the mob whom she ensured would never get a shred of mercy from the jury.

This further fueled the rumour that the mafia was afraid of you and could not react, lest they risk showing the paid off corruption the other rival families have when it comes to judges, politicians and lawyers.

In truth though, the mafia didn’t touch you because you were a part of them, and any child of Giuseppe Ferrari was already considered immune to your family’s power in Sicily, but now the wife of Don Michael Corleone officially cemented that you could not be bothered with in any regard.

The media frenzy only doubled when you flew in from Nevada to your home in Staten Island; maintaining your career and well awaited in the eyes of the public.

The courthouse was your playing field and served as inspiration to many other prospective law students and young women.

‘In the Spotlight: Victoria Ferrari’s Favorite Fashion Pieces.’

If it wasn’t photographs of you snapped entering and exiting the courthouse, it was whenever you were in New York or Las Vegas—out and about in the city.

Papparazzi kept their appropriate distance for you for obvious reasons as you were never out without a bodyguard or Michael by your side, but the headlines did not stop spinning.

Your name was on many women’s fashion and beauty magazines for weeks on end, and the media could not get enough of your candid photographs and outfits.

Photographs of you and Michael walking out in Reno together, holding hands or seen entering a restaurant were a sight to behold as none could get enough of Nevada’s favourite couple.

Here and there you’d wave and smile for the cameras, getting your photograph captured. Although Michael ignored every camera he could possibly see, it had no impact on how the media wanted to see the two of you together.

From a photograph of you wearing a burgundy shirtwaist dress in the summer to a luxurious wool overcoat in the winter, you set trends without even being aware of it.

If the media had their eyes and cameras on you, your outfit choices were in magazines, interview requests came soaring in and retail companies did their best to design clothing similar and identical to what you’d wear.

You entertained the notion enough, giving an interview here and there to fashion magazines and official photoshoots along with the likes of other influential women and Hollywood starlets.

‘Most Beautiful Woman of the Year: Victoria Corleone’s Beauty Secrets Interviewed!’

If the media wasn’t raving about your fashion choices and career, it was your beauty and who you were as a person that mesmerized all into awe.

Your charity work and frequent donations to Dartmouth College as well as scholarship and bursary funds to students did not go unnoticed either.

You attended many charity galas and graduation speeches but it was the fact the media knew your actions and words were genuine—starting years ago before any sense of fame hit you.

You were simply not pretending to be anyone else for the sake of attention. It was how effortlessly you carried yourself with the impressive career that you built that kept magazine piles stacking and Michael’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist—all which never went unnoticed.

#prompts #moth to flame fic #moth to flame fanfic #victoria ferrari

[whumpacabra]

7. Starved

Angst, [poor] medical treatment of minor injuries, referenced torture, implied starvation, implied past noncon, implied military setting

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

Harrison should have at least been a little worried about being handed food by the man who had tortured him and his friends. But the sight of a prepackaged, slightly battered sleeve of saltines was like manna in the desert, and he was nothing but grateful.

The Wolf sat opposite of him, back against the door to what Harrison assumed was his own room (his personal hell from what Harrison had seen). Between his gluttonous mouthfuls of sawdust salt and tacky bread, Harrison eyed the Wolf as he tended to his own injuries.

Tended might have been too strong a word.

He slathered antiseptic over his burned shoulder, used butterfly stitches to roughly align a jagged slash across his ribs, and while he took out the gauze, he only regarded it for a few moments before returning it. The cuts raking over his arms, his legs, his back - the Wolf was leaving most of his wounds untreated.

“You should really wrap that.” Harrison was almost embarrassed to speak with his mouth full. Almost. He swallowed before continuing. “Your arm - it's still bleeding quite a bit.”

The Wolf looked at him for a moment, brow pinched in thought. Like the suggestion was a test he could fail.

“I’ll need the gauze more later.” He finally settled on, words measured and slow. Harrison felt a bit guilty for speaking exclusively in English - but he hadn’t asked the Wolf follow in suit, so he didn’t feel that guilty. Plus, the language was clearly more comfortable in his mouth than his perfect but stilted Arabic.

Right. The whole, facade problem Harrison had left in the supply closet behind himself.

“Thanks for the food.” He wasn’t sure how to open an interrogation, despite how many he had partaken in recently. “Now, what the fuck is going on here?”

The Wolf wasn’t phased, not that he let Harrison see, but he did drop his eyes to the medkit as he closed it.

“I don’t know. I'm - my handler would know.”

“Your handler?” For a guy so insistent that he worked alone, the Wolf’s confirming nod was a surprise. “Who is he? Is he - do you know where we are?”

“He’s my handler. You’ve met him - gold tooth.” Harrison involuntarily shuddered at the memory of that particular torturer. He had worked on the last three for weeks before the Wolf showed up. He had kept Harrison isolated in the Box while he tortured Merrick and Elias. “We’re underground, in a desert. I, they don’t - I haven’t gone up in a long time.”

The Wolf’s voice grew tight, fidgeting fingers clasping and unclasping the medkit.

“Is your handler American?” It felt like a betrayal to have the same home as Goldtooth - as that lecherous, blood thirsty son of a bitch. Maybe it was a betrayal, Harrison’s teeth bared as the Wolf nodded slowly.

American. American brands in the supply closet. American mass produced clothes on his back. Probably American sand above it head.

(Had they even ever left Nevada?)

The laugh that barked from his lips was laced with hysteria, choked down with rage as tears slipped from his eyes. The Wolf had gone still and tense - afraid of the half starved, half hysterical man across from him.

Harrison managed to quell his outburst as the Wolf stood, wincing as his legs pushed him off the concrete floor. The distant, surrealness of the revelation was brought into painfully clear focus as the Wolf opened the door to his room. He rummaged in the desk for a moment, and Harrison expected him to leave with the same stiff terror he had when retrieving the food and medkit.

He didn’t expect the Wolf to look back at the mess of blood and bed sheets, swaying on unsteady feet with his back to the open door. Harrison wasn’t sure why he cared enough to call out.

“Wolf? Are you - hey, Wolf.” Harrison scrambled to his feet, equally unsteady in his own right as he licked salt and crumbs from his fingers. He nearly crossed the hallway before the Wolf spun around abruptly, marching to the supply closet - his expression painfully blank.

“Hey - what, slow down - what are you doing?” Harrison felt a tremor of fear rattle in his chest as he blocked the doorway, not letting the Wolf pass with his armfuls of bleach and peroxide.

“Cleaning.” There was a cold detachment from the word as he spoke it, something mechanical. Like he had said it the same way a hundred times before.

“Why? Let’s just go - " Harrison stepped aside, too afraid to continue impeding the Wolf’s mission. The Wolf didn’t respond, dropping harshly to his knees and setting out the supplies in neatly organized rows.

Harrison felt a sigh shudder through him, disgusted by the aching pity still clawing up his throat. He could just leave without him - he didn’t owe the Wolf anything (not anything pleasant).

Then why couldn’t he force his legs to step away, up those infinite stairs to heaven, to freedom?

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

#whump #angst #medical treatment #referenced torture #implied starvation #implied noncon #past noncon #military setting #freelancers au #o7 renewing my own first aid and emergency response training today for [redacted] purposes #by which i mean completely legal but still potentially dangerous participation in society #stay safe out there folks and stay warm its finally fuckin cold out #edit: waugh i tried to post this two hours ago but tunglr died and it never saved/posted :[

[lamardeuse]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @devirnis <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

342

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

a little over 1.8 million

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, 9-1-1, though in the last two years I've also written Merlin, Ted Lasso, Stargate: Atlantis and Our Flag Means Death, and I've completed two OFMD vids and am working on a third.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Accept No Substitutes (Merlin) 2. What Child Is This (Merlin) 3. Best Man (Merlin) 4. Motive and Method (Hawaii Five-O) 5. Revelation (Merlin)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I might put angst in the fic itself, but I don't usually leave it in an angsty place. I suppose overall the angstiest fics ending-wise would be the Doggett/Reyes fics I wrote in X Files, probably because that was kind of the mood of the show.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I haven't really written any non-happy ending fics, and to classify one as "happiest" after 300+ stories over 20 years is pretty much impossible, sorry. Oh wait, in Defenders of the Realm (linked below) Merlin and Arthur save millions of people so I guess I'd pick that one. ;)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't gotten hate specifically; I've shown my ass once or twice over the years and been called out for it, and I've apologized and corrected where possible. And lately with 9-1-1 I've had the odd person upset about the actions of a character in a couple of my fics, but it's not that they think the actions are out of character. It almost seems as though they don't want characters to ever do things that are personally frustrating or upsetting to them even if those actions make sense for that character in that situation? It's odd, but thankfully it's been pretty rare.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yep. I've written a wide variety of stuff over the years. Even straight people getting it on! :D

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Harry Potter/US Queer as Folk, anyone?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't really care if I have.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, several times! I'm always so amazed that someone took the time to do that.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, though not recently; it used to happen a lot more in the good ol' days of LiveJournal.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I couldn't even begin to pick. So many men, so little time. When I'm in the throes of fandom love, that's my favourite.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have one Merlin WIP up on AO3 that still bothers me from time to time, but I'm not sure I'll ever get back to it because I just got mired in a plot dead end and saw no way out. I also have over 10000 words of an OFMD modern AU, but again, I hit a point where I realized I had no idea how to end it so I hit the brakes at the end of act one.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I would say characterization, and making an effort to research and try my best to work the location or the culture of the characters into a story in an authentic way.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Plot-heavy stories are not my favourite thing - I can do it but I'd rather write basic bitch romcoms. And you're not going to get the most original shit ever from me - my writing is not gourmet cuisine, it's comfort food.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Research, and/or have a beta who speaks that language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Oh god, I think it was either V or Adderly, a very Canadian show from the 80s. Those were written on high school foolscap and will never see the light of day.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Again, it's really hard to pick one after all these years. Just a few random fics I have soft spots for: Auld Lang Syne (due South), Refugee Status (Sentinel), The Road to Nevada (SGA), Defenders of the Realm (Merlin), And We'll Talk in Present Tenses (Lewis), Skin Deep (I Spy), From a Rut to a Groove (Die Hard), and too many heartbeats for one ribcage (911).

I don't tag, so anyone who wants to do this have at it!

#writing #my stuff

[maizethecorn]

Transformers fic series called Darkness featuring Jack/Megatron with an overview of Transformers Prime

So, I have followed this fanfic writer the last couple of years. The author’s name is Misgel and delayed writing this amazing, three part series due to the author being in college, author finding a job, author being sick and other life mishaps. Now, I have no idea why the last part of this fantastic, three-part trio logy fanfic has not been completed. (The reason why the fic has not been completed doesn’t matter. I just want this amazing story to be finished.) The third part of the fic has been on a cliffhanger since 2021.

The fanfic revolves around the cartoon Transformers series called Transformers Prime. This cartoon started in 2010 and lasted three seasons. One of the main characters was sixteen year old Jack Darby. Jack went to a high school called Jasper High. The series takes place in Nevada. Jack works a part time job as a drive thru cashier at a restaurant called KO Burgers. He makes mediocore grades, daydreams about having a cool car or motorcycle to impress the popular cheerleader Sierra and goes home to his mom June Darby who is a single nurse working to support herself and her son. By chance, Jack meets a talking motorcycle named Arcee, jumps in the driver’s seat when Arcee transforms and is dragged into the war of the Autobots. Jack meets hyperactive, teenage Miko Nakadai who dyes her hair bright colors and nerdy, bullied Raf Esquivel who both are friends with the Autobots. At first, Jack proclaims way too many times in the series that he just wants to have a normal life but ultimately accepts his role over the course of the series of being an Autobot ally. He keeps his afterschool activities a secret from June but she eventually finds out her son is hanging out with giant robots. June’s not happy with this revelation but she comes to terms with her son’s higher calling to save the world from Decepticons and becomes somewhat involved with the Autobots herself. I did read many fics pairing June off with Ratchet who she is on friendly speaking terms with or government Agent Fowler who involves her in a few missions. In the show, Jack hints he’s not a fan of his mom getting to close to any males but he just needs to accept his mom is allowed to have a love life of her own while he is off with potential love interest Arcee. Jack spent much more time with Arcee than his girlfriend Sierra so I saw the sixteen year old boy and the giant female robot who could be a motorcycle being a more potential couple. I don’t care that the human and transformer characters don’t have certain atomical parts for an intimate relationship since fanfiction has a beautiful way of taking care of those relationship obstacles. Maybe I’ll post some of those fic links for another day if I feel like it. Anyway, back to this fic:

So, the cartoon never addresses what happened to Jack’s dad in the series. This writer Misgel comes up with a backstory that Jack’s dad was in the military and Jack, June and his dad had to move all the time. Misgel mixes in events from the Micheal Bay Transformers movies for this fic. Technically, the fic would be considered a crossover between the live action Transformers movie and the Transformers Prime cartoon. Some of the movie characters do show up in the fic. Jack’s dad dies with some other soldiers when getting caught up in the crossfire of Megatron who is the leader of the Decipticons being engaged in combat with the Autobots. Two officers come to Jack’s house and tell Jack and his mom that Jack’s dad is dead. Numbed with grief, Jack attempts to go through the motions of life going to school and not developing connections with anyone other than his mom. However, he meets Arcee and his life is turned upside down like the cartoon. The fic is cannon until the part where Megatron and Jack meet in a cave. In the cartoon, Jack leaves Megatron trapped by rocks in the cave and returns to the Autobot base with Arcee. In this fic, Jack frees Megatron from the rocks in the cave to show the Decepticon leader kindness and mercy. In return, Megatron decides not to kill Jack and takes him as a prisoner to the Decepticon warship called the Nemesis. The Autobots do attempt to rescue Jack but fail. At the warship, Megatron tortures Jack to find out where the Autobot base is and looks into Jack’s memories with a technological device that invades Jack’s mind. 

Megatron finds himself intrigued by Jack when he realizes Jack is the son of a deceased solider and sees some of the heroic events Jack has performed to save the lives of his human and Autobot friends in Jack’s mind. He decides not to kill Jack since he finds Jack reminds him of how the Autobot leader Optimus Prime used to be as Orion Pax before absorbing the matrix. So this is a rundown of what Megatron does with Jack instead (maybe death would have been better, you decide?): First, after mind raping Jack with a device hooked into his brain and not giving him food and water for several days, Megs notices Jack isn’t looking too good and deduces he has no food or water for Jack on his ship. Instead of raiding a grocery store, Megatron forces Jack to drink the blood of Unicorn by giving him CPR with the dark purple energon. Unicron was regarded by the Autobots to be a giant robot that was the destroyer of worlds and energon is the ore liquid that the Autobots and Decipticons drink to stay alive. In Transformers Prime, the story revealed when Unicorn went into a coma and floated in outerspace, his robot body formed the basis of the planet Earth. Earth is teaming with purple energon steaming from Unicorn’s body at the Earth’s core. Back to my list of what Megatron does with Jack:  Jack wakes up after Megatron gives him CPR. Megatron keeps Jack his prisoner for a long time and tells him his own version of why the Autobots and Decpticons went to the war and why the planet Cybertron was destroyed where the transformers used to live.The purple stuff that Megatron gave Jack has now caused some changes to Jack’s body. 

The purple energon transforms Jack’s human body to where he is now dependent on the purple ore to live. He can still eat human food and drink water but his body isn’t sustained by human nutrients anymore. He also now understands and speaks the Cybertroian language that both the Autobots and Decipticons speak. There is also the mind link Megatron and Jack share since Unicrons blood flows through both their bodies. Both robot and boy feel each others emotions. Other than that, Jack is still human and now mentally scarred. Jack realizes Optimus Prime and the other Autobots left some details out of how the Autobot/ Decipticon conflict started and now he doesn’t know who he can trust. Surprisingly, Megatron does let Jack go free but Jack’s life is a mess. His relationships with his girlfriend Sierra, Arcee, Miko, Raf and the everyone he knows except his mom June fall apart. Mostly throughout the trilogy fic, Jack is struggling to recover from the trauma/manipulation Megatron inflicts on him and from Stockholm Syndrome. Megatron goes from seeing Jack as a human pet/ replacement for Optimus Prime to caring for the teenager as a son of sorts. Megatron actually gets upset when Jack says he hates him. Angry, Megatron scratches the walls of his warship with his claws thinking about how to get Jack to respect him. Throughout all three fics, Megatron and Jack argue because Jack doesn't like how Megatron blatantly kills everyone to get what he wants. Of course, Megatron has no problem with killing all sentient life since he's been killing whoever disobeys him for millions of years, is a insane psychopath and excepts Jack to be fine with whatever murders/killings/crimes he commits. On the cartoon, Megatron and Orion Pax/Optimus Prime were once friends until they disagreed on what to do politically with their planet Cybertron and this fic suggests Megatron is looking for a replacement in the friendship he once had with Optimus in Jack. In return, Jack finds himself horrified that after finding out Megatron killed his dad, that he has grown attached to Megatron and doesn’t want to see Megatron die. His horror deepens when he realizes he acknowledges Megatrons death would be like losing a second dad. What a dilemma: sixteen year old human kid doesn’t want to lose his silver metal robot dictator father figure who killed his human dad since dictator has been spending lots of father/son quality time with kid in a forced relationship without boundaries.  Misgel did say in a comment to a reader that the relationship between Jack and Megatron is a twisted father/son relationship of sorts. It’s not a healthy relationship since Megatron wants to kill everyone close to Jack to make Jack loyal only to him but boy, it’s an intriguing trainwreck of a relationship that you will find yourself wasting a whole day, days, months or weeks on reading or rereading. Also, Jack is missing out on going to highschool in this fic since he’s saving the world so he will probably have to get his GED later. It’s absolute torture Misgel has not updated fic fic in a few years but you should read the story anyway because it’s got drama, action, sci-fil, fantasy, violence, family issues/mental health issues and a coming of age story with a teenager wrapped up in a neat little box with a big bow. Here’s the first link to the first part of this wonderful story:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13112487/chapters/29998599

Here’s the second link to the second part of the story:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15200639/chapters/35254460

Here’s the link to the third part of the story:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25650076/chapters/6226867

Favorite Possible Fanfic Ending : Jack would stop the human government and Autobots from killing Megatron by convincing them to give him a second chance. Jack would confess to Megatron that he sees him as a second dad. Touched by Jack's confession, Megatron would realize he doesn't care about the Decipticon cause anymore and stop being the Decipticon leader. He would discover Jack's safety is the only thing he really cares about anymore. The Decipticons would disband and Megatron would go into exile in outer space. No one would want Megatron to stay on earth since he's killed so many people. Megatron would accept Cybertron is never going to revive and just focus on helping the planets/people he has hurt for the remainder of his life. Jack would finish his high school education and get a job at NASA. He would go up into space and join Megatron in his humanitarian efforts of helping others. The final chapter ending would be Megatron showing Jack where they would be going on a virtual map within a space ship. This ending would be cheesy but I would love it to pieces.

#jack darby #arcee #june darby #ratchet #optimus #megatron #miko nadakai #raf esquivel #william fowler #transformers #transformers energon #cybertron #transformers prime #Michael Bay #fanfiction #unicron #optimus prime #orion pax #stockholm #tramua #scifi #violence #mental health #family #autobots #decepcion #decepticons

[achilleanwizard]

I was tagged by @punkranger (Thank you!!! 😊) And I’m going to tag @gelvaan @sataari @mutantenfisch @deviant3lover @averagejermafan @demianwas and @aelyosos (Feel free to ignore this if you’ve already done it, or just don’t feel like filling it out for your OC(s)!! I’ve just noticed you guys talking about your ocs, and I’d love to hear more about them!)

BASICS

Full Name: Alexander Valente

Gender: Male?? Look, we’ve got more important things to worry about right now, okay?

Sexuality: Biromantic Bisexual

Pronouns: As of right now? Just he/him. He’s pretty comfy with she/her too though. It’s flattering that people think he might be a girl

OTHERS

Family: He never had anyone he considered family; Just very good friends. If asked about it, then he’d say something along the lines of “Do you think I would take the boost drug, with a notoriously very low survival rate, in order to get superhero powers if I had any family I wanted to talk about?”

Birthplace: ???, Nevada, USA

Job: A consultant. Who is he advising and what is he giving them advice about? Mind your business

Phobias: Spiders. Heights. Especially looking out of windows from a very tall height. Admitting he has feelings for a certain someone(s). Abandonment. Probably a whole bucketful more, but those are the main ones.

Guilty Pleasures: Sugar in all it’s various forms (even if he needs the energy to function/for his telepathy) Taking the time to read and appreciate art when not working. Painting his nails (but only when possessing the Puppet’s body) Taking time off work. Buying three entire floors of a luxury skyscraper to house his villain base/office, Renting the most luxurious top floor penthouse (That would make Mayor Osborn (from spider-man) weep tears of envy) he could afford for a home that he barely resides in, Pleasures of the flesh (it’s like a catholic priest up in here) Honestly, it would be easier to list things he isn’t guilty about. (Killing. He’s not guilty about those he’s killed, even if he should be.)

Hobbies: Playing piano. Scheming. Beating up Daniel behind a Wendy’s parking lot Training Daniel. Kissing Daniel too. Starting fights that he can’t possibly hope to win/finish

MORALS

Morality Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Sins: Desire / Despair / Envy / Fear / Hunger / Pride / Rage / Sloth (so almost all of them…)

Virtues: Charity / Chastity / Diligence / Humility / Justice / Kindness / Patience

THIS OR THAT

introvert/extrovert organized/disorganized close minded/open-minded calm/anxious disagreeable/agreeable cautious/reckless patient/impatient outspoken/reserved leader/follower empathetic/unempathic optimistic/pessimistic traditional/modern hard-working/lazy

RELATIONSHIPS

Otp: It’s cruel that you’re making me choose between Herald and Ortega. But gun to my head…. Chargestep. There’s nothing quite like old lost loves.

Ot3: I forget the ‘official’ name for it but, Herald/Sidestep/Ortega (Flychargestep? Chargeflystep?)

Acceptable Ships: Alexander flirts with everyone possible, so. Argentstep. Steelstep. Mortumstep? <- Is that the right name? Anyway, he’ll smooch just about anyone.

Brotp: I have to admit, I’ve been thinking about different Sidestep interactions from time to time. I think he’d be good buddies with some, and have a, uh, very *interesting* dynamic with others. Not naming any specific Sidesteps to 1. Avoid any favoritism and 2. Not humiliate myself even further. He’s annoying though, and he revels in that, so it might only be a good time for him. Oh, also Anathema and Sidestep. Best bros for life (or death)

Notp: Oh, this one’s tough. Shroud/Sidestep if that’s even a thing. It’s on sight for him with her. He don’t trust random Regenes like that. (Unless it’s a multiple Sidesteps AU) HG/Sidestep too cause… yeah. If you know you know. Icky. Blaze/Sidestep, because I like teasing my friends(?) (acquaintances?) 😉

#Notice how Nocturne and Jake aren’t on the Notp list…. #anyway they can give Alexander a call if they want a good time 🤙 #he’s Mr. steal your [redacted]’s girlfriend and/or boyfriend #…actually now that I’m embarrassing myself anyway #I’ve also been thinking about some sidestep/sidestep interactions for him…. #which I will keep entirely to myself #and goodnight #tag games #oc: alexander valente #Anyway I’m so very sorry that this is probably incomprehensible to some of you guys #and to that I say… please play Fallen Hero: Rebirth cause it’s so very good #10/10 video game #and the sequel is coming out on February 2nd! #2023 #in case the year was in question