this is where I leave you

Bad For Me (Grayson Smut)

Summary: Texting with Grayson goes from texting to.. Well, sexting.
Word Count: 2,244
Warnings: Smut, sexting, explicit words, overuse of baby, yada yada.
A/N: I’ve walked around with this on my mind for months now so I thought now is a good idea to just write down whatever comes to mind and just go with it. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS. Leave love, hate, whatever. Much love to you guys!!! xxxx

BOLD is Grayson, and you are ITALIC. Keep it in mind!


I was struggling to keep my eyes open, training them on the screen of my iPad where it laid on my stomach. A huffed breath escaped my lips as I blinked, forcing my eyes to open and look at whatever episode was playing of Modern Family.

It was nearing close to nine P.M. and I was struggling to keep myself awake because I knew that if I went to bed early, then I’d probably wake up earlier than I wanted. And it was, after all, a Friday night. I frowned, thinking of Grayson and what he must be up to.

Probably filming a video with Ethan like he said he would. But he had promised to stop by whenever they were finished, to which I had insisted on because I knew how filming sucked the energy out of him and I’d rather him sleep than stay up late with you, doing something useless like lay around and watch a movie or browse the internet.

Baby are you awake?

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Autumn Asks! Let’s get to know each other!

Hi friends! I feel like I don’t interact with you guys nearly enough and lately I’ve been extra in the autumn mood. Ask away please! :) 

pumpkin spice: what’s your drink of choice?

wool socks: what’s something you look forward to in fall?

falling leaves: you’re stranded on a desert island and here’s the twist; what three things do you NOT bring with you?

smelly candles: what’s your absolute favorite scent?

big sweaters: do you prefer the cold, warmth, or a perfect in-between?

halloween: if you could dress up as anyone/ anything and pull it off absolutely flawlessly, who/what would it be?

cozy blankets: where do you feel the most safe and at home?

hot tea: when was the last time you kissed someone 

flannel: what’s your favorite day of the year? is there a reason it’s your favorite?

chilly air: what’s your least favorite and favorite type of weather?

scarves: if you could only wear one outfit for the rest of your life what would it be?

apple cider: if you could throw a party, and invite absolutely anyone, who would they be?

haunted houses: what’s your scariest memory? (if you don’t have one/ don’t want to talk about it, what’s your biggest fear?)

fuzzy boots: if you could live in any year/era, which would it be and why?

thanksgiving: what is something/someone you’re the most thankful for? any particular reason?

black friday: what is one thing, if anything, you would sell your soul to own?

apple picking: if you could go anywhere, where would it be and why?

corn mazes: do you have any secret talents/abilities?

hay rides: if you could pick absolutely anything to be your form of transportation, what would it be?

the color orange: do you have a specific song that reminds you of autumn? what is it?

windy nights:if you could go to any concert whose would it be?

holding hands: do you believe in soulmates?

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guidetodreaming  asked:

I am currently having a terrible birthday - being sick and having a ton of papers to write that I'm not even totally sure I can manage to finish on time (if I make my word count every day I can, but I'm not sure if I can!) and failing to pull things together for a presentation which I'm going to get a 0 on due to failing to show up because I'm sick. I request entry to the Birthday Unending for some much needed rest and to hide from everything.








anonymous asked:

Mamoru: Dad, how can I make Milo like me? Viktor: Do you know all that stuff about being patience and play hard to get? Mamoru: yes? Viktor: forget about all that!, you hear me?, those are lies, you need to show it, don't keep anything!, do you want to give him flowers?, do it!, do you want to kiss him?, do it!, do you want to sleep with him?, do it!, even thou he rejects you several times and leaves you crying all night with your dog as your only companion Mamoru: this isn't about me anymore

OH NO AHAHAHA yes i totally want to include a segment where victor tells mamoru about that time where yuuri seduced and abandoned him 

Take Care Of Her

Characters:Dean x Reader, Sam

Word Count: 759

Warnings: none

Request: Hi! Can I request a Dean x reader where the reader has to go with Sam for a case and Dean says to Sam to take care of her and Sam thinks he means the impala like in 12.15 but then realizes he’s talking about the reader and you can choose how it ends. It’s okay if you don’t want to write it. I love your stories btw

Author’s Note: Sorry this is posted so late. I kind of slept in. If you want to be tagged, leave an ask or message and I’ll add you! Same goes for my Series Rewrite! If you want to request a fic, please send them in! I love writing what you guys want!

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom

Originally posted by sammy-samulet

“Damn it! Damn it!” Dean growled out, hitting the wheel of his beloved car. You sighed and got out of the car, needing the fresh air to calm your nerves.

“Dean, it’s going to be okay.” Sam said, following your move, needing to stretch his long ass legs.

“No, it’s not going to be okay! How can you think that for one second? This thing knows we’re after it and it decides to pull this crap, we’re never going to catch it if we stick together.” Dean said, getting out of the car as well.

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darkxclod  asked:

Will we ever see raven again?

me drawing, not really. I mean I’m fine with fan arts and asks about the fandom, I’m not leaving the blog– I’ve enjoyed most of my time in this blog and I’m happy to where I am, dont be too upset, I won’t stop drawing completely over just this– I just dont want to draw anymore skellies and such :³ I want to focus more on practicing and improving my drawings ( • ▿ • ) thank you for supporting me this far !

wolvenartist  asked:

I don't know if it was a glitch or not, but my Miss White followed me around creepily, even when I went upstairs or to the basement and stuff.. like she would not leave me alone, nor would she say anything.. just stood and watched, almost like a weird creepy puppy. She even followed along when I choked out lady Boyle and gave her to the man when I was doing a clean hands run. It was weird as hell. she didn't even say a word.

That IS weird. She’s supposed to move around a little bit after you talk to her and give her a drink, but she definitely shouldn’t follow you around the whole time. Clearly she wanted to find out where you got your cool though totally unfashionable mask

Be proud of all the scars

They make you who you are

I know you have to stay
But I’ll never really leave you
Nothing has to change
Even though we’ve changed

You can find me in the space between
Where two worlds come to meet
I’ll never be out of reach

‘Cause you’re a part of me
So you can find me in the space between

(-Yeah, kittens, I`m shipping them sooooo much)

anonymous asked:

I need you guys to find a neko!Dan fic where Phil adopts him from a shelter. Then phil leaves for school and comes home to find Dan masturbating with a cat paw vibe toy. I think its on ao3 but idk. I think Phil's mom was in it for like a millisecond. She gave Phil a box of sex toys to give to dan so that Dan wouldn't be bored while he was away. That's really all I can remember.

Tight Collars (ao3) - Phil brings him into his home hoping to make him happy, but things go in a direction that he didn’t expect…

- Tori

anonymous asked:

Of requests are still open, can I get one where the reader is blackwatch's healer and is like super peppy and nice, always smiling and saying nice things. So when another team leader starts blaming a mission failure of support, blackwatch trio is like, "wtf?! Leave our healer alone, asshole."

Set Me Off (Drabble)

“Ok, so we’re going too set the bone here–it’s okay to look away!” you say reassuringly, gently patting the agonized agent’s back, “I won’t tell! There, ready–on the count of three. Deep breath. Okay?” The man nods a few times too many.

“Okay, great. Breath. One…”


“Oh god!!”

The patient is gasping, visibly shaken and even paler than when you first entered the room. You give him a sympathetic grin and a gentle pat on the leg. “Sorry. Forgot how to count. But that ain’t so bad, is it?”

A stream of breathless curses, prayers, and names of deities is your only answer. It’s just another day in Blackwatch.

Gabriel walks in, nodding at the agent who stumbles out of your office, held steady by a nurse who bows her head at the Blackwatch commander, too shy–or afraid–to look him in the eye.

“Must you always play the part of a fool?”

His only answer is a head tilt and a dopey smile. He almost rolls his eyes. Typical.

“People are going to mistaken your attitude for naivety.”

“But you know better, right?” you ask brightly, eyes shining with just the shadow of mischief beneath them.

He shrugs. “Wouldn’t have hired you otherwise, doctor.”

“Thanks. So,” you chirp, “what can I do for you today, sir? Jammed fingers? Ruptured spleen? A case of ‘acute lead poisoning’?” You laugh at your own joke, slapping yourself in the thigh.

“No, doctor.” Though, he’s guilty of smirking a little bit, too. “I have a mission for you. I sent you the details a while ago, but I came to let you know in person.”

You put a finger to your nose thoughtfully, tilting your head at him in question. You hop off your chair and motion for him to walk and talk.

“It’s a remote area off the coast of the Canary Islands…”

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butyoureyessaidyes  asked:

Hi again! Hope you can help me find a Sterek fic where hunters capture Stiles, then kill a random guy and cast a spell to make the guy look like a dead Stiles and leave him for the pack to find. Then the hunters cast a spell on Stiles to make him look like the person who apparently killed him. They release him and wait for Derek to kill "Stiles' killer" in his rage. The idea is Stiles will transform back to himself after he's dead, and then this gives the hunters an excuse to kill Derek. Thanks!

It’s this one!  -Emmy

I Just Need You by beckybrit 

(10,839 I Explicit I Complete)    *sterek, hunters

“Derek?” He’s surprised at how steady his voice is, considering he’s absolutely terrified. It’s been a long time since he’s been afraid of Derek, but the eyes looking back at him now are full of hate and the promise of death. Stiles shudders but steadfastly refuses to look away. “Derek, I know it doesn’t look like it, but it’s me… Stiles.”

skamtarjeiboy  asked:

May I request bakushima fic where Bakugou finds Kirishima's collection of sex toys and decides to confront him about it (he thinks he's not satisfying him enough and gets pissed) (^_-)Thank you if you do this hehehe the idea has been in my head for a while

I hope you like it love!!

Bakugou hates cleaning up other people’s messes but it’s inevitable when the person you’re dating and subsequently living with is a pro hero like himself and has to leave at the drop of a hat. That’s exactly what had happened over an hour ago. Kirishima had gotten a call right in the middle of dinner and had to leave, unfortunately a normal occurrence for both of them due to their jobs.

Bakugou took it upon himself to clean up their bedroom after Kirishima had practically torn it apart looking for his hero costume, his other clothes haphazardly thrown on the ground. As he was cleaning, he saw a box half tucked under the bed with no label and curiosity got the better of him.

He did not expect to see a large variety of sex toys when he opened the box. They weren’t his so he knew that they were probably his boyfriend’s.

At first, he didn’t know what to feel. He was confused as to why Kirishima had these, impressed by the variety he collected, and upset because his mind immediately went to I can’t satisfy my boyfriend.

He doesn’t know how long he was sat there, contemplating about the items in the box, but the next thing he knows is that the door opened. He didn’t move even after Kirishima called out to him to tell him that he was home.

“Hey, Katsuki, you in here?” He heard Kirishima knock slightly before entering their bedroom. He must’ve noticed Bakugou just standing there, hovering over the bed. “Are you okay?”

“No I’m not fucking okay!” Bakugou whipped around quickly, watching Kirishima flinch back slightly at the outburst. “Why the fuck do you have a box of goddamn sex toys?!”


“Don’t fucking pretend like you don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about!” Bakugou stepped aside so that the box was visible to Kirishima and crossed his arms. “I found your fucking box of vibrators, dildos, and other bullshit so I’ll ask again because apparently you went fucking deaf or some shit. Why. The. Fuck?”

Kirishima held his hands up in surrender as he slowly started to walk towards Bakugou. “Katsuki, it’s really not that big of a deal. I hav-”

“Not that big of a fucking deal?! Then why the hell did you hid them?! What?! Am I not good enough for you or something?! Do you stay up in the middle of the goddamn night and sneak into the bathroom with this shit?! What other fucking reason do you have for keeping these here?!” Bakugou felt the anger take over, voice getting louder and louder.

He saw the other take slow, tentative steps as he spoke. “No! No, that’s not it. Babe, please just calm down.”


“I…” Kirishima stopped a short distance away from Bakugou and started to shift on his feet, both terrified and embarrassed at the situation, “wantedtoexperimentmore,” he said all in one breath.

Bakugou seemed taken aback by his words. “What?”

Kirishima scratched the back of his neck, face turning red. “Well, I mean that, like, sex is good. Actually it’s amazing!” He gave Bakugou a shaky smile, which immediately fell when he saw how pissed his boyfriend stil was. “I just have some…fantasies but I was too embarrassed and afraid to tell you so I hid it until I could find the courage.” He held his breath, waiting for Bakugou’s response.

The blonde was silent for a few moments, face never changing from a scowl as he mulled over the reason. “You idiot!” He walked closer to the other and flicked him on the forehead, earning a small yelp of pain. “You could’ve just fucking told me!”

Kirishima laughed sheepishly. “Yeah…probably a good idea in hindsight.”

Little life update: It’s been a rollercoaster this past month or two. Two close relatives passed away and shook our family up completely, my mama had a major operation and now faces a long recovery, and among it all I made a connection with someone who has become very important to me (and has been sucking up my bogging time, but blissfully so). On Friday (after weeks of interviews) I was offered a new job at a feminist-leaning website where I will be proud to work, so hell job is over! Over! I will still be seeing the Libs (so soon!!) and taking my trip but only for a month, before I start the new job. Somehow among all the trauma things are falling into place, touch wood, because I couldn’t bear much more darkness. Now if the boys play Last Post on the Bugle in Brighton, I will be ready to leave this planet. Lastly thank you for all the amazingly kind and supportive messages for my mum, and above that for sticking around while I slacked off! Xx

anonymous asked:

Do you know any really good Bucky centric fics? Ideally long ones/multichapters? I have a long journey coming up and I'd love some to read! (I don't really have any ships and angst is fine)

Oh boy, fic recs! I love giving out fic recs. Thank you for asking!

I’m assuming you’ve read my own multi-chapter Bucky fics but if not:

Mr. Fix It -

On the run for nearly a year after leaving Steve Rogers on the banks of the Potomac, Bucky’s found a quiet hiding place in a city far from there, where he can work on becoming an actual human being again. Not CA:CW compliant except for characterization.

You Will Call Me Friend

A gap-filler for Captain America: Civil War. What happened when Steve and Bucky made it outside the bunker and found T'Challa waiting? Multi-chapter, ongoing story.

Okay, SSP out of the way, here’s a not-exhaustive list of my all-time favorite multi-chapter fics. I’m not huge into romance, so most are gen/bromance but a few have a whiff of romance and one has a whiff of stucky but romance isn’t the primary thing driving the stories.

The Third Directive—Jee oto ta Huttuk koga

Takes place immediately after CA:TWS. HYDRA has fallen, but the Winter Soldier is not free of its final orders. No slash or romantic pairings; Brief flashbacks of torture and a strongly implied sexual assault (ch. 4). Story continues in “Simple Conversation.”

Simple Conversation—Jee oto ta Huttuk koga

Takes place right after “The Third Directive,” but works if read independently. Bucky is recovering at Stark Tower and finds someone he can talk to. Contains the usual awful flashbacks, but trying to grow some peace for Bucky here. (No slash, no pairings) (COMPLETE)

We Were Soldiers—The Urban Spaceman

They say that boys go to war, and men come back from it. When Sergeant James Barnes is deployed to the front lines in 1943, he learns that living through war means living in the shadow of death every minute of every day — and that even in the thrall of that dark shadow, hope and love can blossom in the unlikeliest of places. (WIP… I haven’t read all of it because I have to be careful not to let her Bucky backstory drift into my own, but what I have read is amazing.)

A Thousand Scattered Pages–JayRain

Someday he’ll put the pieces together in a way that makes sense. For now, the memories are scrawled on scattered pages in a dozen different journals: out of sequence, out of time, out of body, out of mind. Just who is Bucky? He hopes writing down the fragmented memories, as he recalls them, will lead him to an answer. It isn’t always pretty, but it has to be done.

Define Stupid—JayRain

(Not Bucky-centric but lots of Bucky because it’s Steve writing letters to him)

Bucky told him, “Don’t do anything stupid before I get back.” Steve realized after the fact he should have asked Bucky to “define stupid”. He’s pretty sure that what he’s doing now will fit Bucky’s definition. But Steve has never been one to back down from a fight. Through a series of letters, Steve explains why he’s gone and done something “stupid” almost as soon as Bucky left.

A Rare Camaraderie—Mellia Bee

At first Peggy and Bucky eyed each other warily behind Steve’s oblivious back. Then overnight, the game changed. A series of moments in which Peggy, Bucky and Steve look after each other. Friendship, beginnings of Steve/Peggy.

Assets Out of Containment—follow_the_sun

After CA:TWS, Bucky Barnes suspects HYDRA is running a project in a little place called Jurassic World, and decides to go poke it with a stick. (whiff of stucky in the far background)

The Cat-King’s Guest@onethingconstant

Bucky Barnes wakes up in a hospital with no idea where he is or how he got there. A new player in the MCU explains the new reality to him: he’ll be safe and cared for as long as he doesn’t try to leave Wakanda … or contact Steve Rogers. As Bucky recovers from his decades as Hydra’s puppet, he gets to know his mysterious host and the reclusive country that has taken the Winter Soldier in. The one thing he can’t seem to find out is what King T'Challa actually wants with him.

All is seldom as it seems where the Black Panther is involved.

Also known as my answer to the question, “How the hell has Bucky been hiding from Steve for two years and how did he end up in that vise?”

Owlet’s Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail—includes all her Bucky-centric stories. Very fun, often poignant, very good.

I Am Machine–NotMarge

Bucharest, Romania. Over a year since the crash into the Potomac. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore. He’s not Bucky Barnes anymore.  He’s someone else, something else. AU. Somewhat. Amelia POV beginning chapter 18.

There’s Nobody Praying for Me@rubyrosettared

Set immediately after the events of The Winter Soldier. Alex Wells comes across a confused and exhausted Bucky Barnes in an alleyway and offers to help him.

Lastly, you look through my favorites lists on both and on Ao3 for more (and for one-shots).

I’ll Watch Over You (Part 1)

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: After centuries of trying, failing, working, yearning, Dianite finally revived Tom. But something is wrong. He doesn’t remember his god, their love. He doesn’t remember anything. And in a way, that hurts just as much as losing him.

(AN: I was at work, cleaning up for the night and trying to leave aND I GET THIS IDEA. I DON’T KNOW WHY, BUT I HAD THE SUDDEN NEED TO WRITE SOME ANGST. So here we are, reading (well, i’m writing you’re reading I suppose) this fic I couldn’t not write)

Part ½


There was something unsettling about the way his eyes flickered between hollow and lively. It was as though he couldn’t quite reconcile where he was, what he was. The normally vibrant man, one who had been still for far too long, was taking in everything is a rather slow fashion. And honestly, it unnerved the god. To see his lover in such a detached state, to watch with a held breath if he would be alright this time.

Brown locked onto his, the warm that used to reside there distant, hesitant. But something was missing. The spark in his eyes, the one that grew the more they spent time together, developed into something more than follower and god, wasn’t there. Something had taken its place. Something cold. In his was the look of unfamiliarity. For the first time in hundreds of years, Dianite dreaded to hear his beloved’s voice.

His face scrunched, eyebrows drawn down, his lips poking out into a mock pout. The contours of his face, so familiar, yet strangely foreign with a mixed hue of green making up his complexion, carved themselves into a look of bafflement. Head tilted to the side, he viewed the god as for the first time. His heart ached, and Dianite wished he, too, could pray to an upper power for another outcome. But he knew. He knew that Tom did not know.

The zombie opened his mouth, teeth glinting a clean white shade, and asked him, “Who are you?”


Furia didn’t know what to say. When Dianite appeared from nowhere, directing him towards the room, he wasn’t quite expecting this. The god had brought him in, placed him before Tom, and hightailed it out of there. But the image of the god before he left, jaw set tight, eyes unnaturally focused on anything but the zombie, wings rigid and stiff, feathers ruffled and offset, even the way his muscles were relaxed in the slightest, it spoke volumes. Something was wrong with Tom, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

Said mortal was eyeing him with mild alarm, definitely not in his normal mindset. “Holy shit,” he uttered, bringing his attention back from where Dianite fled, “Are you always on fire?” The fire demon gave a slow blink in response. Shaking his head, he retorted, “No, I’m fucking made of ice. But we’ll go with yes, to help your slow mind process.” He didn’t mean to lash out, per se, but if Tom was okay, he would have a witty comeback on the edge of his tongue.

Any second now, they would roll right into their typical banter, and Furia would have to go see what spooked the god so bad. But Tom did something extremely uncharacteristic, he backed off. “Geez, I didn’t fucking know. It was just a question.” He mumbled the last part, showing vulnerability. The fiery being had only seen him do that in two particular instances: when he wanted someone so under estimate him, or he truly felt comfortable with someone. And right now, he wasn’t really sure which applied. (Seeing as Furia knew the little shit was rather capable, the latter was the only one that happened near him. And not even that often).

Pursing his lips, he decided on one last test. “What’s your name?” He was expecting Tom to scoff, to snark about how he was barely gone that long and Furia already forgot his damn name. But he didn’t. The zombie hesitated, mouth open as though the answer was waiting, stuck in his throat. Tilting his head in consideration, he asked more than told, “…Tom?” And the demon was truly on board with is god. He wasn’t sure what to do, how to take this, what the twinge of hurt meant when he came upon the realization that Tom knew nothing.

(Furia was sure Dianite wasn’t taking this well. Not at all)


Tom was confused. The man that was on fire had asked a few questions before being quiet for a long pause. It was then that he was lead from the room, an oppressing silence draped over them. They ventured through tantamount hallways, a series of twists and turn that seemed tedious, before he found himself before a strange… swirling vortex. It was a peculiar purple shade, lined with nether brick. In the back of his mind, he felt this wasn’t the normal kind of… thing it was.

Enraptured by the mystical projection, he wasn’t ready for the sudden push towards it. He swiveled his head to catch a glimpse of the fire demon’s guilty face, biting his lip as he resolutely stared back at him, before his vision was overtaken by the same violet hue he had been watching.

He felt weightless, stuck between here and there, somewhere and nowhere. A sudden panic expanded in his chest, and he couldn’t breathe. All he could see was a darkening purple, but he couldn’t move, his arms were locked, his legs lax, nothing made sense. His eyes sought out anything, darting around, but there was nothing. It was just him, alone, in an endless space. Opening his mouth to scream, to cry, to hear something, he was given only silence.

But then he was falling. The pressure in his chest was dropping, there but shifting. An inky color was edging into the endless scene. Small, whitish dots were speckled throughout, bringing forth a deep navy color. Finally letting in a gasp, lungs relishing the cool air against the burning need for oxygen, he could feel the pressure ebb. Now all he could see were the stars, shimmering in and out of focus.

Turning his head, he struggled to find anything below him, just a continued expanse of starry sky. Then it slowly occurred to him, as a soft shushing noise reached his ears. He was hurtling towards the ocean. Faintly, against the broad horizon, he could make out a darker shape, perhaps land? But the sliver of light peeking at the edge, bleeding into the starlit sea, gave no clue.

The water was looming before him, and he didn’t know what to do. (He vaguely recalled that it was better to enter feet first, and he could feel phantom pains in his back). Twisting in the air, he struggled to stay feet first, feeling himself lean back against his will. He barely managed to draw in a breath before he plunged in.

It was warmer than the atmosphere he had just plummeted through, and the sting in his knees added to it. With a grimace, he kicked up toward the surface, arms clawing towards the edge. He broke through, panting for breath. Searching for the land he had seen, he wadded around, shivering as the damp wetness seeping into his clothes. Finding the portion of land from earlier, he started towards it. With the stiffness in his limbs, it was going to take a while.


The zombie was never so happy to have goddamn sand in his shoes. (When had he put on dress shoes? And a suit? What, was he dressed for a fucking funeral?). His stupid suit was soaked through, and there was little worse than soggy socks, but damn, his arms were burning with the strain of swimming for so long. Flopping as the base of the hill, he sighed. The sun had climbed its way up the sky, beating down on his drowned figure.

Rolling his head around, trying to work out the awkward stiffness, he noticed a body laying a few feet from him. How he hadn’t noticed earlier, who knows, but their limbs were spread out away from them, but there were no drag marks showing that they had pulled themselves up there. Had they been there a while, or had they somehow washed up?

With a groan, Tom dragged himself back up, waddling over to the man (he thinks it’s a man?) and crouched back down, knees making small pops. (Seriously, what the hell had he been doing to get so stiff and tense everywhere?). Poking at the prone figure, he regarded him with a hum. His pasty white face wrinkled with an annoyed moan. A hand swiped at the offending finger, a half-hearted mumble following it.

Bored and perhaps a little mischievous, the green man shed his quite damp jacket and threw it onto the man’s head. He was gifted with a small shriek, as the lanky man struggled to remove the moist cloth. Sitting up with a huff, he held the jacket away from him with a look of disgust. “‘Ello mate, how was your nap?” He jumped, looking over at Tom in alarm. Eyes narrowing, he queried, “Who are you and why the fuck is this jacket so wet?”

“Tom,” was his immediate response, but it felt incomplete, “Tom Syndicate.” He wasn’t sure were the name Syndicate came from, but it right, felt close to his full name. (He knew that wasn’t it, the last part seemed off, like it was a title more than a name). There was a pause, before his companion begrudgingly returned with, “Tucker Boner. Or Jericho. I’ve been called both.”

“Boner? Like getting some-” “Oh shut the fuck up!”


Dianite trusted Furia, far more than any normal being. He knew that he would find something to help, especially when the god himself was emotionally compromised. However, he did not expect the solution to be Furia throwing him into the portal, and letting him into the world. Frankly, he wasn’t quite over Tom’s death, and letting him out into world did not sound like a great way to keep him alive.

But Furia even had that covered. Somehow, the (rather special) portal had landed him on the island with respawning. After… a certain event, a large amount of magic remained in the land, and made it to where people who die there… just come back. Whether it was dumb luck or careful planning, he was relieved nonetheless.

Now, courtesy of the fire demon, he was peering into a looking glass, homed in on the newly revived Tom. (He yearned to be there with him, but he wasn’t ready for it). The zombie was prancing around with some other human (he could feel the pure Mianitee radiating off him), and they were struggling to make it through the night. He couldn’t help the flinch as Tom let out a shriek when he was shot by a skeleton. But instead of falling dead (again, not again, please) his body disappeared. In a little puff of smoke, Tom was over at the hill, where he first got to the island, very indignant and pouting.

To see his beloved so full of life, happy even, filled him with unbridled joy. But. It hurt. It was a bittersweet victory, to have him back, but to have lost so much of him. Would they ever find their love again? This Tom, one with new experiences, a whole new life, another chance to find happiness where life once strove to wrench it away from him, would they find their way back to each other?

A cold feeling settled in his stomach. Could he let himself get close again? All those times they shared, all the things they helped each other through, what they bonded over. How could he just… re-write those? Would making new memories erase the value of what used to be? If he let them go, was he disregarding, disrespecting who Tom used to be?

… is Tom even nearly the man he used to be?


Tom finally stopped dying (goddamn skeletons). But he managed to build a neat little home into the side of a mountain, get some swag (Tucker was still struggling in the diamond department, what a scrub). Yet, now that he was set up, some sort of priest rolls in claiming the greatness of Mianite? Some sort of god? It was mildly annoying and mostly confusing. Nonetheless, he was willing to play along with the appeasement of the god, if it meant he could troll Tucker in relative peace.

What he wasn’t expecting, was the god to be an ass. A bit bitchy, doesn’t like to show up much, and seems to be playing favorites. He was about to give in and play the ass kicker (looking at Tucker, kissing the ground he walks on to reap the benefits), when someone new came in. Rather, a new god. Apparently, Mianite had some kickass older brother, ready to fucking fight the bitch. None other than the badass Dianite. (It was weird, how he had barely seen him, just for a few minutes, and he was already very fond of him. He may have acted somewhat cold and gruff, but he knew he could give him his loyalty).

So now, he was happily wreaking chaos and destruction for his god, easily lording over Tucker. And he didn’t know if the god was watching him or not, but he had a burning need to make him happy. (He remembered his first day being awake again, the devastated look on his face when he asked who he was. It unsettled him, made him want to do anything to make it better. Seeing him in pain cut deep in him, and he didn’t know why). He paraded around, juggling being friends with the other humans, with pranking and crusading against them, to just being chill. It was weird, but if his god would be happy, it would be worth it.

And when he was holed up in his house, trying to recover his shit (his damn gift from Dianite), he worried about his warring god just outside. He looked worse for wear, slowly losing the fight to his brother. Mianite, of course, didn’t give a shit, or didn’t notice. He struck the last blow with half glee, half solemnness.

And for a moment it felt as though someone reached in his chest to strangle his heart. His god was down, and no one could say whether a god could kill another. Who’s to say, that even as brothers, that Mianite wouldn’t kill the weakened god when he had the chance? Mortal or not, if this bitch actually took out his god, he was going to return the favor. (He felt a sting in his eyes, and dammit, that made him angrier).

But he was just banished back to the nether. Mianite may be a fucking asshat, but at least Dianite wasn’t dead. (And if the squeezing of his heart didn’t lessen any, he couldn’t figure out why).


He wasn’t prepared for the sudden insomnia. In the previous weeks, he was fine, sleeping well through the morning after going to bed late at night. But for some reason, now he was straining to get any sleep at all. Each day was a new experience of surviving off baked potatoes, tea, and the general influx of emotions and daily pranks.

It wasn’t that he was too hyped up. Somedays he would simply mine, grinding for some more swag. Others he would tend to his indoor garden, trying to get to Champwan levels but failing. The only days he got into whatever he was doing involved pranks. But, due to his lingering exhaustion, he mostly just kept to low power activities. (He thinks the priest is starting to notice, but he hasn’t said anything).

His erratic schedule normally didn’t affect him, perhaps a side effect of being a zombie. He was used to going long into the night, practically morning, and sleeping late into the day. It was just his style. But even now, as he just, sat there, staring listlessly out his window, he couldn’t find sleep.

The night wore on, the stars wandering through the sky. He couldn’t just sit here anymore. Even if he was tired, no ready to fucking drop. But he rose, meandering down the steps of his home. Pausing his at his steps, he peered out into the gloom. It was quiet, the usual rustling of mobs not present. Venturing out into the world, he simply wandered.

On occasion, he would catch sounds of other life, but each sweep of his eyes found nothing but flora. So, he continued on his way, finding his feet going in the general direction of Hecz’s house. (Whatever happened to the man, after he informed them he was going on a trip? Did he decide he liked wherever he was better, or had he perished?). It wasn’t long before he ran out of land, stopped by the shore. He plopped himself on the beach, content to stay there for a while.

His mind felt fuzzy, plagued by the lack of sleep. He heard a slow set of footsteps, but he couldn’t make himself give a shit. There was nothing valuable on him, and respawning was a quick endeavor. At least he wouldn’t have to walk home. But he received no agony, no pain of any sort. Instead, he turned his head to see the zombie making a rather peculiar expression. With a long groan, it bent its knees and unceremoniously fell beside him.

He wasn’t sure he was actually seeing this, or rather hallucinating, but the other zombie repositioned itself to seemingly uncomfortably sit beside him. The two stared at each other, and a deep understanding as set in the other’s eyes. It was strange, how something known to hunt people down on the pure need to be somewhat more human again, could possess the emotions he was feeling. But it knew. Somewhere in those black, dead eyes, it too, knew what was wrong.

For a while Tom had thought it was seeing his god die, but that wasn’t it. It was seeing the one who drug him from the void (he had pieced it together after some hard consideration) fall so easily. If he could fall, who’s to say Tom wouldn’t fall as well? And he knows, better than any of his human companions, that the void will mercilessly swallow anyone. And this zombie knew. For it had found its way out somehow.

And they stayed there until the sun rose, staring at the sky. When his companion solemnly started to burn, Tom shed his first tears since his revival. (He wondered, if one day, instead of burning to death, would he just… despawn? Get swallowed by the void once more. He didn’t want to know).

(AN: Doesnt feel angsty enough lol. I was going to add detail, but im lazy so.)

kreepyreapy  asked:

For some reason when ever there is a glitch for me it is always during the Boyle's party. Every play through with out fail, something always goes weird. This one time through Mrs. White got stuck in the wall and doorframe leading to the stairwell to the basement and just freaked out. Stretchy limbs and all. Couldn't get her out either.

I feel so bad when this happens to people, especially when I’m doing low chaos or clean hands and I don’t want to leave someone where they might fly out of a wall, hit the floor and become “dead” when I leave the map. I get the “body stuck in wall” a lot when trying to hide unconscious bodies, but especially with maids, and I just get worried because there’s only one way to grab a body (hold [F] or [interact]) in DH1 (there’s more angles you can do it from in DH2 plus Far Reach’s pull upgrade).

It sounds like a Mrs White is like the opposite of the Outsider - she’ll follow Corvo but actually, physically, and very annoyingly. Like Corvo is looting the upstairs rooms via the attic and Mrs White will be there saying “… you fascinate me”


wander around to
get further than
most will we spend
hours in a book
store where we dont
know any of the
authors and leave
without buying
anything the night
is young the heat
is dull the lights
are bright and my
hand will not leave
yours ever

later -

in a bar they are
playing a song which
will be ours before
it’s over i cant
imagine this night
or any other night
without you i’m scared
but your hand is so
comforting as it
squeezes mine at
every red light

I too beneath your moon, almighty Sex,
Go forth at nightfall crying like a cat,
Leaving the lofty tower I laboured at
For birds to foul and boys and girls to vex
With tittering chalk; and you, and the long necks
Of neighbours sitting where their mothers sat
Are well aware of shadowy this and that
In me, that’s neither noble nor complex.
Such as I am, however, I have brought
To what it is, this tower; it is my own;
Though it was reared To Beauty, it was wrought
From what I had to build with: honest bone
Is there, and anguish; pride; and burning thought;
And lust is there, and nights not spent alone.
—  Edna St. Vincent Millay,
I too Beneath Your Moon, Almighty Sex (X)