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cordeliawhohung · 2 months

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Leftovers [3/3]

Simon Riley x fem!Reader | a non-canon addition to my mafia!141 series

part 1 | part 2 | playlist

you love him

warnings: non-con!!!! attempted suicide, self harm, abusive relationships, spanking/impact, threats, stalking, mind the tags!!! dead dove do not eat

wc: 5.2k

The dilapidating motel room that you were unfortunate enough to take refuge in smelled like Simon. Vaguely, anyway.

Damp air greeted you the moment you opened the door to your room, and the old, wet scent of cigarette smoke nearly suffocated you. You flipped the lights on where they greeted you with a flicker and buzz, yet hardly did anything to illuminate the dull wallpaper and discolored carpet. Every documentary about real life crime warned you against places like that; it was the type of room where people entered yet never exited without a gaping hole in their chest.

Its unpleasant welcome nearly had you second guessing your escape, and a pang of trepidation echoed throughout your chest. Could you really subjugate yourself to a night alone and survive? Solitarily rotting in bed just like you used to as a pet? A shaky breath expelled past your lips as you tossed your bag onto the foot of the bed as you locked the door behind you. No, that was a different kind of solitude. Not one that you were forced into. Not something intentionally loveless.

That was freedom. The only reason it terrified you was because you had never experienced it before.

The digital clock on the nightstand read 2:36 which did little to quell the lump in your throat. If Simon wasn’t already home by then, you knew he would be soon. He would come home to an empty apartment, devoid of the woman he so fondly called sweetheart, and that made your stomach protest something fierce. You had only ever experienced short bursts of his anger previously over minor transgressions you had committed previously. Ones that you quickly solved lest he completely burst. If he had gotten upset by you merely asking to have your phone back, you didn’t even want to imagine the rage that would erupt within him when he realized you were gone.

A heavy breath expelled from your chest as you sat on the edge of the bed. A thin layer of grime seemed to cover the sheets, but you knew you couldn’t expect anything more from one of the cheapest and low rated hotels in London. It was your own fault for trying to lay as low as possible; you weren’t sure there was enough money on your card to afford anywhere without bloodstains, anyway. Ignoring the uncomfortable filth that surely stained your clothes, you fished your phone out from your pocket where the screen lit up brighter than the light above your head.

John’s text messages illuminated the screen, and you felt your throat grow tight again. His terrible wish for you to be there with him and Mrs. Price, and that fucking video of the ultrasound. You still weren’t fully convinced that it wasn’t all some sort of cruel joke. Simon said he had told John about everything. How you were done with them, how you were tired of being treated like nothing. So why the messages?

Unless Simon had lied about that, too.

An unsteady sigh passed between your lips as your thumbs hovered over the screen. While John and his wife hadn’t exactly been the most loving, they had never once lied to you. Not that you knew of, anyway. Since you couldn’t get the truth out of Simon, maybe you could get it out of them, yet the task was so daunting you swore you would throw up again.

So you sat there, hunched over on the side of the bed with your phone in hand, until the red glow of the digital clock read just past three in the morning. Frayed nerves hindered your brain’s ability to hold a coherent thought, and you had spent so much time sitting there trying to think of something to say that your phone was nearly dead. Nothing good would come out of a conversation with John that late in the night, if he was still even awake. With lethargic thumbs, you typed out a quick message asking him to call you in the morning, and then the screen went dark as you locked it.

Answers. That’s all you wanted. But your fuzzy and exhausted brain couldn’t handle that. You had spent the last few hours running like your life depended on it — running like a bad pet. Come morning, you would get what you wanted. In the meantime, you would pray sleep would take you away.

That night was the first night that you slept fully dressed since you started living with Simon. Always had to have you bare with your naked body up against his while you slept. Such easy access to your cunt all he had to do was slither his hands between your legs to get you purring like a kitten. Some poor touch-starved creature that would do anything for the attention of something with teeth too sharp to love properly.

You tried not to think too hard about it as you set your phone face down on the nightstand and settled into bed. You weren’t brave enough to climb underneath the covers in the fear that something truly might bite you, so you curled up like a cat on top of the comforter. The lights stayed on that night, as it had been so long since you slept alone you weren’t sure you could stomach the darkness. Childish. That thought made you cringe, but that’s what you had been reduced to. Maybe it was all you had ever been.

When you hugged your pillow tight to your core that night, the full weight of the silence around you made your eyes sting. There was no heartbeat to lull you to sleep that night. It was one of the things you remembered craving so dearly when you lived with the Prices, something Simon had provided you without question. You wanted to cry. To mourn the things you had and the things you lost, but you refused to let those walls see your tears.

Once your eyes closed, you swore you only slept for a single moment before they opened to find the summer sun peeking through the tacky curtains. A dull ache in your neck blossomed and radiated from the back of your skull to your shoulder blades, and the sour smell of smoke had permeated into your clothes and hair. Rolling over to stare at the digital clock revealed that it was just before seven in the morning. You had hardly gotten any sleep at all, yet you already buzzed with anticipation and uneasiness.

An anxious hand reached for your phone where you quickly checked through your notifications. Several junk notifications clogged up your phone since you turned it on. Old emails that you hadn’t checked in months and stupid spam call notifications from weeks back. But John had yet to respond to your text, or even see it, and though that ignited a pit of worry in your stomach, you knew you had to give him time. He always got home late. Him and Mrs. Price probably slept in.

You hated that you still had their routine so ingrained in your mind.

No matter. There was a plan you had in your mind; steps you had to take in order to really be free from your old life. The first step was getting clean, and then getting the fuck out of there.

Time didn’t exist in the shower, and neither did the water bill. You had quite the time watching droplets of water dance on the foggy glass door as you stood underneath the stream's embrace. Each time one fell, another formed to take its place before falling too, like some neverending dance. You watched the streaks form as you washed your body with the skin stripping complimentary body wash the motel left on the counter. It hardly got sudsy, and it didn’t leave you feeling refreshed, but it replaced that stale smoke scent with the vague idea of green apples, and that was enough for you.

A thick veil of mist greeted you when you exited the shower, and you blindly nabbed a towel to dry your body off with. Its fabric wasn’t at all kind on your skin either, yet you still found yourself wrapping it around your body before exiting the bathroom. The sun had changed positions in the room as the morning meandered along, and you found yourself praying that John had finally answered you as you entered the main part of the room.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.”

Simon sat on the edge of the motel bed with his elbows on his knees. A dim light illuminated the silvery scars on his face as he scrolled through the phone in his hands. Your phone. His dark eyes broke away from the screen to look up at you, and the twitch in the corner of his mouth left your mouth dry. He turned the screen to face you where he then gently shook it as if it were contraband; something you weren’t supposed to have. Though you couldn’t read what it said, you could see John had responded to your request to call him.

“You’ve been busy. Been naughty,” Simon continued as he turned your phone off and tossed it next to him. “Didn’t even leave a note. Just think you could up and leave?”

Your hands gripped the knot in your towel as your body began to turn to stone. It was difficult to tell if you trembled because of the cool air of the room or if you trembled because of the fear that coursed through your veins. Either way, your mouth wasn’t able to form any response to his biting tone.

At your silence, Simon tapped his fingertips on top of your phone, causing it to lightly bounce on the old boxspring mattress. “Decided you had enough of me? Is that it? Wanting to go back to John? Go back to bein’ a fuckin’ pet?”

“No,” you said once your tongue finally decided to work. “I just… wanted answers.”

“Well, I’m all ears for any questions you have, sweetheart,” Simon snapped.

His tone had you recoiling against the wall, yet you refused to look away from him. If you did, you knew it would give him enough time to pounce like an animal, and he looked almost excited to sink his teeth into you. It was wrong. You thought you would have had more time. Simon wasn’t supposed to find you that quick; no, he wasn’t supposed to find you at all. Yet there he sat, on the edge of your bed, like an owner trying to wrangle a bad dog back home.

“How did you find me?” you asked.

“You used a card. Anything electronic is easy to track, ‘specially in a place like this. All it took was me saying I was your husband to get the lad at the front to give me your room number. Surprised you made it this far on your own, considering how pathetic you are without me,” he said with a sour chuckle.

“My card?” you repeated. “But… you don’t- how do you have access to my account? You can’t track me without-”

“One of the perks of working for John Price,” Simon deadpanned.

Every word that came out of Simon’s mouth unraveled you, and it only got worse. It was as if everything he had ever told you was a lie. How naive of you to think otherwise; of course they were lies. He had lied to you from the very beginning, and instead of running then while your feet were unchained, you chose to ignore it. Hope and pray it would go away. Now, it was too late. Every part of you seemed bound to Simon, and you weren’t sure you could stand to tear yourself from him.

“I thought you said-” you started.

“That I wasn’t working for him anymore? That I told him how you chose to live with me? No,” Simon interrupted. “He’s got too many resources. Besides, no one just ups and leaves the mafia, sweetheart.”

Your bottom lip began to tremble at that word. Mafia. Everyone knew about the violence that plagued London, even someone as much of a recluse as you. You didn’t want to believe him, but it made sense. Why else did John always work late? Why else would he come home some days with scuffed up knuckles? Besides, he only ever seemed to tell the truth when he tried to prod a response out of you. Simon’s smirk was faint but painfully noticeable in the crease of his lips as he tilted his head at you.

“Yeah, figured he didn’t tell you about that,” he huffed. “No one leaves. Not even pets. Not even you. Who do you think was protectin’ you from him this whole time? Who do you think removed his tracker in your phone? Why do you think we always used my money to pay for everything? If it wasn’t for me, you’d be right back where you started. Unloved, neglected and fuckin’ abused.”

His words cut you to pieces worse than anything else ever had. It was worse than learning Mrs. Price was pregnant. Worse than the first time Simon had ever lied to you. Hot, fat tears rolled down your cheeks while your throat constricted so tightly you swore you would choke. You made the mistake of looking away from Simon as a small sob rattled your shoulders. In a pitiful attempt to comfort yourself, you wrapped your arms around your front, keeping your towel in place as your knees nearly buckled.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Simon’s feet were surprisingly soft against the stiff carpet of the motel room, and it took everything in you not to lean into his touch. Warm fingers ghosted against your arms, and something primal and pathetic yearned for more. But you didn’t miss him. Not Simon Riley. You just missed the warmth of someone else; warmth you were certain you could find in someone less hurtful.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Simon urged. His thumbs rubbed against your shoulders, and something that should have felt like knives in your skin felt all too comforting instead. “Let’s go home.”

Some broken part of you wanted to say yes. To slap the band-aid back on and continue to let those pathetic feelings fester inside of you with no air to breathe. It would have been easy to say yes, to follow him back home like a wounded animal and continue to live in your cage. But you were so close to freedom, to living on your own without the need to be chained to anyone else.

You didn’t bother to wipe your tears before looking at Simon. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, making your skin feel clammy. A few more tears blinked free from your eyes, staining your cheeks like glitter as you stiffened your upper lip.

“I can’t,” you finally said, though the words felt like they would kill you. “I don’t want to. I… just wanna be left alone.”

Simon’s face began to morph in front of your eyes. All that softness in his expression hardened into something more firm and demanding; dissapointment. It wasn’t until your back hit the wall that you realized your choice had already been decided for you. No wasn’t an answer. Neither was yes. It had only ever been what Simon had already chosen for you.

“Wasn’t asking,” he warned.

His grip seared your skin through your towel as his hands rested on your hips, but you had nowhere to run. Useless hands pressed against his chest as you tried to fight back against the immoveable object that was Simon Riley. Hot breath fanned across your face when he pressed his forehead to yours, and you tried not to flinch when he yanked your towel off of your body, tossing it aside where it fell in a limp pile by your feet.

“C’mon, you’re smarter than this, arent’cha?” he prompted. Simon began to move backwards, and his firm grip on your waist gave you no choice but to stumble after him. Shame pricked the corners of your ears with a searing heat as he dragged you around, naked, like a dog on a leash. “If you don’t come home, Price’ll find ya. You understand that, yeah sweetheart? I’m the only thing keeping you from an early fuckin’ grave.”

All it took was a simple turn and a harsh shove to get you face first on the bed. The mattress was unforgiving as it hardly gave way underneath your weight, knocking the breath from your lungs. Sweaty palms dug into the crummy comforter as you tried to push yourself up, but once Simon’s knees sunk into the mattress next to you, his hand pushed against the back of your neck, keeping your face into the bed.

“Simon!” you cried. “Wait- please stop. I’m sorry! I just- please don’t. Please, I didn’t mean to upset you I just- there had to be a reason for it! For them to treat me like that!”

Ignoring your pleas, Simon snaked an arm underneath your hips and pulled up, putting your ass on display. An angry hand rested on the crux of your bum where his fingers twitched with anticipation.

“A reason? It’s because they saw you as a fuckin’ pet. Nothin’ more than an animal to feed and play with,” Simon bit. “Until I found ya. Saved you from that shit, didn’t I sweetheart? Then you fuckin’ run out on me. Ruinin’ everything I worked so hard to build for ya. Ungrateful slag.”

“Please stop!” you sobbed, cries half muffled by the bed.

He allowed you no more time to continue to snivel before his hand raised from your bum only to slap against it with a firm palm. Its sting pierced through your skin with such force it stole your breath away, and with Simon’s hand still on the back of your neck, you had nowhere to run from the pain. Your chest heaved with a sob at the sensation, and you felt your feet involuntarily kick behind you.

“Quiet,” he warned, voice dangerously low. “Don’t need you causin’ anymore trouble than you already have.”

Once more his hand came down with a sharp crack where pain prickled across your skin. In some pitiful attempt to ward him off, you reached your arms behind your back as if you could push him away. All it did was make him chuckle as his thumb rubbed against the back of your neck.

“Yeah, ‘nuff of that. Of all of it. I’ll set you straight and take you home and we can forget all about this little stunt of yours,” Simon hummed.

Despite it all, your body could only react viscerally to the thought of returning home with him. That was the day you were supposed to become your own person without being bound to anyone else. Go out on your own and finally live your life as a human rather than a trophy. You were so close to tasting it you could scream.

“I can’t. I can’t…” you whined.

Another spank and your thoughts cut off with a squeak.

“Don’t fuckin’ understand anythin’ do you?” Simon hissed. “Either you leave here with me, or you leave as John’s. He’ll find and track you within a heartbeat, and he won’t be as kind as me. Dunno about you sweetheart, but I’m not gonna sit around and let him take you again. So you leave here with me, or you don’t leave at all.”

Not a single word rose in your mind at his threat. Tears and snot continued to stain the linens underneath you as you took his punishment, and as his hand came down on you once more, you started to believe that you deserved it. Every single bit of it. How ungrateful of you to deny him after everything he had done for you. Keeping you safe. Keeping you away from John. From the worst members of the mafia. Everything he had ever done had been to protect you, right?

“Did you really think I’d let you run off like that? After everythin’ I've done for you?” he continued. His weight shifted on the bed as he slipped from your side to your backside. With his hand no longer on your neck, you were able to take a deep breath, though the air felt stale and salty. “No, my girl doesn’t run away. Not the mother of my kid.”

Ice formed in your veins at his words, and you were too shocked to even cry about it. You blinked rapidly as you raised your head from the bed, and your stomach turned so violently you nearly puked all over the sheets.

“What?” you choked out.

Simon’s hands rubbed over your sore rump as if soothing the pain he inflicted on you only to fall from your skin a moment later. A sharp, distinct clink sounded behind you, followed by the unzipping of his pants.

“It’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” he asked as he pulled his cock free. “You said it yourself. You want what they have.”

Electricity jolted through your body when the head of Simon’s pre-cum smeared cock tapped the underside of your ass. Your breath hitched in your throat as he grabbed your hips and raised you higher up, angling you just right so he could press against your cunt. Everything in you screamed to run, but the prey in you knew you wouldn’t get far enough for it to matter.

“You wanted love, so I gave you that. They never fucked you, so I gave you that, too. Just wasn’t enough for you, was it?” Simon droned as he pressed into you. Without your arousal to assist, the stretch of him not only burned, but felt like it tore. Only the head of his cock had made it inside of your constricting cunt, and even that was too much. “Still cryin’ all the time. Still upset. The only thing that they have that we don’t is a kid. If you want one so bad, then I’ll give ya one.”

“Wait, please,” you choked out as you wiggled.

“What’cha so worked up for, sweetheart?” Simon patronized. “With how often I’ve fucked you before, you’re probably already knocked up anyway. No harm in trying a bit more, yeah?”

It was impossible to answer once Simon began to press further into you. Everything within you was wound up so tight with muscles revolting against him as he made you take every painful inch of him. His love had never hurt like that before. Never felt like it tore you open to fix what was never broken in the first place. Not until then as he speared you open with no regard for the way it ripped you to shreds.

It only got worse when he bottomed out, forcing your cunt to take what it didn’t want to. His hips snapped against yours with force so strong you were left breathless. Each agonizing thrust left you a mess as half created sobs erupted from your throat. No amount of begging would get him to change his mind or set you free. This was what you deserved for biting the hand that fed you.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Simon grunted. Searing anger kept his body going as he fucked you, hands digging into either side of your hips. “A man to fuck you. To be the sweet little trophy wife. Have a cute kid or two. Isn’t it? Say it, sweetheart.”

But you couldn’t. Even if it wasn’t for his cock bullying every breath from your lungs, you didn’t think you would be able to admit to anything. So you dug your face further into the sheets, no longer caring about the filth of it all; you just wanted to hide away as best as you could. Simon wasn’t impressed with your silence, and his hand came down hard against your backside as his relentless pace continued. You could almost feel his blood boiling in his veins from his touch alone.

“I said, say it,” he barked. “Tell me what you want.”

Agonizing aches ripped through your pelvis at the intrusion, and you found your hands pawing at your stomach as if you could soothe the pain. There was no love behind any of his actions. Perhaps there never had been. You just knew that you wanted it to stop.

“You!” you finally wailed. “I want you!”

“‘Course you do. Can’t fuckin’ live without me, can you sweetheart?”

It was enough to satisfy Simon, and he stopped verbally antagonizing you as he continued in his pursuit. Trembling fingers dug into the sheets as you kept your face hidden in the musty bed. It couldn’t go on forever, and as Simon’s hips began to stutter, you knew it would be over soon. You did your best to stifle your whimpering as he approached the end, yet he only seemed to pick up speed as if to egg you on.

In that moment, your mind painfully reminded you of the first time you ever met him. How he just appeared in your life sitting on the living room couch as if he had always known you. You wished that you had never obeyed John that night. Never allowed Simon’s arm to wrap around you as he intertwined your lives together to the point you could no longer undo the knots. It was too late for regret. You were bound to him, soul, mind, and soon to be body.

“Fuck.”

Simon’s groan was deep in his throat as he remained fully sheathed inside of you while his cock twitched unabashed against the screaming walls of your cunt. The aches only got worse as he kept himself pressed up against your bruised cervix, but you bore it as he gave you every last drop of his spend.

There was nothing left to keep your rump up in the air when Simon pulled out and away from you, and you collapsed on the bed as a mess of sticky flesh. His chuckle, once so soothing and melodic, sounded like nails on a chalkboard as he fixed his pants behind you. The bed rocked with his weight as he sat with his back turned to you, yet you paid no mind to it as you squeezed your eyes shut. You prayed that if you squeezed them tight enough, something would whisk you away and take you far, far away from that fucking motel room and away from Simon Riley.

But you never had such luck before.

That stale scent of cigarette smoke only grew stronger as Simon lit a fresh one. His chest expanded as he took a hefty drag, and you hoped that the ash would fall onto the carpet and burn the whole building to the ground. Half the cigarette burned by the time he turned around to face your motionless body on the bed. He cooed as he reached out for you, fingers gently raising your chin so that he could lean forward and press a kiss against your limp lips. A little bit of smoke still lingered in his mouth, and when you opened your eyes you tried to pretend that they watered because of the burn rather than the pain.

“Ready to go home, sweetheart?”

You didn’t remember if you fought against him when you got in the car. You didn’t remember anything. It was a complete mystery how you ended back up in Simon’s bed in that apartment, naked just how he liked you. All you knew was that everything hurt, and he had won. The next few weeks consisted of nothing but an incomplete recollection, like you looked at your memories through shattered glass. There was a vague memory of him bathing you in the shower, and another one of him feeding you by hand. It was all disconnected. Unreal.

Your body didn’t belong to you anymore. Maybe it never did. You had become an outsider, watching that useless hunk of flesh meander around an apartment you were too tired to escape from. There was nothing in the world that would save you from whatever curse that was wrought upon you; that Simon Riley.

The only thing you could somewhat remember were your dreams. One night, you dreamt you hid yourself away in the bathroom. It angered Simon, for some reason you couldn’t articulate. Mean hands pounded against the wood of the door as if he tried to break it down, all while he demanded you open it. You remembered voicing how you wanted to go home; how you just wanted to sleep. There was some deep dark feeling harbored inside of you that you couldn’t purge with your hands alone.

When the door finally came down, you suddenly were no longer in the bathroom. It was cold, but you were wrapped in more blankets than you could count while Simon wrapped bandages around your arms. They felt like cuffs. Like they were more chains to keep you tethered to him, yet you didn’t fight. You couldn’t fight. You knew not to anymore, because bad pets always got punished.

“Not leavin’ me yet, sweetheart. Not like this,” he mumbled.

Those bandages were still on your arms the next day, and you realized it had never been a dream at all. Just another bit of your life that was too fuzzy to fully experience. It was then that you finally realized that not even Death Himself could save you from Simon Riley. Nothing could.

It wasn’t until you were in the bathroom again that you were slammed back into your body. Each sensation that had felt so terribly numb before suddenly became painfully sharp. A terrible ache buzzed throughout your arms, stomach, and head the moment you returned to yourself. Something had stolen your conscience for a while just to kick it back in that silly brain of yours the moment it was bored, and your entire body grew cold with stark realization at what was in your hands. A pregnancy test, with two faint little lines that smiled up at you.

Adverting your gaze from that terrible object gave you no solace as you were met with the stomach-churning image of yourself in the mirror. Between the red veins that strained in your eyes and the peeling skin on your lips, you hardly recognized yourself. Still, Simon saw past all the broken parts of you as he stood behind you, hands snaking around to your front to grab your stomach. He was much too comforting for the pain that grew in your body.

“My sweet girl,” he whispered as he kissed the top of your head.

He breathed in your scent and you wondered if he could pick up on the notes of rot that laid underneath the smell of shampoo and product. He had killed you a long time ago, at least some part of you, and left it to fester and decay in a place you couldn’t heal. With shaky hands, you placed the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter as you let Simon pull you against his chest. His warmth threatened to engulf you, but you knew nothing would ever burn hot enough to ignite that smothered flame inside of you.

“I love you,” he whispered.

With a voice as empty as your eyes, you replied: “I love you, too.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #dead dove fic #dark fic #dead dove

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ramblers-lets-get-ramblin · 3 months

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It's Leading Me On, Every Time We Touch

Main Masterlist | Star Wars Masterlist | Poe Dameron Masterlist

Pairing: Poe Dameron x f!reader

Summary: Poe returns from a spice run and just has to see you.

Rating: E for EXPLICIT MDNI 18+

Word Count: 1380

Warnings: Infidelity, Unprotected PIV, Creampie, Light Pining, Light Angst

Immersability: Reader is able bodied but otherwise undescribed.

Author's Notes: This is my first time writing for Poe. I was thinking about what Young Spice Runner Poe would be like and this flew out of me. In my mind, he has a little bit of a beard/scruff and he's also a little slutty.

Huge shoutout to @pedgito and @beskarandblasters for beta reading and encouraging the brain rot!

A loud thump, thump, thump infiltrates your dream. You roll over and pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders, hoping that whatever the sound was, it won’t bother you anymore. Thump, thump, thump, even louder this time. Someone is knocking on your door. The digital readout on your clock is blurry and unfocused at first. Three knocks come again, in more rapid succession. Who could it be at this time?

You roll out of bed and pad towards the door, not bothering to put on anything more than the t-shirt you sleep in. His t-shirt. When you open the door, there he is. His arm is resting on the frame, above his head.

“Poe? It’s late. Is everything okay?”

“I don’t have much time. Can I come in?”

You open the door all the way and step aside. Poe looks around quickly before he steps through the door. You never can be quite sure whose eyes are on you. The Thieves’ Quarter is littered with the kind of people who would do or say anything for a handful of credits. The second your apartment door closes, Poe pushes you up against it. His hands fight with his thick jacket and his mouth covers yours.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know.” his lips crash against yours, even more urgently.

“If Zorii finds out, she’ll kill us both.” you pant into his ear as his lips make their way down your chin and across your jaw. His beard

“Well let’s make sure she never finds out, baby.”

He releases his hold on you and walks down the hallway, further into your apartment. You trail behind, still trying to shake off the grogginess of sleep. He finally gets his jacket unzipped and tosses it to the floor. He unzips his flight suit next and, one at a time, pulls his arms out. He lets the arms of his suit hang loose near his waist and the thick muscles of his neck and arms are exposed by the sleeveless shirt he wears under. He leans up against the back of your couch and holds his hand out to you.

“Come here, baby. I told you, I don’t have long. She’ll be wondering where I am soon.”

You slide your hand into his and he pulls you between his spread legs. He drops your hand and pulls you close, until your chest is pressed right up against his. You can feel it heaving as he resumes kissing you, mouth touching every inch of skin it can reach. His hands slide under your shirt, his shirt, and grabs your ass. You tangle your hands in his hair and he moans against your throat when you give it a gentle tug. You can feel the cotton of your panties growing damp and sticking to your skin.

“Fuck, baby .” He groans when you nibble on his ear lobe. You soothe the bite with a lick and you can feel his cock twitch against your thigh. He moves his hands to your hips and stands up straight, pushing you back slightly. He drops his hands and walks around behind you. “I can’t wait one more second. I need to be inside you right now.”

He grabs your wrists and places your hands on the back of the couch. “Hold on tight.” He instructs before reaching under your shirt. He grabs the elastic of your underwear and shoves them down your legs. When he stands he places his palm flat on the space between your shoulder blades and pushes you forward. Your shirt rides up and your ass sticks out, granting him full view of both your holes. He sticks his boot between your feet and kicks it, first to the left, then the right, spreading your legs open for him.

He runs his fingers through your slick folds, reaching into his flight suit with the other hand and pulls his cock from his flight suit. He gives it a few strokes and steps closer, until it rests against your ass. He leans down and whispers in your ear. “Are you ready for me?”

A whimper escapes your lips and all you can do is nod in return. Your body is trembling with anticipation, knowing that you won’t be able to have him again anytime soon. You want to savor the moment but you also can’t wait to feel him inside of you, to be full of him.

He brings his hand to his mouth and licks his fingers. He rubs the digits against your cunt and then the tip of him pressing inside you. With one swift thrust, he buries himself inside you. “Maker, you feel so good.” he murmurs as he sets a steady pace, hands gripping your hips tightly.

The apartment is still and quiet except for the sound of Poe’s quiet grunts and your needy whimpers and the sound of his hips slapping against your ass. You both try to keep the noise down, the walls in this apartment are paper thin. You miss going on runs with him. To places where you don’t have to hide your affection, rooms where you can be as loud as you want.

Your legs begin to shake as your orgasm draws closer. Poe’s thrusts slow in speed but he goes deeper with each snap of his hips. You're both right on the edge, just waiting to tumble over.

“Come on, baby. I feel you right there. Give it to me.”

You push back against him, in time with his thrusts. Your knuckles will be sore from holding onto the back of the couch so tightly, but right at this moment you couldn’t care less. All you can think about is the steady drag of his cock along your walls, the quiet words of praise whispered into the dark room. You don’t want it to be over, not yet, but here it comes. Your cunt clenches around him as your orgasm overcomes you. You moan loudly, unable to hold back the sounds of your pleasure. Poe curses quietly under his breath and thrusts twice more, before his cock pulses inside of you painting your walls with his warm spend.

He collapses against your back, his fingers trail up your side, tickling you. He wraps an arm around your middle when you begin to squirm and giggle. He presses a kiss to your spine and slowly pulls out of you. He takes a step back and grabs your ass cheeks, spreading them wide so that he can see the mess he made of you.

“You look good like this, with me dripping out of you.” he rasps. With two fingers, he pushes his come back inside you, eliciting a sharp gasp. “Wish I could have you like this all the time.” he says more quietly. He kisses both of your ass cheeks before standing. He grabs your shoulders and hauls you upright, turning you around to face him.

He grabs your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, angling your face until your eyes meet. There’s a sadness there that you know is reflected in yours. He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he gets a word out.

“I know. You gotta go.”

“She’s waiting for me.” he says, kissing you softly on your forehead. “You know I’d stay if I could.” he tucks himself back into his flight suit and starts to redress himself.

You bend down to pick up your panties, balling them in your fist. You don’t meet his eyes again, just walk in the direction of your bedroom. “Yeah. I know.” you reply without looking back. “Goodbye, Poe.” you walk into your room and close the door, standing with your back up against it. You can’t watch him walk out the door, not tonight.

“Goodnight.” you hear, but it’s quiet and muffled through the door.

You remain there until you hear the automatic lock click shut behind him. You shower quickly, trying to scrub all traces of him from your body. When you return to your bed, you are still dressed in his shirt. You hug your pillow tightly, drifting off to sleep with the scent of him all around you and the ghost of his lips, his touch on your body.

taglist: @planet-marz1 @rhoorl @nerdieforpedro @hyzer34 @littlegrungegirlaf @pamasaur @joeldjarinff @harriedandharassed @casa-boiardi @disassociation-daydreams @inept-the-magnificent @elegantduckturtle @magpiepills @cherubispunk @milly-louise @party-hearses @megamindsecretlair @survivingandenduring @Darkheartgatita @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @callmecath1 @pedge-page @justagalwhowrites @morallyinept @heareball @yorksgirl @clawdee @fluffygoffpanda @poodlebae @readingiskeepingmegoing @amanitacowboy @casuallyfancydonut @for-a-longlongtime @hiddenbabynyc @missladym1981 @noxturnalpascal @joelsflannel @rosi3ba3z @professionalpromqueen @survivingandenduring @anoverwhelmingdin@heavennumber2@pascalpvnk@joels-shitty-puns@weho2kcmo@uncassettodiricordi @noisynightmarepoetry @spookyxsam @apesarecuul @maried01 @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @vabeachan @yorksgirl@violinchick @dameron-grant-spector @braverthanthenewworld

#poe dameron smut #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x f!reader #star wars au #star wars fanfiction #star wars

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joels6string · 1 year

Note

Kate, I am asking - in a very normal and not at all desperate way - for smut prompt 4. “Use your words.” with Joel 😇

And, uh, arbitrary bonus points from me if you feel like making this a "we almost died" fuck.

💗💗💗

Hayley my love!! I'm sorry this took so long, but I hope you enjoy it 💜

4. "Use Your Words" Word Count: 890 Content: rough sex, unprotected p-in-v, squirting, spanking, creampie

Impetuous Reactions

Joel Miller x f!reader

“You pleased with yourself?”

There was venom laced in that Texas drawl as he slammed the door closed, his boots heavy on the rotting floor as he approached. You didn’t dare turn and look at him to find those cold, hazel eyes so filled with disdain, not today.

“Fuck off, Miller,” you spat, still refusing to turn, “You would have done the same–”

“I ain’t that stupid.”

Everything about this run had gone wrong, and while you certainly wouldn’t admit it to him, it was entirely your fault. A quick pickup had turned into a firefight, your quick trigger finger pulling too early and you’d nearly paid the price with your lives. You were still shaking, Joel’s level head getting you through the disaster of your own creation, but now it was him you had to deal with. Jury was still out on which fate was worse.

In a momentary lapse in judgment last week, you’d slept with him. Scotch from Bill had flowed too freely, your loneliness claiming ownership over your sense and before you even had time to argue with it, you’d been beneath him on a grungy, old couch, the drag of his thick length bringing you to the peak over and over until you were fucked into a daze. It had felt so good, your body soaking in his warmth, the way his lips tasted still lingering on your tongue even now.

After that, you hadn’t discussed it. A one-time thing. A mistake. You worked together, nothing more. It couldn’t be more. Not in a world like this.

“Turn around,” he commanded, his tone unwavering, and when you did you gasped to find him so close, your lips mere inches from the throat they’d marked such a short time ago. The discoloration still tinged his sun-darkened skin.

A calloused thumb brushed over the swelling just beneath your eye causing you to wince, gentle fingers gripping beneath your chin and turning your face as he inspected you for other injuries. But his mild touch ended there, his lips crashing onto yours bruisingly as he stepped forward, your back hitting the wall with a thud as he licked at the seam of your mouth. His biceps strained beneath the worn flannel, your hands gripping onto them as he wrestled your jeans to your knees.

“This what you want?” he exhaled against your throat, a thick digit sliding through your already soaked slit.

All you could muster was a whine, your arms wrapping his neck as your legs buckled, the heavy scent of gunpowder and sweat filling your nostrils.

“Use your words,” he growled, pressing his thumb down on your throbbing clit.

“Yes,” you sputtered, “Please.”

“Good girl.”

It was pathetic the way you responded to those two simple words, mewling into his hair as his teeth grazed over your pulse before he reclaimed your lips once again. You took it upon yourself to free his cock, precum already oozing from the tip as you fisted him. The rocking of his hips into your grip was involuntary, his body begging for friction as your tongues reacquainted, a thick digit breaching your entrance and pressing to the deep velvety patch he made a point to search out.

Pressure was building rapidly as he massaged the innermost parts of you, your whines growing deeper and more desperate as you breathed in his air, your fist still tight as he continued to flick his hips into you. You could feel your arousal dripping down your inner thighs, your body toward release embarrassingly fast, but you couldn’t control it. With a shriek of his name, you clamped around his finger, a gush soaking his hand and wrist before he quickly spun you to face the wall, pulling your hips away enough and bending you til only your forearms were left to keep you steady.

There was nothing gentle about the way he pushed his cock into your cunt, bottoming out in one quick thrust and giving you no time to adjust. It was brutal and punishing, but so fucking good as his hips smacked against your ass, your own whines drowned out by the slap of skin on skin. His hand running gently up and down your spine reassured you that all it would take was one word and he’d stop, but you wanted him just like this.

“Christ,” he sighed as you began to clench again, his wide palm swatting down on your ass making you yelp in pleasure and pain alike.

His arm wrapped around your waist as your legs finally gave way, white-hot heat coursing through your veins as the pressure he’d built became too much to bear. Your vision went black, every muscle relaxing its tension as he spilled deep inside of you, thrusting through your oversensitized channel slowly, enjoying the way your combined releases eased his way.

Soft presses of his lips to your neck and shoulder helped slow your labored breathing, his hand splayed across your stomach, his beard scratching against your damp skin.

“Stop bein’ stupid.” If he’d meant that to sound harsh, he’d failed, his voice practically pleading. “Don’t make me lose you.”

“I could say the same to you,” you teased, linking your fingers with his over your middle, his gruff laugh huffing out against your ear.

“Touché. So we have a deal then?”

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year

Text

like father ~ diego hargreeves;umbrella academy

word count: 2817

request?: yes!

“Hii! Could you please write a Diego Hargreeves x pregnant!reader fic :) If you feel uncomfortable you don't need to”

description: after she tells him she’s pregnant, he starts to worry about ending up like his father

pairing: diego hargreeves x female!reader

warnings: swearing, unplanned pregnancy, absolutely tooth rotting fluff

masterlist (one, two, three)

You never thought two simple, little lines would ever change your life so drastically. And yet, here you were, stood in your bathroom, looking down at the two digital lines that had effectively changed everything for you within five minutes.

You weren’t sure how long you had been stood there. You had been sat on the floor for the five minutes it took the test results to appear, but once the alarm you set on your phone had gone off, you stood. And now you continued to stand, still staring at the test. Had it been minutes? Hours? Days? Who knew. All you knew was that there was a life growing inside of you, and you had no idea how Diego was about to take the news.

Maybe it was something that should’ve been discussed in the early days of your relationship, but the idea of kids had never been brought up between the two of you. You knew that you wanted them, but not so badly that it would be a dealbreaker if Diego didn’t. He hadn’t brought up the idea before, and you didn’t think to bring it up, either. So, the topic just went undiscussed for a very long time.

Until now, when it was definitely too late to make the decision considering you already had a bun in the oven.

You wanted to desperately to be happy. Deep down, you felt kind of excited. The only thing dampening your mood was the dozens of outcomes running through your head of having to tell Diego that you were pregnant. You wanted to try and hope for the best, but your mind kept thinking of all the possible bad endings this could have.

When you heard the front door open and shut, you flinched. It was now or never, although you really wished it could be never.

Diego was walking up to you with wide smile as you exited the bathroom. He picked you up in his arms, causing you to exclaim as he lifted you off the ground. You couldn’t help but smile, hoping that this reaction would stay once you gave him the news.

“Hey baby,” he said. “How was your day?”

“It was...alright,” you responded. “Listen, I have to tell you something.”

He placed you down on the floor, still smiling a little but also a concerned look behind his eyes. “Uh-oh. That’s doesn’t sound good.”

“Depends on how you take the news.”

You passed him the pregnancy test. He took it and looked down at it. For a moment, there was no reaction. The suspense was killing you. And then, realization crossed his face.

“Wait,” he said. “Is this...?”

You nodded.

“How long...?” He trailed off.

“How long have I known? Or how far along am I?” you asked. When he didn’t respond, you decided to answer both questions, “I only just found out, but I’ve had a suspicion for a while. My period was late and it’s never been late before, and I’ve been experiencing some other signs of pregnancy. I don’t know how far along I am. I would have to make a doctor’s appointment to find out.”

He was still silent. He kept looking down at the pregnancy test in his hands. You wished he would give you some sort of reaction. Literally anything. Even if it was anger, you would’ve taken it over the silence. It was eating away at you, making you feel even more uneasy by the second.

Finally, he passed you back the pregnancy test and turned away. He started to walk away from you, and you quickly kept up the pace with him to follow. “Where are you going?”

“I just...I need to go out for a minute.”

“You just got home.”

“I need to go out again.”

“Diego, please.” You reached out to grab hold of him. He stopped walking for a moment, but didn’t look back at you. “Can you at least...tell me how you feel? Tell me what this means for us if I...if I want to keep it?”

But he still didn’t respond. He pulled away and started for the front door again. He didn’t even slam the door to give you any sort of clue as to whether or not he was upset. He just walked off, got into his car, and then drove away.

You watched him go before sitting back on the floor. You pulled your knees up to your chest and began to cry.

~~~~~~

You managed to pull yourself together long enough to make a doctor’s appointment for a few day’s time. You texted Diego to let him know and to tell him that if he wanted to go with you that you would greatly prefer that. When he didn’t respond you weren’t shocked, but it truly broke your heart even more.

You didn’t think this would be a dealbreaker for Diego. You didn’t think he’d get so upset that he would just up and leave. The two of you had been together for many years. You had a bond that seemed to unbreakable, to a point where even his siblings noticed how much happier he had been since meeting you. You remembered the first time you ever met the Hargreeves family, where Luther pulled you aside before you left and thanked you for “making Diego, Diego again”.

And now he was gone. No calls, no texts, no indications on whether or not this relationship was going to continue. All because you told him that you were pregnant.

Your upset was starting to melt into anger.

If he wanted to react this way, then fine, he could react this way. But he wouldn’t have you anymore if that was the case. You’d raise this baby all on your own if you had to. You didn’t need Diego.

You were in the process of calling your mom to ask her to come with you to the appointment when you heard the front door open and close. You hung up before your mom answered and slowly rose from your spot on the bed. You knew who it likely was and you weren’t sure if that made you more or less tense.

Diego appeared in the doorway just as you were about to step out. You were inches away from one another. He was looking at you in a way you once again weren’t able to read. Your anger was still fresh, so you stepped back and crossed your arms.

“Welcome home,” you said, coolly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d even come back.”

He winced at your words. “Of course I was going to come back.”

“I don’t know, you left pretty quickly after I gave you the news. When that happens, it usually means that person isn’t coming back.”

The hurt look on his face didn’t go unnoticed. You felt a little bit of pride knowing he was feeling remorse for what he did.

“I just...needed to think,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to go on. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Look, come sit. I can explain everything.”

He reached out for you, but you took a step away. You turned your back to him and walked back to the bed. You both sat on the edge, leaving a bigger space between the two of you than you wanted. You couldn’t be close to him without caving, you knew that. Now that he was back, your hormones were running wild (could you even blame the pregnancy hormones yet?”, but you had to stay strong. You couldn’t cave just yet.

He was silent for a moment. You were about to open your mouth to tell him to get on with it, but he cut you off by saying, “I was scared.”

“Scared?” you questioned. “Of what? Of...of the pregnancy?”

“Of being like my dad.”

You felt your angry tension leaving your body. You moved a few inches closer to Diego, your brows furrowing together. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve told you about my dad. How he was never actually...well, a dad. He treated me and my siblings like shit. We were weapons to him. We weren’t kids to him. He fucked us all up big time.”

“I know all of this, but what does it have to do with you walking out on me after I told you I was pregnant?”

“I only had two parental figured growing up: my robot mom and my asshole father. When you told me you were pregnant, I was happy. But that happiness was overshadowed by this fear that, since Hargreeves is the only parenting style I know, that I’ll...I’ll be just as bad as him.”

You closed the gap between the two of you completely. You took his hand in yours. Now he was the one having issues making eye contact with you. You could see the moisture forming in his eyes, something he only ever let you see, and even then it was rare.

“You’re not going to be like your dad,” you assured him. “For one, I’m not popping out seven kids at one time for you to try and train as a superhero team.”

A small smile appeared on his face, which you took as a win.

“But, to me, the fact that you’re so worried about ending up like your dad means that you won’t. You’re aware of your dad’s behavior and how its effected you and your siblings, and you know you don’t want to continue that cycle with our baby.”

His eyes darted towards your stomach for a split second. You took the hand you were holding and flattened his palm against your stomach. There was no sign of a bump yet, you knew you were too early in the pregnancy for that, but you couldn’t help but already picture the baby that was growing in there.

“But what if I fuck their life up?” Diego asked, his voice soft.

“You won’t,” you assured him. “I know you won’t. You’re going to be a great father, and this baby is going to be lucky to have you as their father.”

A tear ran down his cheek. He was quick to wipe it away, but his eyes were watering quicker than he could wipe them. Diego pulled you into a tight hug. You rested your head against his chest and took in his familiar smell and warmth. You were glad to have gotten past the issue, even if you wished he had said something before he left you in your uncertainty for so long.

You exclaimed in shock as Diego pulled you both down to lay flat on the bed. He let go of the hug to sit over you. His hands pulled up your shirt just enough to expose your belly. You giggled as he pressed a kiss against your soft skin, the stubble of his beard tickling your sensitive skin.

“I don’t care what you are, or if you come out with powers or not,” he said to your stomach. “I already love you so much, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you and your mom are safe and happy for the rest of my life.”

You felt tears starting to well up in your eyes as you ran a hand through Diego’s hair. He looked up at you and you felt like he had taken the breath from your lungs with just one look. You smiled at him and he smiled back before he raised himself up to become level with you again. When he kissed you, it was gentle and full of love and passion.

“I want to come to that appointment,” he told you between the kisses he pressed against your cheek, your jaw, your neck. “The one you texted me about. I want to know that our baby is healthy in there.”

“I want nothing more than for you to come with me,” you responded, a soft whimper escaping your lips as his lips found your sweet spot. “And I’m glad you want to come with me.”

In response, he pulled your shirt the rest of the way off and you both helped each other to take the rest of your clothes off and discard them onto the floor, both them and the earlier issue long forgotten.

~~~~~~

You could tell Diego was nervous the day of the appointment. He had tossed and turned so much the night before that he had woken you a few times (not that you were going to tell him that as you knew he’d feel bad if you did), he refused breakfast because he said he wasn’t hungry enough to eat, and he seemed very unfocused as you both got ready and drove to the doctor’s office. You offered to drive since you weren’t sure if you could trust him behind the wheel in this state.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous as well. You were afraid of what the outcomes to this appointment might be; of the doctor telling you that you had a false positive pregnancy test and weren’t actually pregnant; that there was something wrong with the baby; hell, even just the idea of the doctor confirming the pregnancy made you nervous. As excited as you were to be having this baby with Diego, you were also nervous for what pregnancy really entailed. You and Diego had agreed to wait before telling his family, but you were dying to talk to Allison about it since she was the only woman in your life - besides your own mother, of course - to have gone through a pregnancy.

You arrived at the doctor’s office and were brought in almost immediately. The doctor did some standard tests just to check your health and confirmed to you and Diego that you were as healthy as a horse.

“You’ll be just fine to go through this pregnancy,” he told the both of you. “But, of course, we’ll want to do annual check ups just to be sure you and the baby are doing alright.”

You nodded, although you weren’t completely absorbing his words. You were waiting for him to get to the part of the appointment that you and Diego had actually been waiting for: the ultrasound. The test that would truly confirm for the two of you whether or not you were pregnant.

The doctor helped you up onto the bed in his office and had you pull up your shirt just enough that he could see your belly. You suppressed a yelp as he put a cold, jelly like substance on your stomach and started up the ultrasound machine. The machine’s humming noise filled the room as the doctor placed the wand against your stomach and started moving it around. At first, you couldn’t see anything and you felt your heart drop. You were convinced that your worst nightmare was being confirmed - there was no baby in there.

But then the doctor said, “Ah, there you are.”

He pointed to his screen where a grey blob, no bigger than the shape of a peanut, was on display.

“It may not look like it just yet,” the doctor said, “but there’s your baby right there.”

“Whoa,” you breathed, unable to believe it.

“Holy shit,” Diego said. “That little bean turns into a baby?”

The doctor chuckled. “I know, it’s hard to believe. The fetus usually doesn’t actually develop to look like a baby until the later stages of the second trimester into the third trimester. Most people can’t even see the little blob of the fetus in their first ultrasounds like this and start to believe there’s no fetus in there.”

You tried not to let it show on your face that you were one of those people.

Diego took your hand in his. You looked up at him and saw his eyes were fixated intently on the screen. You could see they were starting to gloss over with tears again, but you knew Diego wasn’t about to try in front of a stranger like this.

You squeezed his hand and he finally looked down at you. You couldn’t help but smile at him, and he smiled back.

“That’s our baby,” he said, looking back to the screen. “I can’t believe it, but...that’s our little bean.”

“It is,” you said, feeling yourself becoming overwhelmed with emotions again. “What do you think?”

“I think I’m going to protect that little bean till the ends of the Earth.”

You let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob. Diego brushed his lips against your knuckles before leaning down to kiss your lips.

In that moment, you swore nothing could make you happier. But you knew that, within the next nine months, you’d be having another happy moment that would definitely trump this one.

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves x reader #david castenada #david castenada imagine #david castenada x reader #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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soulcandi · 6 months

Text

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | 𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐜 - 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

synopsis: caine grows envious of the companionship forming between the characters of his amazing digital circus. desperate to make a connection of his own (with someone other than the moon lmao), he lures you into his magical pixelated world and does everything in his power to convince you that he is the one and only key to your eternal happiness.

warnings: psychological torture/manipulation, slight stockholm syndrome, horror elements, eventual smut, altered timeline, reader insert (debatably), violent one-sided pining, no no you need to look at me when I say this—VIOLENT ONE-SIDED PINING, brief mentions of graphic content (see extended warnings).

a/n: this is my underdeveloped brain child. she's been rotting in my attic for a little too long and i needed her to get some fresh air so...here she is. i do not have the energy to cross-post right now so this masterlist is just going to link you to the story on ao3. plz be gentle she's a newborn.

word count: in the silly digits

chapter one - worthy of the hunger

"He had to first feel worthy of his hunger for you before he could ever think of devouring you whole."

chapter two - turn and turn and turn

chapter three - country of the blind

chapter four - exquisite ugliness

chapter five - great soft jelly thing

chapter six - surrounded by hunger

chapter seven - hundreds of millons of miles

chapter eight - there inside my mind

chapter nine - sweet jesus

chapter ten - i have no mouth & i must scream

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc fanfic #candywrites #tadc caine #tadc jax #tadc fanfiction #caine x reader #jax x reader #the amazing digital circus jax #the amazing digital circus caine #ao3 #archive of our own

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antirepurp · 4 months

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grabbing the silly purple moon that's the symbol of death itself with my grippers. i know it slots in well as a direct counter to everything sonic stands for. it's very good at that in fact. but i think frontiers needed more of it. i think we needed more exposition that wasn't just ooh look at how things are exploding in a calamity. it lacks this sense of dread that's present for similar entities like dark gaia who we know exists from the very beginning of unleashed and solaris whose components we interact over the course of 06. i know the funny moon talks to us and is very ominous but the seriousness doesn't really have time to settle in as clearly and it kind of makes the base game ending pull its punch a little bit. the DLC patches that up with the boss fight being a full experience (with ball-crushinging difficulty also) but a build-up thorough the story would've done it wonders

that all said, there is the cyber corruption where you could definitely argue that it stems From the moon being trapped in cyber space, it apparently even has dialogue that mentions the cyber space having been built specifically to contain it (i do not remember if this was established elsewhere in the game from the top of my head). technology rots. components age. and as time goes by the cyber space grows older and faultier and the corruption has room to grow, to spread, and once activated claim new data from the outside at a rapid rate. the ancients, according to the end anyway, used their souls to keep the cyber space running. after thousands of years have passed, would those souls have grown weary, unsuitable for the purpose of powering their little digital dream? perhaps sonic's friends got trapped inside as something new to keep the end's prison running for a bit longer. and maybe the cyber corruption was a telltale sign of the end, an omen of what was to come and what it was capable of

the frontiers soup in my brain continues stirring

#soda offers you a can #sonic frontiers #lore drabbles

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friendlyshaped · 4 months

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find the word tag!!

ty @hallowedfury for the tag (ur post slayed)

my words: pain, different, breath, shine

your words: out, bright, grow, forever

tagging @heartofnovel @the-octic-scribe @televisionjester @revenantlore and anyone else who wants to do it :D

not sure how long this will be but!! :D enjoy these out of order and pretty out of context slivers from mlatwow. i somehow have only written the word shine one time in like 300 pages though

---

PAIN

Mya watches her aunt’s face go slack with recognition, as that recognition twists into horror. She blinks once, and seems to come back to herself.

“Holy fuck.” Aunt Frank takes a step back and grabs Mya’s shoulder, her face frozen in shock and fear. The purple butterfly falls off of the gown, falling down to the floor like a bird shot midair, replaced by a painful grip. “We have to go.”

“What? Why do—”

Aunt Frank doesn’t let her niece finish speaking because she’s too busy rushing them out, grabbing Nell’s wrist in the process and tugging them along, too.

DIFFERENT (x3)

“Can I what?”

“Smell it. The magic.”

“I mean…yes? But no. It feels like the magic from home but different. But I—” Kiel steals a glance at Briar as she’s instructed to move her head. “I think it’s different for them, too. I don’t know.”

“Different how?”

Kiel shrugs lightly, trying not to move too much. “Different like…Another snip in the silence of the tent. “You know how a proper Grimm Curse feels?”

Briar hums. “Yeah, but which part?”

“For me, it was buzzing. Like, everything turned into bees for me. Fucking sucked.” She affirms, leaning forward so Briar can begin to clip the curls on the back of her head. “I think that’s how our magic feels for them."

BREATH

Oh. Okay. Alright. Mya takes a breath and tries to ignore the swimming of her vision.

Just past the rusted out Honda, there’s a big, monstrous thing hunched over something, snarling and slurping disgustingly. It’s like the Enkian’s Void, only bigger. And fleshy—it has skin like leather, with just enough sparse wiry black hair to look truly disgusting. The long, jagged claws are really not fun to look at either. That’s not what she’s focused on, because the thing looks occupied. Right now, Mya’s focused on the death she’d somehow missed.

SHINE

Mya takes a near-silent step towards the back part of the desk, eyes wide as she looks around. There’s a big box mounted on the wall behind the desk, suffocating behind a thick wall of foliage, but something glints beneath the leaves. She takes a step closer and moves some of the vines away, revealing an old, rotted through shelf with small pockets, all labeled with three-digit numbers in ascending order. What? Mya turns and looks to the rest of the lobby, to the distant shine of dirty, cheap copper rods and wheels sticking out from under piles of collapsed concrete. They look like…bellhop carts. It dawns on her.

It’s a hotel. Oh god, she’s in the lobby of a hotel.

#tag game #find the word tag #writblr #writer friends #writing community #writers on tumblr #queer writers #mlatwow #this was so fun

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assassinnumber9 · 10 months

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Assassin's Spy x Family Fanfic Masterpost Ver. 1

I wanted to make a list of all of my fanfics for anyone interesting in reading them. They range from tearjerking to fluffy to hot to chaotic. I try to write a bit of everything. This post will be updated through new posts as I write more and more, because as mentioned in my Drag AU post I have a lot of ideas that I've started and/or have planned.

But anyway, here's my list! I appreciate any and all support! It really helps me keep motivated!

Eternity is One Hell of A Long Time

Rating: E for strong language, violence, adult humor, and sexual content (any such content will be sectioned off into their own chapters and marked since the descriptions of the action are not central to the story)

Description: A Demon!Twilight x DemonicAssassin!Yor fic with a mixture of fluff, romance, humor, action, a bit of horror and a whole lot of chaos! This will be my long series I will be working on for TwiYor! I have a few others planned but nothing as long and lore heavy as this one.

Ao3 Summary:

Cool air breezed through his gold locks like wind through a field of tall wheat - so cold his feet and legs began to tingle, left ring finger seemingly being gently squeezed as if a ring was wrapping snug around it. He could almost feel the initial frosty bite of gold first hitting skin, causing him to press his thumb slightly against where a ring would potentially - no, did - lay. The solid mineral shaped perfectly to adhere to the base of the digit - an impeccably suitable fit. … Wait. Twilight lifted his hand to look at it, to be sure it wasn’t true, glancing to ensure his advisor wasn’t watching beforehand. And lo and behold, there it sat. A thick, solid gold band. Is this a wedding ring?

In which, Yor needs a date to a party and somehow manages to summon the strongest demon in hell...and also bind him to her for eternity.

How does one accidentally bind themselves to a demon for eternity?

Pairings: TwiYor, Pairings to be added

Chapters: 1/?

Flowing Now As a Song

Rating: G

Description: A bittersweet fic where Loid Forger visits Kielberg to speak to his mother.

Ao3 Summary:

The train station where he got off was mostly empty, but he assumed it was likely a lot better than what it was. This station was the closest one to where the bombings dropped all those years ago, closest to Kielberg. And if he had learned anything from his years of spying and war and psychiatry, it was that people tended to stay away from tragedy as if it were the plague, whether or not they had personal ties to that tragedy mattered not. It was all the same in the end. A tragedy was a tragedy.

However, it was when people faced those tragedies were they finally able to learn. It was when people faced those tragedies were they finally able to grow.

And for him, it was finally time to face the ones he had pushed away for over two decades.

Thus, the former spy made his way to find a cab, barely managing to push down the violent pressure of emotions boiling in his chest.

He had to talk to her at least once - just one time would be enough - as Loid Forger and no one else.

Pairings: Mentioned TwiYor, Mentioned Yuri x Chloe (Changed from Yuri x Fiona originally)

Chapters: 1/1

Loid Forger is NOT A Cuddler

Rating: T for mild suggestive themes

Description: A fluffy, tooth rotting fic about how Loid Forger is not a cuddler and the reactions from his numerous victims.

Ao3 Summary:

Let the record show that Loid Forger is NOT a cuddler.

But, he's also a liar.

5 times Loid Forger got caught being a cuddler and denied it, and the 1 time he finally admits it.

Pairings: TwiYor

Chapters: 5/6

Obsessions

Rating: E

Description/Ao3 Summary: A series of ficlets of explicit TwiYor scenarios.

Pairings: TwiYor

Chapters: 1/?

What You Do To Me

Rating: E for smut

Description: A smutty fanfic where Loid fails to stop the situation.

Ao3 Summary:

This was bad.

This was fucking bad.

Then, why the hell did it feel so fucking good?

Twilight couldn’t stop. Why couldn’t he stop? He had done things most would call impossible, accomplished missions that had had less than a thousandth of a percent chance of succeeding. So out of all the things he could do in this damned world, why couldn’t he stop this?

Pairings: TwiYor

Chapters: 1/1

You Truly Are My Vice

Rating: E for smut

Description: A smutty sequel to What You Do To Me where Yor is the one to fail to stop the situation.

Ao3 Summary:

What was she thinking?

What the fuck was she thinking?!

She was sleeping with the enemy, right? That’s what she was doing?

Shopkeeper was going to kill her.

If Twilight wasn't going to kill her first.

Pairings: TwiYor

Chapters: 1/1

#spy x family #spyxfamily #twilight #loid forger #yor forger #twiyor #loid x yor #loiyor #loid forgerisms #spy x family fanfiction #spy x family fanfic #sxf fanfic #sxf

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rottenhashira · 1 year

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Hiyaaa~~~ 🎋

I’m Alex or Ly.

I go by any pronouns.

This acc is 18+. Even if its just to focus on a kny AU, it will contain smut or suggestive drawings.

I’m a digital artist and an inexperienced writer(for fun!)

KNY only! Not spoiler free!

STATUS: HOLD

Rot Hashira is an AU made by myself, I am just one person working on this au so content might be slow.

This is just a resumed version, there’s so much more to the story and lore of this au which will be told with art pieces. Plz be patient 🎋🪷

The AU takes place right after Tanjiro Kamado(Sun Hashira defeat Muzan with the help of the kamaboko squad, which are Hashira aswell(I would like to mention that NONE of them are minors, they’re all adults in this au).

Once Kamado defeated Muzan, the ghost of Yorichii appears before Tanjiro and only he can see him. Yorichii shows Kamado a vision of the future, that this war was not finish but it could be if he takes action right here and now. Kamado thinks he is ready for his last task but only if he knew…

Yorichii’s ghost guided the young hashira to the place of his mission leaving the others behind to rest, the hashira comes to a stop in front of a deserted cabin not so far from the battle field he just been in. Once Kamado realized that his final enemy lies behind this door, he took a deep breath in to prepare his lungs since this enemy won’t run away and its unlike anyone he has faced before…

An infant rested in the cabin, in a well clean wooden crib. A baby girl to be exact, dark long hair, tiny, sharp nails and ruby red eyes with a slit in the middle similar to the ones of a cat’s pupils. “Its just an infant… its just a girl… what sort of image and threat does she poised that I cannot avoid?…” Kamado looked at the infant in awe as Yorichii’s ghost stand beside the crib leaning over it “This is non other the offspring of the demon king, Muzan. Know that she’ll grow from a girl to an avenger, one fueled with vengeance once come of age… if you don’t end it now you wont have no one to save.. you can say goodbye to Nezuko, your friends… your family..”

Kamado quickly dropped his blade and took the infant on his arms to comfort her “I can raise it as my own! I’ll take her far from home! I’ll make sure her past is never known! Please I’m on my knees for you!” The sun hashira begged on his knees to Yorichii’s ghost who looked down at him in disappointment.

“Please dont make me do this Yorichii! Please there has to be another way, please guide me!” Kamado yelled with tears in his eyes, he could only picture his younger siblings in this infant… he just couldn’t..

“Young Kamado… I apologize. It seemed I’ve chosen the wrong soul for the task.” Those wore Yorichii’s last words before vanishing, leaving the sun hashira alone with the infant.

Kamado decided it was best to escape from everyone and everything he knew. He took the infant and ran, ran till his legs failed him, till his lungs ached in pain, far… please so far..

Kamado’s heart ached at the fact he had to leave his friends and famiky behind with out a goodbye. He left behind the Rengoku family, the man who adopted him and his sister, who gave him a family to call his. The love of his life, Kanao… even tho she kept rejecting him, he loved her with everything he got. His best friends, Zenitsu and Inosuke, brothers at this point, he couldn’t congrats him on his 3rd happy marriage. The reason he even became a demon slayer, Nezuko… he hated he couldn’t tell her anything or even leave her a letter, he hated he couldn’t congratulate her on her second child with her new husband Muichiro…

Tanjiro took the infant far, so far, a journey that took him a month to reach to. He took her to a mountain house he bought, the house was very similar to the one he lived when he was a child. He decided to call the infant “Hina” which meant sun or bright! She was his sun, Hina gave him the opportunity to live a tamed lifestyle he craved, he loved Hina like if she was his.

Years passed and Hina grew up like a well taken care of Framboyán tree. You couldn’t even guess she was the daughter of such cruel man like Muzan, she was a kind soul thanks to her father, Tanjiro. Kamado was luckily abled to give her an animal based diet like him and since they were a small family, they had lotz of time together so he taught her sun breathing, the fire dance his father passed down to him and he passed down his ear rings to her.

Years passed and they lived happily together until one night… a young looking hashira found them. The hashira had a white haori and bells decorated his sandal’s back, he had long pointy fox ears which were pierced with bells and red ribbons, he also had a fox tail… he was a demon? A demon as a hashira? Who?…

Kamado’s heart raced knowing exactly why he was here, kamado reached to a certain age where his skills were now failing him so he couldn’t do much but that didn’t brought him down, he will protect his daughter.

The demon hashira paused dropping his figthing stance “Tanjiro?…” the hashira let out with a curios tone. “Tanjiro is that really you? Its me! Sabito! We used to be partners in the demon slayer corp!” Sabito let out rushing closer to him, he circled him to inspect him from head to toe. “Look at you! You’re not so bad for an old man!” Sabito let out with a friendly chuckle until he took a good sniff.

“Tanjiro, you smell… different.”

//skipping catching up details

The fox friend could sniff a smell, it wasn’t putrid or terrible like demons commonly have… in the contrary, it was a scent of vanilla, he didn’t knew how to put it but it was a tamed smell… so comforting and relaxing but it had a strong hint of power, the smoke before the forest fire…

Sabito stepped in between Tanjiro and his house in a defensive posture to protect his old friend. A young lady walked out the door, her face expressed concern for her Tanjiro, her irises glow a ruby red just like Muzan’s and this shocked Sabito. Sabito’s hands trembled around his blade’s handle as a soft growl sneaked up his throat “I thought we killed you! You’re like a fucking plague!” The river kitsune spit with venom.

Tanjiro quickly stepped in between them to ease Sabito, Sabito didn’t backed down realizing that Tanjiro was defending this beautiful young woman who was clearly a demon, Muzan. Tanjiro was now considered as an enemy, betrayal... both of them broke into a fight to the death, Tanjiro had the advantage with his sun breathing technique but before he could slash Sabito’s neck he had flashbacks of their friendship so Kamado redirected his blade away from his throat, slashing some hair off Sabito. Sabito took this as an open door and used his demon blood art to leave a serious deep injury on Tanjiro’s chest with heavy pressured water.

Hina saw it all, she rushed to her father aid in terror, she cover him trying to protect him as her tears rushed in. Tanjiro made sure to comfort her in his last moments… “please… promise me you won’t eat human flesh… never.” Hina nodded in confusion as she cried hysterically begging Tanjiro to stay with her as Sabito was shocked seeing a demon with Muzan’s blood pump in their veins protecting a human.

Once Tanjiro’s hand became weak, Hina was fueled with anger and vengeance, Hina aimed her hand to Sabito as her arm’s veins were turning blood red, her nails becoming longer as her mouth drooled. Sabito’s eyes widen as he felt his internal organs moving, his blood was moving to places it shouldn’t, his body didn’t respond to him, this body wasn’t his anymore… blood rushed up his throat, every exit in his body was leaking a concerning amount of blood as his veins pop through his flesh.

Tanjiro reunited enough strength to hold her arm, this made her drop everything she was doing and attend her dying father, her focus was on only him. “Please don’t… I-I’ll wait for you Hina… I’ll always be with you…” Kamado dropped his hand as he took his final breath in Hina’s arms, Hina cradled her hold man’s corpse, her cries filled the forest and Sabito was no where to be found.

“Hashiras huh?…” the voice of a man was herd in the darkness of the forest. Two glowing orbs appeared, rainbow colored that coexisted just right in his irises.. a demon.

“What do you want?.” Hina growled as she just finished her father’s grave.

“I want to help you… princess…” The white kitsune grinned extending his arm to her.

Credits:

Teeth Divider: @//mmadeinheavenn

Art: @//rottencoreflesh101

Story inspiration:

#kny #kny au #demon slayer au #rot hashira

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justahopelessaromantic · 4 months

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(When memories snow and cover up the driveway, I shovel all those memories, clear the path to drive to the store, and) "Dinner for Two". - [A TADC Flash Fiction]

Fandom: The Amazing Digital Circus

Timeframe: Post Canon

Accompanying Playlist for this Fic on Spotify and Youtube

Summary: “And when memories melt…Could I go on break? Be back in my room, writin’ speeches in my head [and] listenin’ to…that clap, for me, in the dark?**” (Gangle 1)

[Or;]

"...Memories melt...I hear them. In the drainpipe, drippin' through the downspout as I lie awake, in [the] dark." (Gangle, Probably 24)

[Or even!!]

Post-murder-suicide, Genevieve “Gigi” Gangle and Matéo “Jax” Joan”e” wake up to a world worse* than digital.

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

*The reliability of measuring the real world’s severity in today’s political climate is (even today) still hotly contested by many established members of the medical, musical, and scientific community. You are encouraged to do your research before presuming the mad ramblings of the molting, tripping 21st-century equivalent of a Victorian noble gracefully (see: “artfully” and “with evident purpose, of which she feels no need to spoonfeed to her audience, the unpretentious cunt.”) dying of tuberculosis as (un)objectionable fact.

**No, you may not.

Kitchens smell…nastier than you remember.

At the very least, this one does. You would have to check a few more to make sure it's not just this one, but the thought of having to hold more than one version of the same type of room with the same purpose inside your head at the same time? That feels like too much. You’re too used to everything belonging to one place, to knowing every activity, device, and task was sectioned off to one place. The luxury of never needing to go looking for anything.

You hear something clatter against the kitchen floor.

You hear a lot of things clatter against the kitchen floor. Mostly metal. You’re quite proud of yourself for remembering what metal sounds like.

You're not as proud of the way you shift around for comfort, your ass never actually getting off the floor.

But that’s fair, because you're not used to being proud of yourself anyway, apparently, because rust grows fervently in good, sopping conditions, apparently, after 4 fucking years, apparently. You haven’t had your skin, your oils, your grease, your snow-topped mountain ranges burning red in the hot sun in four, fuck-ing years and disrespect has set in deep, neglect callousing the bitten tips of your good playing fingers (which necessitates it, you guess.), and you’re not used to him setting the table or accusing you of pre-emptily forgetting to wash your hands (apparently you forget “well enough”) or holding on to his second favorite aunt’s notebook, so being proud of him is out of the question too.

You cover your ears as he the dustpan against the edge of the rotting trashcan, making the poor thing balance on one foot. You do that now (Probably cause of the ears). And he cleans up glass.

You’re still checking for sparkles on your plat-

“Dinner’s ready. Get off the floor.”

From this angle, he only needs to bend down by about 47.08°, give or take. Eyes blank, refuse to leave his. Arm hairs poke your pit, brush through the bushel of wild coils you didn’t have four years ago. The contact still feels missed, like a dream you’ve had for so long, you find yourself surprised, on occasion, at not having achieved it already.

There’s a stumble as you rise, limp and dripping on the floor, and you almost ask him to wipe you up, but you still get to the table, all on your own.

He used to let you dry dishes. But only on Thanksgivings.

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not-an-anagram · 4 months

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Homestuck Fic Recs

Because some of these do not have nearly the amount of attention I think they deserve, and also because I am constantly looking for other people’s list of fic recs so I thought I’d make my own. Some of these are series, so you have been warned.

All fics are on AO3, idk if they’re available anywhere else. With some of these updating is a bit up in the air, I will just put hiatus if it hasn’t been updated sooner than 2021, even if the hiatus is not official.

“” Description

() My personal opinions

Recently Updated:

Reallocated by BreezefulSkies in progress

“Hal finds himself stranded aboard a certain meteor, impact-bound for Houston, Texas circa 1995. And everything spirals out from there.Because sometimes, when a system seems to be just short of defunct, all that is required is to take a step back and reevaluate the materials at hand and redistribute your available resources. And so, with birth comes a countdown on a cycle that begins as it ends: In the red.”

(I didn’t know whether to put this in the Recently Updated section or the Self Insert section. Not technically a self insert but more of a sort-of time travel. Very engaging and I honestly love the exploration of characters we know less about like Rose’s Mom. 10/10 would recommend, I get so excited every time I see it’s updated)

Ship Centric:

Love Letters in Digital Ink by tactfulGnostalgic complete

“In which Rose Lalonde runs a highly successful occult blog, wherein she talks about life, friendship, family, summoning the dark forces to do your bidding, romance, and other Typical Teenage Things.And in which Kanaya Maryam moves into the house next door, runs a mildly popular photojournaling fashion/cosplay blog, and, unbeknownst to Rose, is one of her most avid readers.And in which a summer courtship is performed through a series of message-board shenanigans, misunderstandings, daydreaming, awkward romantic overtures, indirect love letters, and one (1) séance.”

The Worst Goddamn Movies Ever Fucking Made by writerbot complete

“"Why is this shitfuck pan-rotting pile of artifact-ridden, glitchy, nonsensical sewage that can barely pass itself off as a movie somehow a thoughtful criticism on the global rise of authoritarianism and well-put commentary on how young working class males are forced into the military? What the actual fuck? Why do none of the other reviews mention this?"--Aka famous movie director "D Strider" pays Karkat to review his shitty movies, and Karkat grows increasingly alarmed that they actually mean something under all of the mind-numbing bullshit. Meeting Strider, the biggest douchebag in the world, does not help. Also he keeps meeting this annoyingly smart human kid and his awkward/obnoxious but very hot guardian. These two things are entirely unrelated.”

(Recently finished! One of my absolute favorites due to the fact that it really explores alternate world building and includes the Strider/Lalonde family pretty heavily, which I really appreciate as a fan of their characters. Also not too ooc, although the situations are definitely very different from cannon. Honestly I would love to read a prequel that explains more of the cast’s stories but it’s very good even without one.)

Self-Inserts:

Matter of Choices and Opinions by 09Pyros_09Hydros hiatus

“Eridan Ampora is not the most well-liked troll out of the twelve, his attitude, choices, and personality in the series weren't very favorable but I found him alright and a lot of other fans did as well. March Eridan was also popular for the character of course.

How I got into his body after his first pupation molt is something I will probably never know, but living the life of Eridan Ampora is not all fine and dandy despite his high caste blood. Troll society and culture is very different compared to my old human one, I can't really remember it and my own old life so I guess I really am Eridan Ampora now huh?

If I was going to live as Eridan then I was going to live it my way, so say goodbye to Canon Eridan attitude and hello new world of choices and opinions! For one thing for sure, I wasn't going to fuss over the romances and do my own thing. Canon timeline be damned! Canon timeline be damned indeed... If only it were that easy...

But who knew the change of attitude of one character like Eridan could change so much? And yet, change so little? And apparently... He wasn't the only Ampora to change...”

(OML this is one of the best Homestuck SI fics I have ever read. Shoutout to this author because this (and their other Homestuck SI stuff) is amazing. I was absolutely hooked despite the rare premise and I am still sad it hasn’t updated since 2020. Absolutely stunning formatting and great art.)

Actions and Hope, Blast It All by 09Pyros_09Hydros hiatus

“It was suppose to be a normal day for Jane Crocker, work on the new laws, make sure the troll population was under control, deal with the stupid clown that was obsessed with her and then come home to a loving husband and their first born child. It was supposed to be that way anyway. What she actually came back to was a new husband that was destroying her home and her drones, demanding for a divorce and fiercely protective over their child.Waking up in Jake English's body after reviving from some death was bad, especially when it turned out to be drunken suicide. Waking up in Jake English's body during the Epilogue was even worse. Now he had a kid to take care of, a megalomaniac, fascist and tyrantess wife who's cheating on him with a deranged clown fuck, an existential crisis in realizing he was actually a part of the original Jake English and two brain ghosts who are just as confused on his situation as he was. But one thing was clear; He was taking Tavros and getting the hell away from Jane. Jane, Gamzee, the whole fucking Epilogue can kiss his ass, Dirk Ultimate was coming and he was NOT going to be involved with this horse shit. Of course in the end, he had to be involved anyway.”

(Again, absolutely stunning fic. This author is amazing at these stories, and despite only having three chapters so far, I cannot recommend this fic more. Please, it is worth the fact that we may never read the ending if only because it is so good and I am so happy to have read it. Seriously check this fic out.)

IN WHICH A HUMAN IS HUMAN ISEKAI-ED INTO HOMESTUCK by Zakyuu hiatus

“AND PROMPTLY DESTROYS ANY SEMBLANCE OF COHERENCE IN THE TIMELINE DUE TO SEVERAL COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF IRRATIONAL RATIONALITY, BADLY PRESENTED GOOD DECISIONS, AND THE EVER ACCURSED ABILITY OF COMMON SENSE.ALONG THE WAY, THE MAIN PROTAGONIST CREATES QUESTIONABLE SCENARIOUS THROUGH EGREGIOUS AMOUNTS OF ACCIDENTAL SHENANIGANS, AND PROCEEDS TO DIG DEEPER INTO THE CHAOTIC MESS OF A TIMELINE IN AN EFFORT TO SAVE CONTINUITY.THE MAIN PROTAGONIST WOULD LIKE THE READERS TO KNOW THAT THIS IS *NOT THEIR FAULT* AND THEY ARE TRYING THEIR BEST, OKAY?”

(Very good by my standards, wish there were more updates.)

One-Shots:

Probably We’ll All Survive by CurliecueCal

““If he pokes me again I am going to snap his chopstick in half and put it down the garbage disposal.” -- In which Dave's house has been taken over by Strider-splinters and he's pretty okay with that.”

(I love stories about the striders and this one-shot was really sweet and hit me right in the feels. Love strider content+this author is one of my favorites.)

This Human Practice of Couchsurfing by recourse (liquidCitrus)

“Dave Strider double-checks the address written on the scrap of paper in his hand. This is probably the right house. Probably. "I've been talking with him over the Internet. He said that he'd be quite willing to show a dude around 'New New Home'? And talk about monster society? And offer me... spaghetti...?"In which Dave Strider is invited to visit the monsters' recently established surfaceside village by Papyrus, Undyne gets a pair of sunglasses, and Frisk pays a midnight visit.Rated T for swearing. Well, Dave swearing, anyway.”

(Cute little Undertale Crossover, not much to say other than that, good read.)

surf where white bones twist by oriflamme

“When Roxy kills the Condesce and inherits the Empire, she also inherits her monsters.”

(Loved this AU, so sad it’s just a One-Shot, 100% recommend check it out.)

Other Recs:

Stabdads by lucky_spike hiatus

(This is basically a Stabdads AU centered around Karkat and Spades Slick. I, personally, love this AU because I adore the found family trope and I also love the Midnight Crew’s characterization in this. There is definitely not enough stabdad content out there but this series sure does deliver. Series doesn’t need to be read in order, but it is great for binging. Not complete and hasn’t updated since 2012 but that is not a reason to avoid it.)

So It Goes by TGP complete

“They managed to win the game somehow. He's not really sure of the details, but it's not all it's cracked up to be. He's stuck in an unfamiliar body with a thirteen year old little brother who's terrified of him. Somehow, he is sure this is his fault.”

(This fic is so good!!!! Classic case of an oldie but a goodie. Post-Canon AU where the Alpha kids get transported into the bodies of their counterparts in the Beta universe and shenanigans follow. Lots of angst in the beginning but I absolutely loved everyone’s characterization in this, please check this fic out. It is part of a series and I definitely recommend the sequels, which really helped bring the story to a good place. I love this fic and the sequels so much I keep finding myself going back to them, 100% my kind of comedy.)

Midnight’s Son by Java_bean complete

“Dave Strider's father, a prominent detective, is tasked with infiltrating the Midnight Crew. Dave, worried about his father's safety, decides to do a little undercover work of his own and tries to befriend the boss's son, Karkat Vantas.”

(Back at it again with the Stabdad AUs! Found it when looking for Stabdad content, fell in love with the DaveKat dynamic. Very nice to read, especially loved the Karkat characterization. Highly recommend)

The Longest Surviving Intern at Nightfall Community Radio by ElektricAngel complete

“A boy with red eyes and white hair walked into town today. He was carrying a long, sharp sword, which, according to some reports, was dripping with fresh blood. He wore a pair of dark glasses over his eyes.

So how do I know his eyes are red? Well, listeners, because he’s in the studio right now, staring at me.

He wants to know if I have a DJ position available.

This being a talk show with absolutely no music of any kind, I'm afraid I do not have such a position. However...an internship has just opened up.”

(I’m not a huge Nightvale fan but this crossover was still a very fun read. 10/10 would recommend.)

#homestuck #fic rec #fan fiction #fan fiction recommendation #fic recommendation #homestuck fic rec

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royalreef · 1 year

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There’s no more leaves on the trees. Their branches stand bare against the grey sky, shivering their naked, twisting shapes in the harsh wind that pulls them to and fro, like the last digits of the dying clutching against the last piece of driftwood. The ground is carpeted with their remains, but they no longer hold the same brilliant reds and yellows to them, but instead soak up as a dull brown rot, the color of this seasonal death. Everything is grey, or mushy brown-black, the colors seeped out of the world. Instead of a flurry of fall to descend with every gush, instead what falls down from the shivering branches is sticks and twigs. Puddles of stale water hunch at the edges of sidewalks and along roads, growing in the dark, soft places and creeping outwards with ice rings where the sunlight cannot thaw.

Winter is a miserable time of year. Miranda didn’t think the world could look so terrible, like some wound gone gangrene, but every year above her cradling waves the land proves her wrong. Her breath hurts, sharp and bitter and stinging on her nose, on her lips. Her fins have to be tucked away, into a special cap made just for them, or else they’ll dry out and begin to crack. Even though this was supposed to be a mild day, the wind makes it ever colder, trying to blow open the buttoned edges of her coat. She’s had to turn up the heated liner on the inside of her clothes more than once today, the sun blinding her with its resentful glare but offering no warmth.

She misses summer. Miri misses the warmth, and the sun, and the ability to drag her friends down to the oceanside to make them join her in the waters. She misses being able to move, not having to tolerate her every limb being bound so tightly that she could scarcely move it, nor the way her winter boots make her constantly want to fall over onto her face, or worse, all fours. She doesn’t understand her land friends. She doesn’t understand this terrible season, grey and dead and silent to her and every voice of reason.

More than anything, Miranda just wants to feel fully warm again.

#Glory and Gore || IC #Many fish in the sea || Misc. IC Content #(( this has been my Winter Bitching today-#(( fuckin COLD

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raviniaraven · 4 months

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Sorry, on my soapbox again. I'll try to stop doing this as much.

I just really hate the fact that I see a growing amount of people with this Ray Bradbury-esque idea that using technology to assist in what you're doing is rotting your brain and ethics solely by reason of not being as genuine. This idea of everything only being capable of either becoming a useful innovation or a sign of society's decay is such a frustratingly horrible take because it leaves no room for changing or developing anything, since the minute people say it's on the decay side it's a sign of arbitrary immorality to use it in any way

I am an artist. I like creating art. I also think that AI could be a useful tool in art creation, just like any of the other digital software used for drawing or photo-manipulation. And it pisses me off to see the "us or them" approach to it that so many of y'all have adopted.

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finsterhund · 11 months

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Screaming and screaming.

My roommate says next paycheck he's gonna make me give him AT LEAST 80% of it AGAIN. I can't fucking take this.

He told me that we won't be able to pay for rent if I don't foot the cost as he's apparently unable to get his share. Which I understand. No paid rent = no house so it has to get paid or else but it still sucks. He said we'll have to do this for at least two more months. I asked if he'd be paying me back after those two months and he ended the conversation real quick 🙄

Also my bank got locked. So I'll have to contact them to unlock it. It's probably done this because it went over my overdraft trying to pay for a PayPal transaction that kept trying to force it's way through. So that's fucking great. My bank account is locked and my PayPal is negative. On top of everything else.

My life fucking sucks. I hate having to live this way. Hate having to live like this. My days are spent in bed, nothing to do but watching grass grow (my beloved plants are cooler than grass but you get the idea I hope) and hoping that the internet is going to show me good shit instead of the overwhelming amount of bad shit instead.

It’s too hot but my roommate insists on me not being allowed to turn on the AC unless it gets even worse. Even though the hydro bill cost is a lot lower than he said it would be from it.

All I can think of is my Special Sly. How I love him so. It’s too hot to cuddle Scott.

The air quality from the wildfires is impacting my chronic lung fatigue and my chronic eye infections too which sucks so bad. Our planet is dying, us youth fight tooth and nail to live in a society where the only possibility is eating paycheck to paycheck and surrendering our dignity to predatory slumlords just to have roofs over our heads. I have fruit trees that will probably spend the rest of their lives pruned to live in tiny pots all crowded together in my bedroom while my grandparents farm is left to rot because I’m the only one who cares about it.

If your body isn’t already too broken enough to be put on disability you work a job that breaks it down. And that in itself is a luxury only afforded to some. Based solely on where you were born. In certain places if your body is too broken to work anymore the option is to starve. For other members of our species we are little more than beasts of burden. Only certain countries is there the option to live in a zoo.

I am a captive animal in a white-walled cage, my species-specific enrichment is virtually simulated by a digital machine, it is a privilege when I’m able to get fresh fruit. Meat is a luxury I can’t afford. To access the minimal support that may be available degrading hoops must be jumped through and you must present yourself for examination to those who think you’re less than human. You try not to hate them for it because how much of that disgust is fear? Denial that they are one, maybe two paychecks; one, maybe two injuries, away from being where you are. What you are. They deny it can happen to them. They insist that for them things would be different. They would use their resourcefulness to find a way. They have to. To think otherwise is to acknowledge there is a problem.

My friends all pass around the same $20, $50, $100 that we are only able to give one week because they get from a different friend the next. Love remains, I just have to remember that love remains. In spite of everything we still love. We still find ways to send support, give gifts, etc.

I should be used to this. I was never sheltered. I was never shielded. I lived among predators since before I knew what predators were. One paycheck away from having no food, no shelter, is as natural as breathing. But it still hurts. It hurts because deep down you know it shouldn’t be this way.

Humans evolved to survive not on the individual level but as a group. We survived because of love and compassion. But our innate desire to protect and defend and love allowed the twisted and the evil to rise unhindered and build selfish empires that are now infallible by rule of law. We allowed them to exist, and that is not something the inhumanly evil would have ever extended in return. The tolerance of intolerance was our downfall. We love and care so much for each other than when those mutant evils that go against what we are fundamentally supposed to be appeared we didn’t strike them down like we should have. We let them twist things into what they wanted and then demanded that these new aberrations to humanity were how we were always meant to be. Cultural gaslighting We must be civil, we must be tame, when they got what they wanted by being no such thing. They were savage while calling their victims savages. And the definition changed.

Our species gave up fangs for brains. We would build weapons to replace our teeth, but then the winners of these wars made our weapons illegal, knowing without them we can no longer bite.

I’m tired. So very tired. I’m tired of being the ancient roots of a long ago felled tree that sends up a sucker just to live for long enough before taken by the blight so that I have enough energy to live for now just to try it again. Hoping that next time, the blight will be gone. Fearing that next time won’t be enough and the blight will finally take too quickly, take too much, and there won’t be enough for another chance. Paycheck to paycheck. Ad nauseum. And you know the blight never used to be here. You know it was brought here. Because you still see those ancient roots, those remnants of the colossal stumps of what once was great towering trees. The suckers know because the roots remember.

And each time, each cycle, each season, sometimes a sucker flowers. And sometimes those flowers get pollinated. Able to make seeds. Baby trees, actual new life, a new voice, not just your newest sucker. And there’s hope. But each generation, less of us are pollinated, and we know that means that less of us survived to sucker again, or less of our suckers made it long enough to flower. Fewer, fewer, and further between. The amount of us that can hold on slowly drops. A reminder how delicate our balance is. Concrete undeniable evidence that the next time for you it might not be enough. We don’t fail from lack of trying. We fail when we grow too weak, too tired. But those that brought the blight, immune to the blight, they say it’s personal failure that kills us, that makes us weak. When the position that grants them their immunity is the only thing that differentiates them from us.

I’m sick of only surviving. I’m sick of seeing those basking around in their decadence they got at the expense of our ability to thrive all the while blaming us for what they forced us to become. The lie that where they are is some personal triumph. A strength on their part. Blight-immune nepotism. This disease they profit from is not natural to our species, but they profit from the continued insistence that it is.

In the end I can do nothing to change this. People say “vote” as if this isn’t just the act of sending up that little sucker tree, wildly hoping that this next term the blight won’t take, realistically hoping that the blight will not take until we preserve enough energy for the next go around. One bad season from not having enough to try again. Think pieces demanding that we should be flowering regardless. But we’re starting to clue into just how much energy it takes to flower, and of how the voices of those think pieces just want more lumber. We aren’t human to them. We are a product, a resource, a fuel. The insistence comparison I give to a tree is relevant because of that. Our next generations, our youth, their value is cogs to that machine. They need us in that way I guess. So maybe the way to fight back is to make ourselves unusable. Be that striking or what not.

But ultimately there are very few things that separate any other strike from a hunger strike. And we also need energy. We need that energy more than ever.

Idk. Man wtf I need therapy. I guess. But can therapy fix any of this? Not really. You get labeled with “shit life syndrome” and if you’re lucky it will be treated with the captivity of the underfunded social programs.

For now all I can do is love my friends, pet my dog, and hug my Special Sly. And dream. Dream that the next time the little sucker tree won’t have to struggle just to survive for long enough but that it can grow and thrive. Dream about a fantasy world where we will live for a hundred years and pierce the sky.

Or I mean we could also just stockpile weapons and [REDACTED]

#text post #negative #long post

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