The Shark Tank (a musebox)

for @dadyl

Thu, 10 Oct 2024 05:29:11 GMT

Posted by: blueshit

[ I'm not even gay!

It had been a last-ditch effort - even as he'd shouted the words into Negan's face, Jesse had known it was useless. But it still stung, the way Negan had laughed at him. Like this whole thing was a fucking joke. Jesse's whole life, his freedom, his future, all gone. Signed away to a complete stranger, and for what? To make peace with the assholes they'd been fighting for months?

You think that's the point, sugarpie? This ain't about your happy little ending.

Negan had stepped closer, his smile vanishing and his eyes going hard, and Jesse had shut up by reflex, hands falling to his sides.

This is for us. For the Saviors. For Negan. And who are you?

Jesse had shaken his head, mute, but the words had come out almost without effort. He'd been following Negan for the past two years, almost since this had started. Fucked up as it was, Negan was the closest thing to family he'd had since his own parents and brother had died in the first wave of walkers.

Until now, of course.

Until his husband.

I'm Negan.

Everything happens fast after that. The wedding, if you can call it that, is more like a business deal than anything else, though there are definitely a few girls watching with tears in their eyes as Jesse ties the knot. And then it's over and Jesse finds himself herded off to his new digs - way nicer than his last shitty room, he has to admit - and shut firmly inside with him. Daryl.

For a moment, they just eye each other. Then Jesse shakes his head, wordless, and makes a beeline across the room to the celebratory bottle of champane waiting in a bucket of ice, tugging fruitlessly at the tie constricting his neck as he goes. He pops the cork without ceremony and immediately begins chugging straight from the bottle. Can you get blackout drunk from champagne? He doesn't know, but now seems like the perfect time to find out. ]

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tlou au

Sat, 29 Oct 2022 21:21:47 GMT

Posted by: buttonface

[ Just a business conference. That's all it was supposed to be. A week down in Boston, networking, going to seminars, finding ways to improve the business, maybe get ideas for an eventual expansion or franchise. Maybe.

David hadn't been thrilled about Patrick leaving for a week "so soon" (aka almost six months) after their wedding, but Patrick had promised to call every night and bring him plenty of souvenirs, and something in there (mostly the promise of gifts, Patrick's pretty sure) had convinced him to agree to let Patrick go. Just for a week or so. Nothing at all.

Then, the day before he'd been due to fly home, the world had ended.

Or at least, that's what it had felt like. Flights cancelled. News reports that didn't make any sense, that sounded like some kind of sick joke. People going crazy, panicking. Then the whole city shut down, no one allowed in or out.

He'd had just enough time to call David before the cell network got totally overloaded and then shut down for good. Even then, the connection had been staticky and poor - he'd sworn to get back there, somehow, warned him to just stay put and stay inside, but even now he's not sure how much David had been able to hear or understand. Now, nearly three years later, because days had dragged into weeks and then months and now here he is, and it's only now that he's finally found someone willing and able to get him out of the quarantine zone and lead him to the Canadian border.

For a price, of course. That's the other thing that had taken so long - stowing away every extra bit of rations, every stray pill or bullet or anything that might conceivably come in useful to someone one day to use his payment. It's a lot. Not compared to the giant weapon caches he knows the various organized groups are used to flinging around, but he's careful and resourceful and above all, determined to get back to David. Whatever it takes.

Which is how he finds himself here, now, nervously watching the hard-faced man he'd hired as he inspects Patrick's supply cache. He swallows, mouth going dry as it occurs to him that he could just shoot Patrick right here, leave him for dead and take it all. He shifts from one foot to the other, then makes himself stand up a little straighter, lifting his chin and meeting the stranger's eyes. ]

So?

[ He speaks quietly bit firmly, trying to summon a confidence he doesn't feel. ]

We have a deal?

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amat au (for @fortitudosalutis)

Mon, 07 Mar 2022 17:10:39 GMT

Posted by: blueshit

[ He'd been sure it was a dream, at first. He still kinda thinks it is, actually, because no way this shit is actually real, right?

But at first it had seemed like a good dream. The kind of fantasy bullshit Badger and Skinny Pete would toss back and forth together, talking and talking, seemingly endlessly entertained by the sound of their own voices. Hey what if there was like, this island, like ancient Rome or something, the Parthenon, all that shit -

The parthenon was Greece, idiot!

Whatever, that's not the point! So there's this island, and it's all this like, ancient ruins, except they're not ancient anymore, they just look like it but there's running water and electricity and all that. It's like, beautiful. And you wake up there, and you're not wearing anything, and then someone comes and tells you you have to have sex -

What?

Yeah! You have to have sex, because that's how the island gets its like, energy. Everyone does! Everyone! So it's like, this island filled with all these people, like all these hot chicks. And if you don't have sex at least once every two weeks, you die. So everyone has to, you know? And you don't have to feel bad about it, or like, figure out how to pick up girls, you just go up and you're like well I guess we have to, right? And she's like, yeah. And then you do it!

Whoa. Sounds like fuckin' paradise, man.

That's what I'm saying!

But it isn't paradise. Jesse's been here over a week now and the collar at his neck, the have sex every two weeks or you die collar, is getting noticably tighter every day now. There's been plenty of opportunity. Plenty of girls giving him appraising glances and hopeful smiles, but he's always looked away. It doesn't feel right. Just fucking a stranger like that, just to leave them afterwards and then go fuck someone else? He's never really been like that. And he knows he has to, but...

If it is a dream, he's pretty sure it's a nightmare.

Then he walks inside the building where he's living with the other new people - ancient Greek ruins, only they're not ruins anymore, and there's running water and electricity and all that - and he knows it's a nightmare. He stops, staring. ]

Carver?

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open post!

Fri, 05 Mar 2021 01:38:50 GMT

Posted by: butteredcups

General open post for any of my characters!

Ways to use:

- Post a starter
- Request a starter
- Post a prompt/picture prompt

Random scenario meme pasted below for ideas but anything works!

( Random scenario prompts below )

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for c

Thu, 28 Jan 2021 05:41:29 GMT

Posted by: hows_the_knee

( nsfw )

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general tlfn overflow

Sun, 10 Jan 2021 06:14:14 GMT

Posted by: hows_the_knee

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for @roseapothecary

Fri, 06 Nov 2020 02:51:55 GMT

Posted by: buttonface

(from here)

[ The look on David's face is heartbreaking, all the more so because he can somehow tell that it's real, that it's not an attempt to guilt-trip him even though if it was, he'd probably look exactly the same. Patrick doesn't even hesitate in his answer. ]

Of course not.

[ Maybe it would be smarter, wiser, to say yes. To apologize and gently remind David of where they are, when they are, that they need to be careful to keep them both safe. The last thing he wants is to do anything that would put David in danger.

But he also can't deny him now. Not when he looks so desperate, so scared of what the answer might be. Not when he knows exactly how he feels. Those days before today, before he'd found his husband...it had been miserable, feeling so alone. Maybe it's not the smartest thing for him to do, but he needs to show David how he feels about him. For both of their sakes. ]

Come on.

[ With a shy smile, barely visible before he turns to head out of the room, he takes David's hand, leading him through the halls and to the master bedroom. The curtains in here are already closed, to keep the sun from heating up the room too much, so all he has to do is shut and lock the door behind him. Not that he thinks they'll be interrupted, but...better to be safe.

Once it's done, once they're really and truly alone, he turns back to David, not bothering to say another word before he's on him, pressing him up against the foot of the (Patrick's, not the other) narrow bed, reaching for his face and kissing him hard, full of all the passion and emotion he'd been too afraid to show up until now. ]

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Muselist

Thu, 10 Sep 2020 19:28:19 GMT

Posted by: butteredcups

( Muselist )

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for c [tlou2 spoilers]

Sun, 12 Jul 2020 07:01:31 GMT

Posted by: shivving

[ It's not often that Joel strays too far from Jackson, these days. There's no reason to, most of the time, and honestly, at this point he thinks he's done enough traveling for one lifetime. It's nice to stay in one place again, a place far better than anything the Boston QZ could ever offer. Nice not to have to scavenge for supplies and stake out camp every night and be on constant alert for infected or worse.

So it's a surprise to himself, as much as anyone, when Joel finds himself raising his hand to volunteer for a scouting trip to Seattle. The little town's self-sufficient enough, for the most part, but as it grows there's more and more need for specialized people and equipment both. Spare parts for the dam. Metalworking equipment. Anyone with medical knowledge - anything and anyone that'll keep them going long-term, as prepared as they can be for any future disasters. Rumor has it Seattle still has a sizeable population, and it's big enough that there's gotta be something useful to be found there, if not someone.

Washington isn't too far, comparatively, and Jackson's regular patrols mean that a good bit of eastern Idaho, at least, should be fairly clear of infected. Still, it's not as though this is gonna be a walk in the park. Maybe, he thinks, it's just that he doesn't want to get too comfortable here. The last four years have had Joel unlearning almost everything he spent the previous twenty having beaten into his skull - don't let your guard down, don't get attached, don't trust anyone because everyone you meet is putting themselves first. Life isn't like that here, but he can't let himself forget that it's not that easy everywhere. The last thing he needs is to let himself relax too much and end up getting himself killed.

Seattle it is. Just to keep himself sharp.

***

Seattle, it turns out, is hell.

Any hope that the large human population might have successfully wiped out or at least gotten a handle on the infected in the area is put to rest pretty quickly. Worse, there's a new kind he's never seen before, some kind of mutated half-bloater. That would be bad enough, but as always, the people are worse. The military's long gone - mixed blessing there - and the whole city's in some kind of a turf war between two groups vying for dominance. Joel doesn't know what the difference between them is, and doesn't care - that is, until he gets pinned down by one of them, some assholes who are way too good with a bow and have an obnoxious habit of communicating through whistles. Frequently. His normal trick of picking them off one by one until he can safely make his way through doesn't work when they're constantly checking in on each other's whereabouts, and he's crouched down in a culvert, trying to figure out what the hell he's gonna do, when he hears the whoosh and thud of another arrow, followed by a cry of pain that's cut off almost instantly.

He's not alone out here.

It doesn't take long to find her, a girl with a long blonde braid hunkered down nearby, pressing a hand to the arrow lodged in her shoulder and squeezing her eyes shut tight against the pain. It takes even less time to decide what to do (so much for putting himself first; Bill would be ashamed). He crouches down beside her, voice barely above a breath so as not to be noticed by the people hunting them. ]

Here - hey, hey, shh, it's alright - we gotta get that out.

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tlou au (for alex)

Fri, 21 Feb 2020 20:27:07 GMT

Posted by: shivving

[ You gotta say somethin', Tommy keeps telling him, but what Tommy doesn't get is that no, he really doesn't. Evelyn Carnahan has been living in Jackson for about three months now, and has already made herself more a part of the community than Joel has managed in three years. She's...popular, is the only way to put it. Friendly, generous, whip-smart, beautiful. She'd made herself indispensable almost immediately, putting her sharp mind and incomparable organizational skills to work alongside Maria, earning her trust and friendship as well as the slack-jawed admiration of what seems the entire male population. People trust her, they rely on her, and while yes, the same can occasionally be said of Joel, people also like Evie. They want her around. She's got all the attention she could ask for and more.

She and Joel may have a history, but it's fading fast. She doesn't owe him anything, and soon, he's sure, she'll stop acting like she does. Stop smiling when she catches sight of him walking past, stop seeking him out at meals, stop pushing her meager coffee ration on him and refusing to take no for an answer. He appreciates it, and more than that, he appreciates her company...but there's no way it's gonna last, not when Andy Simmons keeps giving her those eyes and Rodrigo Gonzalez has taken to leaving fresh flowers on her desk every week. Both good men, both much closer to Evelyn's age than Joel is, and any day now she's bound to set her sights on one of them, or one of the dozens of others more than eager for her attention, and Joel will be left behind.

It's fine. He's got a good life here. He's got Ellie, even if she's spending more time with Dina than with him these days - she's safe and happy, and that's all he wants. A quiet life, a quiet retirement from his mercenary days, from the hell that is the outside world. He'll take Evie's smiles and the sight of her settling down across the table in the mess, the sound of her laughter and the sight of her hands flashing in the air, as long as he can, and he won't ask for more than that.

He's alive. It's enough. ]

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for ori

Fri, 05 Jul 2019 01:31:29 GMT

Posted by: eastofeden

The house is perfect. Spacious - a little more so than he needs, perhaps, but not so large as to be overwhelming (and it's not as though cleaning is an issue, when one can simply miracle the dust away). Beautiful historic architecture. A view overlooking the river. And right in the heart of Paris - he can walk down the street for baguettes and chocolate and crepes. Just like a human!

The best part, though, is the library. He stands in the middle of it, enraptured, head tilted back to look up as he turns in a slow circle. The shelves go all the way up to the ceiling! He could fit so many books...

Behind him, the agent coughs discreetly.

"Of course, there was one other interested party..." he says, as if continuing a prior conversation. "Very interested, as I understand it. Willing to pay cash. A year's lease in advance."

"What?" Startled, Aziraphale looks down, stumbling a bit with dizziness as he rights himself. A year? He doesn't have that kind of funds saved up. Who would have that kind of money, who didn't already own their own house? "A...a year?"

The agent bows slightly. "As it happens, he's on his way now. Very keen to get moved in." He peers at Aziraphale, eyes bright and crafty. "Unless you have a better offer...?"

"I - I don't..." He blinks. Already, he can see his beatiful dream of a library on the Seine fading before his eyes. "Who...who..."

The agent opens his mouth again. But before he can say a word, there's a loud knock from downstairs, and then a voice. A very, very familiar voice, calling up through the house.

Aziraphale stiffens, mouth snapping shut. No. No.

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agent masshole

Tue, 19 Jun 2018 04:27:25 GMT

Posted by: tuskenlancer

[ It's a hard day of training, not helped by the fact that CT had gotten a harsh lecture from the Director just beforehand. Apparently her recent performance on the battlefield had been lacking (as if she doesn't know), he'd be watching her closely during this training session, and if she wants to continue participating as an agent in this program, she'd do well to ensure her performance reflects that desire, Agent Connecticut.

Worse, she'd been paired - not with Agent Washington, as she'd assumed she would be - but with the new guy.

With Wash, she can at least relax a little, knowing that he'll have her back and that he won't be just waiting for her to fuck up, as she suspects some of the others might, if not out of an overly developed sense of competition then out of an infuriatingly pitying sense of the inevitable. Great, I'm paired with CT. So much for that. She's being paranoid, probably, but...

But Agent Massachusetts is still an unknown quantity. He's good, she won't deny that - frustratingly good, for how little he seems to try. He never seems to take anything seriously, as if he's doing this all for fun, as if at any moment he could break off from even the most intense training session, the most important mission, go up and make a joke to his enemy and make them laugh and then everybody breaks for drinks. And yet he's fast and smart and unpredictable in the best way, the way that means his opponent never knows what's coming, that consistently gives him the upper hand. He'd risen up the leaderboard shockingly fast, neck and neck with York, and if he keeps improving he may even give Carolina a run for her money.

CT, of course, had been left so far back in the dust she isn't even visible anymore.

She's relieved when it's finally, finally over and she can be alone. She doesn't even think about seeking out company for dinner, just takes a tray and sits in the remotest corner of the mess she can find. All she wants to do is retreat to her bunk and pass out, but she's starving. Food first, then the sleep of the dead. ]

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steve rogers red vs blue au

Sat, 31 Mar 2018 02:12:49 GMT

Posted by: tuskenlancer

( It is an undeniable, and may I say a fundamental quality of man, that when faced with extinction, every alternative is preferable. )

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Those stormy Purgatory nights...

Mon, 13 Jan 2014 22:16:01 GMT

Posted by: blood_brother

( Read more... )

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Demon Dean and Jo

Fri, 20 Dec 2013 02:05:14 GMT

Posted by: ramble_on

[Sammy did a good job keeping his body nice and ready for him. Dean slips into it as easily as he would that old leather jacket of his. When he sees he's underground, in a coffin, he laughs. And then he claws his way out.

Later, he'll tell a story about angels tearing him out of Hell so that he can be a vessel. He'll talk for torture and hold back tears and keep his eyes from going back. Sam will believe him, Anna will be scared into silence when she hears his name whispered among the angels, and Castiel will try and smite him.

For now, Dean plays the part of the PTSD-ridden man with a guilty conscience and too much to carry.

Dean unites with Sam, but he doesn't stay with him, which should be a clue, if Sam weren't hopped up on demon blood (that Dean would feed him himself, if that bitch didn't already have Sam wrapped around her finger). He stages a fight about trust and how could you, talking about monsters, Sam getting in a punch.

Then Dean leaves him with Ruby and hunts on his own for a while. He takes out everything indiscriminately — demons, werewolves, humans, it doesn't matter to him as long as he gets the thrill, and as long as Sam thinks he's still on the straight and narrow. That way, he can buy some time before the grand plan.

Which is not the same as Ruby's grand plan. Dean doesn't want to let Lucifer out; he wants to claim Lucifer's place.

Until then, he acts like a good hunter (mostly), killing the occasional innocent bystander, and waiting for all of the seals to be broken. That's how he runs into Jo — and how she becomes part of his cover.

He, Ellen, and Jo start hunting together, but Dean decides that Ellen needs to go. She gives him funny looks sometimes, more perceptive than she seems. So one night while Ellen is out, he sits beside Jo on her bed and leans over to kiss her, slow and sweet, thumb brushing her cheek.

When he pulls back, he whispers:]

I think it's time you and me hit the road alone.

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HMD

Mon, 14 May 2012 02:10:20 GMT

Posted by: bouquetofsharks

General HMD post for any of my characters, or my RP in general! Anonymous commenting enabled, IP tracking off, and I'll be screening comments but will unscreen them by request. I'm planning on making individual HMDs for all of them eventually, but for now, this will do. Constructive crit or discussion welcome!

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Muselisting

Fri, 11 May 2012 05:21:44 GMT

Posted by: bouquetofsharks

( muselisting )

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