query_id stringlengths 4 64 | query_authorID stringlengths 6 40 | query_text stringlengths 66 72.1k | candidate_id stringlengths 5 64 | candidate_authorID stringlengths 6 40 | candidate_text stringlengths 9 101k |
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d1ah3tr | ['ffd0103b-79a9-b1e3-a226-aeb59326c18f'] | What does he have a pen and paper handy to write down that zinc gives you cancer? No. You had to remember that crap... with your brain. Too much zinc gives you cancer. 2 days later- Zinc something-something cancer. 2 days later- I remember someone saying something about zinc and cancer. Does it cure cancer? No that can't be right, it must prevent cancer. I need some zinc! | chupnsd | ['ffd0103b-79a9-b1e3-a226-aeb59326c18f'] | I always use movie quotes. Some of my favorites. -We got no elixir. We got no gold. OUR TROOPS HEADS ARE FALLING OFF! -Now witness the firepower of this fully armed and operational clan castle. You may donate when ready commander. - Barbarian King, you big stud! Take me to battle or lose me forever! - What is this a Clan Castle for ants? It needs to be at least three times bigger than this. |
dyrb2fu | ['ffd4c5f3-71ec-f786-5f46-6dc9c9e7bc23'] | I'm not kidding lol I mean if you like it, that's fine. I'm not denying his greatness. And i will say.. where was all this talk when they almost lost to the pacers? They swept a decent team in the raptors, who in my opinion mentally imploded, and all of a sudden that's enough to make him GOAT? LOL. Give me a break. He's lost THAT MANY finals for a reason. | dhibp92 | ['ffd4c5f3-71ec-f786-5f46-6dc9c9e7bc23'] | outside of the first game, i think they are both playing really well.. I'm not sure if you've been watching, but outside of SKT1, very few players have been "hard carrying" consistently. It's really <PERSON> that has put TSM behind; and although WT's OVERALL game play has been very pleasant, it just seems that he cant go a game without making one bone headed positional mistake. People will try to justify it, but its either just super shitty luck, or just being consistently exposed. I swear that game vs WE was starting to shift momentum until WT got caught. |
65g7li | ['ffdacfa5-652a-01de-980d-7a9c8eec3323'] | Hey redditors I was wondering out of my fellow <PERSON> fans whose collection of dvds/blurays is biggest? My collection includes: DVDs- -1940's <PERSON> movie serials -1940's Batman & <PERSON> movie serials -Batman the Animated series volumes 1-4 -Batman Beyond the complete series -Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker Blu-Rays- -1960's Batman the television series (complete) -1966 Batman the movie -1989 Batman -1992 Batman Returns -1995 Batman Forever -1997 Batman & Robin -The Dark Knight Trilogy -Return of the Caped Crusaders -The Killing Joke -Batman v. Superman -Suicide Squad And most of the Lego/ DC comics animated movies | ceemnzg | ['ffdacfa5-652a-01de-980d-7a9c8eec3323'] | Um actually it would be a personal experience because they were scientists who dedicated their life to discovering new thing or proof against or supporting something thag had already been discovered. If I were to find a new species of plant while I was taking my daily walk. Then I HAVE FOUND a new plant species. I PERSONALLY found the plant. Therefore my personal experience with the religious people in my life has led me to find that they can be extremely judgmental. In closing the phrase 'I have found' is in fact a foretelling of a personal inquiry, experience, or experiment. Thank you and happy new year have a good day :) |
drdff7b | ['ffdc82ec-4028-c311-aae0-9e1de86209e4'] | I think you should stop the physical exfoliation, including sea salt, microdermabrasion, dermarolling and using a washcloth to rub your face. I think luke warm water would be better than hot too. Try treating your skin like sensitive skin, Avene has gentle cleaners that are fragrance free. Dairy causes acne for me too, and that usually means you have hormonal acne, so I think you should get a blood test to test your hormone levels and go from there. | dtwx2o9 | ['ffdc82ec-4028-c311-aae0-9e1de86209e4'] | What a huge miscalculation if they don't include them though.... it's bizarre.. I only started watching all these Korean award shows at the end of last year because of BTS, and even watched the older ones, and one thing I've noticed is, the opening and closing act order seem to be pre-decided in some way... those bigger agencies seem to really yield a lot of power over things like that. Anyway, <PERSON> and <PERSON> are the ones most capable of learning choreography and practicing... so I'm going to assume that's why only those two were there to promote in Japan while the rest were at home/rehearsal.. |
dge2hm6 | ['ffe0a2f5-fadb-bea1-1147-1fc95e98d40a'] | Not a big fan of posters, but those are cool. I actually have several larger paintings I have yet to get framed that are destined for that hallway. Also, prolly cant tell from the pic, but the opposite side of that hall has 3 giant mirrored sliding doors. I was thinking of doing something to play on that with a later effort (I am kinda getting into this stuff now :) once I feel the main room is handled, its the hall way. :D | cib184z | ['ffe0a2f5-fadb-bea1-1147-1fc95e98d40a'] | <PERSON> that, this along with what others have pointed out do have the effect of normalizing somewhat the art work we are looking at here, but all the same I tend to think (as I assume others do) that under no circumstances could I personally ever achieve something like this in a creative endeavor. |
cncv462 | ['ffe29658-fad4-e651-740a-3c6f11766854'] | You have no idea how much this helps. I don't know too much about reloading, but I have an entire Hornady LNL setup with case feeder for 9mm and .45 sitting in my garage that i bought off a guy on a local forum a few years back. I haven't touched it once due to lack of time and my desire to build one of those NRMA reloading benches. I've saved this post for when I finally get myself into it. | dgtqjmr | ['ffe29658-fad4-e651-740a-3c6f11766854'] | Dunno, maybe because I'm logged in with my account? This is what I see: http://i.imgur.com/d20VHNg.png EDIT: I should add, the LDD coupon code is $10 off and free shipping over $99, so I added the 3pk of BX-10s to get me over $99. Here's a breakdown of my order: http://i.imgur.com/LPTeUyG.png |
chblccu | ['ffe2b0db-6a15-a950-90c1-a8b3f1a13a6c'] | >We are already deep in development on our next game and want to make this promise to you: we will listen to you. We’re going to give you the game you’ve been asking for. It will be the game you deserve, but to do that will take us some time. Sounds like this could be it... | dqpg7ih | ['ffe2b0db-6a15-a950-90c1-a8b3f1a13a6c'] | Yawn. Good ol' whataboutism. If "B-B-BUT THE LEFT DOES IT TOO..." is your only defense, then your argumentation is simply bankrupt. Also, these instances are not racist, because the part of the population to be disposed of is not determined on the basis of ethnic features, but their political opinions. Repressive and illiberal? Yes. Racist? No. Context matters. |
1j9rro | ['ffe58bc9-de78-4906-dda5-87f9c75e8653'] | So a few days ago, I was fighting champion War. I was on the center of the right wall. He did his little charge and pushed me into a Devil Room. My only explanation is that if I won the fight, the Devil room would've appeared there (which it did). Note that I was flying, so that might be part of the reason why it happened. | 1oa35i | ['ffe58bc9-de78-4906-dda5-87f9c75e8653'] | So I started of as I always do, looking in the item room to see if there's anything good in there. It was a terrible item, so I rerolled it, and it was still terrible. I then decided that if there wasn't anything great in the curse room, I'd just restart. So I looked in it, and there's Sacred Heart, just sitting there. (I was too excited to take a picture...) So everything was going swimmingly, and then my laptop restarted. I spent the rest of my day crying myself to sleep. The End. |
dvaa2o4 | ['ffe785f0-d081-9d02-a257-5183138c1a3c'] | I'm already gonna give it a break. All my decks used to be viable: 6 sam (with slash dragon), bujin (ties of brethren build and standard), and aromages. Now I struggle against old meta because I am running backrow to combat new meta- which steam rolls me anyway. SSA is too strong. I dont have nor will I give up the cash just for cosmic cyclone. | dvtb3t7 | ['ffe785f0-d081-9d02-a257-5183138c1a3c'] | The game is becoming self aware it's not the devs! But this is really cool. Zero (duel links yugituber) has a neat intro showing characters and their ideal decks like <PERSON> has Hazy instead of harpies. Wish he would update it. Kaiba usually uses hazy fist or Phoenix now not BE. And Tea isn't woodland Sprite anymore. |
e1337pq | ['ffe83f52-22a2-e0d0-c9fd-fa31ac39df72'] | I like your site when it first loads up, it has a charm to it. I've only read one article, and while it was nice a lot of your graphics made reading difficult (Like the hand with the heart graphic, or the circle with the trees and sun it). Don't care for the graphics in the gray box with text that looks hand written. And the article I read was a tad too feminine, which I think detracts. I assumed you were looking for a more everyone vibe but if you are going for a female audience then ignore this criticism. | e6f07p8 | ['ffe83f52-22a2-e0d0-c9fd-fa31ac39df72'] | I would say meditate, learn to gain some control over wandering thoughts- but I honestly think you should face them. Cannabis in other cultures is used to contemplate and figure things out. Instead of trying to shoo those thoughts away, face it head on. Come to terms, hell you may even figure something out that will help you down the line. Cannabis has a reputation for being just fun or ruining lives and making people dumb- but it can do a lot more. |
dudm8ak | ['ffea6008-f40a-8daf-c69f-5abb4826b968'] | serious question... how exactly are they establishing proof that they undermined the election without actually rigging the voting system... and if that is not the case, how is it any different than any other smear campaign practiced by all politicians and websites and how is that not illegal? or is it just a huge fear mongering scheme? | doiid3g | ['ffea6008-f40a-8daf-c69f-5abb4826b968'] | Does everyone on the show get excited as they really seem when some of these myths are presented? Or is it mostly acting? I’m sure it’s a blend of both. Is there any unanimous “we know this isn’t going to work, but let’s do it for the video footage well capture” type of mentality? |
d9ie91h | ['ffeb3cd5-2f3b-f81a-d65a-b40ff4b01170'] | Don't know who downvoted you, it is true that there's much more of a rivalry nowadays, cause we're around the same position in the league (this year excluded of course!). But when we're in different leagues you'll barely get a second thought unless someone comes up with a 'good' dog botherer joke. Im sure it's different for the Leeds fans in an around Huddersfield though. | d082u33 | ['ffeb3cd5-2f3b-f81a-d65a-b40ff4b01170'] | The enemies do not get a turn when you spot them. They Scatter from their initial position when you spot them. Reason being that they don't actually patrol as individual units, they're essentially a radar blip moving around. As for accuracy, remember that although everything is stationary, it isn't really. You have to remember that this is a turn based representation of a real time battle. Xcom is all about working the rng in your favour, get the 100 % shots by flanking, use grenades, combat protocol, mimic beacon etc to guarantee success. Not that I think that should change your opinion on the game, but those are a bunch of oft repeated misconceptions about the game. Oh and I love the timers and the hard decisions you have to make, many don't, but that's where mods come in! |
cpamhzi | ['ffed9226-b1fc-44f5-9728-c4c8f1cc2353'] | Yup! Politics is pretty much what runs our country. However I'm not too into lgbt politics because it's not really threatened in my opinion. More and more people are accepting and same sex marriage is becoming legal in almost every state. I care more about things that businesses are fighting against such as net neutrality and the keystone pipeline cuz those could actually cause damage. So yeah, that's a rant. | cn2d4mt | ['ffed9226-b1fc-44f5-9728-c4c8f1cc2353'] | I started before I even turned 6 (yay silly preschool games) and I'm 16 now. I actually just started to have some minor back problems so I'm now going to the chiropractor once every few days so they can help fix me. I don't really blame PC gaming for it. I mostly blame my terrible posture during the school day. A mix of sitting for 8 hours a day in a desk, plus 2 for gaming, and then sometimes running, probably isn't the best for a back. So there's my story if anyone cares, but I doubt PC gaming is the root cause for back problems unless you game for hours and hours a day. Or it might just be genetic... |
c0qjz08 | ['ffede202-91de-b25e-ae85-2b8202af9b84'] | I am a fellow rider, and I have a problem with this logic (not you, so no offense intended).
Imagine that you're on an interstate full of vehicles moving at a reasonable-yet-high rate of speed. Cage drivers will (should) check their mirrors for surrounding vehicles, and will (should) scan the road ahead of them, but if they're on their phone or listening to music, so what? Your pipes can't really be heard when you're behind someone like that- the only people that can hear them are the ones you are riding along side and those that are behind you- who at this point aren't really a danger to you.
You say 'moronic drivers' as if it's safe to assume there aren't any moronic drivers. If any rider has ever done any research whatsoever on the dangers of operating a motorcycle, they would have read that you should behave on the road as if you are invisible, meaning don't ride (ever) in people's blind spots, and if you have to overtake a vehicle, do so after you've planned your line and get through it quickly.
Sorry for the rant; it irritates the piss out of me to read this kind nonsense. | ca8uyny | ['ffede202-91de-b25e-ae85-2b8202af9b84'] | I tried this several times, but my lack of understanding of the game and dwindling humanity meant I had to abandon that plan. I completely forgot I had the Drake Sword in my bottomless box. I know it won't be very useful later in the game, but it did the trick for now. **edit** I have the ember. I'll probably upgrade the claymore or longsword. I really enjoyed using a spear, though. Is there a thrusting weapon that can be upgraded to the point that it is actually useful later in the game? |
e47dgnj | ['ffef817a-8d0a-c4c7-6438-c25238f6c42a'] | Its more of a "I'm filled to the brim with bacon and eggs, bread and...everything" or "Im a fighting man and haven't eaten properly all week and I'm running on low blood sugar and fumes" kind of thing. I'm sorry I've been drinking and my explaination is poor. It does make a difference..and honestly I might prefer to be empty rather than having full shredded intestines going into surgery causing increased risks of infection... Probably prefer not to step on a mine ... You're probably have slim chance of being in a place where it matters tomorrow. | dphhq05 | ['ffef817a-8d0a-c4c7-6438-c25238f6c42a'] | Ok. I'm a medic who's spent 11 years in the Canadian Army. I served in Afghanistan and I have friends who went to the other spots you've mentioned. Keep telling me how I'm wrong without sources though. Would you like to ask questions about specifics and I can tell you what happened first hand in some cases? |
cyu28mk | ['fff1dc95-29e9-ced4-e1c7-5aef2eb55f7f'] | Interesting so do you hold a CPA and just applying for jobs below that level? Does your educational experiences and tickets drown out your job experience? Seems weird to be continually turned down for over qualification.... There's a problem somewhere in your processes, whether it's what you're applying to or how your resume is configured. Best piece of advice I can give any accountant looking for a job is Google financial/accounting recruiters in your area, you'll probabbly find a dozen or more. Make a quick 30 second elevator pitch and cold call them and tell them youd like to come in for an in person interview. Take as many as you can and this is your chance to evaluate which one or two youd like to work with, whose got the hookups on jobs you're looking for and also showing interest in working with you (some won't and it will be obvious) then call them and go with it. Keep emailing and calling them each week if you keep hounding them they will get you in interviews where you have the chance to sell yourself in person which is probabbly more than you're getting now. | cz8ke8h | ['fff1dc95-29e9-ced4-e1c7-5aef2eb55f7f'] | >US congress can legally use insider trading (information) , to buy stock. It is illegal for the rest of the US population to do this. We need to hold them to the same standards. That's literally not true....it disgusts me people this uneducated get to vote. People this uneducated on the issues is precisely why <PERSON> is doing well. Absolute uneducated filth. Edit: source https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/STOCK_Act |
dufx4ei | ['fff27b50-8b59-32b6-2216-ff19cc86aba7'] | In 4th grade I put some Oreos in the microwave in my classroom during lunch time. These were not the cookies that were advertised to be put in the microwave. I put them in for 2 minutes and walked away. Black smoke started pouring out and the teacher ran over to stop it. Did I mention I left the Oreos inside their original container? Yeah. Our microwave was taken away but somehow nobody knew it was me. | dzg0gna | ['fff27b50-8b59-32b6-2216-ff19cc86aba7'] | <PERSON> has proved time and time again he’s at least bisexual, and it became a meme that he embraced and tried to keep it that way for a while. In recent months he has given up and openly admits he is gay or bi but tried to make it seem like a joke. You might think he’s joking, but I definitely don’t think so. His speech even sounds like a gay man. I think he’s bi but ultimately prefers to be around men. |
8i6lzu | ['fff57373-9d4a-4db1-f68f-2bafb8693d0c'] | So, I've written a program that calculates the defense:weight ratio of an armor cuz I was curious what was the best armor for a given weight, but I'm currently obstructed by the formula, I'm not sure what should I use Bleed, poison, frost and curse resistance should probably not be considered at all for PvP considering how extremely rare it is that someone uses those in PvP, but how important are they for PvE? Should I take 5% of their values when figuring out best PvE armor? 10%? How common is general/strike/slash/thrust physical damage relative to each other? Aside from certain bosses and enemies that deal a lot of elemental damage from one type, like old demon king with fire, how important should elemental defenses be, relative to physical defenses and each other? And finally, Poise is important, but when considering that it has to be represented as a value, how many times should Poise's value be multiplied when added to the formula? The formula's goal is to weight how important each stat is, if for example thrust is 70% as common as strike, thrust defense's value is multiplied by 0.7, then all values are added together and divided by the weight of the item, the final number is the ratio of defense:weight and how good an item is for its weight | e6q50rt | ['fff57373-9d4a-4db1-f68f-2bafb8693d0c'] | I mean it's not his fault <PERSON> suspended him from his 1st 2 world matches. I think Riot should punish THE PLAYER, not THE ENTIRE TEAM or THE REGION whose only hope is that 1 team. So perhaps increase the money punishment or something else, but don't punish everyone just cuz of him, it's just not fair. What did the other players from the team or oce's fans did to deserve this? Nothing, yet they also get punished cuz <PERSON> logic |
chp6xyc | ['fff83a31-199c-d0f4-d2ce-d80d20d7d49d'] | I just moved on my own to an old city I lived in and I dont have a support system at all. I'm too anxious to remake that connection with people again so I have barely left my house. As least I dont want to kill myself anymore, right? Instead I'm miserably melting away while sitting on my ass playing video games with strangers I call friends while I have none. | cl2znvb | ['fff83a31-199c-d0f4-d2ce-d80d20d7d49d'] | What a beauty! Every night I sleep with my cat snuggled in my arms and I wake to him spawled out into the back of my legs. He's such a babe and now I can't sleep whenever he's not there. My other cat has rare cuddle sessions with me but I can't pet him for the first ten minutes of cuddling until he falls asleep, he was abused and neglected before I took him in so patience is always key. He's the softest mofo I have ever pet, and I love him to bits even if he's quirky |
czjkg1k | ['fffb101b-43ee-1526-b8aa-267995a66b5c'] | Honestly, I doubt he will message you now if youre not texting him. If he does, it should be some kind of explanation or how he feels. If its simply him asking you out on a date or being sexual (asking you for more massages or something) then he was just letting it chill before trying to hook up again. | cy6e6wu | ['fffb101b-43ee-1526-b8aa-267995a66b5c'] | First off, dont get discouraged. I barely did anything in highschool myself, didnt date any girls. College things got a little better, but I didnt really hit my stride until the end of college. So dont worry too much bro. If you feel like your weight is a factor in your life, then the best thing you can do for yourself (yes yourself, a lot of this is about your own self-confidence) is to hit the gym, maybe knock off a few pounds, and even lift some weight to get more toned. That might be a good first goal for yourself. Props for continually making the first moves, even when youve faced rejection. Never give that up. I promise you this all will eventually pay off, and you always have to have a good mentality about being open to making a first move. One thing is that youd be surprised by how much style/presence/confidence can play over physical looks. Sure, physical attraction plays a role, but even that can be heightened by other factors. How is your fashion style? Is it up to date? Do you wear clothes that fit you properly. Do you have clothes are nicer occasions too? I know this might be tough as a college student, but it can go a long way. Look into this more, mensfashion reddit is a good start, as well as countless blogs. Work on being social, likeable and charming. Are you shy around women? Are you shy around people in general? Are you good at talking to people youve just met? Are you approachable? How often do you smile? I used to be super shy and would freak out over having to talk to people I didnt know. I got over that by just doing it more and more, it was hard but it always gets easier. I naturally smile a lot, which I guess im lucky with, but this I feel like helps a lot too. And honestly just being a good person, even having friends that are girls (even ones that you tried to date but it never worked out) if you do make good friendships out of these then youre expanding your network, and you will have people who can vouch for how awesome and sweet of a guy you are. |
8436845dc6b44622b89b6b31311ea94f | ['0024c6f82cd04d49a8a3e17ce0d7aece'] |
Hold and Breathe Easy
**Author's Note:**
> hi i did not make the au this was written for its called sea shanties and LINK
“I’ve noticed.”
Robert, hearing him start, quickly knots the rope he was fastening and turns to Adam. “Yes…?”
“You do something with your crew.” Adam—Robert was relieved to have a real name to call the lovely creature before him, he named himself—is slouching, as always, and his voice is low, as if he’s trying to pretend he’s smaller than he is, trying to sink into himself. “You clutch them.”
He tries to translate. “I hug them?”
“Is that what it is?”
Something tugs at his heart, and it aches. He walks over to Adam and holds onto a shroud for support. “I take it you don’t know what a hug is?”
“I know what the word means.” Adam shakes his head. “Though I don’t understand it.” Of course. It’s such an established human concept he highly doubts it’s been explained to him. Who would have explained it?
“It’s like,” he mimes a hug with empty air in one arm, “squeezing someone tightly, to give this...comforting pressure, so they know you appreciate them. It reminds you they’re there. It shows affection.”
“Does it have to be,” Adam stutters and steps back, “Does it have to be tight?”
“No, no, it doesn’t. It can be as gentle as you’d like.” He bites his lip. “Like…”
Adam tilts his head in interest. As he’s learning it’s safe here to ask questions, and gradually to talk to people, he’s started to pick up some quirks of Robert’s shipmates.
“I could show you. But only if you’d like.”
For a moment, he thinks he went too far. Adam doesn’t respond for a while, and it’s getting late, so the usual commotion of the ship is absent, and the night air nips his face. It’s quiet, and that’s probably the only reason he hears the soft response:
“Alright.”
He tries to breathe steadily. “Are you sure?”
“It doesn’t hurt?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “I told you I won’t hurt you.”
“...Nor I you.” He says uneasily, and Robert wonders for a moment if he’s thinking of the times he did hurt those in the past. He wishes to banish it from his mind. If hugging is a way to do that, he will do so gladly.
Robert pushes himself away from the shroud and stands right in front of Adam. He looks down and snorts despite himself.
“What?”
“Nothing, it’s just—I’m so short.” He looks around and finds a box, which he kicks over and steps on. It doesn’t help all that much; he’s only up to about his chest now. “This will do for now.”
“Is height a problem?” Adam asks. They’re close now, and he can feel him growing nervous.
“Just for demonstrating.” He assures. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t really matter.”
“Does it matter to you?”
Robert furrows his brows in confusion and looks up at him. “No. No, it doesn’t.” He clears his throat, not willing to let himself linger there and think about the fact that it’s actually quite endearing to him how Adam towers over him. “Alright. Well, there’s little to it, really. As long as someone puts their arms around someone. It’s just...an embrace. Want me to do it?”
He nods, so Robert spreads his arms, leans forward, and gently wraps himself around his torso. He doesn’t really know what else to do besides. Adam’s frozen still, and for a moment he worries he scared him off too much. Carefully, he loosens his grip and tries to let go—he would back away, if it weren’t for Adam suddenly clutching him close again. He lets out a shaky breath and turns his head so his face is pressed into his chest.
That’s how he feels Adam shaking. His breathing is coming in uneven rises and falls, jerky inhales, and he takes a hand off Robert to muffle a whine. With growing worry, Robert realizes he’s _crying_.
Now concerned, lets go and stands on his tiptoes to investigate. Adam wipes a few tears away, but more come to replace them.
“I’m sorry,” Robert whispers, “Was that too much?”
“No!” He blurts. “It was new.”
He softens. “What did you think?”
“No one’s done that before. To me.”
“Ah.” He says eloquently. As he had to explain the concept, he knew this. But something sinks and settles heavily in his stomach: Adam’s never been touched before, or, at least, never with _love_ , with adoration behind it.
He gently places a hand on his shoulder and pulls him down to meet his eye. With a small, pained sigh, he wipes his tears away.
“Did you like it, though?”
“Yes, yes, it was—" He cuts himself off. "I should think a creature like me doesn’t deserve—”
“No, Adam, don’t. Don’t say whatever it is you’re thinking.” He lets his hands stay cupping his cheeks. “It’s wrong.”
“But I—”
“You deserve love.” He says, very simply put, as if it’s the easiest truth in the whole world. “I can give you some of mine. Knowing so few people in my life, I’ve gathered quite a lot with nowhere to put it. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with it.”
Adam closes his mouth and pauses, considering. “And you...wish to give me some?”
“If you’ll take it.”
He nods, and that’s it. In the middle of the night, on the way back to England from the cold and lonely Arctic, two men who had been lonely all their lives stand, one with skin sewn together from cadavers, in need of a warm blanket and a cup of tea and a _hug_ , and the other standing stupidly on a box with his heart on his sleeve.
“We can hug more, if you want to.” Robert says. “People do it for long amounts of time, but can stop when they please. So. You. Ah.” He bites his lip. “You can hug me any time.” He tacks on: “And I’m sure the rest of the crew wouldn’t be opposed either! They’ve taken a liking to you.”
Adam nods again, and without saying another word, engulfs him again. He stands up fully, and ends up pulling Robert up with him.
Any panic Robert would have had at this faded a few weeks back. So he lets himself be carried into the air, moves his legs to wrap around Adam, and slides his arms down around his neck.
“Thank you,” Adam says.
Robert sighs with contentment and sinks into the crook of his neck. With the chilly air biting, clinging to a warm body like this sends him shivering, and he doesn’t feel like letting go anytime soon.
He has a feeling Adam doesn’t either.
**Author's Note:**
> do you ever yearn? yearn? do i yearn? i yearn. oh yes, yes, i yearn. often i sit and yearn. do you yearn? i crave. i crave all the time, constant craving. | 10925e5059a34fb283d74368dd0ceacf | ['0024c6f82cd04d49a8a3e17ce0d7aece'] | “I think it be no other but e’en so,” Barnardo says, judging for all. “Well may it sort that this portentous figure comes armed through our watch so like the kind that was and is the question of these wars.”
She can’t help but think back to her studies. “A mote it is to trouble the mind’s eye. In the most high and palmy state of Rome, a little ere the mightiest Julius fell, the graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets; as stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, disasters in the sun; and the moist star, upon whose influence Neptune’s empire stands, was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. And even the like precurse of feared events, as harbingers preceding still the fates and prologue to the omen coming on, have heaven and Earth together demonstrated unto our climatures and countrymen.”
She pauses, and focuses on a growing fuzzy light. It is the form of the ghost, appearing again, seeming to stress itself to motion to the mortal world. “But soft, behold! Lo, where it comes again!” She gets up, though Marcellus tries to hold her back. “I’ll cross it though it blast me. Stay, illusion!”
The ghost spreads its arms.
“If thou hast any sound or use of voice, speak to me! If there be any good thing to be done that may to thee do ease and grace to me, speak to me! If thou art privy to thy country’s fate, which happily foreknowing may avoid, o, speak!”
It is silent.
“Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life, extorted treasure in the womb of earth, for which, they say, you spirits walk in death, speak of it.”
The cock crows, and the sky has turned a dim lavender. The ghost starts to fade, and Juliet is tired, but not for having stayed up all night.
“Stay and speak!” She cries, and turns back to the two, “Stop it, Marcellus!”
“Shall I strike it with my partisan?” He asks.
“Do, if it will not stand!”
The ghost turns away and starts off again—this time, all three chase it, Marcellus being behind, his weapon drawn. Barnardo and Juliet both try to aid as it dodges them, with cries of “‘Tis here!”
Then, in the blink of an eye, it blends in fine dust into the dawn.
“‘Tis gone.” Marcellus laments, then hits himself on the head. “We do it wrong, being so majestical, to offer it the show of violence! For it is as the air, invulnerable, and our vain blows malicious mockery.”
“It was about to speak when the cock crew.” Barnardo realizes.
“And then it started like a guilty thing upon a fearful summons.” Juliet nods, slightly less on edge, warming the smallest bit in the faint sun. “I have heard the cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat awake the god of day, and at his warning, whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, th’ extravagant and erring spirit hies to his confine, and of the truth herein this present object made probation.”
Marcellus relaxes. “It faded on the crowing of the cock. Some say that ever ‘gainst that season comes wherein our Savior’s birth is celebrated, this bird of dawning singeth all night long; and then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad, the nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, no fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, so hallowed and so gracious is that time.”
“So have I heard,” she comments, “and do part believe it. But look, the morn in russet mantle clad walks o’er the dew of yon high eastward hill. Break we our watch up, and by my advice let us impart what we have seen tonight unto young Romeo; for, upon my life, this spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.”
Ah, the matter of that small “him.” There’s a large problem there; this “him” is not a “him” at all, in fact, the entire kingdom of Denmark has no idea their beloved “Prince” is actually a Princess. Juliet, for her part, despite their friendship back at Wittenberg, has not picked up on this. The Princess, for her part, has not picked up on her being Juliet. To her, she is Iphis, and to Juliet, she is Romeo, the Prince of Denmark. They are both wrong, but not in the same way. That is, Juliet is in some way content (though not entirely) being Juliet, and was born as Juliet. Romeo is understood as the Prince, though knows herself to be the Princess. We’ve dealt with this before. But no one really knows about Romeo, not yet, not the way she wants to be known. Neither know each other the way they know themselves.
There’s also the small matter of Juliet’s large crush on the Princess, but that’s a matter to be regarded later.
“Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it as needful in our loves, fitting our duty?” Juliet asks.
Marcellus bites his lip. It’s only a matter of waiting until after today’s ceremony. “Let’s do ‘t, I pray, and I this morning know where we shall find him most convenient.”
\---
It’s a brilliant coronation, as all royal ceremonies tend to be, and is brilliantly impersonal, as all royal ceremonies tend to be. The whole hall is decked out in beautiful white flowers, the people all backs straight and shining, overbearing as the sun on a hot day. Romeo remains a cover of darkness, watching the close of the ceremony in all black. The attendees all lean away from her, feeling the air around her hot; she is pissed, and creates a storm cloud around her humid with envy. |
0e8b7680785f4bcd9e4d81b614876237 | ['00456be09f2a487f8e6eafc0e7219bd7'] | > Okay guys I just want to apologize for this extremely long wait but there is a reason for that!! So my laptop broke and my big sister's boyfriend was fixing it for me and that took a very long time only for me to get my laptop back and still not work properly. So I decided to just use my sister's laptop and update on there. Sooo I am totally asking for new laptop for Christmas, hopefully a Mac. Anyway let me stop my rambling, enjoy the chapter!! Tell me what you think so far in the comments below! Also I didn't really get a chance to look over for writing errors so please excuse them i will eventually fix those up! -Moon
"So I heard there's a new kid who just transferred here." Lance yawns as he walks down the hallway with Keith to his right and Hunk to his left. Pidge called it a sick day when in fact the three knew there was some science geek expo happening the next town over. They love the girl so they won't call her out on her lie, that is until she comes back with the first prize, which they all knew she would win.
"A new kid? This late in their high school career? That doesn't sound too smart. Maybe they got expelled for something bad and had no choice but to come here." Keith mumbles leaning against the lockers when the trio stop at Hunk's locker.
"Hey no judging you never know what their life is like. They could be apart of a military family who always has to move or something." Hunk says as he opens his locker packing his book bag inside of it. "Why must you be so negative you don't even know who this person is yet. What if it's a sweet girl who is super smart and attractive huh?" he nudges Keith playfully wiggling his eyebrows.
"Or what if its an attractive guy? Who is also sweet and super smart. Besides Hunk what would the world be like without a negative thinking Keith huh? The natural order of things would just be ruined. Some where out there is another planet that depends on a emo Keith." Lance exclaims wrapping his arm around Keith's shoulders staring off into the distance with a serious look on his face. He then bursts out in laughter leaning against Keith "I'm sorry I couldn't keep a straight face. Imagine more than one Keith the universe would explode!"
Keith scoffs pushing Lance off of him with a frown crossing his arms over his chest. "Lance you're the biggest moron there is."
Lance places his hand over his heart shaking his head. "Wow Keith so rude. That really hurt. Besides I'm just kidding, there can only be one Keith and that Keith belongs to me!"
And here is where Keith shuts down and doesn't come up with a slick come back. He knows Lance is just playing around but still just hearing those words makes his heart race. Lance and Hunk are laughing it off patting Keith's back as he fakes a smile. Hunk notices the change in Keith's vibe and he usually does when this happens. it doesn't take a genius to know that Keith is pinning after Lance.
"Yeah. But Lance we're late for class so we'll see you later okay Keith?"
The dark haired boy nods with a small smile "yeah I'll see you guys at lunch." He waves the two off making his way down the opposite way of the hall running his fingers through his hair sighing. He doesn't get, doesn't understand why he gets this way whenever Lance plays around with him. Whenever Lance touches him or smiles his way he feels hot, like he could faint. His stomach drops and he feels like he might throw up. He shakes it off ignoring those feelings like he usually does and continues on with his day.
He is cut off from his thoughts when he hears some lockers slam and groaning. Keith quickly runs around the corner to find two fellow students crowding an unfamiliar face up against a locker. He's taller than them with shoulder length white hair and he is built nicely, which in a way reminds him of Shiro. He is confused as to why he is letting the two pin him against the lockers when he could easily take them.
"Hey! What's happening here?" he interrupts them stepping forward with his arms crossed. Now that he's closer he knows the duo, Tyler and Hans, two very annoying jocks who think that popularity and having sex with a different girl every night is more important than education. Or in Lance's words they are meat heads, who not to his surprise aren't above bullying. It's 2017 already why is bullying still a thing anymore? Haven't we all learned to accept our differences and that bullying is one of the lowest most annoying a person can do.
"None of your business Keith. Just welcoming the new kid Looper." Tyler spits back causing Hans to cackle which only irritates Keith even more.
"It's Lotor you dumbass." the boy against the lockers say dully rolling his eyes "and I'd appreciate it if you'd get off of me and let me go to the class I am now late to."
"What makes you think that we-"
Keith cuts them off. "Care? Oh well you should seeing if you get into anymore trouble and late to class one more time you both won't be allowed to play the next game. Which I'm sure is the last game to determine if you get into finals or not. Am I wrong? Sorry guys but I'm pretty sure you're late to English and I'm not afraid to report this incident to the principle." He shrugs. | ba654033faa64929b123cc7a939210ff | ['00456be09f2a487f8e6eafc0e7219bd7'] | Neither of them have spoken yet enjoying the little silence they have. Zayn nervously picks at the grass keeping his eyes on lap. Liam glances at him noticing how he is fidgeting a little. Zayn's phone goes off signaling that he has a text. Liam watches with curious eyes as he takes in a sharp breath after reading the message.
"Who is it?"
"My mom, everyone is home now."
"Oh so she wants you to come home now so she can see you?" Liam raises an eyebrow because why would Zayn react to the message like that?
"Yeah I guess so."
"So what's the problem then? I thought you missed them."
"I did, it's just that...I'm sorry." Zayn sighs looking up at Liam. "It's just I'm not ready to tell them about us and I really need time to think...about this all. It's just everything has changed so rapidly and I haven't had time to sit back and think about it all.
And the one thing I know for sure is that I want to be with you. And me being with you makes me push everything to the back of my mind because being in the moment with you is amazing. And it's like we have our own little world. And I guess what I am saying is I need a little time from you..in that way. Just to think about what I'm gonna do next. Just some time for myself.
And then once I've figured everything out, we can become us again." Zayn takes a deep breath looking away. A silence is short lived before Liam speaks.
"Okay." This catches Zayn off guard, he was excepting...anger, maybe some shouting. Anything but an "okay."
"What?"
"It's okay. I completely understand, and I will wait for you. No matter how long it takes. When you're ready I'm ready."
Zayn throws himself on top of Liam, causing him to fall back. Liam huffs smiling up at the tan boy. Zayn leans down and kisses his lips. Liam deepens the kiss, only to pull away seconds later tugging on on Zayn's bottom lip with his teeth.
The boy on top whines once Liam sets him free rubbing his hand up and down his lower back. "I think I should get you home."
"Do you really want to?"
"No, but I'm sure your family misses you."
"Okay...but will you miss me?"
"You know I will." Zayn gets up holding his hand out for Liam to take.
The drive home was filled with giggles and jokes and it was very light. When Zayn went to leave Liam made sure to lean over and give him a nice hug, instead of a kiss. Zayn is more than happy that he did that making the transition from boyfriends to friends for just now easier.
Liam drives away smiling as Zayn is greeted at the door by his mom. Knowing that Zayn isn't exactly ready for his mom to know much about him he drives away before she can get a glimpse of his car. He bites his lip anxiously coming to a stop at a red light. He reaches over opening his glove compartment taking out the teddy bear Louis gave him.
He sets it down in the passenger seat, making his way to the short lad's house. He parks in his drive way grabbing the stuffed animal and goes up the front porch knocking on the door. Louis opens the door himself with a huge grin.
"Payno my boy! What brings you here?"
"We have to talk Lou." Louis' smile drops at the serious tone in Liam's voice. He nods letting him in locking the door back behind him. The duo go upstairs in silence to Louis' room. Once inside Louis closes the door taking a seat at his desk table wheeling his chair to face Liam who is sitting on his bed.
Liam holds the teddy bear out to him giving it back. "You made the tape already?" Louis asks surprised with a raised eyebrow. Liam shakes his head looking down at his hands before signing.
"I can't do this Louis."
"Do what? The sex tape thing? Ah Payno don't be nervous I'm sure you'll look great u-"
"No not that, I'm talking about this whole plan we had set up. I can't go along with it anymore it's wrong."
Louis sets the bear down groaning. "Liam you are not backing out on me on this! We've been planning this for a while you can't just leave it all once we've come this far! What happened? You were all aboard with this just before."
"Yeah well that was before I came to my senses! This plan is so fucked up, I mean yeah it seems right but thinking about it all its so evil! I mean leaking a video of Zayn and I to Lana? We never considered the fact about how Zayn would feel about this all."
"And you think Lana considered how Zayn felt about her using him?"
"No! But I am considering how Zayn feels about us using him! I can't do that to him. Getting to know him I've learned so much, and honestly I've come to like him for beyond his looks. And I am not going to hurt him."
"But what about all the people Lana hurt? Do you not remember Thomas and Leslie?! Remember how everyday Lana would make fun of Thomas for painting his nails and growing out his hair. Remember how she would stop at nothing even when he began hurting himself.
It was so bad to the point where he took his own life because of awful rumors she spread. And then Leslie his sister couldn't live without him and she took her own life as well. Lana did all that and never got punished and this, this right here what we are doing is justice. And need I to remind you about Harry?" |
1fd4b633759e450aab7411442b3b1f53 | ['005418d4aa424915b06e7bc0463f40ae'] | Zach didn't respond but turned his head the other way with a pout.
"It is indeed spectacular, Doctor," Cristina interrupted, "But, we still need to get going. Before Entei flees again."
"Right you are. Young one, Nathan was it? We'll need you and your friends to come along with us. No doubt that if Entei truly is your Flareon, your presence will surely help us find it."
"Doctor, are you sure that's wise?" Cristina whispered, but not quiet enough to avoid being heard. "What if they-"
"Nonsense, Assistant. Like I said, they may be integral to our mission's success. Now that that's settled, we'll take my jeep."
Kaiji and Cristina led the others to their all-terrain vehicle, which looked like something out of an action movie. They rode on the dirt path through the woods while Cristina used her Pokégear to point the direction of Entei. Knowing their reunion was at hand, Nathan felt more excited than he had ever before. Nervous butterflies and hopeful glee continued to toss around inside him.
"Booster, I'm coming to see you again," he said as he watched the height of Mount Mortar draw closer.
Zach watched as Kaiji and Cristina navigated the Pokégear's map, which had a blipping red dot that indicated their target. They seemed engrossed enough in the navigation that they wouldn't hear him whisper to his friends, as the teens were in the back seat.
"Hey, guys," Zach leaned in to get closer to Anna and Nathan. "I'm not sure about this."
"Yeah, I know what you're about to say," Nathan pouted and changed his voice into a mocking tone. "'Entei isn't your Flareon. Everything is your fault.' You know Zach, it wouldn't kill you have a positive attitude just this one time."
"That's not what I was going to say, and keep your voice down," Zach whispered. "What I meant was that I have a funny feeling about these two researchers. What if they're like those Team Rocket gangsters you hear about on the news all the time? What if they're trying to capture Entei, to capture Booster, for some greedy plot?"
"So, are you finally admitting that Entei is Booster?" Nathan replied with a raised eyebrow.
"Not important. So? Do you think we can actually trust these two?"
"I don't see why not," Anna said. "Just because they're looking for a rare Pokémon, doesn't mean that they're part of an evil team. That said, we should probably be careful around them. Just in case."
The jeep pulled over as the road came to a dead end.
"Do we have to make the rest of the trip on foot?" Nathan asked the doctor.
"No need," he answered. "Our sensor tells us that Entei is right on top of us. It is in our presence now, somewhere."
"Booster?" Nathan called out. "Booster?!"
He looked around. All he could see were trees and more trees. And a low sloping hill. Nathan looked up to the top of the hill. And there he was. Entei. Booster.
4. Caged
"B-Booster?" Nathan stuttered, the emotion catching in his throat. After six months, finally Booster was here again. His friend, his teammate, and his partner. Entei, Booster, stood regally with the rays of afternoon sun blanketing him in a halo.
"So, this is Entei," Dr. Kaiji admired as he adjusted his glasses to get a better look. "Remarkable."
In one fell swoop, Entei leaped from the hilltop to the road's clearing where Nathan stood in awe. Memories flooded him as he thought of the time he had spent with Flareon. He remembered the day he had received an Eevee from his parents, which was the same day Zach and Anna each received an Eevee as well. He remembered the day he had bought a Fire Stone from the Mart and evolved his Eevee into Flareon. He remembered the last day he saw his Flareon, in the Brass Tower. He stared into Entei's eyes and saw the loving dedication that had been in Flareon's eyes in his final moments alive. No doubt about it, now. This was Booster.
Nathan slowly reached his hand out to pet Entei. But a jerking motion pulled him back hard and he collided with the ground with a thud.
"Nathan!" Zach and Anna called out in concern.
A robotic arm that extended from the jeep tightly clutched the back of Nathan's shirt collar. At the same time, two electrical rings shot from the jeep's front that hovered around Entei. The rings shocked Entei like an electric taser, immobilizing the Pokémon. Dr. Kaiji pushed a button on a handheld device to manipulate the rings into a tighter cage around Entei, who howled in pain.
"I knew we couldn't trust you!" Zach yelled.
"What are you doing to Booster!!!" Nathan angrily shouted as he frantically struggled against the arm that held him.
"Do you see, Cristina?" Kaiji said gleefully, ignoring the teens. "I told you that these kids would be useful to us. This one here distracted Entei long enough for us to finally capture it. We've chased it for quite some time and with his help we have finally got it to stand still."
"Let him go!" Anna demanded.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," the doctor taunted. "My boss has hired me for this job and once I've caught Suicune and Raikou he will reward me greatly."
"What does your boss want with Entei?!" Zach growled.
"Are you truly that foolish, boy?" Doctor Kaiji laughed. "Power! Immortality! An unstoppable army of Pokémon supercharged with legendary might. Must I spell it out for you? This Pokémon was brought back from the dead into a newer, more powerful being. If we can study it and recreate that capability, the world is ours for the taking!"
"You're crazy," Nathan muttered. | 7d08c6bd728349fdb6c95da3b66b3eff | ['005418d4aa424915b06e7bc0463f40ae'] | "I don't really care, Inigo. I'm kind of in the middle of a big, character-defining crisis."
Despite my attitude, I looked up at the woman. She's beautiful, indeed, with tan skin and dark hair. Her beauty was slightly marred by a scar on her left eye. She pat Laertes on the back.
"Don't fret, my friend. Only one of us could have won the sword. If not you, be glad the sword will go to me."
She spoke with confidence, much like Bison, but there something different. Something I couldn't place my finger on. Like the others, she stepped up to the sword embedded in the stone.
"I am Claudia and one day, I will rule over all with this sword as mine."
Claudia placed her hands on Caliburn and pulled, but with the same result as the others: nothing. She casually turned and walked away, as if she hadn't really cared that she couldn't release the sword.
"The sword _will_ be mine... One day, but not today." She flicked her hair over her shoulder, nonchalantly.
She leisurely strolled through the crowd, on her way out, until a silver-haired figure stepped out in front of her. Inigo knelt on one knee and took the woman's hand into his palm. Claudia's expression turned to amused confusion.
"Hello, lass. My name is Inigo. Though you didn't retrieve the sword, would you like a consolation prize of a cup of tea with yours truly?"
"I'm sorry?" She chuckled. "Are you asking me out on a date?"
"Yes, of course. The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that destiny had fated our meeting. If you would just share a cup of-"
"Not interested," her amusement turned to a ruthless scowl as she twisted my friend's hand around and behind his back. Her boot collided with his rear, which sent him tumbling over.
"Ow," Inigo whimpered.
"Although," Claudia changed her tone, again, "if you can pull that sword out, I'll reconsider your offer."
"Oh, that sword there? Well... To be honest, I don't think I'd be able to."
"Then, why are you even here?" She raised an eyebrow, clearly annoyed by his reluctance.
"To see _me_ remove the fabled sword," I stepped forward while trying to sound heroic. Unfortunately, a dastard pebble made its way under my foot which caused my heroic entrance to stumble.
"You?" She snickered, insulting me. "Good luck, Blondie. The day you win that sword will be the day Revenants join a chorus line."
The jerk of a woman walked off without looking back to see my frustrated anger starting to fume.
"How dare she mock Owain Dark!? Doesn't she know I'm the Avenging Avenger of Justice?"
"Considering that's a made-up title, I don't think she does," Inigo commented, instead of minding his own business.
_Made-up title? I'll show him made-up title,_ I thought to myself.
I pushed past the most recent failure for claiming the sword and took my place in front of the glorious blade and its not-so-glorious rock.
"I am Owain Dark, the Avenging Avenger of Justice. It is I who is fated to remove this legendary sword of legend, this Caliburn. Great name, by the way," I looked toward the old king, perched on a throne-like chair overlooking the courtyard. "I thought I was the only one who named his swords.
"Ahem," I cleared my throat and continued. "Caliburn has spoken to me and has told me that it has chosen me to be its one and only master. Unlike some people, Caliburn has recognized my true potential. Behold! As I claim this legendary blade as proof of my words."
I grasped the sword's handle with both hands and closed my eyes. _Please work. I'll look really bad if this doesn't work. Then, everyone will laugh. Focus, Owain. You can do this. _
Finally, I mustered all of my strength and pulled the sword. It budged just an inch. It's moving! I focused again and pulled. A few more inches. Another pull with everything I had... And the sword was pointed upright, in my hand, and released from its former stone home.
"I AM THE CHOSEN ONE!"
"I'll be damned," Claudia muttered under her breath with genuine surprise. "Blondie did it."
"This is so going to his head," Inigo sighed.
3. The Play
I gallantly held the mighty Caliburn at my side as the old king made his way over to claim me as the winner. He raised my other hand in a sign of triumph as he declared the words I knew all along.
"This young Owain is our champion! The master of the sword, and winner of riches and glories like he could have never dreamt of."
"No thanks on the riches, I don't need money. I'm very happy to take glory, though. Oh, and make sure stories are told about me."
"Uh, Owain," Inigo nudged me. "You may not need the money, but I'd like some," he whispered.
"You'll just have to mooch off someone else," I told him, not even bothering to look at his reaction. "As champion, I declare the money be sent to the orphans."
"Oh, so noble," my friend sighed sarcastically.
The king offered me other jewels and whatnot for my victory but I told him that the sword is enough for me. I am a bit of a collector for legendary swords, you see. As Inigo and I made our way out of the crowd, we were stopped by many adoring fans of the great Owain Dark who wished for nothing more than to greet the hero of their fantasies. Inigo seemed a little too enthusiastic about greeting the women as he practically paraded me like some kind of show pony.
After we finally got through the crowd, I saw Claudia and Laertes waiting outside of the castle gate.
"I suppose you'd better go find that chorus line of Revenants," I remarked toward Claudia, a little too proudly. |
f6aab12cd6cb43c49a406e56d24a8dea | ['0065c45a15e547659c9a983c897595d8'] | Patroclus breathed deeply. Turning over to face the ceiling, he examined the day’s events. It was like any other day he spent with Achilles, but for some reason, it was shrouded in a different light, in an entirely different aura. He heard the shower run, and in the background, Achilles humming softly. Patroclus felt himself being ensconced in a warmth, as if the sun was shining down on him.
A niggling suspicion rooted itself into his thoughts: this feeling, it was the same feeling that had manifested when he thought he was in love with Briseis, when she did something particularly endearing. Cheeks flushed, he thought back to Achilles: his grin as Patroclus came up from the water, having jumped from the cliff. The determined set in his mouth as he moved his body alluringly to the street musicians’ tune. His bright eyes as he pointed out an obscure ice cream flavour, wondering what it would taste like.
Patroclus denied it. It was absurd. They were only friends. Achilles could never be thought of in that way.
He was not attracted to him. So this feeling, this awareness, did not reveal any intention, hidden or not.
No.
He was _not_ in love with Achilles.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
>
> the places mentioned in this chapter are very much real. here they are, in chronological order:
> \- cliff diving was at a tiny island called LINK. it's near LINK, which we visited in chapter four.
> \- pat and achilles had lunch at LINK. it has LINK on trip advisor, so it _has_ to be good
> \- the church where yiayia and pappou got married is called LINK, otherwise known as the church of panagia
> \- ice cream place is called LINK. they have a fucking flavour called greek viagra. i'm dying. that was likely the flavour achilles was so confused about as pat tried not to laugh in the background. THESE BOIS.
>
> bonus:
> \- the 'guitar-like instruments' the street musicians were playing were LINK
> \- achilles danced a traditional greek dance called the LINK. both the dance and music go a little something like LINK. i have a theory that achilles was forced to do greek dance lessons as a child, much to his chagrin.
>
> i have no shame in saying that i enjoyed researching every one of these things, so god help me. also, s/o to trip advisor for existing. and vloggers.
> again, thank you so much for reading. i'm so grateful for the kudos and comments. they are like tiny pocketfuls of sunshine that brighten up my day. i love you all.
7. Chapter 7
“Looks delicious,” Achilles said, sounding impressed as he looked down at the banquet table, each dish plated like it had come from a five star Greek restaurant. The garden was empty except for the two of them, plastic tables and chairs awaiting their guests. “You know, I never really did appreciate your cooking back home.”
“If it takes you a paid vacation and a fake relationship to admit my cooking is good, I don’t know how we’ll be friends after this,” Patroclus retorted.
Achilles settled the plates onto the table, cutlery tinkling onto the porcelain as he lowered them. He gave him a childish pout, and Patroclus couldn’t help but grin at the idiot. “Jeez, Pat. That was harsh.”
Patroclus snorted. “Right. Anyway, I did only make a few of the dishes. Your yiayia cooked most of them, and I just followed her instructions.”
“They still look very good."
“Thanks.” Patroclus ran a hand through his hair. He gave a weary sigh, trepidation creating a knot in his stomach as he thought of the lunch party that was about to happen in less than half an hour. “Are you nervous?”
Achilles was biting the inside of his cheek. “A bit.”
“It’s going to be fine,” he said, though it felt like he was telling that more to himself. “Remember to hold my hand. And kiss my cheek.”
“We’ve gone over this a thousand times, Pat,” Achilles replied, which was the truth. They had been mulling over their tactics since last night, thinking up ideas of what to do in front of the guests to make their relationship all the more convincing. “I think we should just—enjoy ourselves.”
Patroclus bit his lip. “You're right."
A loud voice suddenly resonated through the garden and Patroclus almost jumped out of his skin. Achilles’ eyes were wide as saucers, a hand held over his chest; he settled, shoulders relaxing as a melody began. Patroclus pointed his gaze to the source of the noise; the large box speaker near the garden entrance played on, a man crooning in a deep voice.
Achilles chuckled and dropped his hand. “Yiayia should give us more warning when she’s testing out the equipment,” he said.
Patroclus let out a steady exhale. “You’re telling me.”
They were silent, listening to the music and entranced by the man's low voice sweeping through the space.
“Mhm,” Achilles said, after a while. The music was still going.
“What?”
Achilles grinned. Then he held out his hand, bowing down in a mock curtsy. “May I have the pleasure of dancing with the second most handsome man in the room?”
“There’s only the two of us here.”
“Exactly.”
Patroclus rolled his eyes. “God, you’re so arrogant.”
"Hey, I called you the second most handsome."
The hand was still held out, palm outwards. Patroclus regarded it with raised eyebrows, the wide grin still on Achilles’ face. “You’re really serious aren’t you?”
He took it anyways. | b9d4dead59d6478b807d78eab1f4906b | ['0065c45a15e547659c9a983c897595d8'] | "I will leave you boys to get settled then," she said. "I will find Pappou, and drag him here, all the way from the docks if he is there. We shall see you in the kitchen; Achilles will know the way." She made to take her leave, but halted for a second to add, “The room is soundproof." She winked, then left, descending down the stairs.
Patroclus did not realize his jaw had dropped open. Turning his gaze to Achilles, he was surprised to find his friend looking embarrassed, two bright spots of red high on his cheeks. Patroclus closed his gaping mouth, then cackled. "You're grandmother's quite―quite―"
He doubled up with laughter, not getting a chance to finish his sentence. Achilles pushed him roughly to the side and entered the room; he followed suit, bent up in his giggles. Still chortling, he laid his luggage next to Achilles', and coming up to gasp for some much needed air, found Achilles with a large scowl on his face.
Patroclus immediately stopped giggling.
"Do you want me to sleep on the floor or not?" Achilles asked very seriously, voice quiet. He regarded the lone queen-sized bed in the room.
Now, it was Patroclus' turn to frown. "On the floor? What are you talking about?"
"I thought maybe you'd want your own space to sleep," Achilles replied, shrugging, "I don’t know, if it's too small―"
"Achilles, stop it," Patroclus said. "There's more than enough room on the bed, and if you object, I'd think you'd be mad―here." He placed a pillow at the halfway point. "If you're so concerned for your fragile masculinity, here's a divider so that our bodies don't touch."
Achilles snorted. "I'm not concerned for my 'fragile masculinity', as you so elegantly put it. What I'm concerned for is that you might find my sleeping habits complicated. You know I sprawl."
Patroclus raised a concerned eyebrow. "Spit it out, Achilles."
Achilles deflated, and sighing, sat on the bed. “Fine. I’ll go ahead and admit it: I feel bad for sucking you into this. You’re doing all this for me; you’re lying, you’ve travelled here, you’re holding my goddamn hand like you’re actually my boyfriend, and I can’t—I don’t—“ He sighed, rubbing at his face in frustration. “Why are you so kind to me, Patroclus? Why are you so selfless?”
“Achilles.”
“What?”
Patroclus offered him a small smile. “You agreed on doing the dishes for a month.”
Achilles barked out a laugh, then immediately scowled. “No, see? You’re just taking this situation lightly. I can’t fathom how you’re doing it. It doesn’t explain—“
Patroclus held up a finger, and Achilles abruptly closed his mouth, looking at him with rapt attention. “Achilles,” he started, knowing his speech would get long and drew in a slow breath. “You’re my friend. I would do anything for you. _Anything_.” He paused. Contemplated. “Well, maybe not everything since I sure as hell wouldn’t murder my mother for you, but that’s besides the point; you want to make your grandparents happy? We’ll make them happy. And if we have to pretend to ensure their happiness, well, that’s what we’ll do. Because I know, without a doubt, you’d do the same for me.”
“Patroclus—I—“ Achilles faltered, unable to grasp the words he wanted. “You’re—just—“
“I know.”
They became silent, their eyes finding each other. A beat. Achilles looked down and sheepishly smiled, as Patroclus experienced something warm stir in his chest. It was an unexplainable feeling, but he had encountered it before, he just couldn't place where. He cleared his throat, anticipating the sensation to vanish, but still, it lingered.
“We should get going,” Patroclus said, breaking the silence. Achilles eyes flitted to him and he nodded. “Care to lead me to the kitchen?”
“You know I’d do anything for you,” Achilles answered with a laugh, but Patroclus felt an underlying seriousness laced in his words. Patroclus turned to the open door, and hearing Achilles stand up, the wood panels creaking beneath his feet, stepped through.
It was show time.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> be on the look out; they'll meet pappou soon!
>
> (translations:
> agoraki mou = my little boy
> yiayia = grandmother
> pappou = grandfather
>
> i am not greek, and these were all from google. do not hesitate to correct me if i am wrong.)
3. Chapter 3
“Thank you, but it’s fine, Mrs. Pelides, I’ve had enough already,” Patroclus said, politely refusing the platter of moussaka offered to him.
“But, Patroclus you must eat some more, you are very thin like Achilles!”
“Oh, if you insist—“ he said, hoping his stomach had further space. He reached over and placed the smallest piece on his plate. The dish was delicious, the cheese melting in his mouth and the eggplant creamy and soft, but he had already gorged himself full.
They were seated in the kitchen, finishing their lunch, the clink of cutlery the only background to Achilles’ hums and his grandmother’s loud voice, that before, was asking Patroclus what he was doing in life—which he proudly answered: a physician in training at the hospital nearest them. The table was heavily laden with every kind of Greek food imaginable, all cooked with care and love that only a grandmother could do; it was the reason why Patroclus felt like he could burst at any moment, too filled up with good food. |
beb0e36ec7b94d48b97d784d147d28db | ['00950573a6c340dfbf5cb69d96a5c4e2'] | A general pull towards him had begun after their sports festival match, and it had taken a year for her to build up the courage to ask him for something that had burned so important in her since her defeat.
" _Will...you train me?_ "
" _Get lost_."
She'd expected that, but learned a thing or two from Deku and kept fighting for what she wanted. She kept cornering him, kept sending him texts and notes in class, kept chasing after him when the school day was finished. She was persistent.
Like that damn, stupid nerd.
He finally agreed, to shut her the fuck up, and that's what their hours after class consisted of.
She endured getting kicked in the face, thrown across cement, and singed on almost every surface of her body. Scratches, bruises, gashes. And at the end of it, she was usually pinned down under a heap of rage-fueled purpose.
But that was always her favorite thing.
She didn't _let_ him by _any_ means—she was pretty sure her wins might have outnumbered his—but when he did manage to get the jump on her, it stoked the burning fire in her stomach that she noticed was frequently there when their training bled into the dead of night. There were two fires being fed, in fact; one, an explosive determination to win and grind him _into the dust_ , and the other, an igniting desire to bare her skin and grind _against_ him.
Of course, he admired that determination to not stop until she beat him. But he wasn't without guilty, dark thoughts of his own. Some days, he'd grow painfully hard under her kill-intended holds, but she hadn't noticed, so he willed it away or ignored it completely.
It was nothing. It was _nothing_.
Teenage hormones he could control. He was in _control_.
Though the day he ended up pressed between her warm legs, his thoughts quickly shifting from victory to shame, he had to stop. _Stop_.
She'd noticed.
" _Um, Katsuki_..." She looked uncomfortable, maybe even grossed out. She wasn't.
He played it off, shamelessly apologized for it before calling it a day, leaving her blushing and panicked on the gymnasium floor.
" _Adrenaline_." He had been trying to reassure them both.
It was fine.
Just adrenaline, but he couldn't train with her again.
Though whether he realized it or not, he didn't look at her the same after those days, and she'd always liked that. His eyes were always filled with absent curiosity, like he didn't know he was studying her throughout the day, wondering why after sparring he always wanted to...
_Nah_. Just hormones. Same with Kirishima. _Forget it_.
Those days were always on Ochako's mind, though. Even when they shouldn't have been. Like right now.
"So...What do you want?" His gruff voice snapped her out of her darkening thoughts, and she realized she'd come over without a real plan to talk to him. She'd been staring at him since he emerged from the house, and hadn't come up with a single thing to say besides 'can I sit by you,' which he hadn't heard anyway. She touched her fingers to her thumb repeatedly, as she often did when she was nervous, and when he took notice, she immediately balled up her fist.
He was so _intimidating_ , and he wasn't even _doing_ anything! They'd been in each other's space for countless hours in private, fighting hormones aside, and it had been _fine_. Now they were sitting on a bench in front of their friends, so why was it so hard to talk all of a sudden?
"I, uh..." Ochako knew he was the type to hate having his time wasted, so she scrambled in her head for _something_ to say to him. Anything. "I was just, um..." his damn, beady red eyes, she couldn't fucking read them, "I was...thinking about when we used to spar."
That was _not_ supposed to be what she said. _Fuck!_
He blinked rapidly then turned away from her, covering his mouth. There was no way he could just blow past it like he normally would. She'd either been reading his mind just now, or she'd felt something similar that night on the gym floor.
"...Yeah." He mumbled it under his palm, but she'd _definitely_ heard him. His eyes shifted to her and then away, and she just turned and faced the drunk, oblivious group of their peers.
"Right." She uttered through a heavy sigh, finding this all unbelievable but terribly exciting.
"So." He was stating, not asking.
"I need..." She stood on slightly wobbly knees, then pointed to the glass door. "Going inside."
* * *
»»-------------☆-------------««
* * *
No one saw Katsuki go in a few minutes after Ochako, or they didn't think so at least.
No one saw them stand quietly in the hall upstairs, her eyes asking a silent question that he understood completely.
No one saw her lean up to kiss him and aggressively push him against Kirishima's door.
No one heard him suggest that the bathroom inside was probably a smarter choice, albeit uncomfortable.
No one would see a thing now.
After lifting her to sit on the sink, she spread her legs and pulled him closer, seemingly trying to fuse their hips together. She wanted to be quick, to get off as soon as they could, but he insisted they try to make as little noise as possible to avoid getting caught.
That meant going slow, and she hated going slow.
She'd punish him for this.
"Katsuki," Ochako breathed quietly, making him groan and tense up as his dick jumped in her hand. She figured out what saying his name did—and rejoiced in him letting her use it—so she relished in torturing him often. She was being tortured herself, as having to be cautious and quiet meant she had to focus on not activating her quirk, which was something she did a _lot_ if she was in the right mood. | 5a50d26feb2342cfa5c995c18572fbd3 | ['00950573a6c340dfbf5cb69d96a5c4e2'] | "Katsuki?" She pat his cheek. He closed his eyes and let out a gentle, broken grunt in response, so she didn't press him. Having him, the _unshakable_ Katsuki Bakugou, in such an incapacitated state because of _her_ , filled her with so much happiness and confidence that she wondered if this was what he felt like all the time. It was like a damn _high_. Ochako, reluctantly, opted to slide him out of her so he wouldn't be overstimulated, and sat back on his thighs while he recovered. His chest had started to heave less, and his body stopped spasming, and she waited patiently for him to come back down to earth.
" _Hah_..." He breathed and ran a shaky hand through damp, sandy hair. "I don't usually—y'know, that fast." The truth was that it had been a while since he’d last had practice at this as well, but there wasn’t any reason to _say_ that.
"Sure, I get it," she responded, surprised at his comment. It had been her fault a little, as she had been so preoccupied with not activating her quirk since she wanted to touch him. And apparently, she wasn’t stopping for a _damn_ thing, as his words of warning hadn't reached her ears. But blowing his mind being the reason for his current state felt too good to _not_ claim. "Guess I _am_ pretty good after all, huh?" She couldn't fight smirking at the annoyed pout he let through, but he could tell she really didn't mind one bit. Her eyes traveled down his neck and chest, shiny with beading sweat that filled the room with a heavy, caramely aroma, down to his abdomen where his dick still throbbed in the filled condom. "You okay to go again?" She slid one finger down the glistening shaft in harmless curiosity, but relished in the shudder that ran through him. That lit something dark in her. "Or do you need to take a little break?" It was an honest question—she didn’t mind waiting—but of course, the blonde took it as a stab at his stamina.
" **Fuck** no," he bit out, pulling a snicker from her. "Who do you think you're talkin' to?!" Bakugou playfully pushed her off of him and moved his large frame from the bed to dispose of the condom, then searched the floor for the remaining pack. Ochako couldn't help but stare at his sculpted ass as it moved around the room. He turned back once he found them, and the sight of her waiting patiently on her back, propped up on her elbows with her legs crossed, made him swallow hard.
A fucking masterpiece.
"Can't _believe_ that idiot isn't fuckin' the shit outta you day and night," he mumbled candidly as he crawled over to her. He kissed up her thighs and stomach, stopping to massage her breasts and lick at her nipples, nipping at her collarbone and her neck once she lolled her head back. "Doesn’t deserve you one bit." He moved in to kiss her but she pushed at his lips. She was frowning, and he could tell it was serious.
"Rule one, dude." Uraraka still loved Izuku very much, and she wouldn't let _anyone_ talk ill of him if she could help it. He'd been an exemplary boyfriend and companion, he just had a little trouble with his confidence in certain situations. Who didn't? Deserving was an _understatement_ , as he was that and so much more.
Katsuki was bothered by her being bothered, but he nodded once in agreement and caught her soft lips in a bruising kiss as he rolled on another condom. After stroking himself a few times, he slid in without warning, giving her payback from when she sank down on him so quickly. This angle was much different, and Ochako threw her head back into the pillows with a gasp before he started a quicker pace more familiar to him. He attacked her neck and jaw with kisses and bites as he drove into her _hard_ , hitting the spot that had her seeing the cosmos. A wild string of curses fell from her mouth that he never expected he'd hear from the brunette, so he angled there again, and again, and _again_ as he pressed her lower stomach and slowed down, making her feel every single drag of his cock against her walls and that spot, having her damn near screaming and scratching her nails down his back. The sting that trailed after felt so good, so _gratifying_ , as they led down to his ass, which she dug into and pulled towards her, trying to get him impossibly further in. He understood how she'd been unable to stop earlier, his thrusts constant and deep as his sweat dripped onto her from his nose. His hand slid down from her sweat-slicked stomach to press and rub at her clit, and her eyes shot down to him, full of surprise and anger as she whined.
"Fuck...Ka—" Ochako choked, having to pause to swallow her drool and gasp. " _Fuck!_ You feel good..." Bakugou growled in response, licking and nipping her ear and wondering how she'd turned into this irresistible creature with a tantalizing mouth. "Harder... _Mmn_ , 'm so _close_."
"Close to _what_ , Sugar?" She _loved_ the new nickname, if she was being honest, but wouldn't say the words to give him the satisfaction. "Ya gotta tell me." He grunted as he obliged her request, but made sure that, with all of the force but _none_ of the speed, she knew _exactly_ who was in charge here. His wide grin was glowing with mirth, and she absolutely wanted to punch him for it.
" _Ngh—hah_...gonna come." She clenched her teeth so she wouldn't start babbling, but that's exactly what the blonde wanted. " _Hurry_ ," she sobbed. His slow, measured thrusts weren't enough to give her the release she was pleading for, and she was on the verge of crying. |
e63130bf14584e9bbc1bec94ceb79ecd | ['00a7667050004059a500e6d753ea34ba'] | _BEEP!_ The watch on his wrist beeped to inform him that it was now 7pm. The time of the presentation. It was now up to Rei. Kill Kouji before, during or after the speech. As he had been surprised by the other blonde’s actions he decided that it was now or never. Training the laser on the man, he watched how he happily walked on to the stage, licking up the praises from the crowd below. Rei sighed, he looked like a jerk who loved the limelight. Fingers itched their way across the trigger guard, threading through the trigger. They curled gently around the mechanism, suddenly jerking backwards to allow the gun to shoot twice. Precisely, Rei shoots the man in the stomach and also in the head. The sniper watches how he staggered back and falls to the floor in a small pool of his own blood. His eyes were open in shock as he chokes on the red liquid, trying to look for his lead bodyguards who clambered over the stage. Observing the scene and how the partygoers react, he feels like it is a good time to get the hell out of there, and fast.
He hadn’t had a request that ended like this before, and this had shaken him up. He took his gun from the edge and placed it on the floor, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his fingerless gloves. He throws the black hat that he was wearing inside the guitar case that he also stored his sniper rifle in. Quickly but sloppily placing his pieces of gun inside the storage carrier, he checked if he had everything before zipping it up and ran out of the door. Doing the opposite as he did to get inside the apartment, he used his trinket on his key chain to lock the door and make sure no-one could retrace his steps. With as fast as his legs could take him, he ran to the elevator. As he saw that there was a person inside, he slowed down and entered calmly.
There was an old woman inside it. Giving her a soft smile as he entered, he bowed slightly to her acquaintance. Her smile widened and she clutched her purse firmly. The soft melody of the elevator music filled Rei’s ears as he awkwardly stood in the small box with this other person. He tried his best to not cold sweat as he could feel her eyes looking at him. To Rei’s relief, she gets out on the 10th floor, allowing Rei to quickly press the ground level before anyone called the machine. There’s a girl on her phone and two people talking to each other as he reached the bottom floor. Without taking much notice of him, Rei slipped away, out to the direction of the back door.
He breathed out a steady breath as he finally got out of eye view. He was safe. _Or so it would seem…_
"Hope this pays, mom..."
Disposing of his gloves, he began walking out to the back streets. He pulled out his phone, checking his bank statement and pinpointed the time 6,000,000¥ was transferred from his client. Feeling the corners of his cheeks turn up, he hummed happily glad he could have been of service.
“You were lucky, y’know?”
A voice creeped out of the dark of the shadowed evening. Rei’s head swung around to see a young man tossing something black into a bin. The blue haired boy’s voice hitched as his eyes widened, realising who he was looking at. The blonde who helped him earlier was smiling smugly at him, but this time, his big magenta eyes watched his every move. Trying to act casual, Rei slipped his phone into his pocket, frowning.
“I’m sorry? Have we met before?” He asked politely, studying the freckled face of the other, noticing the scar on his left eyebrow.
“Mm? Oh, haha, not officially! But I guess we have… Hey do you play an instrument~?” The blonde giggled, skipping over to Rei. He stared at the guitar case, turning his head inquisitively.
“Oh… Only guitar. I’m a busker!” Rei lied attentively, carefully watching the other’s movements. The blond raised his brows and stuck out his bottom lip, nodding his head. “I-If you’d excuse me, I have to attend a show tonight-” He added, stepping away from the boy and walked in the other direction.
“Huh, I thought you were going the other way? You don’t wanna talk to me that’s it huh?” The other followed behind. Rei stayed silent. “No I get it, I can be annoying at times, yeah…”
“Yeah…” Rei sniffed, walking on. He didn’t realise but the other had stopped and was folding his arms.
“I mean I’d be walking if my shooting was that shit too…”
This one phrase stopped Rei dead in his tracks. “E-Excuse me?”. _What cheek! Does he even have a right to say?!_
“The reticle shouldn’t be pointed at ALL the blondes you see y’know?” The other huffed, scrunching his nose to show his disgust. Rei frowned deeply, now fully turned to face the other, hands clenched.
_How did he know!?_ He was right though… Was it that obvious? He was lucky he wasn’t caught by anyone except from this boy. Blushing slightly, Rei shook his head, grabbing the strap of the guitar case. This all made him confused.
“...What…?” Was the only word that was whispered out of Rei’s mouth.
The other laughed loudly, holding onto his stomach. Rei couldn’t look away, the red eyes of the other intoxicating him. The blonde finally stopped laughing when he walked up to the blue haired boy. That big smile was looking up at him and he saw the freckles his cheeks more clearly.
"Haha! Listen, pretty boy, I can make you a deal~" He smirked up at Rei, rocking on his heels. | e4351fe25d8a4f58a077465cf501cc03 | ['00a7667050004059a500e6d753ea34ba'] |
As if by chance.
**Author's Note:**
> Zest's Notes: Hi guys! Before reading, just know that this fic takes place a year before the main story of this AU. I wanted to establish the relationship between Rei and Iwatobi and how in the heck they met in this Yakuza/Mafia story! I hope all of you guys enjoy this! Art was made by me!
****
The usual set up; Mounting the bipod; adjusting the reticle; tightening the eye relief; loading the bullets. Rei Ryugazaki had been a professional sniper for around 5 years and nothing was prepared without intensive thought and process. With help from his late mentor, he had found a living by being a hitman, committing bloody acts for people who had grudges against each other. _He cared once, he’s not so affected now._
Peering out of a small window of an abandoned one bedroom apartment, the boy steadied his weapon in the direction of a large glass building that stood before him. Displayed on the glass was the name ‘Ikiru’ which was the company his client had chosen to target. Tonight, it was his job to find and assassinate the boss of the Ikiru company, Kouji Kiru. With a clack of his tongue he gazed at his digital watch which presented the time of 6:51PM, nine minutes before the conference talk. Then and only then, he had only moments to perform his act and get out of sight. According to the note the client gave, Kouji should be a man in his late 30’s with piercings and slicked back, blond hair. Not the best description but as this was common in this field and Rei knew what he was doing. Adjusting the collar of his black turtleneck shirt, he stepped up to his gun and peered into the sniper sight. This allowed his observation to be more clear and precise, magnifying the view in front of him. With the twist of the telescope, the boy was then allowed to view deeper into the glass of the building, and he watched the heads of the guests bobbing and talking amongst each other.
As expected, the host was having a party with his customers and consumers, ready to explain his company’s next move within their multi-million Yen Real Estate company. This was a party, full of drunkards, dancers and people who are interested in making life miserable for indigent Japanese citizens. _Truely a horrible sight..._ With a dissatisfied grunt, Rei searched for his target before he was to make a speech on the small but spectacularly decorated stage. His lips quirked up as he noticed that the party consisted of multiple strobe lights, therefore his sniper lazer would not be seen by the unknowing attendees.
“Now, where are you, Kouji-san…?” The glassed boy whispered to himself, gazing into the reticle. On further inspection, Rei noticed how every single party-goer had a black, masquerade mask on their face. Now, this meant identifying a person, who would fit this criteria, to be more difficult than expected. Nevertheless, Rei knew to read facial expressions and social constructs to weed out the victim; He should be within a large group, mingling with guests, possibly drinking himself. Using these ideas, he searched amongst the bustle in the large room, guiding his reticle across all of the heads in the room. He was looking for a blond… A blonde woman… A man with long blond hair… A blond-
He felt his heart race when there, directly in his eye-line was a man with blonde hair. It was combed back into a small little ponytail. The side of his head was shaved slightly with a small wave to his hairline, dividing the thicker hair to the cut. His back was turned to Rei as he talked to a taller man with muddy brown hair. He watched as the taller man, wearing a green tie, rolled his eyes and began to walk away annoyed. The blonde’s shoulders in his tight pink waistcoat shook in a way to signify that he was laughing. As he did this, Rei squinted behind his glasses to identify if this man was his victim. As far as he could see, the subject of his gaze did not have piercings. If only he was to turn around and give Rei a better look.
“Oh, shit!?” Rei exclaimed as he watched the blonde, masked boy turn around. Not only turning around but looking directly at him, glancing up at the small red dot on his forehead. His blood ran cold as he saw the lips of the boy turn up, laughing at him. Rei couldn’t believe this. _Was his position compromised?_ He gulped, watching how the blonde took out a fist and stuck his thumb out, casting it out to the right of him as a gesture. Shaking it slightly, as a way of telling Rei to look that way, he slips out of focus behind another taller man. Confused, he took his gaze to the direction where the mysterious boy was pointing to. His eyes widened as he saw him. A man with short, slicked back hair, piercings in his ear, definitely his victim’s age range, was talking to a manager of some sort. |
d138534f641a483eb3acd02d2b627cbc | ['00b5e4b9c0bf4f31a9fa131ce7c28398'] | "Sam told me you'd be there. Listen, as happy as I am for you and your boy, bein' alive and together and everything, I gotta ask you to come down to the shop tomorrow. Everybody's gearing up for the snow, so we're gonna have loads of people comin' through. And you know Adam can't handle your shift." Dean sighed, glancing at Cas. He was still buried in his book; his eyes were lit up in the way they always were when he read, and they scanned the pages so quickly it was hard to keep up. He didn't want to leave him here, but as it stood, their only income was Dean, and for the time he wasn't doing anything towards it.
"Yeah, I'll be there around 9:00. But don't count on me to stay till five, alright?" Dean said.
"Yeah, alright, Dean. How're you two recovering, anyway?" Cas looked up at him, furrowing his eyebrows. Dean shrugged apologetically.
"Work," he mouthed. "Sorry."
"Oh," Cas mouthed back. "When?" Dean covered the receiver and whispered a hushed, "Tomorrow, 9:00."
"Pretty well," he replied to Bobby. "Can't complain. At least, not much." He paused. This was far from the whole truth, but what was he going to say in Cas' presence? After a long silence, he settled on, "I'll talk to you tomorrow." "Right. See ya," Bobby said.
"See ya," Dean said. He replaced the phone onto the receiver and Cas moved it back to the table.
"Sorry about that, Cas. It was my boss," Dean explained.
"You're a mechanic, right?" Cas asked. Dean nodded. "How do you fix a car?" Dean smiled slightly and shrugged.
"Well, to be honest, it's not always all that simple, Cas. I mean, fixing a car is more of an ongoing thing. It's a project. You're never really done," he said. "There are some things, course, that you've just gotta know how to do-changing a tire's one, changing the oil, that kinda thing. I could teach ya, if you wanted to learn," he added.
"Yes, I'd like that," Cas replied with a smile. "You'll be coming back, won't you?" he asked, concerned.
"Yeah, sure, if you want me to," Dean said.
"Of course I do," Cas said, as though it was obvious. Dean nodded.
"Good. I'll always come back, you know, Cas. Whenever you want me here, that's where I'll be," he said, achingly sincere. Cas glanced from his hands to Dean and back in an endless Möbius strip.
"That's a very generous offer, Dean. I'm not sure you know what you're getting yourself into," he said finally.
"I think I've got a pretty good idea," Dean replied, leaning back into his chair.
"Dean, what do you know about the practice of seduction?" Cas asked after a long pause. Dean practically choked on the Coke he was drinking.
"A little, Cas." he replied, all feigned innocence. "'S there someone you've got your eye on?"
"There may be," Cas said with a nonchalant shrug and a carefully concealed smile. "Can you help me?"
"I can damn sure try. Now, listen, when you go for somebody, you've gotta make sure you know their interests and stuff. You've gotta know what kind of music they like, their favourite foods, they sense of humour-this is stuff you can bond over," Dean said, turning in his chair to face him. He was animated, now, hopeful, and going from extensive experience.
"And bonding," Cas asked, "why is bonding important?"
"Cause once you've bonded, you can take the next step into dating. You don't have to bond for long-a week, maybe two, sometimes even a year," he said. A year-that was the case with he and Castiel. At first, they were strictly for utilitarian purposes; Cas was working at the Heavensent Animal Shelter, and Sam had lost his dog, so it just seemed like the first place one would look. It was far from the first place Dean looked for a date, though. It was serendipity, in the form of a shaggy black and grey mutt named Sputnik, coaxed on by the slight upturn of Cas' lips and the way even the baggy jeans he wore the day they met flattered him, that brought the two of them together, and it was sheer bad luck that dragged them apart.
"And once you've founded a base of friendship with this person, how do you further the relationship into more romantic territory?" he asked.
"Big words for someone so supposedly unfamiliar," Dean said.
"I've had a lot of time on my hands for the last few days." He laughed, and the welcome sight made Dean laugh, until Cas cleared his throat and said, "Seriously. How does one initiate a date?"
"The way I see it," Dean said, "it's all about the other person. If they're the romantic type, you've gotta be a little romantic. If they're laid back, be laid back. But the most important thing is to just go for it, cause if you don't, you might miss your chance, and then, you'll never know how it would've worked out. You can't be afraid of anything. Alright?" Cas nodded.
"I believe so. Thank you," he said.
"Anytime, Cas," Dean said with a kind and small smile. He smiled easily around Cas; it was practically automatic, whenever he saw him. "Oh, and good luck. Although I don't think you'll need it."
"I wouldn't be so sure, Dean," he laughed. "My romantic track record is not exactly remarkable." Dean raised his eyebrows.
"No," he balked. "Really? You?" Cas cocked his head to one side.
"You seem a little surprised," he said. Dean considered his response for a split second, then, despite his uncertainty, said it anyway.
"Damn right, I'm surprised. Surprised you didn't have crowds of people beating down your door for a shot at you. I guess some people can't see what they've got, huh?" Cas blushed. | 68fb919e22204383873420bff6882f69 | ['00b5e4b9c0bf4f31a9fa131ce7c28398'] | "Yes, of course. Just lost in thought. Dean said he would be glad to accompany me to the party."
"I knew I liked him!" Gabriel said.
"You didn't yesterday," Castiel pointed out.
"Ah, whatever. That was then. So you're coming down?"
"Yes. 2 days before the party, actually. We're taking a road trip. He wants me to meet his friends."
"Wow. This is getting serious," Gabriel said.
"I'm meeting his friends, not his mother," Cas replied.
"I know. It's more serious than your other relationships, though."
"Gabriel, I've never had any other relationships."
"Touché. So when am I getting to meet this Prince Charming?"
"Thursday, I was thinking. We're leaving for Huntingdon tomorrow, where we'll spend Wednesday, so we should arrive in Miami late Thursday."
"Alright. And I suppose you're going to want to stay in my house?" Gabriel asked, feigning annoyance.
"Yes, in one of your five guest rooms," Cas answered with a note of sarcasm in his voice.
"Point taken. You're both dressing up, right?"
"Gabriel-"
"No. You are dressing up. You can do some couples thing or something. And besides, costumes have a lot of good uses-"
"Gabriel," Cas said again, cheeks reddening.
"I'm just saying," Gabriel said innocently.
"Maybe. If Dean wants to."
"Which he will. I'd better go get everything ready, then."
"Okay. We'll be there Thursday."
"Yes, you said that."
"I'm just making sure you remember."
"Cas, I don't have short term memory loss. I can handle it, you know."
"I know. I need to call Dean back."
"You know, why not just tape the phone to your ear so you can talk to him all the time?" Gabriel suggested, teasingly. Not a bad idea, Cas thought.
"That seems a little ridiculous."
"People have done stranger things for love, you know."
"Yes, Gabriel, I know."
"Alright. Well, I'll let you call Prince Charming back."
"Thank you," Castiel said sarcastically.
"See ya." Once Gabriel had hung up, Cas hastily keyed in Dean's number.
"Hey, Cas," Dean said.
"Hello, Dean. How did you know it would be me?" Cas asked.
"Lucky guess," Dean said, and Cas smiled. "So you talked to Gabriel?"
"Yes. He said it would he fine if we arrived Thursday."
"Good."
"He wants us to dress up," Cas admitted, hoping Dean would think the idea was ridiculous.
"Awesome!" Dean said excitedly. Cas groaned inwardly, but remembered what he had told Gabriel. "If he wants to."
"You think we should?"
"Course, man! That's the best part of Halloween!"
"I suppose. I haven't dressed up in a while...not since I was a knight for Halloween when I was eight."
"Aw," Dean said, then added mischievously, "I wonder if your brother has pictures." Cas shuddered at the thought of Gabriel showing Dean all the humiliating pictures of him when he was younger.
"He does," Cas said, "but if I can do anything about it, you will not be seeing them."
"Oh, come on," Dean said. "I'm sure they're all good ones."
"I wouldn't speak so soon," Cas laughed. "What time are you intending on getting here?"
"I'd like to beat the traffic on the highway...is 9:00 too early?" Dean suggested.
"9:00 sounds perfect," Cas said. The shorter time between now and then, the sooner I can be with Dean again, Cas thought.
"Awesome. I'll call you tomorrow when I'm on the way."
"Alright. I'll see you then. Goodbye, Dean."
"See ya, Cassie." Cas hung up, replaced the phone on its cradle, and started packing his suitcase for the first time in a while.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I know it's a little belated, especially since Halloween has already come and gone, but here is the 13th chapter of Blind! I hope everyone likes it. In other news, I'm writing a second Destiel fic. I don't want to spoil anything, but it will be considerably angstier than this one. I should have the first chapter finished by the end of the month. Thanks for reading and more soon!
14. Drive My Car
At 9:10, someone knocked on Cas' door. He bolted off of the sofa, where he was watching Godzilla, as per Dean's recommendation, and waited for the voice to say, "Cas, it's Dean." At this, he opened the door, grabbing his bag from the ground beside it as he did.
"Hey," Dean said. "I know I'm a little late, I just got stuck in traffic. You weren't waiting, were you?" he asked apologetically.
"Of course not," Cas lied. He had, in fact, sat down on the sofa right next to the door at 8:45, just after Dean had called, and waited there since. But he wasn't about to tell Dean any of that.
"You ready?" he asked. Cas could hear the smile in his voice, as if he could see it on his face.
"Absolutely," Cas said. He slung his bag over his shoulder, locked the door behind the,, and took Dean's hand. Dean led him down the path from his door to the car, opening the passenger side door for him.
"We need to stop by Meg's house on the way out," Cas said. "I need to drop of my house keys, since she'll be looking after it for me." Dean nodded.
"3853, right?" he asked, stopping the car in front of the slightly disheveled house.
"Yes, that's it. Can you reach the mailbox?" Cas asked.
"Yeah," Dean said, taking the proffered keys. The window rolled down, and Dean leaned out to replace them.
Once they'd driven out of Cas' neighbourhood, Dean said, "Everyone's excited to meet you, ya know." Cas smiled at the ground.
"I hope so," he said. "Who will I get to meet?" Dean shrugged and switched the station on the radio.
"It depends on who's busy, I guess. I mean, we'll get there tonight, and probably leave in the morning and head for Florida then. Are we dressing up, by the way?" Cas sighed.
"Do you want to?" he asked.
"Only if you do." |
ca7d71d24043467d997992cd1effba1b | ['00b8d2bcb08b4bfc8814e9c340547767'] | Everything Harry wants to say is unwitty and lame and he's never a match for Nick anyway, let alone with his mind as muddled as it is now, so instead Harry tries again. They’re running out of time, have probably already ran out of time. He sucks Nick's cock back in, and swallows him down as far as he can, slow and steady and determined. Nick groans, hand flying up to his mouth so he can bite on it, and that encourages Harry more, lets him relax as Nick hits the back of his throat.
"Oh god, Harry, fuck, Christ, why," Nick babbles around his hand, and Harry would smile if he could do more than focus on breathing. He pulls back, then slides down just as slowly again until Nick's breath sounds like sobs. "Gonna, gonna... Gonna die, bye."
Nick's come floods Harry's mouth, hot and bitter and so much that he has to pull off, tries to cough discreetly to the side. He’s stupidly pleased with himself.
"You are the worst, the absolute worst, _get up here_ ," Nick says, pulling Harry into his lap. Harry tries to keep himself from laughing too loudly. “Shut it.”
It's an awkward angle, and Harry has to brace himself on his hands on either side of Nick's head so he doesn't fall on him as Nick yanks open Harry’s jeans and pulls his cock out. Harry can’t help but concentrate on the blur that is Nick's hand. He's already so close and has been leaking since the first time Nick hit the back of his throat that Nick's hand flies over him easily, jerking him forward and knocking breathy grunts out of him.
"You said we wouldn't be late," Nick says, mouthing at Harry’s jaw.
Harry nods and replies, groaning, "Yeah, who-oops." Nick isn't taking it easy. Harry likes it.
"Also Collette has probably heard your big mouth," Nick chides, hand slowing.
Harry whines, thrusting into Nick's hand. "Yours too."
"Maybe," Nick says. He starts to rub his thumb in circles around the head and Harry gasps, then whines again. Nick laughs.
"Don't laugh at me,” Harry says a little seriously, he’s so close now with Nick’s long fingers wrapped around his cock. “You’re so mean,” Harry breathes, thrusting his hips forward. Nick snorts at his ‘mean’ comment and twists his wrist, jerks Harry hard. Harry gasps.
"And you're a brat. I think we're even." Nick picks his head up, drags his teeth over where Harry's Adam's apple bobs as he gulps down air, and that’s it. Harry's coming, spurting into Nick's hand and splashing up onto his own shirt.
Nick keeps stroking him, slows down but doesn't stop until Harry forcefully shoves him away and flops onto the bed beside him. "Oh my god." Harry pants, catching his breath.
"We are so late it isn't even funny, Harold," Nick says, already sitting up. "And you have come on your shirt. You make quite a picture right now." Nick tuts while quickly reaching for a tissue and cleaning himself off.
He complains about how awful Harry is while picking his pants and jeans up from the floor and complains some more while deftly tucking himself back in, and he complains again when he sees Harry still lying on the bed. Harry grins at him, raising up on his elbows. Nick plants a hand on his hip and quirks an eyebrow.
“Okay,” Harry says slowly, fully sitting up. “Okay, so can I borrow a shirt?” | c927dd715dbf4ef8a39666f987278bec | ['00b8d2bcb08b4bfc8814e9c340547767'] |
tardy to the party
**Author's Note:**
> Super big thanks to [ blueandbrady ]() for not only writing half of this but also for editing and whinging with me when it came down to a title and summary.
"Do we have time?" Harry asks, mouth against Nick's neck. Nick tastes the same as always, the same familiar salt and cologne combination, and when Nick speaks, Harry feels it against his lips. He grins.
"No," Nick says, voice thick and rough. "Mustn't be late, Harold." Harry waits, but he’s not pushed away. Instead hands move over Harry's shoulders and down his arms, and Harry tries again.
"What if I said we wouldn't be?" Harry bites gently, expects Nick's soft 'tch.' He laughs and grips onto Harry's wrists, lets himself be kissed.
Harry doesn't let him get a word out. If Nick starts talking, he'll succeed in talking Harry out of this, and Harry doesn’t want that. Harry doesn't want to stop. He wants to take as much of Nick's mouth as he can.
He wants to make up for how long they've been apart.
When he has to pull back, he can hardly breathe. His lungs burn with want.
"Jesus Christ, Harry," Nick breathes out, lips wet, eyes watching him. "Well, on with it, then.” Nick threads their legs together, presses himself to Harry, and Harry ruts against him, already hard and straining for more. Harry groans and Nick shushes him. “Mind your mouth,” he says, and nods towards the door. “Collette.”
Fuck. Harry forgot about Collette. He draws in a breath through his nose and nods. He hooks his fingers into the loops of Nick's jeans and pulls him toward the bed.
"Don't you dare mess up my hair," Nick says when Harry reaches his hand up. He freezes, fingers seconds away from plunging in, and tries to look properly chastised. He drops his hands to Nick’s shoulders instead. “Mhm. Better.”
"Trust me," Harry says, raising an eyebrow. He presses his foot to the back of Nick's knee and drops down onto the bed, Nick falling on top of him. "Trust me," Harry repeats, eyes bright. He knows he’s supposed to be quick about this, but he’s got Nick under his hands after ages of not and he can’t help it.
Nick raises a brow in return, and then rolls his eyes as Harry snakes a hand up to Nick's neck, pulling their mouths together. Nick jerks his hips, fitting himself against Harry and obviously trying to move things along. Harry bites at Nick's bottom lip, and then sucks it into his mouth, pulls on it with his teeth. Nick hits him on the shoulder. "Heyyy."
"You're going to get me in trouble being all bitey, Styles." Harry grins at that and bucks his hips. Nick is as hard as he is.
"I'll make it up t'you,” Harry says, beckoning Nick back. He kisses him softly, a slight peck against Nick's bruised bottom lip, and Nick sags against him, kind of a sucker for sweet kisses. It's something that Harry really likes about him. He uses that to roll them over and get his hands on the zip to Nick’s jeans, kisses him in the same soft way as he lowers it. He gives Nick's lip another tug and then is on his knees, looking up. He takes in Nick’s lidded eyes and heavy breathing, and pushes into the hand Nick uses to brush hair away from his face. Nick watches him until Harry taps his hip, signalling for him to lift up so he can pull Nick’s jeans off.
"This is the opposite of getting ready," Nick says, lying back and pretending to be grumpy, like he's not about to get his dick sucked. Harry rolls his eyes to himself and pulls Nick's pants down as well, watching Nick's cock pop out. "Well," Nick says in that exasperated way that says he's waiting. God, Harry’s missed this while gone. He misses a lot of things. He doesn't want to miss anything else. He curls his hand around Nick and brings him closer to his mouth.
All of Nick tastes the same, Harry thinks, his mouth wrapping around him and sucking. Nick makes a low noise and shifts his hips, already antsy. Harry loves it. He rubs at Nick’s protruding hipbones and sucks as long as he can before his legs start to hurt in the half crouch he's in. He lets Nick pop out of his mouth, hand taking over for a second before pulling him closer to the edge of the bed. Nick lets out an "oof," his cock jumping as Harry reaches for it again. He thinks maybe Nick likes being dragged about. He’ll explore it later when there’s more time.
Nick's legs widen as Harry jerks his cock and sucks him back in at the same time. He drags his tongue across his slit and Nick's whole body shivers. "Fuck," Nick bites out, and puts a hand on Harry's head, thrusting into Harry's mouth, making the bed bounce. Harry lets him until he gags and has to pull back. "Sorry," Nick says weakly, "Sorry,"
"S'okay." Harry coughs, trying to catch his breath. He squeezes the base of Nick's cock firmly, making Nick wheeze, and sucks him back into his mouth, tongue swirling around the head. It’s not long before Nick is trying to fuck his mouth again. Again Harry lets him as long as he can, trying not to gag and trying to keep hold. He takes in deep breaths through his nose, that sweat and dick scent burning. It’s too much, Harry groans and drops a hand to his own dick, palming at himself through his jeans.
“Harry, Harry,” Nick breathes as Harry pulls back. “Oh god.”
"Shh," Harry says, gulping down air while he can. He licks around the head, hand firm around the base. "Collette."
Nick groans, quieter this time. "Please don't say her name around my dick." |
94a0bdf9b414406eac1a0ad81918a95e | ['00e5086497b643829433ee0f4dce1f44'] | “Maybe,” Keith shrugged, pulling Lance towards him.
“How many drink’s did you have?”
“Five shots. Ac-Acxa, gave them to me.”
“You’ve had five and you’re already acting like this? Who’s Acxa?”
Keith shrugged, before looking towards the bar and pointing. He pointed to a girl with sheared periwinkle hair and wearing tight leather pants.
“So, you don’t know her?”
“I do.” And Keith left it at that and toddled over to Acxa who was sitting surrounded by empty glasses and staring down at a glass of something murky.
“Acxa!”
Acxa immediately looked up and pouted.
“Keith? You said you liked me and then just walked off,” Acxa said, with watery eyes before she saw Lance and her expression hardened. “Who are you?”
“I’m, um, a friend, I think?”
“You think?” Acxa stood up, but not before downing the rest of her drink. “Let go. I need to get him home.”
“No,” Keith suddenly piped up. “I want to make out with someone. I want sex.”
Lance and Acxa both flushed.
“I, um,” Acxa started off, biting her lip. “I can give you that.”
Keith rolled his eyes and pointed at himself.
“I’m gay. I want to pound and be pounded,” Keith pushed off of Lance, stumbling against the bar, and scanned the crowd. “Where’s Chad? He-He’ll be down.”
Then three things happened at once. Keith promptly passed out, Acxa burst into tears, and Lance.exe. stopped computing.
When Keith woke up the next morning, his head was pounding.
“What the fuck?” He groaned, scratching his head. He groaned and tried to run to his bathroom but found out he was in a vaguely familiar setting and threw up on himself and the floor.
“Keith?” Lance called, opening the door.
“Shut up. Where am I?”
Lance bent down and took in Keith’s vomit covered naked torso and the bags underneath his eyes and sighed.
“You’re a mess.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I need a shower. Do you—”
“Have a shower? Yes, actually. I do take showers, if you couldn’t tell, Lance said with a grin too bright for that early in the morning.
“I was going to say, do you have a painkiller and water?” Keith paused. “Why am I here?”
Lance smiled and helped Keith off of the floor.
“Shower first.”
Keith grumbled to himself as he stripped right then and there, not giving a quiznack. He felt nauseous and dizzy and sweaty and his head hurt. A little nudity wouldn’t kill anyone.
“W- _What are you doing?!_ ” Lance shouted, spinning around.
Or maybe it would.
“Taking a shower, dumbass.”
“I mean, why are you _stripping in front of me_?!”
“What part of ‘I’m taking a shower’ do you not understand?” Keith glanced back at Lance before shaking his head and walking to the bathroom.
Keith frowned as he looked at himself in the mirror. Scars covered his thighs and his hips. Bruises were on his hips strangely enough. He also had vomit on his chest. He shrugged. What could you do when you’re hungover in someone else’s house?
Keith climbed into the shower, letting the events from last night and this morning wash off of him. The hot water helped clear his head and relax him a bit. He rinsed out his mouth.
“I’m never drinking again,” Keith groaned, putting his head against the cold tile. He took a deep breath and picked up the first thing he saw, which was a very fruity smelling shampoo. So, he washed his hair, face, and body with it. Then rubbed some conditioner in his hair. He usually just got a three-in-one, so he wouldn’t have to spend so much money, but he was feeling special.
Keith waited a few more minutes before rinsing the conditioner out. Then he left the shower and dried off using a towel that was on a rack. It was probably Lance’s.
He left the bathroom and went to rummage around Lance’s drawers. He grabbed his, thankfully, clean underwear from the pile of his clothes on the floor. He had taken a shower before going to the warehouse.
Then he grabbed joggers from Lance’s drawer and a sweatshirt from the closet and set out.
“Lance,” Keith called, lethargic and in pain. He looked around and saw a hair tie on the stand of the tv. He pulled up his wet hair into a bun and pulled the hood over his head.
“Lance, I’m sore,” Keith called out louder, turning around and seeing Hunk, Pidge, and Lance all staring at him. “…oh.”
Pidge’s eyes grew to the size of dinnerplates and a gleeful, sinister grin made it’s way on her face.
“That’s where that hickey came from!” She shrieked, cackling.
“Hickey?” Keith’s eyebrows rose, and he looked at Lance, who did indeed have a hickey on his neck close to his collarbone. “Did I do that? Did we have sex?”
“No!” Lance cried out, indignantly. “You were too wasted anyway.” Lance had grumbled the last part under his breath, but Keith still heard it. Keith flushed a little but kept his face impassive as he moved around to the cupboards to grab a glass of water.
“Here.” Lance held out a glass of water and dropped some pills into Keith’s hand.
Keith grunted in acknowledgement as he dry-swallowed the pills, then followed it with water.
Keith sat down at the table and pursed his lips.
“So….”
“So…,” Lance replied, awkwardly.
“Well! We have a something to do at the place where the something is,” Pidge blurted, saving then from more awkwardness, then she grabbed Hunk’s arm and shoved him out of the door, with a wry comment of “Use protection!”
Lance and Keith looked at each other in shock before laughing. They laughed for a while both wheezing for air.
“Okay, then,” Keith said, getting the last few of his giggles out. “So, I’m hungry and still kind of hungover. Should we go out or…?”
“Oh, no. I can cook. Just stay seated and I’ll whip something up.” | 6df523e160924c5d8d7d7a75097a6e60 | ['00e5086497b643829433ee0f4dce1f44'] | _“NO! You aren’t! You hear me, but you aren’t listening. I don’t want to go college this year and I definitely don’t want to go to business school! I want a break. I want to travel the world. I want to go places and I want to become an engineer, not some corporate lawyer or in a father-son business with you!” Hiccup yelled back, breathing hard, arms flying in frustration and trying to get his point across. His voice cracked several times with emotion, but Hiccup glared at Stoick with all the fury in his skinny body and made Bryn shiver._
_However, Stoick shook his head. “You are just as stubborn as your mother. You ‘ave no idea what you want, even though you should. I knew I wanted to become a businessman since I was a child.” Stoick sighed at Hiccup’s expression and huffed at his son. “I have a trip I ‘ave to go on and we will talk about this when I get back in a few weeks.” Stoick growled out as he turned and stomped up the stairs to gather his bags._
_“Yeah, if I’m still here.” Hiccup whispered, tersely._
_“Did you say something?” Stoick asked, as he turned around and looked at Hiccup, who just shook his head. Once Stoick disappeared from sight and Hiccup heard the door close, Hiccup started pacing._
_“Oh, now he hears me.” Hiccup scowled, grabbing his empty mead mug and wound up to throw it at the stairs, only to stop and sigh, the anger and frustration draining out of him._
_“Hey, you okay?” Bryn asked, turning sitting up from where she was hiding behind the couch cushions._
_“No, Bryn. I’m not.” Hiccup snapped before grimacing. “Sorry.”_
_Bryn crossed her arms and hopped over the back of the couch to get to her friend, brows furrowed. “It’s fine, but what did you mean by ‘if I’m still here’. Are you planning on leaving?” Bryn asked, confused._
_Hiccup thought for a moment before wiggling his eyebrows. “Will you marry me, Bryn? We could run away together.”_
_“Oh, honey. I don’t like you like that.” Bryn said, seriously before cracking a smile and laughing at her friend’s sarcasm. “Where would we even go?”_
_“You got accepted to some schools, right?”_
_“Yeah.” Bryn squinted at Hiccup. “You were there. You helped me decide, stupid!” Bryn walked back over the couch and blew her hair out of her face as she picked up Toothless from where he was lying._
_“Right. I’m coming with you.” Hiccup exclaimed, smiling at Bryn._
_“Were you asking or telling me?” Hiccup just shook his head, ignoring her question and started to animate his thoughts with his hands._
_“Well, your school is near a military base, right?” Hiccup was smirking like joining the military wasn’t a huge deal._
_“What-No. Hiccup, you’re not seriously considering…? What if you get killed?”_
_“I am extremely careful, first of all, and I want to see the world. What better way than joining the military?” Hiccup smirked._
_“Okay, but you can’t just **join** the military. You need your diploma, which, for your information, we won’t get until graduation. Unless, like, a parent calls and says we can’t go to graduation.” Bryn frowned, not liking the look on Hiccups face as she finished her sentence._
_“A parent, huh?”_
_Thirty minutes later, after Stoick left, that is, Hiccup was on the phone with his principal with a Stoick imitation that was actually pretty accurate and could have fooled Stoick himself._
_Bryn was waiting, still, slightly pissed, but definitely intrigued. And, maybe, just a little, low-key, excited._
_“So….” Bryn said, after Hiccup got off the phone._
_“They will send the diplomas on Tuesday.”_
_“That’s-Okay!” Bryn squealed throwing her arms around Hiccup. “Yes! So, we are definitely leaving then.”_
_“I thought you weren’t excited.” Only to have Bryn, shove him away, hiding a smile. Hiccup paused as if to think, then raised an eyebrow. “You called Meathead and said you were attending, right?”_
_“I mean, yeah, but I was going to tell you-,” Hiccup smiled and waved her off._
_“Doesn’t matter anyway. You’re going to college. I’ll join the military. We’ll start entirely new lives.”_
_“Yeah! Nothing here for us anyway!”_
_For a brief second, Sage popped into Hiccup’s mind, but he shook his head and smiled absently._
_“Yeah. Nothing here for us here anyway.”_
**_One Day Ago-Yesterday_ **
****
_Hiccup and Bryn skipped school and packed away all of their clothes, toiletries, shoes, books, and anything else they would need on their trip to Meathead. Hiccup’s dad wasn’t planning on coming back for a couple days and Hiccup called in sick to work. He obviously had to leave a note for everyone, so that he wouldn’t cause a panic for when his dad got back, and Hiccup and Bryn were gone._
_“Okay. Clothes and stuff are packed. We wrote a note. The diplomas got here this morning. You filled out the form for the whatever. And,” Bryn drawled out, frowning and Hiccup watched her face take on the appearance of a pug._
_“I filled out the form for the National Guard. And,” Hiccup interjected. “We are leaving at four in the morning to ditch our phones and my car, walk to the bus stop, and take a ride to the ferry.”_
_Bryn smiled. “Right, yes.” Her shoulders shook as she laughed and tucked her hair behind her ears._
_“Wait. It’s only the end of the school year. School doesn’t start until, what, August?” Hiccup asked._
_“September. And I have to live on campus for freshman year.” Bryn stopped and smiled. “This is a really bad time to make last minute plans, isn’t it?”_
_Hiccup laughed nodded._
_“Well, they’ll hopefully get back to me in a couple weeks. I have money, so I’ll pay for a hotel room for us. So, you can stay there until school starts, and I’ll be gone for ten weeks and then I’ll go through AIT, which is-,”_ |
67a9da4961b64e729e9b43d9285d03c8 | ['010446f12d6f4274a804d20ed6404ffe'] | Lapis wondered if they were both capable of treating them right.
68. Day 068
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I haven't had a concha for a while now.
Peridot found Lapis to be very affectionate lately.
Not that she was complaining, but Peridot could only take so much love in a span of one hour.
“I’ve got to finish my work,” Peridot tried to hide her smile, “And YOU should be doing the same before both of us lose our jobs.”
“Work, shmork,” Lapis grumbled, her arms loosely wrapped around Peridot’s neck as she rested her head on top of her girlfriend’s. “It’s not gonna go anywhere.”
“The same could be said about you,” Peridot snorted. “Seriously, we’re adults. We have adult responsibilities.”
“I’m an adult, take responsibility.”
69. Day 069*
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Still unsure if LINK fits the chapter's vibe.
>
> Also ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).
“I don’t want to do anything!” Peridot groaned and snuggled closer as Lapis ran her hands through her hair.
They laid in their bed, not wanting to get out from underneath the covers.
“You need to go to work,” Lapis chuckled.
“I can always call in sick.”
“Pearl’s going to know it’s a lie and she’s probably going to kill you,” Lapis carefully tugged her blonde locks.
Peridot looked up at her, “But you’re not going to let her though, right?”
Lapis smirked and lightly bopped her nose. “As if I’d let anyone ever hurt you!”
Peridot grinned, “Wow, thanks!”
70. Day 070
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> 7000 words! Also sorry for the lack of daily updates, school blows. On another note, sport drinks are amazing.
Peridot was conflicted seeing Jasper in front of her.
On one hand, she was a good old friend; on the other, she was Lapis' ex-with-a-bad-history.
"Looking good, smallfry."
Jasper's eyes were full of excitement and anticipation.
Peridot chirped, trying to keep the mood light. "The Frenchiest!"
Jasper reciprocated with a toothy grin. "It really is great to see you again, despite the, ah, circumstances. You haven't changed a bit.”
"Same goes for you, lughead." Peridot smiled, thankful Jasper didn't point the obvious fact that made her last statement a lie.
Hard to believe she was Jasper from Lapis' horror stories.
71. Day 071
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> What's all this jazz about pumpkin spice? - Also, happy 3 months~! Thanks for sticking around this long!
"So you and Peri, huh?" Jasper chuckled and sipped from her drink.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Lapis pouted.
"Nothing," Jasper raised her hands up defensively, "small world is all."
"Scary how small it actually is." Lapis muttered and picked at the paper cover of her straw.
"Guess you can't seem to get rid of me."
She must've made a face because she heard Jasper force a laugh. "Yikes! That was bad."
Lapis turned her attention to Jasper and saw the larger woman looking anywhere but her, face red, tensely rubbing her neck.
"Sorry, it was a sucky joke."
72. Day 072
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I forget that I have other stories I should also be updating but it's so hard to find a way to end the chapter a cliffhanger. (JK).
“Tonight’s going to be awkward.”
“Hey, play nice.”
“I still don’t understand why you had to invite her over for dinner.” Lapis groaned and forced herself to sit up from the couch.
“You’ve been meeting up with her every day for the past week, what’s the problem with meeting her now?” Peridot rolled her eyes.
“Because those other times were not in a place where I sleep with my girlfriend," Lapis huffed, "WHO so happens to be her really close friend.”
Peridot laughed and shook her head. “Stop being dumb and come help. She’s going to be here any second.”
73. Day 073
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Am I really THAT predictable? Yes. Yes, I am.
“I can’t—.”
“Me neither.”
“Did you—?”
“Nope.”
“How’d they even—?”
“No idea.”
Peridot kicked the blanket off and sat up, still unable to wrap her head on what had happened a few hours before.
Lapis sat up as well, glad the dark made it hard to see the amusement on her face. “Why are you so tripped up about this?”
“Why aren’t you?!” Peridot retaliated, voice squeaking at the end.
“Because what Jasper does is none of my business?”
“That’s true, but,” Peridot waved her hands dramatically, “C'mon! Jas and Pearl?!”
Lapis snorted. “Right? This world’s just too freaking small.”
74. Day 074
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm still not over Hayward's leg. It's a common occurrence unfortunately.
“You’re staring.”
Peridot hurriedly put her attention to the computer screen, face going hot.
Pearl marched over to Peridot’s desk and stood in akimbo. “Is it because of the dinner?”
“Wha—?” Peridot’s voice high and squeaky. “No! What made y’think—?”
“You couldn’t stop staring at me the other day and you’re staring now.”
“I was?!” Peridot sputtered. “I-I mean, am?! I, urgh, huh?!”
“I didn’t mean to come over unannounced, you know.” Pearl sighed. “Jasper just told me we were going over her old friend’s house for dinner.”
No longer able to hold it, Peridot blurted, “How’d you guys meet?”
75. Day 075
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I bought a box of kolaches from a highway bakery the other day and ate them all. Now I'm sad because they were so good.
“—she was the only one intrepid enough to give me an Alpha Charlie.” Jasper gave a hearty laugh before sighing. “Y’bet my ass cooled off.”
“Gosh. I was such a P-O-S back then.” Jasper muttered then chugged her drink.
She slammed the bottle and hiccuped. “I’m sorry for what went down between us. Really. I wasn’t in a good place. A-and I know that’s no excuse, but I really want to say I’m sorry.”
“So,” Jasper leaned forward, “forgive and forget?” | fdc7e2fd204142e09bcd48731b671208 | ['010446f12d6f4274a804d20ed6404ffe'] | Above them was an upper level with a balcony that surrounded the circumference of the room. They wore the same attire she and the rest of the group of children on the lower floor was wearing so she assumed they were upperclassmen. Thousands of students stood behind the rails watching them walk inside the large room.
Peridot began to be able to hear the buzz of their conversation as the anticipation in the room built up.
"Students please line up against the wall." Fluorite called out over the excitement. "We will now begin. Remember, the carvings are enchanted and will react once you step in the middle and will claim you. If more than one carvings choose, it is up to the student which house they would like to join."
Fluorite continued to give instructions as the group of first years found their way to the wall and leaned their backs against it.
Peridot found herself between two people she didn't know. They were both around her height.
One of them was a dark skinned girl with a perfectly sculpted squared afro, however, it was a little frizzy. Rather than having a skirt on, this girl had pants. She had a pout on her face and her hands in her pockets. She looked like she didn't want to be there.
The other was a tanned girl with long light blue hair that curled behind her and bangs that covered her eyes. She looked refined and had her hands together in front of her. She wore the uniform but she did not have the robes on. She appeared emotionless.
Peridot looked around the room at the other first years. She must've counted at least 46, maybe more.
Amethyst waved at her from across the room when she spotted her. Peridot gave a small wave back before going back to scanning the room.
Diagonal from where she stood was Lapis. She had her arms crossed against her chest and she appeared to be staring at the wooden carvings at the front of the room.
More like Lapis was glaring at them, specifically the serpent.
Peridot followed Lapis’ gaze to the front of the room and began to pay close attention to the carvings. Making judgements based on the carving, Peridot began to mentally sort herself into a house.
* * *
The first one called was Amethyst. She eagerly skipped to the stone and stood there, grinning at the carvings as if she already knew which house she got.
Suddenly, the eyes of the mountain lion/cougar hybrid twinkled yellow before a roar echoed the room.
Amethyst gave a "Whoop!" and pumped her fist in the air as she walked away.
"Amethyst Abeyta, Wampus!"
Peridot assumed that was the name of the mountain lion/cougar hybrid.
There were scattered cheers and applause from the balcony above them.
One by one they were called to the middle. Some students that already went looked like they were pretty much okay with which house they were put in.
"Sapphire Hapaira."
The girl with long hair next to Peridot walked passed her and to the middle. It may be her eyes playing tricks on her but Peridot could swear she saw some ice forming near the girl's shoes.
The room was suddenly blinded by a bright turquoise light. The light soon dimmed but stayed shining. Once Peridot's eyes adjusted, she saw that the light came from the crystal on top of the serpent's head.
"Sapphire Hapaira, Horned Serpent!"
The girl now known as Sapphire walked back to where she first stood during the round of applause.
"Lapis Lazuli."
The room suddenly went quiet.
Peridot watched Lapis take long strides to the middle. She looked ahead, eyes glued to the statues with her back straight, ignoring the whispers that were starting to get louder.
Suddenly, there was a sound that was like snapping wood. The carving of the bird began to beat its wings.
"Lapis Lazuli, Thunderbird!"
There were no cheers and only a few scattered claps out of politeness.
"Whew! Dodged a bullet there!" A voice shouted from upstairs. "R-I-P to you Thunderbirds for the next seven years!"
This was met by multiple laughter and quick shushing from the adults.
Peridot frowned and looked over at Lapis. She was back where she stood, leaning on the wall with her arms by her side. She had her eyes closed and her hands balled to a fist. Her whole body was shaking. The ones who stood around her slowly inched away from her.
Peridot felt angry at what just happened. The years of being in her father's family's household came back to her. She remembered all those offhand comments they made about her. She had engraved the names of those who insulted her mother in her mind.
Peridot found herself balling her own hands into a fist. Her mind unable to focus on nothing else but the pent up rage and hurt that were finding its way back to her being.
Before long, a muffled voice spoke, "Peridot Odhran? Is there a Peridot Odhran?"
Peridot snapped out of her thoughts and quickly shuffled to the middle of the room. She heard a few snickers but she ignored it and looked at the carvings in front of her.
There was a noise that similar to the one made when Lapis was standing where she was.
Peridot's heart beat faster. She didn’t know if it was from the excitement of finally being able to choose a house or from the prospect of being in the same house as Lapis.
Peridot looked ahead and saw that the arm of the Pukwudgie carving with the arrow was raised.
"Peridot Odhran, P—!"
The announcer's voice interrupted by another round of the same sound of cracking wood.
The room quickly filled with murmuring as the arm of the Pukwudgie lowered.
Peridot looked around, a question in her expression. Judging from everybody's reaction, something like what just happened was not normal. |
cd9db09e476944969968bf5e602a6e56 | ['0122d00d486c48f0828a29cf214157c7'] |
Broken
**Author's Note:**
> Spoilers for 9x09.
Once he had cannibalized the other angel’s grace Castiel immediately felt the holy power rushing through his veins. He felt strong and whole and better than he had in a long time. All of this was then combined with a severe pain as his bond with Dean Winchester forged itself back into order. The bond had long since gone from being just bound to his grace but instead had been bound to every part of him. Humans were not capable of feeling the true extent of such profound bonds so while he was human the bond was muted. Now that he had grace again the bond was vibrating. It did not like this new grace he had acquired but it would have to make do. Castiel had bigger things to worry about; he had to prepare for war.
He knew that what he had done was a horrible offense but he knew that he had no other choice. He was useless to anyone while he was human. He felt hurt and pain for all the angels that did not survive the fall. Then he remembered.
There was an angel masquerading as Ezekiel and he had established himself with the Winchesters. Whoever it was must not have decent intentions because there was no other reason to masquerade as someone unless you had a less than savory backstory. He had to warn Dean. He could not bear if any harm came to Dean. Of all the wonders on the earth the only thing that truly mattered is that Dean was safe. When he had saved Dean from Hell he had gained so much more than he could have ever hoped for. He made a short call to Dean’s cell to assure that he was okay and to inform him that Ezekiel was not Ezekiel and instructed him on what he needed to do. He hoped that it would be enough.
He was forming his plans when he felt it. A thick, severe, crippling pain viciously tearing through the soul bond he had with Dean. He had not felt this pain in a very long time and he immediately knew that something was wrong. He closed his eyes and tried to filter through which emotions that he was feeling from Dean. Now that he had some experience being human it was easier to pinpoint what was going on with his hunter.
Dean was hurt in every sense of the word. He was so broken and fragile and the pieces kept shattering until Castiel had to pull himself out of the connection because it was becoming too much. The pain was overwhelming and thick. There was guilt, such heavy amounts of guilt almost the same amount of guilt he felt back when they were trying to avert the apocalypse. What he was feeling from Dean was almost like what you would feel from an animal. It was almost identical to the same feeling that he felt when he first gripped Dean Winchester and raised him from hell. Castiel determined that Dean was in pain, he was scared, and he was alone.
Castiel did not know how he was supposed to respond. Dean had pushed him away when he needed him most and now he understood that it was because of this angel. He understood enough to know that somehow this angel got Sam’s consent before possessing him. The angel could have done it a thousand different ways but Cas assumed that it was because he used Dean to do so and Dean allowed it. Cas knew that whatever happened he needed to get to Dean immediately.
Cas managed to land inside the living room of the bunker. He could see smudges of ink and assumed that Dean had put up the sigils like he was instructed but the other angel was clever. He must have obstructed the sigils in order to attack or flee, Castiel could not be sure of which one until he found Dean.
A heart wrenching scream pierced through the walls and with the scream more pain came ripping through the bond. Castiel knew immediately that it had come from Dean and he ran in the direction that the scream came from. The bond help direct him straight to his hunter.
Dean was crumpled on the floor next to the body of the prophet, Kevin, Castiel had to remind himself. The prophet’s eyes had been burned and he knew that this was the work of an angel. His gaze turned to Dean to access the damage. Tears had streamed down his face and his eyes held the look of something broken and defeated. His hands were bloody and Castiel assumed that it was from punching the floor or whatever was closest to him. Cas could also see the strain that came from being held against his will and he assumed that the angel had used his grace to restrain Dean. Sam was nowhere to be seen so he felt it safe to assume that the angel had taken his vessel and left. Sam wasn’t Castiel’s concern at the moment, Dean was. Castiel briefly wondered why the angel had not just killed Dean as well.
Castiel knew that he had to get Dean out of the bunker. He did not know who the angel was that was masquerading as Ezekiel but he was a threat and worse he knew where the bunker was. He was inside Sam’s head and that made him the biggest threat to Dean at the moment. Castiel also knew that there was nothing that he could do for Kevin anymore and the longer Dean was around his body the more guilt poured through him.
“I’m so sorry. I fucked up. Everyone that I love dies and everything that I touch turns to ash.” Dean mumbled before raising his head to look up at Cas. His eyes were so broken and it was such a hard contrast from the Dean Winchester that Castiel is used to dealing with. A nameless angel had done the one thing that no other force had managed to do; he had isolated and hurt Dean.
“Dean, we have to go. I don’t know who is possessing Sam and they could come back. I have to take you somewhere safe.” Castiel insisted moving over to grasp Dean but Dean started shaking his head.
“I’m not leaving the bunker. If he wanted to kill me then he would have done it before he left. He said he had to do what needed to be done. It was like he didn’t want to kill Kevin but he did anyways.” Dean said softly his voice hoarse from crying. Castiel sighed and resigned himself to doing as the hunter asked and not whisk him away. Dean was in a delicate state and Castiel did not want to cause him anymore distress.
Castiel pulled Dean up from the floor and stood his ground as Dean tried to fight him. The fight didn’t last long and finally Dean slumped into Castiel. Slowly they made their way to where Dean’s room was and once inside the room Castiel warded the room so that no other creature divine or unholy could enter. He watched as Dean slowly crawled onto the bed and lay down motionless. Cas sighed before heading over to lay behind Dean. It was a testament to how broken Dean felt when he did not shy away from the added warmth that Castiel projected. He allowed himself to be held and cuddled.
“This was not your fault. I was the one who told you to trust the angel. I didn’t know that legions of angels had died in the fall and that Ezekiel was among them.” Castiel whispered. Dean curled tighter back up against him.
“I was so selfish. I just wanted Sammy to be okay. Now he is gone, Kevin is dead and I’m alone.” Dean whispered. Castiel sighed and reached his arm around Dean’s chest to pull him back so that there was no space between them. He breathed slowly and deeply so that Dean’s breathing would subconsciously try to match his.
“You are not alone. I will always come when you call for as long as I am able. I need you just as much as you need me. We will find a way to reverse all of this. We will get Sam back.” Castiel whispered the promise into the curve of Dean’s neck. He didn’t know how they were going to accomplish the task but he knew that they had to. Everything depended on it | 8f2e120a05b647db87c89abc4a04f025 | ['0122d00d486c48f0828a29cf214157c7'] |
Lionheart
**Author's Note:**
> All mistakes out my own. Pulled some components from Hannibal Rising but these characters are envisioned just like the TV show portrays them.
“Will, what are you doing here? Our usual session is not until Thursday.” Hannibal asked as he saw the young empath step into the room. Judging by the look on Will’s face he could already tell what this was about. Will had finally opened his eyes to the gruesome scene that was being played right before his very eyes. Hannibal knew from the very moment that he met Will that it would only be a matter of time before Will dived into his mind. Slowly, Hannibal grasped his letter opener with the intent to use it if he needed.
“How does it taste?” Will’s question caught Hannibal off guard. Of all the things that could have come out of Will Graham’s mouth, that was not one that would have been predicted. Hannibal found his grip on the letter opener loosening as he looked at Will’s slightly trembling figure. He was pleased to note that Will was smart enough to know when he was locked in a room with a lion. Hannibal leaned against his desk with a slight smirk. He decided that he would act nonchalantly. What did he have to hide? Judging by Will’s posture and stance he already knew what skeletons resided inside Hannibal’s mind.
“I could show you, if you like.” Hannibal threw out confidently. He knew that Will was not posing him a threat and he let the letter opener fall back upon the desk. Will tracked his every motion. Will gave his small quirky smile before replying,
“I don’t really think I have the s-s-stomach for it.” Will stuttered out. He relaxed a bit once Hannibal let go of the letter opener. Hannibal smiled.
“Would you be upset if I told you that you already have an acquired taste for it?” Hannibal stated closely watching Will’s reaction. How was Will to know that every time they had dined together Will was partaking in the eating of some random victim? Hannibal pondered how he would feel once he truly realized that all the compliments he had dished out were to a very special cuisine.
“How?” Will asked. He would have noticed if Hannibal had tried to feed him meat from a human. Will shivered for a moment as he realized that he had just referred to a human being as meat.
“Every time I have cooked for you, brought you meals, there has always been a little special ingredient.” Hannibal admitted easily. He watched in amusement as the color drained from Will’s face.
“Do you feed it to everyone who dines with you?” Will asked, almost sounding jealous. He wanted to have more difficulties referring human body parts as meat but his mind would not cooperate with him. He could almost picture Lecter in his kitchen hacking away at some poor victim’s liver. He vaguely wondered how hard it would be to tear the heart muscles away from each other and how a still beating heart would feel in his hands. He wondered if it would be hot and slick with blood. Will felt his mouth begin to water, so he tried to distract himself from that line of thought by yanking some of his curls. He hoped that Hannibal would not pick up on it but ever the psychiatrist he did. A little smirk graced his face.
“I once fed Jack Crawford an old patient of mine under the guise of it being a pork loin. Other than that it has only been you.” Hannibal admitted lightly. He was fully relaxed now and he noted that Will also felt he could relax. He watched as Will took a deep breath and sat down in his leather chair. To an outsider it would look like any normal therapy session.
Hannibal took his time in walking to the chair opposite of Will. A normal person would be breaking for the exit by now but not his Will. Will sat straight and never took his eyes away from Hannibal’s form. Hannibal sat down on the edge of the chair and looked straight at Will. For once Will was not attempting to avoid eye contact.
“The protein scramble.” Will stated. Hannibal gave a nod encouraging Will to continue. Will took a deep breathe, “You said you would help me see his face so you gave me the negative. You gift wrapped a body so that I could finally figure out Hobbs’s golden ticket. Then you fed me the girl’s lungs while you talked me through the discovery.” Will finished rubbing his hands over his face. He wasn’t sure how he should feel about everything that was going on. He wanted to feel sick that he had complimented the meal but knew that he could not. He wanted to feel bad for the girl who had been left on antlers just so that he could understand Hobbs better but he did not.
“The devil is in the details.” To say that Hannibal was pleased would be an understatement. Here was someone who could understand just how Hannibal ticked and was not attempting to run away. Instead, he was creating beauty out of something so unmentionable. Hannibal began to wonder if that made Will very brave or very foolish.
“How long have you been this way?” Will asked. Hannibal smiled.
“There is no certain way I am being, I am simple the way I was born. If you are asking how long I have been what you refer to as a cannibal I would have to say since I was a boy. The first person I ever ate was my little sister Mischa. We lived in the country of Lithuania and Mischa was very sick. It was war time and we were hiding in our abandoned house after our parents had been murdered. Some mongrel rag team of soldiers decided that they would take over our hiding spot and use it as their own. They were cruel and vile men and it wasn’t long before they used up all of the rations of food we had. One day they became too hungry and they ripped my sister from my arms and killed her. Then they force fed me a stew made from her bones to keep me healthy long enough to eat me as well. I escaped but I could never escape the taste of human meat. I spent many years after that tracking down and killing every single mongrel that had been a part of that team. I ate a piece from every single one of them and I could not get enough. Once I was done I came here to the states and began attending John Hopkins. “Hannibal explained slowly. He had never explained any of his past to anyone before but he felt compelled to share this piece with Will.
Will felt a deep twinge of sympathy for the doctor, Will was an only child and could not imagine losing a sibling much less being force fed that very sibling. He also felt a deep sense of honor for being someone that Lecter took into his confidence.
“I have connected with your mind and you are the only one that I can’t shake. I have seen horrible things and I can’t find it in myself to be disgusted. I think better when I am around you and you have taken care of me in subtle ways. What am I supposed to do? You take people and rip out their organs while they are still alive. They can feel every tear and shred that you make on their body. You relish in the power you have over these people and then spend your nights sautéing them like meat you pick up from a butcher. I should want to run and tell Jack as soon as possible but here I sit with you. You could do anything you wanted to me and nobody would know because nobody knows that I am here. Tell me, Doctor Lecter, what part of me would you consume?” Will said quickly. It was true. No one knew of Will’s suspicions concerning the good doctor. No one knew that he had decided to confront the man alone. If Hannibal were to decide to attack him, Will knew he had little hope of fighting him off or defending himself.
Hannibal lowered himself to his feet so that he was kneeling at Will’s feet. Will looked at the man with a frightened expression and wondered if he should have run away when he had the chance. Hannibal raised his hands and let his fingertips skirt against Will’s clothed chest right above his heart. Will was mesmerized by the movement and took a deep breath before making eye contact with Lecter.
Once eye contact was established Will found himself drowning in Hannibal’s gaze. His eyes were cold with a reddish hue. He watched as the muscles twitched into a smile on Hannibal’s face.
“I would eat your heart because it has always been mine to consume.” |
6eede5867d88430594e623f8c106d2e2 | ['012cfc60a05b46ffbd0c69d67e4654d8'] | One, Two, Three
Their pictures are what make them interesting.
Benjamin Carver _(Benny to his friends, Benjy to his mother, and Ben to his fiancée)_ is captured in an old-fashioned Polaroid, the kind you might tuck into your wallet. He grins at the camera, a soda raised up in toast, and fuck if he isn’t the most captivating man in the world to whoever was photographing him, his scarf a violent smear of perfect red, smoke curling from a cigarette tucked between his fingers, an ephemeral caress perfectly captured.
Amelia Doverman _(Always Amelia, never Amy, like a perfect storybook princess, and someone once told Sebastian that Amelia meant beloved)_ doesn’t seem to have even noticed the camera pointed at her. Her focus is entirely on the woman in her arms, as they dance like they’re the only two people in the world. Her dress swirls around her legs, a blur of motion, and the smile on her face is reserved completely for the woman she holds, the both of them laughing like they’re teenagers.
Shane Portsman _(His friends blow smoke in his face, elongate the ‘a’ till they’re calling him Shawn, and laugh, ‘who ahhh you?’)_ smiles shyly for the camera, his arm out and an owl perched on it. The owl dominates the frame, but it’s easy to see the pure delight on his face, the way his eyes sparkle that he’d even be allowed to touch this amazing bird.
Their pictures are what make them interesting, and their pictures are the reason they die.
Benjamin Carver gets jumped in a filthy alley, the flowers he’d bought for his fiancée scattering to the wind. Benjamin Carver gets pushed against the wall, a gun hard under his chin and a face close to his, breathing his air so intimately it makes him shudder in complete disgust. Benjamin Carver cries, juddering sobs and hitching breaths, as his mouth is forced open, as the gun settles heavy and filthy on his tongue, as a voice croons in his ear, _don’t be scared, it won’t hurt._
Benjamin Carver gets his brains blown out in a filthy alley, the flowers he’d bought for his fiancée scattered to the wind.
Amelia Doverman receives a call from a blocked number, telling her to look out the window. Amelia Doverman listens to a man tell her not to move, to look down at her chest. Amelia Doverman pales when she sees the red dot above her heart, the man instructing her to smile, to not cry, to think of her girlfriend and the life they’re going to have together, if she just follows his simple instructions, as a voice croons in her ear, _Don’t be scared, I won’t hurt you._
Amelia Doverman receives a call from a blocked number, and the man on the other end puts three bullets in her chest when she starts crying.
Shane Portsman meets Sebastian Moran in a library, their hands touching as they reach for the same book on owl biology. Shane Portsman smiles shyly, warm and open, and talks about all the owls he’s seen, his dreams of being a vet. Shane Portsman extends an offer to go to the zoo and see the owls sometime, and ducks his head at the returned offer for coffee right now as Sebastian links their fingers, raises his chin, and his voice croons in his ear, _Don’t be scared, I don’t bite._
Shane Portsman meets Sebastian Moran in a library, and dies in a cafe, choking on the cyanide in his drink.
Their pictures were what made them interesting, and their pictures were why they died. | a7be8bdf58a642fea4be135df2b7f4b3 | ['012cfc60a05b46ffbd0c69d67e4654d8'] | Destroying Something Beautiful - Like Stained Glass
It’s easy enough to find people at bars. It’s always been easy. Nurse the drink you’ve had since you walked into the place, flash shy smiles at all the right people, and ask every single young, attractive man you see:
_Have you got a light?_
Richard Darrow, 25, says yes, lights your cigarette and his own with a flourish, and leans close. His eyes flash, and he offers to buy you a drink. You decline and move on.
The music is steadily getting louder as more and more people pour in. You blend right in to the crowd of young drunk twentysomethings, and that suits you. You’re made to blend in. Moving on, before Richard Darrow, 25, can get too upset over being rejected.
_Have you got a light?_
Jesse Wilcox, 29, says yes, but rather than light yours with the lighter, he chooses to move close, right into your space, and you light yours off the tip of his, smoke curling around the both of you, close enough that your foreheads are almost touching. He smiles as bright as a supernova, and it’s obvious he’s never tried that move before. He offers to buy you a drink. You decline and move on.
The beat rattles your very bones, and it feels almost as though your DNA is unraveling, as though your atoms will shake apart if you stay still enough to let it. So you keep moving, prowling through crowds until your cigarette burns itself out and you can try again.
_Have you got a light?_
David Arthur, 27, does not. He apologizes nervously, but he doesn’t smoke, you see. You smile warmly; slip your cigarette away, and lean close. Your eyes flash, you laugh comes easily. You offer to buy him a drink. He accepts, and you grin.
From there, it’s easy. A quiet murmur, _we should get out of here_ , a faltering stumble, _my place is closer_. You kiss him against a wall, tell him how lovely he is, how like an angel. He laughs, and accuses you of being drunk. You laugh, and don’t tell him just how right he is, how drunk off of what you’re about to do you really are.
You lead him in; don’t let him get his bearings. You kiss him like he matters, like he isn’t just another job. You urge him downstairs, into the room where Jim is waiting. You slap him.
He looks at you with betrayal, holding his reddening cheek with something like surprise, something like expectation. Something like he knew you were too good to be true.
You knee him in the gut, wrestle him to the ground. The way your bodies tangle is a sick mockery of the pleasant night you had led him to expect. You grin against his throat, and you know he feels it by the terrible noise he lets out, half a sob, half a scream, entirely desperate.
Handcuffs that were a weight in your pocket now keep him from fighting back, and you stand, letting your foot settle on his chest, let your voice be the only thing he focuses on. _This is what’s going to happen, David. I’m going to hurt you. Jim’s going to watch._ __
You chance a glance up at where Jim is standing. The warmth of his smile is what you live for, after all, and you aren’t disappointed. Jim is watching you like you’re the only thing that matters. Jim is interested. Jim is _yours._
The first touch of a knife against the hollow of his throat makes David sob. The second touch, cutting away his T-shirt, makes him yelp. The third, peeling away a strip of flesh and skin, makes him scream.
It’s just as Jim wanted. That night, David sings. |
e0bc36892f7d44b283ced02f2c5d292e | ['017daf553a9341bdb6754ee3c313ecc6'] | Snizzle Wizzle
last week(orweeksdewhjc) on cmap cmap!!!1111!!!!
“taht explains why youre such a pussy then” Daniel :Oed at Max “WHAT?!?!?!?!?!!!?”
Max bite hsi ;lip and whsiperd “tahts why i wanna destroy u so bed ;)” he said seducedly………..
ThIs WeEK:::
Max and david and prestyon and pikeman and jermy fatz are all chillin in teh moonlight naked next to teh lake , tehy all decisded to go sknny dipping, max saw preston hot bod (hot rid)
And grew eregt for his bd tahtw as hot “wow hot bod” said max looking at his hot bod preton giglled ‘yu make me giggle’ he giggled max blooshed and saw a racoon fingering itself on teh shawline teh racoon looks at max and swims in teh water them max grows old enough to have a nbig pee pee and raps teh araccon but the arcoon enjoys it so its not rape bevause pg ami rite ;-) tehn max releases into te water but not teh arcooon, evryone swallows maxs fluids in teh eater coincidentally somhow ahahudswhgwqg (XD roari am da demon ;3) tehy yorn and go to cabin to slep.
In teh moning 5ehh all wake up inteh same room somwhow and tehy all have babies inbeteween tehir thighs!!!!///??
Pikelord exclaims “there are a baby underneath me>?!’ he exclaimed, everyine loks unde rtheir nlankets to discover babies inbetwene tehir legs as well! “Well i be!” david yodelled, the babies let tehm selves out side and the new parents and teh kdis poke tehir heads outisde to see whats goimg on, the babies walk out of the tent and look up to the skye holding their tongue sout of thir mourtys, as it startes to rain LSD, the babies ctah teh LSD with tehir mouths and a pentagra forms undernwtah tehem, a bleu light shoots form teh center of teh pentagram and recahes th skye.
everyone s eyes grow wieyed as tehy staer in awwww at waht tegya re seieng, “is thatuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh boneless Do-” Pikelord asked he got slooped i the bac of he head by preston as pretsyon explained, “tahts not boneless! Tahts my idol!!” pretson screemes!!
“ i thought he died a loooooooongggggggggggggggggggggggggggg time agggggo!” david tilted his hea din confusin
“No fool, twizzle me Snoop dogg, dawgs” snoop dog excalpmied
Pretson screeched with joy and feel to his knees liek he does for max
(When he goes topick up something max dropped, ya’ll are a buncha nasties, cleanse yoru thoughts pz)
Snoop dogg is sudenly naked and pulls a starw out of his fat ass that contains 2 million light year sof cockain, he holds it to his mouth and starts siinninga round !!!! he blows teh straw nd teh cockain flies ot into each of teh abbies noses, tehn the starw turns into a dart that comtains steroid which he then proceeds to shoot one dart int each of teh babies necks. Snoop dpgg then vanishes and te abes go haywire they run to thei parents temt and begin humpung the fuck out of teh tent wlst teh aprents are still inide, Neil screams “max what teh fuck did you do last night?”
“All i did was rape teh racoon in teh water, but they enjoyed it” amx said
“Why did you say they?” neil asked in cofnnsin
“Bevvaus eits anumal abude” max sayd
“What is?” neild says
“TIHIS” max says loudly
They all ran out of air becaus eth babies humps took the ai r out fo teh tent, s the patents all passed out fom lack of air, the babies run out of camp as all the other campers watch inawe, teh abbies run into a truck with a assive sign on it reading’pleasuring platic dolls’ tehy run into teh back and notive all teh plstic dolls around them befr eteh back of the truck is shut, when tehy arrive at teh shop tehy are plastic dollsa nd tehy get stocke doto a shelf, “hm do they have mi se[cial order?” a husky sexii voice spoj formt teh entrance of teh store, it ws Daniel@Q@!!!! Daniel walke dove rto jermeys baby who was nwo a ll and picke dup “bootifuk: he shwipered at teh doll, he bought the baby/doll and put it in hsi car :tonitgs gon be fun” tehn jermeys bab/doll shot his eyes open in realisatuon then rocketed out of the fckingcar and into space, where he saw something majestic, he set hsi is eyes on it, his breath was taken away, because he was in space, an alien!!! ON ARS!!!! GIVEIn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SPACE KID>?????????????!!!!!! A lapdance. Teh baby/doll plummeted through the earths magnetic feild and suddenly grows very bg in isze and ellands right infornt of teh camp, everyone runs out (because everyone concious now) to see what the big bang was, and tehre tehty see Jewrmey fartz baby as a doll bt stull alive facing his back to teh camp, he was huUUUUUUUGe2w, “bab1!!!” jerey yelled, the baby looked over itsshoulder and and pulled its tongue out of its mouth, and its eyes glistened, “getready to get get snizzled”
Fairing lights flare out of the babies but blunding everyon “ahahahhhhhhh111” dav scremed “it brite” !1!1!1! Then snoopdog walkdoitof babs ass and whusotwred ‘snuzzle XD rawr :3”
“How u prononce tatV?” Prestypn asked
“;3” snopdo g replied
“HOOOOH :O!” Pretyon wxcaluned!!
Preston looked into snopdoogs eyes, snopdogg yelled “in preganté! With you're babi!” Prestoonlooked shook “me?” Max “:O’d” u chet on me????” He scremed
“Youduxked a racoon bich1!” Preston cumbqcked
Snoop dog shit his eyes and collapsdedonto his back ‘is haponjing!”
Everyown screwmed loodly and was shooked, snoopdogg yelled, is cunin! Got roaddeay!!’
:00000 everyon sed as they starred at snoopdpgfs dowb there
“Waddup homeskillets?” Jadpers head poops out and dadvid faints
Wot wheel hoppen necst tiem own cmapcamp wkacky avenchurz!?
Stai chooned 4 mo’!!!!!
:-))) | 082a5decf8a4448ba642efd425ca9e4f | ['017daf553a9341bdb6754ee3c313ecc6'] | To be legal, or not to be legal..
LaST TiME oN NaRuto!!11!!1!!!,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
\--- "I bet you're naked underneath your clothing..." he growled
I looked flustered as i started stutarted stutterung words out "th-th-th-tht-ht-ht-ht-ht-th-th-thats... th-thats not t-t-t-t-t-t--t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t------------------------------rue!!!!" i cried
Prestyon giggled and looked at me "you shore about that?" he winked at me and all my clothes flew off again I gasped again
"you have a very vulumptious ass little boy" he purred as he walked slowly over to me i tried ot back away but teh stafge stopped me "please prstyon no!!!!! dont do it!" i cry as i sayid that
"its too late for apologies now bby mMax.." he giggled
"wai= wait!!! u r not prsstyon you... YOU ARE----" ---
...
“Daniel you gay motherfucker what the absolute fuck nipples!?!!” Daniel giigled and laughed vev loud “ajahahahhahahahahhahahahahahhahahahahahhahahahahahahahahalmao now ur naked with noone to help u!!!!!!!!111111” max ndcujdbuben and brethed heavoly “plz no ;O” Max rolled under daniels legs but clothes formed as he did that because he’s nto fucking gay. mMax begone ronning into the distacnce and ran up a rtree vertically “cum outt cum out where evea u are???!!!!!” daniel yelled at teh toap of hsi lungs as he stood right underfucingneath me “i can smell you lil boy, you smell…………..” he inhaled deeply thpriugh his nose and brethe oyt his mouth eavily “finge rlicking good” max blooshed and fell out the tree onto danielshead and yelled “eat my mc-fucking-nuggies Bitch!” mMax storted running agin befroe he ran into daniels knee “what teh fuck-” daniel oicked him up from teh hoodie and smorked “how’s about we make ll those fanfics true?” he purred and lecked his lips “no plz daniel!!!!1 i am no legal” daniel raised an eyebrw “not legal as in age? Or not legal citizen wise….?”
“.............. both.” max whispered with sahme Daniel frowned “i will make you legal?” daniel threw max into the air and wenked at him then he suddenly turned 16 years old “now u legal” daniel giggggles” “hwo old ami?” mamax says “you are 16 so i can pound ur patties now ;-)” max let out a mighty roar despite teh fact he a was a helpless shitbean ina cultists arm “we are in a america skunkrat! 16 is the legal age down under!!!!” daniel smirked again “imma enjoy taking yod ‘down under’, legal or not sweatie…” daniel winked and mmax becume completely nakid agaoin
Max :Oed and kissed daniel Daniel “eughed!!!!!11!” and threw max down wiping his lips “no homo bro wtf are you fucking gay???!?!?!?!?!1/11?” max starred nd whispered “ah fuck….. I can’t beleive youve done this…….” Daniel tilted his head and his neck cracked “why did you say that in a british accent?” max giggled and covered hsi mouth with three fingers like a fucked up geisha from a fucked up anime “because it will turn me 10 again!” daniel shoke his head “no” Daniel gasped as leaves lifted max into teh air turning his sexi boddi into a smol and not legal bodi, but dnaiel would still take him down under.
Max levited off of tehground so daniel and his faces were level, daniel pushed him against a tree and smorked again, hovering his lips right above the little boys he tehn proceede to whsiper “It’s 6 month lease...” Max xould feel teh hairs from daniels upper ip touching his “id ask if you were agy, but you a have a littel moustashe, so you are defineteely gay my man” daniel goosped an dropped max “O!” daniel covered his lips “i am senitive” max looked up at daniel and ficed his hoodie “taht explains why youre such a pussy then” Daniel :Oed at Max “WHAT?!?!?!?!?!!!?”
Max bite hsi ;lip and whsiperd “tahts why i wanna destroy u so bed ;)” he said seducedly………..
How does it end
?\
Find out next tiem on………………….. FaiRy TaLE!!!!!!!!!! |
0f2adae779cf4711afb7e86cdd3645d0 | ['01b4f299c28f415f85c454ef2a9309fc'] |
It's Nothing (if it's you)
**Author's Note:**
> Hello! This was written as a request on my Tumblr for a vampire au with jaeyong. I don't know why I decided to mash a vampire and doctor au together, but this is set in a modern setting where vampires are basically humans, they just have fangs and suck blood occasionally.
>
> Thank you for reading!
“Doctor Jaehyun, you’re being paged to room 305.” The loud monotone voice of the hospitals' receptionist rings out, breaking Jaehyun’s concentration on the boy in front of him. Sighing, he looks to the panting nurse underneath him, the only thing holding him up being Jaehyun’s strong grip on his waist. Being a doctor, especially a pediatrician didn’t leave much time for certain activities, so they improvised whenever they could.
Which is why they were both squished in a supply closet on one of the less populated levels of the hospital, shirts a mess and hair even messier. Sweat lined Taeyong’s hairline, Jaehyun was out of breath from the makeout session that was cut short. Both boys were disappointed, but they knew to expect it.
“Jaehyun,” Taeyong whined, hips wiggling in Jaehyun’s tight grip. His hands played with the hair on Jaehyun’s neck, making him melt into his touch.
“Babe, you know I have to go. Children call for their hero,” he chuckled, straightening out Taeyong’s shirt and hair, not even bothering with his own. “Just wait for me, I won’t be that long, it’s just a check-up.”
“Fine,” Taeyong sighed, accepting his fate. Yes, he was worked up and would love nothing more than Jaehyun to take him right here, but he knew they were both technically still on the clock. “I’ll go find something to do, maybe I can do rounds.” he thought out-loud, hand reaching for the door, pulling it open to walk out.
Before Taeyong got far, Jaehyun pulled him back against the wall next to the door, kissing him a little too messily to be a good goodbye kiss, but it made due. Jaehyun turned to go to room 305 while Taeyong had to stay back to catch his breath and make sure his emotions were under control. He was definitely too stressed for all of this.
Walking to his destination, Taeyong tries to think of things he can do. Not that he would willingly look for work any other day, but his workday was slow, and he had to wait for Jaehyun to finish his checkup. It wasn’t the best, but Taeyong figured it was better than leaving alone.
“Hey, Taeil. Do you have anything I can do, rounds maybe?” Taeyong asked as he neared the front desk which held all the records of the patients. Taeil was the receptionist working today, thankfully, for he was friends with Taeyong. More importantly, Taeil was also a vampire and understood Taeyong. Many people found it weird why a vampire would want to go into any type of doctor field, but the idea that vampires lose control any time they saw blood.
“You can take over Johnny’s rounds, I’m sure he won’t mind, anyways,” Taeil replied, handing Taeyong the clipboard with each patient's name and information on it. “Have fun, I guess” he smiled.
“I will.”
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
It’s way past midnight when Jaehyun finally finishes his surgery. He’s exhausted, so much that he could probably sleep right here, in the hospital itself. The surgery had carried on for four hours, complications kept the doctor and surrounding nurses working diligently the whole time.
It was just supposed to be a check-up, but what the nurse assigned to the little boy had found was scarier than they thought. They had to take immediate action or else the boy might’ve not lived until tomorrow.
After scrubbing out, Jaehyun worries about Taeyong. Whether he ate yet, whether he went home, how was doing in general. Taeyong was a resident, which meant he was in training to become a trained nurse, and his tasks that his boss assigned were hard on him.
Jaehyun finds Taeyong curled up in one of the beds in the hospital, chests rising with every light breath he took. It made Jaehyun’s heart warm at the boy he loved deeply, he still couldn’t believe Taeyong was his. However, he had to wake him up, because he knew they could not sleep in the hospital, not when they both had the next day off for once in what felt like years.
“Taeyong,” Jaehyun calls to the sleeping figure, “wake up, baby.” Taeyong shifts a bit but doesn’t wake up. Walking closer, Jaehyun sits down next to Taeyong, careful not to hurt him, “Baby.” he shook the other boy's shoulders.
“Hmm?” Taeyong sleepily mumbles, hands coming up to rub at his eyes. It’s cute, and Jaehyun will never get over seeing it every day. Standing up, Jaehyun picks him up bridal style, Taeyong’s head immediately falling onto Jaehyun’s shoulder. Taeyong presses tired kisses to his neck, a sign of thanks, as Jaehyun has come to know.
“We’ll go to my house, yeah?” Taeyong nodded, too tired to even try to argue against him, not that he would want to, anyway. Making their way downstairs, Jaehyun clocked out all while carrying Taeyong securely with him. It has almost become a common sight for the boyfriends that no one ever bats an eye at them. | 48b31dde250c4ab2a0d3f762afe88313 | ['01b4f299c28f415f85c454ef2a9309fc'] | waking up together
“shut the damn windows,” jaemin groaned, body heavy with sleep and the warmth that was currently barreling in their room in the form of the sun. he was spread out over the entire bed, sheets pooling at his waist from when he moved around in the morning. his face had a scowl on it, mostly from the sudden change in lighting. it hurt his eyes.
jeno chuckled. “the windows are shut, babe.” jaemin felt a dip in the bed before he was pulled by two arms securely around his waist. he could feel jeno’s chest meet his back. “could you perhaps mean the shades?” his smirk practically inserting itself into his words. jaemin turned his head and smacked jeno’s chest, the warmth of it seeping into his hand.
“yeah, you know what i meant, dumbass.” jaemin answered, nothing but sleep in his voice. he always took a significant amount of time to wake up in the mornings, especially on the weekends. it wasn’t unusual that he needed a lot of sleep, he was in college after all. it usually ended with a twenty-year old in jeno’s well-defined arms as he brought both of them to the kitchen for breakfast. the breakfast that jeno usually cooked as jaemin moaned about how hungry he was as he sat in one of the chairs surrounding the island.
jeno laughed at his ever endearing soulmate as he rolled around in the sheets like a dog. it was ironic considering he was a vampire–not a werewolf. jaemin eventually stopped, having enough of moving and laying in bed as his stomach growled loud enough for jeno to hear. he whined, arms reaching towards jeno to pick him up as he stared at him through his eyelashes.
jeno sighed heartedly before reaching down to pick up his lovely boyfriend. “you’re a literal baby, you know that?” he chuckled, to which jaemin only whined further into his shoulder. jeno was warm, and since jaemin had just been exposed to the morning air, he snuggled in further to gain some body heat. vampires were cold to the touch, that much was true, so they always wanted to be in warmer temperatures. it was another ironic thing jeno noticed, since vampires had the whole ‘allergic to sunlight’ stigma around them. you learn a lot when your boyfriend’s a vampire.
“jeno,” jaemin called, causing him stop mid walk. he looked down at the boy in his arms, eyes holding a twinkle in them. he raised an eyebrow, giving jaemin the okay to ask his question. “can you make-”
“pancakes,” jeno cut him off, still staring at him, “yeah, i can. anything for you, baby.” |
59866712ec5044ee94ab2ac38d4cadd2 | ['01c39c300dab447595ff17761fc68fa4'] | Maybe he was also right about Lucifer’s desire to belong again.
Truth to be told, Lucifer could sometimes see himself in broken, helpless things, courtesy of his dear old Dad and ever dearer siblings. But he would never get so low as to beg to be allowed back into Heaven. Heaven – to him – was like Hell to humans. He had been so, _so_ young, and already forced to be the perfect soldier, the perfect servant, with every personal opinion squashed and stomped on, with every desire for praise, for recognition, for free will - rejected.
But, very well, then. Broken bones were always the first step to being healed. And this time Lucifer was breaking them himself, setting them right. He didn’t need Michael’s pity to have a family. He already had one. The Detective, her Offspring, Miss Lopez, Mazikeen, Amenadiel, Linda, his nephew, and - the newest addition - Crowley. Family by choice, not blood. It was more than enough.
“Funny you mention that, Lucifer,” Michael spoke through his teeth, “because for someone trying so hard to prevent genocide on Earth, you’re a murderer yourself. How do you look in the mirror everyday and not see a monster staring back at you?”
The smile that appeared on Lucifer’s face was nothing short of radiant.
“Do I really need a mirror for that when you’re standing right in front of me, brother dearest?”
“Stop this.” Amenadiel spoke with authority in his voice. Lucifer had been protecting Chloe and their Mother, and so the blame wasn’t on him. It was on their Father for not intervening. For allowing that to happen. For abandoning them. “You weren’t there, Michael, you don’t know how or why it happened. And you’re not without blame yourself. Abducting me, my son, even Lucifer now? Trying to end the world itself? How is that _good?”_
“You’re not the one to speak about doing _good_, Amenadiel. You think we’re all blind and deaf here?” Michael tried to move forward only to be stopped by Lucifer blocking his path, sword raised higher now. “You tried to kill Lucifer yourself, didn’t you? You bedded a demon first, then you bedded a human. You did something Father specifically forbade – you’ve created a _mutt_,” he all but spat the last word, and that was all it took.
Lucifer was shoved away so forcefully that he crashed straight into the lap-of-luxury bookshelf - head first, sword hitting the floor with a metallic clatter, and the Devil following soon after it, books falling down on him.
And before Lucifer managed to do anything more than just to curse and push a particularly weighty tome off himself, Amenadiel was already on Michael, hitting him time after time without stopping or hesitation. As for Charlie, the child was wailing loudly, held in Aziraphale’s arms now. The angel in mention looked rather like a deer caught in the headlights because of the sudden transfer of the little Urchin to him.
“Ekhm, dear boy, don’t cry, I’m sure everything— everything will be quite alright.” Aziraphale rocked the baby uselessly for maybe about a minute before Crowley grabbed his shoulders and pushed him towards the door, hissing in clear distress. They didn’t have fucking time for that.
“Oh, for— _run_, for Hell’s sake, get the kid and run, Angel!”
It was the last possible, and – fortunately – successful chance for Aziraphale to escape with the child, because not even five seconds later Michael opened his mouth, and all Hell and Heaven broke loose.
Lucifer rammed the sword into the floor just as Crowley hit the nearest wall with the metal pipe, pulling it upwards at the last second. The explosion of light and fire was stopped in time for a short moment before it blew up in everyone’s faces with condensed power.
*-*
Gabriel could say he expected a lot of things both in and from his life. Promotion, promotion, and well, _another_ promotion were on the very top of the list. Maybe it was a little bit self-centered, but, really, he always thought he’d make a good ruler of the heavenly host. When their Father had distanced Himself, not talking to the angels anymore, too busy with other worlds, and Amenadiel had left for Earth, busy with Lucifer, it had been Gabriel’s chance. He and Michael had taken on the role of the leaders. It had been… good. Not ideal, but good.
Then the Almighty had disappeared completely, and the opportunity to rule _everything_ had showed up. It had been perfect – their Father had mentioned wanting to destroy worlds after being finished with their story, and the signs of the upcoming Apocalypse had been there, too, actually. Automatic summoning of the Horsemen caused by God vanishing, the Child being born – well, that one had needed just a teeny tiny twist, since the kid wasn’t _Lucifer’s_, but, really, Gabriel had been more than happy to do that. A perfectly good nephilim was still a perfectly good nephilim, after all.
After Heaven’s inevitable win, Gabriel would be ruling all three realms – Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Not too much work, considering that all humans and demons would have been dead by that time, anyway.
Then, of course, Lucifer had gone and thrown a spanner in the works.
However, well, everything that was happening now, still wasn’t… bad. Lucifer had been publicly defeated and judged, and now he would take care of Michael’s idea of letting their Father out. Gabriel couldn’t go against the other archangel himself, unfortunately, not officially. But, even if Gabriel didn’t end up ruling Heaven properly now, he still would end up alive and not fallen. He’d take it. | 81eaf96368e242a2a9a41b3180f17da3 | ['01c39c300dab447595ff17761fc68fa4'] | Linda was sitting at her desk, sipping coffee and flipping through some papers. She still needed to write down her notes on the latest patient, but it didn’t mean she _actually_ was eager to do it. Not to mention that when Amenadiel had returned home last night (after being gone for like three days straight and scaring her to death because of that; and yes, he was going to pay for her hairdresser next time, she had found two more silver strands this morning!), he mentioned that Lucifer might be popping over to see her. Apparently he’d been through some serious trauma and needed her help to deal with it properly.
“Poor Lucifer…” The doctor sighed to herself, too busy with the paperwork to hear the door opening quietly.
“Ah, yes, speak of the me.” The Devil stuck his head through the door with a sheepish smile on his face. “Hello, doctor.”
Linda jumped in her chair, startled, and pressed her hand to the chest, eyes wide. She _was_ going to have a heart attack one of these days.
“Lucifer!”
“I thought we already established that _yes_ , this is me, hi.” Lucifer greeted her again, already making his way to the couch, with absolutely no regards for Linda’s lunch break. She wasn’t… she wasn’t surprised, not at this point. “Can we start our session now?”
“We don’t have a session right now, Lucifer.” Linda cleared her throat. She put her hands on the desk, palms pressed flat to the surface, willing herself to behave calmly. “Why don’t you book one first?”
“Hard to book anything from another universe.” Lucifer smiled at her while he grabbed a handful of jelly beans, although there was no usual cheerfulness in that smile. It was like he was going through the motions. “Can you make an exception this time, doctor? Please?” He added _please_ almost like a magic word, with boyish charm and all.
Linda looked at Lucifer with barely hidden sympathy in her kind eyes, reminded of the time he admitted his hatred for himself. Somehow it felt like there was even more to unpack, now.
“Okay.” Linda nodded slowly, and Lucifer’s face lit up. “Okay. Tell me what happened. You said something about another universe. So— we have parallel universes now? Is that a thing?”
“Wish it wasn’t.” Lucifer shrugged as he popped one gummy bear into his mouth. “But yes, and apparently dear old Dad is a struggling writer. And repetitive, too, I mean… kicking me out of Heaven in every single one of His stories?” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “I think He really hates me. But honestly, doctor, what’s to hate here?” He motioned to himself. “I’m perfect!”
“Why do you think God hates you?” Linda decided to ignore Lucifer’s attempt at avoiding the subject. She assumed that maybe he had met another version of himself or heard about his counterpart’s fate. She wasn’t prepared to see raw pain in Lucifer’s brown, entirely too human eyes.
“I don’t know, doctor,” he drawled out. “But maybe the fact that He ripped out my wings to _remind me of my place_ , sent me a vision of the Detective with her throat _cut open_ as a warning, made me kneel and _thank_ Him for not killing me, took away my freedom, humiliated me, broke my spine, and _killed me_ …”
“Whoa!” Linda’s eyes grew wide. “Your Father _killed_ you? Is that a- a metaphor or something?”
“Oh no, quite literally.” Lucifer grinned. “My aunt brought my back to life and fixed my body, improving it without my consent. She made me into a weapon.” He added with a grimace twisting his lips. “So much for deciding myself who I am or want to be.”
“You still can decide who you are, Lucifer. It’s not how you’re made – it’s what you do with that, how you behave, how you choose your actions.” Linda told him gently, trying not to focus on the fact that Lucifer apparently had an aunt now. “Your aunt can’t make these decisions for you.”
“Decisions like using my new _abilities_ to imprison my Dad? To _kill_ my brother?” Lucifer asked bitterly. “To be the worst family member to ever exist? Because here I am, a killer, walking the earth?”
Linda held up her hand, confused. It was _way_ too much too fast for her to process.
“Slow down, Lucifer. Are we talking about Uriel again?”
“No, doctor, _keep up!_ See, I killed yet another one of my siblings. This time it was Michael. Yes, yes, _the_ Archangel Michael, Warrior against All Evil, Voice of God, et cetera, et cetera.” Lucifer pointed to himself. “Oh, and I’m All Evil, of course. I mean, _I_ don’t think that, not anymore, I had some kind of epiphany while I was tortured—are you proud of me?” He smiled again, hopeful. Linda nodded, too stunned to form actual words. Lucifer had been… tortured? “But Michael thought that I was and he tried very hard – like, seriously, A+ for effort here – to reform me.”
“He tortured you…?”
“Fun times, I know.”
“Lucifer, that’s… _How long?_ ”
“Seven years.”
Linda couldn’t help herself – she covered her mouth in horror. So when Amenadiel had told her about the trauma… It was even worse than she had originally thought. But Lucifer was sitting here, trying his best to smile normally, _act_ normally, how was it even possible?
“Lucifer…”, she started softly. “You’re _remarkably_ strong. If I am to be honest, you’re the strongest person I know.”
“ _Ooh,_ compliments! I like that, doctor, keep going.”
“No, Lucifer, I’m serious. Many people would break – and quite understandably – after living through such an experience. Quite a literal hell, actually. It would took them _years_ to be able to act like you do, _right_ now.”
Lucifer looked away from her honest face, his own grim.
“ _Stop_.”
“You need to realize your own strength, Lucifer. Embrace it and use it to move forward.” |
31fae080ea84433cbd17fed90a6917fb | ['01e156e241e34bd881661872aec0f95f'] |
I don't have any problem with Connor kissing guys if it's me he's kissing
Gavin knew a lot of things. He knew he was good looking. He knew Connor was gay. He knew he was alright with gay people. And most importantly, he knew he was straight. So what didn't make sense was the feeling of disgust that erupted in his stomach and throat as he walked in on Connor making out with some man on the couch. He was tall with dark skin and heterochromatic eyes, and the first thing that left his lips was a loud, "What the phck?!" Connor jolted away, cheeks a dark red as he looked at Gavin with wide eyes.
"Oh, I'm sorry Gavin. I wasn't aware you were going to be home so soon. I thought you would be home at four." Gavin's eye twitched in annoyance.
"It is phckin' four you dipshit. Just.. finish up or whatever, we've gotta go meet my brother for dinner." And then Gavin was hurrying off to his room. He was embarrassed just as much as Connor was, waiting until his roommate knocked on his door. It happened more often than Gavin would like to admit. The next time he'd seen him with another guy, man named Rupert, was when they were kissing in the kitchen. He'd scurried off just as quickly as he did the first time. The third time he'd been a bit snappy as Simon ran out without his shirt on, more embarrassed than Connor or Gavin. Their friendship seemed to be taking a hit, especially since Gavin's disgust seemed to grow more and more obvious. They barely even talked, save for anything work-related, but even that would be kept brief. The fourth time it happened, everything seemed to finally boil over. The man named Daniel had been in the process of leaving. Gavin said something rather rude despite the blonde man's polite attitude. Once he was gone, Connor was frowning in great disapproval.
"Gavin, why are you being such an asshole? You've done this every time I've had a guy over!" Gavin couldn't find the words to respond, but Connor was already popping off with another question.
"Do you have a problem with me sleeping with guys?"
"No! No... Of course, I don't." Though his answer only seemed to anger Connor more.
"You shouldn't even complain since you used to be all affectionate with your fuck buddy all the time. At least I made an effort to keep it hidden!" Gavin deflated a little. He hadn't messed around with Stacy in months, having broken off their fuck buddy relationship a while ago. They were still friends at least.
"Yeah, you're right... Look, I'm sorry Con... Just had a rough day is all... Look, I don't care who you sleep with, I normally never do, but today was just a lot." Connor grew more upset before finally marching to the door. He yanked his jacket off the coat rack, putting it on aggressively.
"I'm going to my friend's place." Gavin could only manage a defeated, 'Okay' as Connor turned the knob. He then gave one last look at Gavin, hurt evident in those brown doe eyes of his.
"And you'll be okay if I sleep with him as long as I do it at his place and not ours, right?" Those feelings of disgust turned into knots in his stomach as he stared Connor down.
"Look, it's none of my business what you do at someone else's place, okay Con?" Connor just gave a little nod before leaving, and that just made Gavin feel even worse. The night dragged on, and Gavin was almost hurt when he realized Connor wasn't coming to hang out with Chris and Tina like they'd all planned to do. He never blew him off like this. He'd always send some apology text with a stupid dog meme, but now it was silence on his end. Gavin wanted to send texts, but he knew it'd only drive Connor away even more. For fuck's sake, he'd just sat there and made him feel like he was judging Connor for sleeping with guys. Tina suggested sharing his thoughts with Reddit, maybe they could help with these strange feelings. And so, with nothing better to do, he typed his story.
'How do I deal with this? I've never been homophobic but I've suddenly developed some kind of homophobia where just the idea of my roommate's sex life makes me uncomfortable. And I don't react like this to other gay people either, it's just Con. I don't know if this means I'm only okay with gay people as long as I'm not living with them or what. Does anyone else have experience with this? I want to get over myself and stop whatever this is, but if I can't then I'm going to have to leave since the last thing I want to do is hurt Con, and if I stay here and keep automatically judging him for his lifestyle that's what's going to happen.
'tl;dr Roommate is gay. I am not but I thought I was okay with him being gay until I realized I feel crappy when I see him with other guys and it's started to affect our friendship. How to deal with this/stop being such a dick?' Gavin kept refreshing the page, waiting for some sort of answer or reply to his problems. And eventually, there were responses. Claims that perhaps it wasn't disgust that he felt, that it was jealous that was making him act like such a dick to Connor. But, what was he jealous of? Well, that part became clear when he shared the post with Tina, not sure what else to do. Tina gave him a big grin as she read through the post and the comments of people attempting to help.
"Oh my fucking god, you have a crush." Gavin went bug-eyed at her.
"What???" Tina's grin grew even wider.
"You wanna be with Connor. You're jealous because you're not the one kissing Connor." Tina seemed over the moon at the fact, and it left Gavin's head swimming. Was he really so oblivious to his own sexuality? He'd always been into girls, but he guessed there were times when he'd find himself staring at some hot guy at the store, or watch a runner go by for a second longer than appropriate and... Fuck, he was gay. Or at least bisexual. This realization was enough for him to be brave, texting Connor after Tina had left. He asked him to meet him at a cafe, which was responded with a thumbs up emoji. Fuck, could Gavin even do this?
He had no time to really debate, getting ready for the sudden prompting to go to a cafe (was this a date?) and actually took the time to make an effort on his appearance. He took a quick shower and wore a nice button up he rarely wore. Though he didn't leave without his trademark jacket. He took the walking route from the cafe, not wanting to bother getting his motorcycle or car, and just wanting the cold to sober him up a bit. His heart raced at the thought of seeing Connor. How was he gonna survive if just thinking about him made him this nervous?
Gavin was almost thankful when he didn't see Connor immediately, ordering a coffee for himself and one of Gavin's favorite treats from the place. It was thirty minutes later when Connor showed up, and Gavin gave a small smile before waving him over. Connor looked tired.
"Hey... Sorry for calling you here so suddenly, but... I... I wanna talk about us." Connor tensed a little, seeming to expect that Gavin was about to kick him out.
"So... I'm not as straight as I thought I was... And I might be just uh... Just a little jealous of... All those men you keep bringing home-" Connor's expression turned into one of shock, and then to a big dorky grin that made those pretty brown eyes crinkle in the most delightful manner.
"Holy shit, I'm-- I've been trying to flirt with you because it was obvious you weren't totally straight, but you refused to see otherwise-- I-- Shit, I can't believe I actually made you jealous-" Connor looked absolutely giddy, face flushed a soft red as he grinned at Gavin.
"Wait, you-- You were trying to make me jealous?" Gavin asked in disbelief. Connor nodded, and Gavin couldn't help but laugh and shake his head.
"God... We're both phckin' disasters..." Connor grinned wider, suddenly hugging Gavin. Gavin hesitated, but he soon returned the hug, heart fluttering as he felt this was right to have Connor in his arms. And so, the rest of the afternoon was spent with Gavin gaining Connor as his boyfriend. The subreddit was updated with his proud message of finally having Connor as his, detailing their first proper date and how they had kissed for the first time. Connor was nice to kiss as he didn't make it awkward or point out that Gavin was kissing his first man, rather, treating it like it was the most casual thing and lead it through it like it was his first time. He even dared to snap a picture of them together, cuddled close with Gavin's therapy cat curled up on them while Connor's laughing face bashfully tried to obscure his face from the photo as Gavin grinned wide. Gavin was pleased he'd gone to Reddit and his friend Tina to figure out his weird feelings towards Connor because he learned much more about himself and got himself the best boyfriend he could ask for in return. | 9577a1575ca34c90945361daf4a9d9be | ['01e156e241e34bd881661872aec0f95f'] | Daniel pulled his thumb out, sliding two fingers inside, easily stretching Connor's hole. He wasn't made for such use, and yet his body reacted like he was. Noises of all varieties spilled past those sinful lips, filling the night air with the sound. The SWAT team watched on, amused that the police forces lap dog was already being put in his place, by a deviant no less. The snipers were taking careful aim, trying to keep their focus on Daniel, but it was difficult as he brutally finger fucked Connor. Connor just wanted them to take the damn shot, to give his flustered nerves a break. Daniel's hands stopped for a fleeting moment, making the RK800 wonder if he was done, that they were taking aim now, but a rather hard length started to push in. Connor's back arched, legs spread wide as he took it all for Daniel. His words were just broken static, struggling to even think what he wanted to say. Daniel moved his hips once he was in. Connor didn't need adjusting, seeing as he wasn't human.
His thrusts were heavy, striking deep inside Connor in a way that made his optics glitch and made him metaphorically see stars. He wasn't going to last long, his cheek scraping across the ground. It was rubbed raw, the chassis revealed as it scratched and punctured, blue staining the ground below them.
"D-Daniel-- I wasn't made for this--" He protested, whining sharply as he hit a spot inside him that appeared particularly sensitive. It was most likely an ending point on his nerve lattice, much like how they did at his fingertips. Connor's noises grew louder, making Daniel laugh darkly.
"You certainly feel like it." He grunted, continuing to thrust when a sudden warmth covered Connor's back. For a moment, Connor thought Daniel had came, but the cock in him was still there, growing more flaccid by the second. The smell of synthetic blood told him the sniper had finally done his damn job. Connor slowly pulled the deviant's dick out of his ass, slowly standing up. His legs were lagging, making him tremble like a newborn deer as he approached the apartments again. The looks he was given were of a mixed result, some still giving that sick grin while others politely looked away. Captain Allen made a comment, either congratulating or degrading, Connor wasn't sure. He just knew he was ready to head back to Cyberlife for matienance and then head to meet his new partner. That is if he could find him.
2. Partners
Jimmy's bar. The outside was old and run down, nothing too eye-catching as the neon light flickered. They'd need to replace the filaments soon, or just have a light that read 'Jmm's ba' for as long as the other lights lived. Connor walked in, scanning faces until he finally came across the man he was looking for. Lieutenant Hank Anderson. He approached the other, a strained smile on his face. Though he was advanced, his facial movements were not.
"Lieutenant Hank Anderson? My name is Connor, I'm the android sent by Cyberlife. I was lucky to find you at the fifth bar." Hank grunted, mostly ignoring the android at this point. Several options came to light.
"I have come to collect you seeing as I am your partner. We have been called in to analyze a recent homicide." Again, Hank just grunted, muttering something about Androids under his breath. There wasn't much Connor could do, so he did the most reasonable thing he could think of. Spill Hank's drink. The older man shot up, hissing as he glared down at the shorter android.
"You fuckin' prick!" Connor just kept that stupid smile on his face.
"I am glad I have finally gotten your attention, Lieutenant."
"Attention? Alright, out-fucking-side right now-" Connor did as he was told, feeling the heat of an inebriated and angry Hank behind him. Connor was pleased Hank was finally leaving the bar, waiting to be lead to his car. Though confusion laced his expression as he was lead to an alleyway instead.
"Lieutenant? I do not believe your vehicle is here," Hank groaned, suddenly shoving him against a wall, hands fisting the fabric of his shirt roughly.
"Oh shut the fuck up and get on your knees," He let go the front of his shirt, watching as Connor obediently got on his knees. He looked like a confused puppy. Why did Hank want him on his knees? The ground was dirty, darkened snow and stray garbage littering the ground around them. It wasn't something Connor would have done unless there was a reason. Those big brown eyes looked up at Hank, and it made the older man groan. Fuck. Hank could drown in those eyes, but that was probably just the alcohol talking.
"Open your mouth." Hank's voice was throaty, guttural almost, and he almost moaned as Connor did just as he was instructed. Those plush, silicone lips were just begging to have a dick on them. Hank gripped Connor's chin, pushing his thumb into his down to pin his tongue down in his mouth. Connor's analysis showed him traces of natural salt and scotch that was too watered down to properly name the brand. Connor's brows furrowed, the android's confusion growing more and more. Hank groaned, a hand suddenly reaching down for his zipper before pulling it down. His dick shouldn't have been as hard as he was, but this fucker needed a lesson. He pulled his cock out, watching as Connor went cross-eyed to look down his nose at the thick member now hovering in front of his face. Hank was rather big to be blunt. His dick was long and thick, definitely enough to please the pickiest of lovers, but not to injury. |
34dc752981734c1c86785f70fb8478d2 | ['01ee8996a28245eb9c31b90512cd0cad'] |
Too Drunk to Remember
**Author's Note:**
> This took me longer to edit than to write. Ugh, I fucking hate editing.
There was a knock on the window to Ellie’s bedroom. Her hand instinctively went to the pocket in which she kept her switch knife and she jumped from her bed, ready to defend herself if needed.
But when Ellie looked in the direction of the window instead of a threat she saw a grinning Dina who then waved at her. “Help a girl out.” came her voice, muffled from the closed window.
Ellie's hand immediately returned the knife inside her pocket and she moved to the window. “Hey.” Ellie greeted her. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you I would be coming over, dumbass.” Dina told her not at all helpfully and switched her weight between her feet impatiently. “Open up.”
The roof was so very steep and Dina was not being careful at all and it made Ellie’s heart skip a beat in fear at the thought of what would happen if Dina fell. “I know.” Ellie opened the window and helped her up as carefully as she could. “But why are you coming in from the window and not the front door.”
“Because,” Dina said and raised her hand in which she held a dark bottle, shook it and listened to the sloshing sound it made. “I’m smuggling this.” she pushed it towards Ellie until she took it and Dina moved to sit on the bed, making sure to hit her shoulder against Ellie’s on her way there.
“How are you going to leave? Joel is downstairs.” Ellie sat next to her and struggled to open the cap.
“The same way I came in.” Dina told her like it was the most obvious thing.
“That's dangerous, you might break something.” Ellie told her, very careful to not let her voice sound too concerned.
“Good to know that you’re underestimating my climbing skills. Again.”
“I'm not, I just don’t want you to die.” Ellie shrugged, trying for casual.
“So nice of you,” Dina grinned at her.
Ellie finally succeeded in opening the bottle, she sniffed it and grimaced at the strong smell. ”Did you steal this?”
“I would never.” she winked and took the bottle out of Ellie’s grasp, taking a sniff herself. “Wow! Smells like poison.” She then took a big gulp out of the bottle, coughing a bit after it. “Tastes like poison too.”
“Where did you get it?” Ellie asked her, accepting the bottle from Dina.
“I was owed a favor. Now drink up.” Dina helped Ellie bring the bottle up to her lips and drink from it. So thoughtful of her. “We need to be drunk for this.”
“What kind of favor?”
“If I tell you I would have to kill you,” she laughed. “But I promise I didn’t steal it, I would never,” Dina reassured her and pushed the bottle towards her mouth again. “Drink.”
“Why?” Ellie asked her, no longer concerned with where the booze came from. Rather with what it was, she wouldn’t want to be vomiting her guts out in half an hour. “You sure that it's not gonna kill me?” But she didn’t wait for an answer as she took a bigger gulp this time, coughing as the alcohol burned down her throat.
“Only one way to find out,” Dina told her and laughed at Ellie’s horrified expression. “I’m joking don’t worry.”
“Why do we have to be drunk?”
“Because I've always wanted to play truth or dare like in those old movies and there they're always drunk there so I thought that we should be too.”
Ellie felt her heart skip a beat at the thought of what usually happened in those movies. How the characters often got to kiss their crushes. She could do that, but only if she had the courage which seemed unlikely.
She felt like dizzy and not because of the vile taste and effects of the unknown liquid in the bottle.
“So,” Dina drawled. “What do you say?”
“Just the two of us?” Ellie asked just in case she got something wrong.
“Yeah, it's gonna be more fun that way,” she smiled at Ellie. “No one to annoy us.”
Ellie failed to see how it would be fun with less people. People didn’t say the more the merrier in vain. “Okay,” Ellie agreed because honestly she could never say no to Dina. She didn't want to either.
“Good,” Dina said, her smile turning into a bright grin that made Ellie's heart speed up. She stood up from the bed and sat on the ground, her back propped up against the bed. “Come here,” she patted the spot next to her. “We can also spin the bottle to make it more fun.”
Ellie barely contained her eye roll, they didn't have to spin a bottle if it was just the two of them, but she didn’t say anything, just followed Dina's orders and sat on the floor.
“I'll even let you go first.” She took the bottle and placed it on the floor in front of them. “Just spin it and ask me ‘truth or dare'.”
This time Ellie couldn’t contain her eye roll because she had watched those movies with Dina and she knew very well what she was supposed to do. “I know, dumbass.”
“Good for you, now go before I change my mind.” Dina took her hand and put it on the bottle.
Focus on the game, Ellie, and not on Dina’s hand on your own.
“Okay, okay.” Ellie took better hold of the bottle and spun it. It didn’t quite land on Dina. It didn’t land on anyone really. “Shit.” Ellie was already reaching for it to spin it again. | 3a28121084374e4baf644cc6b1ce0a80 | ['01ee8996a28245eb9c31b90512cd0cad'] | “The worst thing about all of this is that I didn’t die with her,” Ellie said, her face pressed against Dina’s sweater. It smelled so much like her and it comforted Ellie a bit. “She was the coolest person I have ever met.” Tears were silently rolling down her face, but she didn’t make a noise, hoped Dina wouldn’t notice. If she wasn’t this drunk she wouldn’t have cried or at least that’s what she told herself. “I loved her so much, I think I still do.” Ellie bunched her hands in the worn fabric of Dina’s sweater and pulled her closer. “I only ever got to kiss her once.”
Dina didn’t say anything, just hugged her tighter. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this Ellie.”
“Yeah, of course.” Her nose was running so she decided that she should blame it on the alcohol, she could blame everything on it. She blamed the tears on it too. “You’re my best friend, I trust you like a lot.” she tried to sniff quietly because it was getting hard to breathe. Of course she failed to so now Dina must have figured out Ellie had been crying if she didn’t know already. “I’m sorry, must be getting a cold,” she lied because she didn’t want Dina to know.
Dina didn’t laugh, didn’t even tease her about it and Ellie was grateful. “Now tell me about something that makes you happy.”
“It’s not my turn,” Ellie complained.
“I make the rules so yeah it is,” Dina reminded, her hot breath hitting the side of Ellie’s face.
“This town,” Ellie didn’t even have to think about it. If someone had asked her this a few years back she wouldn’t have been able to come up with anything, not even if she had hours to think about it. “And all the alive people in it, the animals, even the stupid vegetables.” Ellie wanted to add something else, something that could possibly mean trouble. But she was drunk and crying on her crush’s shoulder so what could go wrong. “And my best friend too.”
“Is that me or do you have a secret best friend you haven’t told me about?” Dina teased her and Ellie laughed. She pulled away from the hug and wiped her tears as discreetly as she could, which wasn’t much considering that they were sitting side by side and were facing each other.
“Yeah, it’s you,” Ellie laughed. “Though sometimes I wonder why.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Dina faked an offended face and turned away from her dramatically. It was so ridiculous that it made Ellie laugh again. “I’m a very good friend I’ll have you know.”
“Okay, fine, you are,” Ellie gave up and waited for Dina’s smug smile which she knew would come inevitably to add, “but only when you’re drunk.”
This time Dina’s offended face seemed very real and Ellie had only that moment of realization before the air was knocked out of her lungs as Dina tackled her and they both fell on the floor. “You’re such an asshole, Ellie.”
“You know me so well,” Ellie’s laugh was cut short when Dina’s elbow hit her ribs and made her yelp. “Don’t hit a drunk person.” Ellie tried to push her away, but couldn’t quiet do it because Dina was persistent and Ellie was laughing too hard. “That must be some kind of rule.”
“It is, but only if you don’t know the drunk person,” Dina told her and Ellie shrieked again, trying to roll on her side to avoid anything that might come her way. “But if said drunk is your annoying best friend that is yet again very annoying then you can do whatever you want.”
“Dina, stop making up rules,” Ellie complained, finally on her side she hugged her knees to stop Dina from trying anything else.
“Fine, but if I’m drunk and you’re drunk too then we are equal and I can do whatever I want.”
“You’re very smart when you’re drunk.” Ellie sat up when she knew Dina had given up. “But you know, only when you’re drunk.” Dina rolled her eyes hard and it made Ellie grin.
“And you’re very smiley,” Dina said and watched as Ellie’s smile turned in a frown. Ellie knew what followed, but she still rolled her eyes in protest. “But you know, only when you’re drunk.”
“You’re a fucking dumbass.” Ellie tried to stand up, but stumbled drunkenly and gave up. “But like always, not only when you’re drunk.” Ellie let herself fall against the floor, groaning when the pain from the fall came. She had kind of forgotten about that. About gravity.
“You too.” Dina stood up gracefully and Ellie was jealous. Fuck her and her long not clumsy even when she’s drunk legs. She sat on Ellie’s bed and stretched.
Did Dina always have such long, graceful legs?
Ellie’s belly stirred strangely and she thought that it maybe meant that she was going to vomit.
Ellie was too drunk to argue with Dina so she sat up and extended her arms. “Help me up.”
Dina rolled her eyes and muttered something to herself. Maybe about how she was such a great friend, which was true, but Ellie wasn’t about to admit it. Dina helped her up and led her to the side of the bed, made her sit on it.
“Thank you for playing the game with me, Ellie,” Dina said and why was her smile always so brilliant and why did it make Ellie feel happier and lighter? “It’s late so I’m gonna go.” She pushed Ellie until she was laying down and wrestled the blanket from underneath her until Ellie was no longer laying on it.
“You aren’t gonna go through the window though, right?” Ellie asked because even though Dina was graceful even when she was drunk Ellie didn’t want her to have to climb through the window again. |
bf7a50d123e84c1fb77c645d7a8f1cee | ['01efa0d83b064e999d9ad164a8c1196b'] | “Nice to meet you guys!” You clasped your hands together. “Well, I’m almost done with cleaning up all the trays that were left behind as well as with pushing the chairs back in place, so let’s have Midoriya-kun and Iida-kun can finish that up. Uraraku-san, you can wipe off all of the tables. The boys can go help you when they’re done. I’ll mop up the floor.”
They nodded and went on with their respective tasks faster than you could say, “Now go to work.”
You were ashamed at how much faster these kids were then you. You were still getting the hang of professional cleaning, but it was still your job. It dawned on you how inefficient you were when you compared yourself to these kids.
When you were almost done, Midoriya-kun came to you with a certain sparkle in his eyes. He seemed excited about something. “If you don’t mind me asking,” He began. “I can’t help but notice that I’ve never seen you around before.”
“Oh, I just started after all. But I guess I’m just as new as you guys, aren’t I?” You nervously wiped the floor some as if that would hide your inexperience.
“Erm, that’s not what I meant, actually,” He scratched the back of his head.
You blinked in confusion. “I can’t imagine that I would’ve met you before, I just moved here after all.”
“So you were active in another region?”
You were even more confused now, before Iida-kun said plainly, “He wants to know your hero name.”
Midoriya-kun let out a nervous “I guess,” and you honestly didn’t know what to answer.
“Oh- err, well,” You leaned heavily on your mop looking for an answer. “I’m not actually. A hero…” You didn’t want to disappoint him, but you weren’t about to lie to him either.
“You’re not?” asked Uraraka-san from the other side of the cafeteria. She had been listening in. “Huh, I thought all the teachers at U.A. were pro-heroes.”
“Well, I’m just the cleaning lady after all.” You answered sheepishly as you wringed out your mop. “I’m not teaching anybody, so I don’t need to be.”
Iida-kun and Midoriya-kun gave each other a look. “Even Lunchrush is a pro-hero. U.A. is famous for only hiring pro-heros.” Iida-kun said factually. “Infamous almost.”
“I guess they just changed that rule.” Uraraka said as she had come closer. “It’s a weird rule anyway, don’t ya think?”
“I don’t think it really was an official written rule to begin with.” Midoriya-kun said.
You were surprised to hear about this unwritten rule. It was natural that these students knew more about the inner workings of the school than you did, since they had probably conducted thorough research before coming here, but it still shocked you to know that you were this much of an anomaly in this school.
“I don’t think it was. I knew somebody who knows the principle so it just kind of worked out for me.” You thought out loud. The kids looked at you with an interested expression. Which made you flush. “It doesn’t matter to you kids anyway,” You huffed.
“Besides, I know other people that work here that are quirkless as well,” You thought about Yagi-san. “So it can’t be that much of a exception.” There fell a silence. “Now get back to work!” You said a bit louder as you noticed that you three had just been standing around talking.
Uraraka-san and Iida-kun hurried back to wiping off the tables, but Midoriya-kun stared at you with a curious expression. “You mean to say that you’re quirkless?”
“Huh? Oh, err, effectively, yes.” You didn’t feel like explaining it to him. He had a very wondrous expression on his face, so it made a bigger impact on him than you thought it would. You heard that quirkless kids were more rare than ever nowadays, so he had probably never met somebody that was. Not that he had met somebody that was now, since you weren’t quirkless.
You went back to mopping the last corner to avoid his gaze.
You were finally done after another half an hour and now the cafeteria was looking neater than ever. You thanked the kids and they hurried home. Your job had just about started, so you headed towards the next area.
On your way there you passed a cleaning robot that was waxing the floor. You had yet to meet any of the other cleaning staff, even though you knew they were there. Some cleaning work can’t be done by robots after all.
You thought to yourself that you might as well ask Lunchrush about them the next time you saw him. You wondered if the others were pro-heroes. Somehow you wished that they weren’t, that would make you feel a bit better. Well, you’d always have Yagi-san if they were. Maybe he felt just as singled out as you felt just now.
You knew those kids hadn’t meant any harm with their words, but it did make you think about stuff you had previously ignored.
Maybe you would feel better if you could talk about it with Yagi-san, but you didn’t want to bother him.
He was busy after all.
10. Chapter 10
Your hands felt clammy against the steering wheel as you sped along the empty road. You wondered when the sweat would cause you to loose control of the wheel as you gripped it even tighter. You knew you weren’t authorised to ride along this road, which made you more wary than you already were. The road to USJ wasn’t one without end, you knew that for a fact, but it felt as if you were trying to get to Hokkaido, all the way from Okinawa.
Your heart leapt off of an emotional diving board as you could see it in the distance. Police cars surrounded USJ, along with an assortment of policemen, students and teachers. So something really had happened… | c5dc50a5a8e447fd83eb86444977df3a | ['01efa0d83b064e999d9ad164a8c1196b'] |
1. Nightmares
Shadows and lights danced before your eyes. You were floating within your own mind, peacefully and quietly. Soon you were right next besides your dear parents, just the three of you. Your heart filled with warmth. This was so rare… Your parents were always so busy. Your father gently petted your head and your mother gave you a loving smile. You knew they treasured you, as much as you loved them in return.
All of a sudden they were gone and in place were the shadows above you. It got bigger and took shape as panic began to fill you at the sight of it. You jolted awake when bright red eyed opened to stare down at you with pure aggression.
“____?” Now you realized that it was Sidon’s figure that towered over you, but instead of malice, his eyes was filled with worry. His still wet figure was dropping water on you, causing you to wake up further with slightly hot cheeks. “You are quite a heavy sleeper, aren’t you?”
You slowly sat up, embarrassed to have fallen asleep in such a place. “Oh, I’m sorry, your highness.” You warily scanned your surroundings. The rock you were sitting on was gently shone upon by the sun, making it warm and comfortable to lie on. You had no doubt fallen asleep because of this while waiting for the Prince to arrive.
“No need to apologize my friend,” Sidon said as he stepped back into the river to give you space. You replied with an absent-minded nod. He kept himself submerged up until his eyes, with his headtail laid out flat on the water behind him. It was as comical as it was adorable, but it failed to make you smile at the moment. “____.” He hesitantly called out your name.
“Hmm?” Your eyes snapped back to his. You scooted closer to the river to properly look him in the eyes.
“You seem distracted, is something the matter?”
“What? Oh, nothing! It was just the dream I was having, but it doesn’t bother me much, I swear.” You lied. You knew he could tell, but he stayed silent.
“Alright then,” He dropped the subject as to keep the mood a friendly one. Instead he gave you a toothy smile, baring his fangs in the friendliest way possible. “So, is today the day I can show you the artistry that is Zora’s Domain?”
You sighed; he kept suggesting this every time you met up. “No, I’m afraid not. I told you before; if I don’t return before it’s dark my parents will throw a fit.”
Sidon smiled gently. “They must care a lot about you…” The image of your parents beside you in your dream flashed into your head, giving you chills despite the pleasant weather.
Sidon noticed you shiver and frowned. “How about we go for a walk?” he suggested in attempts to cheer you up. Once again you gave a weak nod and you started walking along the river in opposite direction of Zora’s Domain. Sidon followed with a pout, which amused you.
“Oh, I know what your plan was, you sneaky prince,” You teased as you looked down on his swimming figure. “You thought that if we walked in the right direction, you could still persuade me with words like “Oh, well it isn’t far now” or “we might as well head to the Domain by now!”” You giggled at him guilty-as-charged face.
“It was worth a try,” He admitted with a shrug.
Your teasing attitude changed to a more honest one. “Oh, prince Sidon, you know I’d love to visit, but it’s just too far. I’d never be home on time. I seriously believe you when you say it’s pretty.”
Sidon nodded. “As you should. One day I’ll take you, even if I have to kidnap you.” His joke made you smile, which relieved him. Nobody wanted to see their friend sad.
“I don’t think that will be good for your reputation, your royal highness,” you finished your sentence with a theatrical bow, which was much even for you. He playfully splashed you with water, causing you to laugh. He felt accomplished in the way he seemed to be cheering you up.
You always properly addressed him as “Prince Sidon” or “Your highness”, despite being good friends already. He didn’t necessarily mind and he knew that it said nothing about how close you actually were as friends, but he still often wondered if he should request you to stop.
As of now, you and Sidon were what you would call best friends, but not really in a traditional sense. You only hung out every so often at the place where you two met. Sidon really wanted you to see the Domain, because he knew you would love it. He would love to go to your home as well, but you refused to tell him where you lived, but he understood why. Even now most Hylians weren’t too fond of the Zora and vice versa. It wouldn’t be a good idea for him to randomly show up in a town, seeing as he was almost 3 times the average Hylian.
But both of you often shared your troubles and it soothed him. The two of you understood each other, which was the core of your friendship. Even if you didn’t want to tell him about your home, there were enough reasons for him to assume that you were close. He could respect your privacy and, if he was honest, there were a few things that he himself would prefer to keep to himself. |
8e38ac158ad1485a9a2b28b3fcebb8dd | ['021b6741efa44d55a59f3de37a9fc04f'] |
Say My Name
**Author's Note:**
> Here's a quick thing I whipped up at midnight one night instead of going to bed because I couldn't stop thinking about LINK and LINK Dullahan!Hizashi AU. For anyone who doesn't know, Dullahans are the Irish fairy that rides around on a horse while holding their head. You might know them from their pop-culture derivatives in works like The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (the Headless Horseman) and Durarara! (Celty). If corndog posts any of her art for the au online, I'll be sure to link it here because it's so very good!
>
> I, in my absolute hopeless obsession with fun au concepts, suggested that Shouta be a Gorgon of Greek Mythology fame (like Medusa). I got THAT inspiration from some fanart posted quite a few months ago by LINK and LINK. I love, love LOVE when Shouta is a vampire or a werewolf or a mummy, but gorgon!Shouta is just so....SO GOOD
>
> So please enjoy this little treat! And if it inspires you at all to create more for this au, please, PLEASE, let me or corndog or LINK know because we are OBSESSED (or maybe it's just me, haha)
There are tons of strange things about Hizashi that have nothing to do with the fact that his head has a hard time staying on his neck. He wears sunglasses indoors. He wears leather in the summer. He eats ice cream with a fork. He's (endearingly) weird. But recently, there's one strange thing about Hizashi that Shouta has noticed in particular: he never calls anyone by their name.
He'll call people by nicknames he's given them or heard, sure, but never by their birth names. Back when Shouta and Hizashi were first getting to know each other, Hizashi would always refer to him using some terrible monicker like “sleepy prince”, but even now, though Shouta has become close enough to call him by his given name, Hizashi still only ever calls him “Eraser”.
Normally, Shouta wouldn't really care (especially since “Eraser” is a huge improvement from “sleepy prince”), but now they're _ dating _ ; it would be nice if his boyfriend made an exception to this weird personality quirk of his and called him by his real name for once.
This background thought jumps to the forefront of his mind one day as he finds himself making out rather heatedly with his boyfriend on their shared couch. Hizashi slips into his lap, Shouta's hands slip under his shirt, and Hizashi moans softly onto his lips just one word.
“Eraser.”
And that's when Shouta's hands stop.
“Shouta,” he stubbornly insists on a rougher kiss.
“Huh,” Hizashi replies, clearly distracted by...other things.
“Call me 'Shouta’,” he clarifies, “not 'Eraser’.”
Now Hizashi stops. He pulls back and seems to sadly search Shouta's face. Usually, as a Gorgon, Shouta would worry about accidentally making eye contact and turning the person in front of him to stone, but with Hizashi, Shouta doesn't have to worry; his spirit status keeps him safe from Shouta's stoney eyes.
“I... can't,” Hizashi says, and the tone of his voice tugs at Shouta's heart.
“You can't?” The hand Shouta has on Hizashi's back begins to move up and down in a soothing manner. “What do you mean you can't?”
“I can't,” Hizashi repeats, quieter this time. He leans forward to press their foreheads together as his eyes stay focused down on where his hands are fiddling with the fabric covering Shouta's chest. “If I… When a Dullahan speaks someone's name, it means that they're going to die.”
Shouta's eyes widen. “Oh.”
Hizashi snorts out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, _ oh.” _
Shouta considers this for a moment. “So _ that's _ why you always give everyone nicknames…”
Hizashi grimaces. “You noticed?”
“Of course I noticed. I thought it was just you being...you.”
“I mean, _ it is _ . It just happens that the habit also helps to keep me from summoning death itself on everyone, ya know? Especially,” his grip on Shouta's shirt tightens. “Especially the people I care about.”
“Zashi…” Shouta sighs. Reaching up, he unhooks the choker barely keeping Hizashi's head attached and gently catches Hizashi's head in his hands.
“Hey,” Hizashi protests mildly.
“Look at me,” Shouta commands.
“I am! I'm looking, I'm looking!”
“Not everyone can, you know. Look at me, I mean.”
Hizashi frowns, equal parts confused and sympathetic. “Yeah, I know.”
“But you can. And you can say my name, too. I won't die.”
“But-!”
“I won't. Gorgons are immortal, Zashi.”
“They're…” This time, Hizashi's eyes widen. _ “Oh.” _
Shouta smirks. “Yeah, _ oh.” _
He goes in to kiss Hizashi again, but he stops when he feels Hizashi's hands press firmly against his chest.
“But,” Hizashi exclaims. “But what about Medusa? She got _ murdered _ !”
“Her case was an exception, and an unfair one at that.”
“B-But…”
“There are no buts, Hizashi. You can say my name.”
Hizashi looks conflicted. Shouta sits back, gives him the time he needs to think.
Then, finally, he hears Hizashi whisper, “Shou...ta?”
Hizashi squeezes his eyes shut, like he's preparing for the world to end, but Shouta just smiles.
“There you go,” Shouta murmurs before pressing a soft kiss to Hizashi's lips. “I like the way you make my name sound.”
He can feel Hizashi's cheeks heating up in his hands. “ _ Oh _ , you -you do?”
“I do.” He kisses him again. “Say it more.”
“Oh, um, okay, uh, but you -you can't blame me if anything bad happens! I warned you!”
“And I already told you, it's fine.”
Hizashi stares at Shouta warily for a moment, and Shouta gives him what he hopes to be a reassuring smile. His smile can’t be too bad because soon he feels Hizashi's body start to relax into him again.
“O...okay,” Hizashi says. With determined eyes and cheeks still a little flush, Hizashi states with an even tone of voice, “Shouta.” | 341f6c2651a64707ac52d48e7b84c678 | ['021b6741efa44d55a59f3de37a9fc04f'] | When he woke up again, he found himself in the recovery ward of DWMA with Aizawa. After it was confirmed that neither of them had any serious injuries, they got lectured for over an hour by their teachers for taking on a threat like Oiwa and her weapon/ex-husband, Iemon. Their punishment ended up being two months of detention.
Throughout their scolding, Mic was able to piece together what had happened while he had blacked out. Aizawa had, thankfully, called DWMA before swooping in to save Mic’s ass, and their teachers had taken care of Iemon while they were ushered away safely. No one was exactly sure why he had passed out, but it was assumed to be his soul’s response to brushing with madness.
Which, admittedly, Mic thought was kind of lame.
Passing out when his meister needed him most was not the kind of first impression he had wanted to make on Aizawa. It was also embarrassing to him that he had never sensed Oiwa’s katana was a weapon like him. Given Oiwa and Iemon’s history together, it wouldn’t have surprised him to find out Oiwa had been purposefully smothering her ex-husband’s soul, but he still blamed himself for not picking up on anything until it was too late. He could have warned Aizawa about how dangerous the situation was, but instead he almost got him killed and then he had gotten him detention.
There was absolutely no way Aizawa would want to be his partner now.
So, after their scolding in one of the classrooms, Mic slumped over onto his desk and waited with a heavy heart for Aizawa to leave. Or curse him out. Mic supposed he deserved one or the other.
“You don’t have a meister, right?”
The question surprised Mic. He slowly peeked up from his arms to find Aizawa standing before him, looking down, waiting for an answer.
“I, um, no? I, I mean -right!” Mic popped back up into a proper seated position. “You’re right! I don’t have a meister!”
“Would you consider being my weapon?”
Mic’s jaw dropped.
“Wh- _ What?!” _ Mic’s chair nearly fell over because he jumped to his feet so fast. “You want _ me _ to be _ your _ -are - _ are you sure?!” _
Despite Mic’s painfully fluctuating volume, Aizawa only winced once before nodding.
Mic couldn’t believe it. Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? Was this another side effect of brushing with madness?
He purposefully bit the inside of his cheek to try to wake himself up, but Aizawa didn’t go away. This was all real, but Mic still couldn’t process it all.
“But! But, but, but, but why? Why me,” Mic asked. “Why not anyone else?”
Aizawa awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck as his eyes drifted to the windows. “Other weapons aren’t bad,” he started, “I’m just not a good fit for them. My soul isn’t very powerful, and because of that I’m a meister that holds most weapons back, but... when I wielded you, I… I didn’t feel that way. You had so much energy that there was no way I could hold you back. For the first time I… I felt like I had real potential as a meister, but if you don’t feel the same way, I-”
“ _ No!” _ Mic lunged forward and took Shouta free hand into both of his own. “Are you crazy?! I, I would love to be your weapon! I need someone to hold me back a little! I’m too much! Oh, please be my partner, Aizawa, please!”
Aizawa had tensed up defensively when Mic first grabbed him, but as Mic pleaded with him, he relaxed.
“I… should warn you that weapons who do end up working with me for a while say that I’m… _ difficult.” _
Mic laughed to try to ease Aizawa’s awkwardness. “Oh, don’t worry! People say I’m impossible!”
Aizawa snorted. “Yeah, well just because they lack the proper skills to wield you doesn’t mean _ you’re _ the problem.”
Mic felt like his chest was about to burst. He pushed up his glasses and rubbed away any tears before his face-splitting smile could push them out.
One in a billion. Against the odds, Mic had found his one in a billion meister.
“We’re going to be the best partners this school has ever seen,” Mic cheered as he hopped over the desk and swept Aizawa up in a hug. Aizawa was stiff in his hold, but he didn’t push him away. Mic considered that a win.
“Yeah, yeah. Can I ask you a question?”
Mic released Aizawa from his hug. “Of course you can, _ partner!” _
Aizawa rolled his eyes at “partner,” but again didn’t tell Mic to stop. He just went on with his question. “I felt your soul sort of… resonate with mine way before we synced. In fact, that was how I found you in the first place. How...How did you do that?”
Mic didn’t know his smile could get any wider.
He looped an arm around Aizawa’s shoulders and started for the exit with him.
“Oh, that? That’s a little something I call ‘Soul Echo Location’...”
**Author's Note:**
> Oiwa/Iemon Reference Note:
I really liked how in the original [Soul Eater], humans on Death’s hitlist were often real people from our world with quite a bit of mythology around them (Jack the Ripper, Rasputin). So, for this oneshot I decided to reference a really famous Japanese ghost story/kabuki play/real event?? (not really) called [Yotsuya Kaidan]. The kabuki play in its original form is honestly really complicated, but all you need to know for the references in this story to make sense is that it most famously follows the masterless samurai Iemon who is led to madness by the vengeful ghost of his wife, Oiwa, whom he tricked into disfigurement so that he could get rid of her and marry a younger woman with a powerful father. Oiwa deceives Iemon into killing a whole bunch of people, including his new wife, his new father-in-law, and his mother.
I went back and forth over and over and over again about who should be the weapon and who should be the meister when it came to Oiwa and Iemon. Ultimately, because I’m more sympathetic to Oiwa than Iemon, and because Oiwa only became a vengeful ghost spreading madness because of what Iemon did to her, I made Iemon the weapon of madness and Oiwa the slightly more sympathetic of the two. Really, though, if you’re looking for a relationship of reciprocal madness, there’s hardly one better than these two!
Because I’m an extra big nerd, what Iemon says at the end is, “YOU HAUNT ME STILL. YOU HAVE REDUCED ME TO WHAT I AM,” which is a paraphrase of his quote from a 1948 performance of the kabuki play. He says it to Oiwa’s ghost towards the end of the play!
>
> I have more ideas for Soul Eater AU stuff beyond this, so if you liked the fic, please let me know! :D Either way, thank you for reading!
>
> Where to find me outside of Ao3!
Twitter (more active): LINK
Tumblr (considerably less active): LINK |
b903f72abb4146cdbb8e22a407128871 | ['02289e311c4343ac8d7c9960e7e1e061'] |
1. Skinny Love - Birdy
**Author's Note:**
> ((Trigger Warning: Suicide Attempt, Suicide Note, Drug Use, Drug Abuse, Depression, Alcohol Use))
“ _Come on, skinny love, just last the year_
_Pour a little salt, we were never here_
_My my my, my my my, my my_
_Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer.”_
Skinny Love – Birdy
***
Molly Hooper loved her job. It was everything she'd dreamed of since she was just a girl in uni. Her professors had laughed at her, claiming she hadn't the nerve to saw open dead bodies and keep a clear head, but she'd showed them all. It was her greatest accomplishment, and she didn't regret it for a moment, even if she'd had to sacrifice a social life and romance. It was worth it.
The thing was, ever since this Sherlock Holmes had started coming 'round, he'd made her life difficult. She didn't know him all that well; he seemed standoffish (and that was really just Molly's polite way of saying “arsehole to everyone he came into contact with”) but she was an optimist. Even Mr. Gilbert, her grumpy next-door neighbor, had his good qualities. Surely this rude boy in an expensive coat couldn't be all that bad, right?
She'd heard from Detective Inspector Lestrade that he was a druggie. You'd never guess it, to look at him. But when he rolled up his sleeves in concentration, she could see the pin-pricks on the insides of his arms. He'd caught her staring, once, and promptly pulled his sleeves down and left without a word.
Sometimes she worried about him. Addicts were depressingly common in the morgue. She wondered if he knew any of them, if they'd been friends. She wondered if he even had any friends.
Of course, she knew he had Detective Inspector Lestrade. (“Greg,” he'd said, flashing a smile, “you can call me Greg.”) She didn't know the exact nature of the friendship, but it was enough to allow him access to Bart's on occasion.
One morning Dete- _Greg_ came in with a list of bodies he needed to see, Sherlock Holmes tailing him, as always. He seemed a bit off... the regular swagger to his step was missing, he was quietly following Greg rather than trying to take the lead, like usual, and, most obvious to anyone with medical training, his physical appearance. His eyes were dilated, his scarf draped haphazardly around his neck (not tied in the usual way), and he leaned against everything: the wall, the table, the stools, as if he was having trouble supporting his own weight. One look at Greg let her know that she wasn't alone in the knowledge: he'd gotten loaded earlier.
The Detective Inspector's jaw was clenched in anger and disappointment. Still, he went on with his duties, making notes about the bodies and the similarities in their deaths. Sherlock sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. It wasn't until he'd finished that he looked Molly directly in the eyes and apologized for what was about to happen. She understood, and left the room.
As the doors to the morgue swung closed, she could hear Greg's voice echoing off the tile walls, and Sherlock Holmes's lazy remarks. She continued walking until she got to her office, trying to get some work done and not think about what was happening.
Several minutes later, she heard shouting. She sprang from her chair and peered out of her office window to see Greg slamming Sherlock Holmes onto a table and handcuffing him. As he struggled, his eyes lifted up from the table to meet hers through a crack in the blinds, and Molly felt she was seeing something she was really not supposed to be seeing.
As Greg escorted Sherlock Holmes out of the hospital, Molly focused harder than ever on her reports, not even looking up once.
***
At exactly 7:34 that same night, Molly received a call from Greg, who had her home phone number because they were two adults and it wasn't illegal to exchange numbers with a married man, was it?
“Hi, Molly, how ya doin?” He was trying very hard to seem nonchalant, she could tell.
“I'm pretty well. And yourself?”
“Good, good. Listen, could I ask you a huge favor?” _Ah_ , she thought. _There it is._
“Well, Greg, you know that depends on the favor.” She gave a pathetic chuckle, trying to lighten her tone.
“You know that bloke Sherlock Holmes? The one from today?”
“Yeah, of course. What's wrong?”
“Well, I sorta left him on a bad note. He's a good guy, really, he is, it's just the drugs talking. Anyway, I released him from custody and I haven't heard from him since this morning. I've called him several times and he's not answering.”
“Okay... then what did you need me for?” A sense of foreboding washed over her as she began to realize where he was going with all this.
“Could you, maybe, go over there and talk to him? Let him know I'm willing to work with him? It's just, he's got a brilliant mind, and so much potential. I hate to see him waste it. Could you do that for me?”
Molly tried not to groan audibly. “Sorry to seem rude, but why me?”
“I wouldn't ask unless I had no other choice. The wife's dragging me to one of her family functions and there is literally no way I can get out of it short of a bloody murder. I hate to have to beg, Molly, really I do, but-”
She sighed. “Alright, fine. I'll go. Where does he live?”
“Ha ha! You're a gem, Molly. I owe you big time. He lives at 221B Baker Street. If he's difficult you can get his landlady, Martha Hudson, lives downstairs. She'll straighten him out.” | 922d798c3d4c45a6abaf2b5d860925d6 | ['02289e311c4343ac8d7c9960e7e1e061'] | The cab ride there was surprisingly quick. At the very mention of Baker Street, the cab driver laughed. “Off to see ol' Sherlock Holmes, is it, love? Wot are you, his new girlfriend?” She didn't answer, and sent him on his way when she got out.
She turned around and immediately wished she'd worn something nicer than sweatpants. She politely rapped on the door and was surprised to see a matronly woman in curlers and a bathrobe open the door.
“Hello, dear, can I help you?” She smiled, and Molly couldn't believe that Sherlock Holmes lived next to this woman.
After a brief exchanging of courtesies and back-stories, Mrs. Hudson led Molly to the door which would grant her access to 221B. She excused herself, as she claimed she was “in the middle of her afternoon soother.” (Molly would think back later, and wonder if the older woman's eyes were actually bloodshot. Surely not.)
She stood there for a long while, pondering the correct way to enter into Sherlock Holmes's home. She knocked, and was greeted with silence. She knocked again. Nothing.
Finally she realized that it was almost 8:30 and she was missing the rerun of Top Gear. She opened the door and marched up the stairs. It was... eerily quiet, and dark. Not dark as in, “it's nighttime and the streetlights shine through the windows” dark, but more a “closing all the curtains to hide from the world” dark. Fear crept up her spine and into her throat, but heaven forbid, Molly Hooper cut up dead people for a living! She fumbled around a bit for a light switch.
When she finally did find one, the resulting explosion of light blinded her for a moment. She blinked, letting her eyes adjust as she turned around.
What she saw made her scream. Or rather, she tried to scream, only no sound would come out of her mouth.
Sherlock Holmes was slumped over his kitchen table, a sickly bluish color, with a needle sticking from his arm. Next to him lay an elegant cream envelope with a wax seal.
For a moment, she was frozen in place, horrified. The next moment, however, her years of medical training forced her into action. She felt for a pulse with one hand while the other searched around the debris on the counter for a phone.
She didn't remember finding the phone, or dialing for help, but somehow her mouth was moving, giving the person on the other end of the line information on Sherlock Holmes's condition. Once it was clear that he was alive, and that help was on its way, the phone fell to the table, forgotten.
She pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, suddenly exhausted. No thoughts would come to her mind other than the fact that she was sitting next to Sherlock Holmes and he might be dying or dead. Her attention then snapped to the envelope on the table. Surely he didn't...
The sounds of voices downstairs startled her, and without thinking she grabbed the envelope and stuffed it in her bag, just moments before a small, unhappy parade of people burst through the door.
***
She was still shaking when she closed the door to her lonely flat that night. Bed seemed so inviting, but with the way her hands were trembling, she could tell she'd need to break into her wine reserves. It wasn't something she did often, but this situation seemed to demand it.
Three and a half glasses later, she felt much better. Sprawled across her couch, glass in hand, she let the stress of the night slip away. She'd deal with it all tomorrow.
She was just about to go to bed when she remembered the envelope.
Dumping her glass in the sink, she reached inside her tacky kitten-covered bag and pulled out the small piece of paper, only slightly wrinkled from where she'd laid on it in the cab. It wasn't addressed to anyone, and the seal looked like it may have been made with a thumb. She plopped back down on the couch with it, unsure of how to proceed.
On one hand, it would be very rude to read someone's personal correspondence. It would be an invasion of his privacy that should under no circumstances be committed by someone with such upstanding morals as herself. It was simply wrong.
On the other hand, it might be nothing at all. It might be something for Greg, or even for her. It might be a grocery list. (It was a long shot, but still. Sherlock Holmes was a weird bloke.) And also, she was a wee bit drunk and very curious.
She opened it with a butter knife, careful not to rip the paper.
What first struck her was how beautiful it looked. He had actually sat down and wrote out a letter in gorgeous cursive, almost calligraphic handwriting. She was impressed, until she started to read.
_“February 21_ _st_ _._
_It is time. I have mulled this over for far too long. It has come to my attention that my actions not only embarrass but also hurt those I care about most. I will never use heroin again, save this last time._
_Mummy, I am so sorry. Please know that this is not your fault. I love you more than you shall ever know, and hope that one day you will understand._
_Dad, thank you for everything. Thank you for believing in me, and I am sorry that I let you down so many times. I will not disappoint you any more._
_Mycroft._
_Mrs. Hudson, you have been so good to me, and I have never deserved it. I have left you my rent for the next six months. Please use it to go on a nice holiday. You may keep my violin if you like._ |
b842e3ea13ec42ce822477b0d4c1c264 | ['024f975ffd744b84b96ae5bb8f94c803'] | "Rescue team, five minutes ETA. Hawkeye, Widow, respond." Coulson's voice had never been more inconvenient. Clint would have snarled had Natasha's perfect fingers not curled around the curve of one wing. Limp, Clint fell face first into Natasha's buxom chest and was content to stay there.
"Make it ten minutes, Coulson," Natasha responded back, her fingers trailing up Clint's spine to his hair, guiding him lower on her. "Did I tell you to stop?"
The phrase was an order but Natasha's voice was honey smooth. Besides, there was no way he was arguing with her logic.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you all so much for being patient during this hiatus. I am truly grateful for such wonderful and patient readers. This chapter is for all of you who have been waiting months for this update and for any new followers just getting started. One-thousand thanks to you all!
>
> Bourne Legacy: Clint having experience diving into cold waters in Alaska is taken from the first scene with Aaron Cross in this film.
8. Glass House
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Of panic, broken friendship, and possibility.
Clint was not the first Mutant she had worked with before. As a child (what memories still endured from those years), she was rescued by a surly one with metal claws. He didn't like to talk about them, despite her attempts to understand. One day he finally shook her and said in a gruff shout, "None of yer concern!"
She'd been so surprised by it that Natasha learned to mask her curiosity around strange unknowns. Answers would come to her longer she stayed with the question, watching and studying. It was how she learned what she needed for missions. Things were all too easy when her target let his guard down and told her things based on trust.
The moment she saw Clint's wings, Natasha knew he would tell her anything she wanted if she stayed cool. These things were as much set in stone as her instincts. Bait and trap, wait for the fly to fall into the web. No need to go fishing when she could stay still and let the prey come to her.
Not that Clint was prey. His history, maybe. Perhaps anything else surprising about him. For now, the man kept to the Cupid storyline instead of declaring himself a Mutant. Once or twice he even pantomimed shooting an arrow at a couple, moments before they kissed. He got flustered when he noticed Natasha watching but she didn't make a sound. Bit eccentric but Natasha didn't have much problem with the man wanting to liken himself to a love god. With the bow it made sense; even if it was a bit immature.
People did crazy things to hide their fear, especially if they've been mistreated because of a specific trait. Natasha worked with a Mutant who insisted she was a goddess, anything to escape the "M" word and its prejudice. Natasha was much the same in regards to her own past. She didn't like explaining herself, letting another person have the power of knowledge over her. Natasha was a spy and knowledge was what killed or saved a person. As long as it gave her an edge, Natasha would tell SHIELD and it's agents as little about herself as possible.
Sometimes it created more of a problem than she anticipated. No one, for instance, knew her paralyzing fear of abandoned hospitals. Ever since the fire she caused back on mission in Minsk, Natasha couldn't stand them. Just the sight of a hospital, alone and ill-looking in faded green hues made her freeze. Screams and images flooded her mind, an elderly woman with her face being eaten by flames, the man who dragged his smoldering crutches, and the woman who clung to a baby more soot than flesh. The Hospital Fire was a mistake beyond recognition; a botched assignment entirely on her trembling shoulders.
"Hey, Widow, you alright?" Clint asked, resting his rifle for a moment to get a good look at her. He moved his fingers to dry lips and blew on them, keeping the digits warm. Clint had been acting off all mission without his usual bow but insisted that rotating weaponry was the best way to stay polished. Natasha agreed with him wholeheartedly, keeping several weapons and fighting styles at given intervals. However, it was obvious Clint didn't agree with his own advice. Some people had a single love.
"Yes," Natasha said after a moment. Frowning, she set her shoulders and continued walking, hands hovering over her guns.
"Really? 'Cause you don't look it to me," Clint continued to pester. Natasha shot a look at him. The man could really be a bother when he wanted to. Barton wasn't as good at sleuthing as she – ah but few were.
"In fact, to me you look like you're about to enter _The Path of the Dead_." Natasha turned to look at him again, this time ready to hit him.
"That better not be another _Lord of the Rings_ thing."
Clint pouted. Fuck professionalism. If her teammate was acting this way Natasha wanted out. Send another team to search the hospital.
"Shut up," Clint said maturely. "I miss Phil, okay? We're still . . . not really talking."
" _Hawkeye, you do remember your conversations are being recorded and put into transcript_ ," Coulson's cool voice chimed over their radio. Clint blustered and picked up his rifle, falling back into his no-nonsense agent mode. Natasha slipped into her own as best she could and followed. | 966b727d66944984bcbb1aaedf48c099 | ['024f975ffd744b84b96ae5bb8f94c803'] | Arthur dropped his gold watch – it rolled away to flop on its side like a beached whale in an empty corner. The Brit gapped like a fish before his face contorted like a raisin. Ivan swore he could see steam puffing out of his ears. It was a terribly amusing expression, making the large man chortle with laughter.
But what was by far the funniest was his Alfred's expression, blushing like Ivan had disrobed him. The American almost shrank at Arthur's stare like he had been hit. Ivan had no sympathy, enjoying his boyfriend's embarrassment far too much to care a lick about his feelings.
Boyfriend. It was official. Announcing it to Arthur was almost like telling a dirty secret to a parent. And all the colorful expressions they made! Ivan could only imagine what the expression would have been if he had deflowered the cute little blond.
"Alfred's what?" Arthur ragged when he gained control of his voice; though it still squeaked with high-pitched accusation. The Brit groaned and pressed a hand to his temple, trying to subdue the forming headache.
"Come on Artie, you promised you wouldn't freak," Alfred urged, pouting. "Remember when Mathew brought home Francis –"
Arthur winced and groaned like he was giving birth. He marched away, snarling curses under his breath.
"Don't remind me. It's taken almost all of this time to wine me off hexing that frog for Mathew's sake." Arthur disappeared into the back room, announcing that he would return with proper knitting tools.
"You never told me your cousin was a bar tender. I will have to become a regular customer, yes~" Ivan chirped once the room was clear.
"No, no!" exclaimed Alfred, flailing his arms. "Artie and I don't get along well as it is! It took me forever to convince him to fix your scarf. If you bug him he'll go back to England and never talk to me again!"
Ivan had to wonder what relationship the two cousins had. They weren't at each other's throats but neither were they welcoming. The large man could see it in their eyes, a festering history of mistrust and betrayal. Ivan was curious to know what caused the tense atmosphere but knew that would dig up his own family's ghosts – a thing he would try to keep from Alfred as long as possible.
So, to keep face Ivan just smiled and pulled a tight arm around his beloved sunflower.
"Ow! Ivan, too tight!" the blond complained, though it was hard not to grin.
They continued play fighting (flirting) until a gruff, un-amused cough interrupted the pair. Arthur sneered at the two; in his arm the knitting supplies and on his nose half moon spectacles. Alfred pulled away, a tiny uncomfortable blush coloring his nose.
"Don't just stand around all day, show me the patient," Arthur insisted, taking a seat and spreading out the tools over the table.
Ivan looked to Alfred, the blond taking a seat opposite Arthur, leaving another spot for his boyfriend. Both blonds stared at the lavender eyed man. It was unnerving. They wanted him to take off his scarf.
He never took off his scarf. It was as much a part of him as his skin.
Katyusha had given it to him before Natalia had even been born. It had seen him through all his joys and overwhelming pains.
The scarf had been his one and only friend for many years.
But. . . that was why it had to be fixed. Ivan owed it that much.
He stripped off the scarf with the delicate hand of a glass weaver.
It was Ivan's least favorite feeling in the world – a naked neck. He hated it, the chill, the itch, the feeling of being watched it caused.
But he'd endure it for the scarf.
Alfred offered his hand but Ivan refused it. He cringed when Arthur laid the broken cloth flat. At the rift the fabric was frayed and stringy like it had been clawed by cats. Arthur tittered like a nanny.
"What on earth did you do to it? Put it though a paper shredder?"
Ivan snatched the scarf back snarling.
"I'll fix it myself, yes."
He was halfway across the room when Alfred pulled him back, again surprising Ivan with his strength.
"Calm down. Arthur's the best at what he does. Just calm down." Alfred rested a hand on the putty haired man's hip, relaxing him and guiding him back to the table.
With a few more soothing words Ivan relinquished his scarf again. Arthur lined up the pieces once more this time looking over it as if expecting the Russian to leap over the table and attack.
If the Brit insulted his scarf again Ivan had half the mind to do just that.
A few more tense moments of inspection passed before Arthur made another noise. He picked up the scarf and started the long, laborious task of mending it. It was only moments later when Alfred started talking. The American was cursed with the gift of gab. He couldn't sit still long before rambling to both Arthur and Ivan. The Brit commented here and there but remained as impassive as Ivan was.
Alfred was sure Ivan stopped breathing minutes ago, watching Arthur patch up the scarf with unwavering devotion. The Brit's fingers moved with hypnotic grace; a stitch here, a tuck there.
It seemed that in no time at all the scarf was already mended.
"Like a band-aid," the Brit noted when he was finished. Ivan grabbed for the scarf, almost knocking Arthur over with his pair of gorilla arms.
"Whoa! Ivan, settle man, settle!" Alfred charged, holding Ivan back. Arthur huffed and smoothed out his ruffled clothes. He glared at Alfred, the American flashing a sheepish smile.
Ivan was blind to the world around him. |
9fe21508e61c4448b7af301e6a4d9475 | ['0268ae60463348f58eaf7950a4b3da51'] | Steve listened as he followed them at a slower pace alongside Thor, Bruce, and Natasha.
“Yes you are! Jesus, how old _are_ you, anyway? Ten? Eleven? Twelve would be pushing it!” The archer laughed
“Fourteen, thank you.” Robin snapped back.
“Liar!” Clint denied before the two entered the quinjet and exited Steve’s hearing range.
“Well, this is going to be interesting.” Steve said to no one in particular.
Bruce nodded slowly, Thor frowned in thought, and Natasha _grinned_.
Steve wasn’t sure which worried him more.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> “Well then, I’m Captain America.”
> “I go by Robin.”
> I did that on purpose.
> I see it as Steve really IS Captain America. Just as much as Cap is Steve. Whereas Dick and Robin are separate. Maybe not by much, but the line is there.
>
>
>
> \- A) JLU: 3
> \- B) X-Men Movie-Verse: 2
> Kay, considering switching this to X-Men: Evolution, because the characters fit better together. Any thoughts?
> \- C)Teen Titans: 0
> (Nobody?)
> \- D) Batman Comics: 2
>
> again, vote for the next bit, and tell me who's POV you'd like to see!
5. Black and Red
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Natasha's observations of the newcomer.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Holy crap guys! I'm so so so so so (Times infinity) sorry! I got really really stuck on the last bit, and yeah, it's like 3,000 words shorter than my other chapters and, ugh, sorry... please don't hate me...
> Anyway, here you go... T.T
Throughout the trip back to Avengers Tower, Natasha watched the young boy, Robin, and Clint banter back and forth.
Despite his easy attitude and skills at hiding his emotions, she saw he was still wary.
The way his shoulders were ever so slightly stiff, when he glanced back around at the people around him, how he hesitated for just a moment before he returned a verbal barb the archer’s way, his purposefully sitting closest to the door.
Robin had gone absolutely rigid when she’d passed him on her way to her seat before takeoff. His flickering gaze always lingered longer on Natasha. He looked her way after every bit of wit he spoke, checking her reaction. His back was facing away from her the most.
It was either because of her using the gun, which indicated him having some form of mental reinforcement against them (from either trauma or training); or he recognized her movements as assassin (which worried her more than slightly).
_Anyone his age should not be so intimate with the behaviors of assassins to be able to recognize one from so little evidence._
The thought caught her off guard. She wasn’t naturally protective of anyone except Clint… and Coulson. The other Avengers she was warming up to, yes, but they weren’t quite there yet.
_So why is the boy’s safety crossing my mind?_
Natasha mulled over this for the remainder of the flight, occasionally checking her fellow passengers.
At the tower, they were greeted by Jarvis.
Robin jumps slightly at the sound of the AI’s voice, an emotion Natasha doesn’t quite recognize passing across his face.
“Who’s that, and where is he?”
“Ah,” Bruce chuckles. “That’s Jarvis. He’s an AI, and basically the all-powerful, omni-present butler.”
“Indeed, Dr. Banner.” Jarvis agrees.
Robin smiles, bright and amused, though Natasha doesn’t know why. Perhaps there is something similar in is dimension…
“Might I inquire as to who our guest is? Sir was not clear in this regard, as he was in a hurry to Ms. Potts’ meeting.”
“I’m Robin.” The boy introduces himself, looking up at the ceiling, where the speakers are.
“A pleasure, young sir.”
He smiled again.
“Cool.” He murmured.
“So, what do we do while we wait for Iron Ass to get back?” Clint asked the group.
Natasha sees the raised eyebrow, and notes the smile and headshake from the youthful male.
“Uh, how about a tour?” The younger bird suggests, displaying confidence in his voice and obvious body language, though she saw a bit of hesitancy in his stance.
“I think that’s probably a good idea.” Bruce said with a half-smile. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of the Spiderman Incident.”
Natasha couldn’t help but smirk, while Clint cracked up and even Steve smiled. _That_ had been a fun day.
“Aye! We wouldn’t want our young guest to feel unwelcome.” Thor agreed, not realizing there was an inside joke at play.
Robin, once again, seemed to note the information, but refrain from inquiring.
“This way!” Clint, unsurprisingly, takes charge; grabbing the boy’s hand and dragging him down the hallway as he calls out something about the kitchen and their ‘sentient stove’.
Natasha finds herself wondering what happened while she was gone last week. Then deciding she’d rather not know.
* * *
Robin appeared subtly impressed by everything; not hugely so, and not obviously, but still.
Natasha watched him as he interacted with the others. He was more open now; his smiles a bit more real and laugh less restricted.
‘ _Jesus, it’s creepy_ ’ she though when she heard the teen’s cackle.
The others seemed to share the sentiment; shuddering at the sound.
“What’s with the _laugh,_ kid?” Clint eventually asks.
They’re in the common room with the TV turned to a science channel that mostly Bruce is watching, though Natasha catches Robin sneaking a glance every so often. Bruce and Natasha are sitting on the couch and Clint has claimed the paupason, while Robin is in the recliner with his legs crossed. The others have vanished to their respective floors.
Robin just grins and continues going through the compartments in his bright yellow belt.
“No, seriously, I wanna know.” Clint insists playfully putting his book down. | 3cc0e1273c8a4523a0218459c0dc52e4 | ['0268ae60463348f58eaf7950a4b3da51'] | “There’s no way you’d be able to handle the same things as whatever crazy-ass adult let you run around in a costume. Not if they’re on the same level as the things the Avengers team faces.” The tall man sneers down at the teen.
Robin took a subtly deep breath and let it out slowly. “Fourteen-thousand, nine-hundred, sixty-two.” He pronounced slowly, gravely. “That’s how many lives were lost last time Riddler, a decidedly B-class Gotham villain, got out. Forty-two were police officers; well-trained ones at that.” He definitely had the attention of the room now. “Another twenty thousand were injured.”
“Five of the seven heroes who got involved were benched afterwards because of injuries. I, the only minor, was not one of them. I was the one to take Riddler down and deliver him to the police, while my own mentor was caught up in the mess caused by the hired thugs.” He continued morbidly. “And that was all in one night.”
The teen didn’t bother to mention that this was one of the most violent of the man’s escapades, or that B had been considering moving him up to a classification closer to a low A-Class
“I am one of twenty heroes under the age of eighteen. I’m the youngest, but also the most experienced. I was the first child hero, and I faced a lot more adversity than any of my comrades did just for that. I proved myself time and time again, back home, and if I must I’ll do so here as well.”
Angry Pirate observes Robin for a long moment.
The he nods.
“Alright. What do you know about inter-universal tra-“
“Inter-dimensional.” Robin interrupts.
Angry Pirate stares at him for a moment.
“I beg your pardon?” he demands sarcastically.
“I’m in another dimension, not universe. There’s a difference.” Robin explains dryly. “And I know quite a bit.”
Angry Pirate glares, but gives no indication of stopping him.
Robin continues. “There are distinct differences between alternate universes and dimensions.
“A universe and all its alternates are within a single dimension. Every dimension has a set of… characters, so to speak. The same people recurring over and over. At times, dimensions will overlap, causing ‘crossovers’ with the different groups, but most often they stick to themselves.
“The universes are just different situations, caused by a changed set of events. For example, there is likely a universe in which you are all boring people with boring lives and boring jobs. There’s probably one where one of you was never born. The possibilities are quite literally endless.”
Robin finishes and begins judging the reactions of his new acquaintances.
Angry Pirate and Black Widow seem to be taking it in stride, whereas Clint seems to be thinking quite deeply about the implications of what he’s just learned.
Black Widow smirks, ever so slightly and for only a moment. Robin wouldn’t have seen it if he didn’t work with B.
“Kid knows his stuff.”
Angry Pirate nods, eye narrowed in thought.
“Romanoff, contact Doctor Foster and her associates. Their expertise will be needed.” **
**
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So I'm starting to type up the next (previous) installment, but im not going to post till im done here.
> also, making an ff net and actually posting shit soon.
>
> (Tumblr is amazing and my name is Ghyst-Alae.)
8. Late Nights and Noodle Food
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Steve comes home late, and has a talk with the Avengers' new 'guest'
Steve sighed as he exited the private elevator into the main Avengers floor, quite a bit later than he’d intended to. He shifted the weight of the punching bag on his shoulder, before heading for the kitchen. A side effect of his transformation was a higher metabolism, and, by extension, a bigger appetite.
The super soldier gently lowered the heavy bag to the floor, not wanting to disturb whatever rest his teammates were currently getting.
Steve had been delayed by SHIELD’s R&D department summoning him and having him test out several ‘new’ creations, several of which Tony had already thought of and supplied him with.
The bag, which was reportedly ‘indestructible’, sagged against the cupboards as the super soldier reached into the fridge to grab a container of leftovers. As luck would have it, there was still something left from the last time Bruce had taken control of the kitchen; even though Clint _adored_ the man’s cooking and had a habit of squirreling it away to his floor, where he stashed it in the mini-fridge hidden somewhere in his private loft.
Steve tensed as he heard a soft step behind him: too light to be Bruce, Tony, or Thor; not the right sound to be any of Natasha’s shoes (and if she’d been trying to sneak up on him, he admittedly wouldn’t have heard her at _all_ ); and Clint preferred to go barefoot in the comfort and familiarity of the Tower.
_How did someone even get past Jarvis?_
He whirled around, still holding the food…
And froze at the sight of a boy perched on the counter, some five feet away.
_Oh._
_Right._
_Robin._
To be honest, Steve had forgotten about the youth in the chaos that was SHIELD’s R&D.
“Hello.” He tried for nonchalance, hoping his voice came out less startled than he felt.
“Hi.” The cheeky smirk on the masked child’s face informed Steve that he’d failed in that particular endeavor.
Robin was still wearing his uniform; the red and yellow contrasting with the black, and the circled ‘R’ standing out over his heart. His gloves and lensed mask were still in place, but the cape had been removed.
_It all looks a bit odd, without the cape._ Steve dismissed the thought with a blink.
“What are you doing up?” He was curious.
“What are _you_ doing up?” Robin asked back, tone playful but face carefully blank. |
534c585dc9eb49ce872846e033304185 | ['026d3295ec834315a7025cd9766c42b9'] | “I don’t know how, but I lost it. I’m crazy aren’t I? You always support me. You never judge me. You _love_ me.”
It is a punch in the gut. You feel your heart beat so fast and intensely you wonder how your ribcage is still intact. You try to swallow but there isn’t anything left to because your throat has already dried up. You want to buy another latte but decide against it. It would taste like sand anyway.
You were prepared, yes. But it didn’t hurt any less. _Just close your damn mouth, Ei._
“But I can’t help it. When I saw you cry, hell, even when you came home with those bruises all over, I didn’t feel a thing!”
He is frantic now, his hands all over the place. His eyebrows are scrunched up that you see lines on his face. His gaze switches from the box, to the window, to his feet, to the person on the nearest table. It’s like he’s looking everywhere but at you, and it makes your heart sink.
“You’re perfect, Y/N. I don’t deserve you at all.”
You want to slap him because he’s making that face again. The one he wears on nights he breaks and confesses everything to you. On nights he acknowledges he is manly for crying and weeps in front of you, burrowing his head in the crook of your neck. On nights that now seem so far away. But rather than the memories, what makes you more somber is the fact that he’s wearing _that_ face.
“When?” you ask as soon as he finishes. “When did you figure it out?”
The look he makes is now skeptical, so you steel yourself once more. However, the answer he gives is hard to understand. You shake your head because you are sure you misheard him.
“I’m sorry? Did I hear you correctly? Did you just say two years?” your voice is loud enough to make him back away. He nods.
_Oh, great. Just when I think I’m ready for everything, he throws a bomb. This is Kirishima Eijirou, alright. But seriously, two fucking years._
You are unaware you had actually said your last line out loud. But it doesn’t matter. Not when your heart skips a beat for all the wrong reasons and your eyes begin to sting. As you lean on the table, your hand ascends to wipe your face of that one tear that betrays you.
“Ei,” your voice cracks. “we’ve been engaged for almost a year, and you mean to say you felt nothing for me for _two_ years?”
“A man is supposed to keep his promises, Y/N! I was so determined. I promised you forever, and I needed to see through that obligation. Besides-”
“So I’m an obligation now?” you don’t wait for his answer. “Ei, you did promise me, but what about you? What about your happiness? You’ve been hurting all this time, and I didn’t even know! I thought you weren’t going to do anything you’ll regret?”
No. This isn’t what you really want to say. You want to agree. You want him to keep his word. Six years with Kirishima Eijirou isn’t enough. You haven’t had enough of neither his pranks nor his manly mantras. You haven’t had enough of his warmth on your bed and his scent lingering the next morning, you roll on the bed to catch it. You haven’t pulled enough pranks on Bakugou and Kaminari, not enough bear hugs and sloppy kisses, heated nights, and even fights that you normally hate. Forever was too inconceivable, but with him, you wouldn’t mind the perplexity.
Your mouth moves without you thinking now, and you feel as if your thoughts and your body are different entities.
Kirishima has put up with you for two years, feeling nothing. He has endured the you who keeps on nagging and picking fights. You wonder if he also breaks all alone at the thought of being with you, and you are overcome with guilt. How did you not notice this sooner? How could you not see the soulless glaze in his eyes when knelt down on his knees? How did you look over the fact that his weariness isn’t only from fighting villains? How could you let him do this to himself?
There is total silence. Kirishima looks like a lamb asking for directions.
You sigh, “I’m sorry. It’s okay, I understand. You don’t have to force yourself anymore, Ei. If you want to break up, it’s okay.”
Your words surprise the both of you. You are sure he is confused at the ease at which you accept things. For another time, there is a stretch of silence that encompasses your table as you await his verdict. For you, never before has the hands of the clock on the wall of the cafe move so slowly yet too quick at the same time.
The way he smiles and eases up makes your lips tremble and your throat burn. _It’s that easy for him?_
“Is it okay?”
_No, Ei. Of course it isn’t okay._
“It’s okay,” you smile.
He is pleased with your answer and releases a deep breath. As Kirishima takes the red box in his hands, your mind tells you to grab and take it back. You want to tell him that it doesn’t matter if the box is heavy, you’ll carry all the weight. But your hands are glued to your lap, so your eyes follow the way in which he carelessly drops it in his jacket pocket.
Both of you stand up as your conversation ends. There is awkwardness as you shift your weight from one leg to the other. And just when you think you couldn’t take anymore hurt, he goes and gives you something. It is a stun grenade this time.
“So, this is goodbye?” he asks.
You freeze. _Goodbye? With Eijirou?_
“I guess so,” you almost choke up. | 2a8abc8b3b224aecab5a6aa9b98fbf92 | ['026d3295ec834315a7025cd9766c42b9'] | You want to ask for one more hug. Just the last one where you grip him too much to gather enough energy to last you for the rest of your life. But you figure that one more hug will make you ask for one more kiss which will make you ask for some more time because you know Kirishima will give in. Even if it’s out of guilt, you want to ask for more. You want to take advantage of his good nature and beg him to give you another chance.
“You should leave first, Ei. I mean... Kirishima-kun,” your tongue tries to say the word. The feeling of saying that name is now foreign because he has been _Eijirou_ for the past six years. “I still need to wait for my food.”
His smile isn’t a grin anymore. It is much softer, and you could understand what he’s trying to say- _Thank you, I’m sorry._
“Okay, then. Let’s see each other sometimes... as friends.”
You don’t know how you manage to do it, but your face lights up. “Sure!”
He’s walking away now. His jacket is lopsided, the box surely weighing the other side.
_Ei, do you know? I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you._
When he goes out of the cafe, you stay standing for a bit longer before ordering another serve of green tea latte. The cashier is looking at you weirdly. _Is he sad?_
When you sit down again and look at your reflection in the window, you notice your cheeks are colored wrongly. You bring your hands to your cheeks. It is water. You are crying. _No wonder he was looking at me like that._
No matter, you brought sunglasses.
_Today is not a normal day_ , you correct yourself. Tomorrow will be the start of normal. Yes, tomorrow. You’ll just have to be patient and wait for tomorrow. |
76c1a58c7c0c4cbaa9d713995687300f | ['0273d705dda041c4baf9dabfd1cf0eb7'] |
I won't ever let you go
Title: I won't ever let you go
Story type: AU Season 4 (with a bit of canon) one shot fic
Author: USER
Word count: 9195
Based on: Characters from the TV show Arrow (2012)
Characters: Oliver Queen / Felicity Smoak
**My fic's have no beta - all mistakes are my own and of course i do not own anything Arrow (content) related
***Inspired by Ed Sheeran's Photograph and the FF grave scene
***Words in ITALICS are flashbacks or thoughts - you'll know when you get there!
************
It’s been one month to the date and seven since he and Felicity had moved back to what is now Star City and a whirlwind of things has gone down since. At the back of his mind, Oliver had walked around with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach for these past seven months (not a literal one, though it felt pretty much the same) that things were not going to last; that his happiness would be taken away from him. He has just been waiting for the shoe to drop so to speak, never voicing his worry.
A memory of their first fight flashed in his mind as he sits on their couch in their living room surrounded by their stuff (Photos of them on display with smiles so wide and bright. That was a different time in their life, a part of him does wish they never came back, but the other part knows they needed to.) Oliver remembers feeling uncertain, not in his love but in his place. It’s no easy task falling in love with someone who is both different and similar to you at the same time. But they both realised they are complimentary to each other. Those days leading up to that fight were some of the most confusing yet most clarifying days. Their roles were reversed and it was Felicity pushing him away and burying herself in guilt. Oliver should have known better. He realises now he swam in that ocean of guilt for years. He bore the weight of his actions and its consequences for such a long time that when he had met John and Felicity they had slowly been helping him lift the weight off himself.
He realised that not everything was his fault. That day was a clear role reversal for them. He had finally felt what Felicity and John had felt every time he pushed them away. He always told himself he was doing it for their protection, but a part of him knows he did it for his own protection too. Oliver had his own deep seated fears. Why were these two people there, helping him? What did he ever do to deserve their unwavering support. It took him a long time, the better part of 3 years to realise that it was more than just surface stuff that kept them together. They were family from the moment they walked into each other’s lives. Destined to be a part of each other’s life and destined to make a change in the world they live in, for themselves and for those to come in the future. They all made the other better. Between him and Felicity though, it was an even deeper connection; one that stemmed from the soul. There was no rhyme or reason as to why they worked but there was heart. They simply just loved each other and it was effortless and meaningful. It was the kind of love that completes you, the kind that makes you better than who you were before. It was all encompassing and forever. It is the kind of love where just a touch would calm every fibre of one’s being, because being together made sense. Loving each other made sense. As if they were made for each other. Maybe they were….
_“Mom! Can I go now? Please!” Pleaded a young dark haired girl_
_“Honey…C’mon now. I know you’d rather be stuck in your room, but that’s not healthy..” replied her mother._
_“Healthy? And this place is? The young girl asked incredulously_
_“Look I just think you need to get out more and socialise…you can’t keep hiding away” Her mother reasoned_
_“I’m not hiding mom. I like it in my room and I’m plenty social online” retorted the girl with pleading eyes_
_“Yes online, but not out here in the real world…” her mother challenged_
_“You think this is the real world? A casino?” the girl asked in a tone befitting amusement_
_“No, it’s not but I couldn’t get off work so this casino is the best I could do and it’s plenty social in here…just look there, see those two young gentlemen? The blonde one has looked your way about 6 times in the last 10 minutes! Go speak to him, make friends!” her mother responded drly at first but bounced back with a contagious happy smile_
_“Mom! No! He looks way older than me!” she said slightly horrified as she turned her stool around 360 degrees back toward her mom. As she did, her eyes scanned the crowd and caught sight of a young blonde man watching her. Truth be told, she couldn’t see him all that clearly, she was probably due for a new prescription. Her eyes locked with him for a second before she continued spinning around. On her second turn she had looked his way to see him chatting to his brown haired friend who stood at his side gesticulating and talking busily as the blonde guy just nodded._
_“Friends baby doll. Make friends, not a boyfriend!” her mother cautioned_
_“I don’t need friends. I need my computer and my room. Right now that’s what makes me happy” the girl said pouting her lips_
_“Does it really?” her mother questioned softly_
_“Yes! It does…” she said with a bitter sweet sensation rolling around her tongue_
_“Okay then…go” her mother said happily_
_“Seriously?” She quirked up curiously_ | 687aa57a38a54ffebcdeadf51a499c89 | ['0273d705dda041c4baf9dabfd1cf0eb7'] | _“And that’s why I’m done waiting for the right moment. I want to love you and show you that in a way that our lives don’t always lend to. Every minute of every day is just another wasted opportunity. I just don’t want to waste any more minutes or days or weeks. I want to love you in a way I never thought I would want. You made me want things I never thought I would want or could even have. From the moment I met you, to every moment after; I was always drawn to you – like a moth to a flame. When I started this crusade I was alone until I wasn’t. There was John and YOU…and this place here, it started feeling like home…but there were times when you weren’t here and I knew, in that part of me that I was hiding, that it only felt like home because of you…but back then it wasn’t the right time…I wasn’t in the right space until I was. Until I let myself love you and now I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t in love with you…I think I always was…I always thought of this place as home – a place that existed for the three of us. I have always considered you and John my family and this place our home even though we have moved to the new lair. I’ve come to understand more deeply now - You are my home, not this place. I want to be with you, by your side, no matter where we find ourselves, I want to come home to you because you are everything to me.” he says bending down on one knee, the ring inside the box open on display in one hand._
_“Felicity Smoak, will you marry me? Will you allow me to spend the rest my life with you, loving you and only you?”_
_Felicity couldn’t breathe at that point. Her words and her body were frozen. Her eyes were so full of tears and blurry as a result that she wasn’t 100 % sure if she still had her contacts in any more. Suddenly a surge of energy swept over her body and Felicity pulled Oliver up with all her strength and collided against his body. She kissed him with every yes she couldn’t say and every ounce of love she wanted him to feel. Yes yes yes and 1000 times yes!_
_When they slowed the kiss to a reluctant halt, their foreheads touching, their lips a hairs breadth apart, they smiled so big and so long, forgetting everything else around them. It was just the two of them and they held on so tight, not out of fear of letting go of each other, but out of a love so deep that each touch and tingle sent their hearts soaring into the sky._
_Oliver had been the one to pull back slightly, pushing her hair away from her face and wiping her tears that kept running. “I’ll take that as a Yes” he smiles and she gasps in horror that the one time she would have loved her mouth to spew her thoughts, it didn’t and she basically left him hanging._
_“I thought I could depend on you; ‘brain-to-mouth filter’! This was not the time to be slacking”_
_Oliver laughs aloud and kisses her forehead “Go easy on her, she had quite the surprise sprung on her”_
_“And then some! Yes Oliver a thousand times YES!! I love you so much!!”_
_“I love you too Felicity” and they seal their future with a deep passionate kiss, the kind that the Greek gods would be too shy to watch! Felicity pushed Oliver against the closest pillar in the old foundry “where is this strength coming from” he chuckles into her lips. His hands found the skin on her back. “You give me strength” he hears in his ear as he runs his hands slowly up her spine and then down the length of it again, softly caressing the heightened swell of her ass and then running his hands down the length of the thigh she had hitched up around his one side. Their bodies pressed against each other and against the pillar, pushing into each other with a slow hard grind. It was never the plan to do this here but plans change and it felt right. In the middle of undressing and falling to the floor they both confessed to each other the amount of times they both wanted to do this over the three years and they broke into fits of giggles and continued to make love right there in a place that both their minds had once called home thinking it was about the place, it must be the place, now realising it was their hearts; together their hearts are their home._
_After their love making session, they laid curled up around each other, neither minding the scrunched up feel of one of the curtain sheets that didn’t last against their pillar grind session or how cold and hard the concrete under their bodies felt but both knowing that they would hurt the next day. Oliver reached over to the ring box that got lost in the heat and opened it for Felicity to look at_
_“It’s beautiful Oliver”_
_“It was my mother’s” he said shyly_
_“Oh” was the only thing that left her lips as her eyes focuses on the huge diamond ring in front of her._
_“I…if u don’t want it, I can get…”_
_“No! Oliver, I love it, it’s beautiful. I’m just not sure if your mother would approve of my wearing her ring”_
_“Well my mother isn’t here and I think by now she would have loved you as much as I do…besides, this is a Queen family heirloom; passed down to the first son’s bride-to-be. But I was serious, if you want another?_ |
7ff414f33e6b44faa65c2e79a5af20bf | ['02743db4d2784fd1a853cfdc38300849'] | ( ** _Over here, hurry mother. Break the chains_**.)
The moment the gap is big enough, she squeezes through and rushes down the steps, she stumbles once when her ankle wobbles but regains her balance. Faintly in the background she hears the soldiers shouting before the light shining around her expands with a dull boom and she can feel fiery breath on her neck. Drogon, truly her son, impatient like her. She doesn’t slow until she reaches the bottom, her son's head hovering above her own and she calls out into the dark softly, “Rhaegal? Viserion?”
Chains rattle and scrape before they emerge on opposite sides, scuttling around pillars to arrive together in front of her and she sees flames lick through their teeth in excitement. Their feet scrambling to gain solid purchase against the ground, as if one good push will set them free. _Breaker of chains_ , her mind whispers and she sprints forward. Her fingers barely touch their scales and her mind fractures into memories, sending her to her knees.
( ** _snow, ice and pain. A scream tearing through their teeth as the fire resting in his mouth drained backwards down his throat and emerged from a gaping wound and his blood followed, sizzling against the cold air and then he crashes_** )
( ** _his wings strain against the air, each flap a struggle to keep pace with his brother. Look, look at me mother. I can still fly; I can still fight! Are you proud, do I make you happy?_**
**_Their tether alights with the heat of her love and joy, spreading down his neck with his spines quivering in the feeling, it slithers down into his chest and curls into a ball._ **
**_A whistle, the warmth bursts and its drowned in his agony. He struggles to stay aloft before his eyes roll back, a rattle expels from his mouth and soon he is falling, falling, falling…_** )
She whispers apologies as her sight returns to her sons before her, sniffing and forbidding the tears from falling again. She beckons them closer, their heads bowing down and one after the other she releases them from the weight of their collars. Never again, she promises. Her children crowd around her, their chirps a soothing euphony that echoes through the catacombs.
She hears her Unsullied call to her from the entrance and when she glances up, she is surprised to see White Rat standing halfway down the steps.
She grasps Drogon’s horns, barely moving before he is shoving her to her feet. She tugs gently in reprimand and feels him huff against her belly in response. Loudly with confidence she calls to White Rat, “Call for more Unsullied, tell them I want the harpy brought down by tomorrow morning.”
He nods once and he retreats up the steps. She watches him join the squad standing outside and one of them leaves quickly after he mutters to them while the rest move into a formation against the entrance, continuing their guard once more. She gathers her sons closer, standing in the middle of their coiled necks. Drogon remains burrowed against her belly while Viserion and Rhaegal take place at each shoulder.
“We begin again.” She whispers to them and feels their happiness and approval radiate to her and settle along her spine.
Yes, and this time they will not lose.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yes, this is before the harpy gets dragged down.
> The dragons are the size they were in season 5 and yes, they all remember their stints in the previous life
> sorry to those knowledgeable about certain unsullied soldier fates
3. Sons of the Harpy
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The Sons of the Harpy have lashed out and Daenerys is not happy.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> still season 5 episode 1
The scratching of ink on parchment is a soothing sound, there's something Daenerys finds comforting in the repetitive motion of writing, of putting words to the thoughts flitting through her head and being able to make sense of them. The door to her solar rattles, as whoever outside knocks twice and waits. She barely glances up at it and the shadow looming under before returning to the papers on her desk and quietly calls out for her guest to enter.
An Unsullied soldier pushes the door open, closing it behind him and comes to a stop at the chair in front of her desk, hands folded behind his back. She puts her pen down and looks up, a smile gracing her lips.
“ _White Rat, how do your men fare?_ ” The valyrian pours out smoothly as Daenerys leans forward, one hand resting on the desk and the other gesturing to the chair. White Rat relaxes his stance and nods gratefully in return as he sits. His hands are dusted by dirt and there are grains of sand in the ridges of his armour.
“ _They are doing fine, Your Grace. We are having the harpy statue deconstructed as you wished._ ”
Humming in approval, she pulls out more papers from the top drawer of her desk. She sifts through numerous reports of finances and complaints before plucking two reports from the piles and putting the rest back into the drawer. The joy she felt when she watched the harpy being torn down from the roof of the pyramid all those weeks ago had stayed with her through her day and led to the idea of hiring contracts with the builders living in the city to dismantle the statue in hopes to create more jobs and help improve the economy. She had the Unsullied stand guard as they worked to ensure their work wouldn't be disturbed by Sons of the Harpy who would no doubt be enraged by their symbol being destroyed. | d9d6d281ee704a908efa6b6f1c3d1e79 | ['02743db4d2784fd1a853cfdc38300849'] | “Please, Your Grace, you must kill them. These men want to put a collar back on my neck. On all our necks.”
“It would send a message.”
She’s hardly surprised by the suggestion, expected it really and in agreement but she doesn’t want to slaughter them in their cells. She wants something for all of Meereen to witness, to understand that she will put herself between her people and those that seek to harm them.
“I think you should exercise restraint, Your Grace.”
It is Ser Barristan who cautions her, his hands held up and palms facing her but he doesn’t look into her eyes. He chooses instead to keep his gaze on the table top and she gets the impression he doesn’t want to offend her, especially in front of the other members of the council. She gestures for him to continue, meeting his eyes when he finally looks up. She wants to hear all the options available to her, even if others believe she wouldn’t like them.
“These prisoners may have valuable information. They may even know who has been orchestrating this entire-”
“-The harpies have no more valuable information.” Daario’s tone is sharp as cuts off Ser Barristan, his arms folded on the table and he leans closer. The look on his face is one of ridicule, that he can’t believe Ser Barristan believes the prisoners deserve a better fate after all that they have helped cause.
Ser Barristan doesn’t back away, holding Daario’s gaze and his voice tinged with incredulity, “And how do you know that?”
“Because they’ve been interrogated.”
His face falls and he leans away, irritated. His eyebrows furrowed and rubbing his fingertips against his knuckles, a sigh she can barely hear passes through his lips and she knows he doesn’t like the way this meeting is going but what works in Westeros does not work here in Meereen. The harpies will not be given a chance to pretend that slavery is good, that all they have murdered will have no consequence to their fate. The supporters will not be excused either, they have helped welcome the Sons of the Harpy into the city, have directed their blades towards those vulnerable. They have blood on their hands too.
She ignores Hizdahr as he sits up to defend the supporters and instead looks to Missandei, who has sat silent so far. They meet each other’s stare and she wants to know what she thinks. She raises her eyebrows in question and Missandei quietly murmurs in Dothraki, a language none here at the table understand, “ _P_ _ublic execution?_ "
Her eyes cut to Mossador as his voice raises, bordering on shouting ‘ _They are born free!_ ’. She watches for a moment, quietly and once confident that a fight will not breakout she returns to face Missandei and replies back in the same soft murmur, her question more hesitant, “ _By sword or fire?_ ”
She waits for the disappointment, eyes searching wildly across Missandei’s face for horror at the implied suggestion of her question but nothing appears. Only a thoughtful quirk of her lips as she thinks it over and a slight turn of the head. The conclusion she must come to leaves a slight downturn to her lips and she tuts, an almost playful look in her eyes as she finally replies,
“ _Am I too biased for wanting fire? For thinking they don’t deserve the sword?_ ”
She has to press her lips together tightly to stop the grin from stretching across her cheeks, takes a second to calm her face but the corner of her mouth quirks up in a smirk as she leans in a little closer and is tempted to grasp her hand but the sound of arguing reminds her where she is.
“ _You have as much bias as I do._ ”
They share a smile and her heart is filled with so much love for her friend it hurts. She lets her gaze linger and when it falls to her neck, the smile falters briefly as she can envision a headless body pooling in blood, can feel a gaping maw in her chest swallow her happiness in seconds. Thankfully her attention is ripped away, back to the table as Mossador slams his hands down against the surface, a snarl is spread across his mouth and he glares at Hizdahr.
Quickly raising her hand, her voice cuts across the room loudly -”Enough!”- and she glares at both Mossador and Hizdahr, daring them to continue shouting.
Ser Barristan clears his throat and when she turns her glare to him, he merely takes a deep breath.
“If I may, Your Grace?”
She raises her eyebrows in permission and waits patiently as he takes a moment before he speaks, staring into her eyes and not flinching away.
“We don’t know if all these men committed murder. We should give them trials at least. A fair one. Show all the citizens of Meereen that your better than those who would depose you, teach them a better way.”
Fair? What do people who orchestrate massacres in alleys and brothels know about fair? Why should she hold herself to a higher standard, stay her hand and show the people who slit the throats of her people compassion?
Apparently Mossador shares the sentiment with the way he huffs and shakes his head at Ser Barristan, disappointment evident.
“I do not know the place where Old Ser comes from. Things-”, he shrugs his shoulders half-heartedly, “-maybe are different there, I hope. But here in Meereen, before Daenerys Stormborn, they own us.”
His fingers begin to tap against the desk as his voice becomes harder, and he turns to stare at Hizdahr accusingly.
“So we learn much about them or we do not live long. They teach me what they are. Mercy, fair trial - these mean nothing to them. All they understand is blood.” |
b92c39b5efef4e49944ea88af2784a8d | ['02758640e6d146159820dce7dd50448d'] | 1. Monster
Best friends. Rivals. Worst enemies.
\----
Keito spent every day he could with Eichi when the latter was hospitalized. Every last moment.
\----
The day of the entrance ceremony. Eichi entered, nervously. What if he were to fail at being an idol?
He looked around at his new school. And he saw him. Keito, pacing along the sidewalk, waiting for the ceremony begin.
Eichi wanted to scream. He wanted to beat Keito to a bloody pulp. He never once viewed himself as a human for almost his entire first year, but rather as a parasite feeding off of Keito's lifeblood. A ravenous monster who took away the life of his own best friend. An abomination of god.
It wasn't until finally the Quarrel festival that he could express this.
\----
On that night, he lost to Keito. He hadn't a single regret. He'd let everything pour out. All these negative feelings were the best price to price to pay for losing. A miracle occurred.
Te be continued.
2. Reconciliation
After the Quarrel Festival, Keito and Eichi ended up at the Hasumi Shrine.
Exhausted and overworked, Eichi layed down on the futon, smiling at his defeat.
Keito lay beside him. They stared up at the ceiling, without a word.
Until their hands formed a firm grasp upon each other.
"Thank you for everything, Keito," Eichi finally murmured.
It was enough to make Keito tear up. They turned over on their sides, and maintained eye contact.
"You have a twisted way of showing your emotions," Keito said, sobbing over the past few days, "But you're still my best friend," he tightened his grip, "and my favorite person on this earth."
"Keito..."
And so, Eichi moved closer.
"Eichi? What are you doing?"
And their lips met.
To Eichi's surprise, Keito didn't fight back.
They tangled their fingers in each other's hair, and Eichi felt Keito's tongue on his lips, demanding entry. And who was Eichi to deny him that? They kissed until they couldn't breathe. After that, Keito held Eichi protectively his arms.
And they exchanged "I love you" to each other.
They woke up, happy, in the embrace of each other. | b626902d63de45a48bf59ca37ded2b1a | ['02758640e6d146159820dce7dd50448d'] | Everything that had been said by the members of Knights had Makoto thinking.
What Rtisu had said about Izumi's feelings... It really struck him hard, yet he still didn't know if he reciprocated Izumi's feelings.
After the events of that day, he was sure about something. Izumi needed his love. It was whether he could honestly give Izumi that love that was the problem.
He decided to try showing Izumi that love; if he did that, maybe he could find what his true feelings were.
\----
"Izumi-san...?"
"Yeah, Yuu-kun? What is it?"
"Come watch the fireworks with me after the live... I mean... If you want to..."
Izumi nodded.
Great. That would be at least one thing sorted out.
\----
The live was intense. Izumi's dance practice really tired him out. But the live wasn't what mattered anymore.
Ritsu's words still echoed throughout his mind. His heart pounded. His head felt light. He didn't know if it was love or fatigue. He didn't know what he wanted it to be, either.
After the live, it was time. Mao, Ritsu, and the others went their own ways. It was just him and Izumi left. They watched the bursts of color in the sky.
Makoto glanced over at Izumi, who was smiling, seemingly pleased with what was going on.
If he didn't do this now, there wouldn't be another moment were Makoto showed this sort of courage.
His face was heating up. His heart was pounding. He was sweating. He finally realized, this was indeed love. Love was the only explanation.
He felt like a murderer for not realizing he felt like this earlier. But this wasn't the time for that.
Makoto out his hand on Izumi's, who had turned to see if a Makoto was enjoying himself, cheek.
Izumi put on an unmistakable expression of shock, as Makoto kissed him.
The sounds of the fireworks were drained out by budding lifelong romance.
This was happening. Wow.
After that, went to Izumi's apartment (apparently Izumi was already living by himself), were Makoto let it all spill out.
"I'm really, really, sorry that I didn't realize I like you earlier..."
"It's okay, Yuu-kun, I'm happy that I can be together with you," Izumi said.
Makoto held onto Izumi.
"I love you, Izumi-san," he said, quietly.
They stayed like that, hugging, for the rest of the night. |
91322175cb7d4d498b18a896a4e4433f | ['0296652df681405598dce2ab6926bd52'] | Beca is startled, considers protesting, but she doesn’t have the energy to feign outrage. It’s so much easier to just sink into his arms, let him tousle her hair, and feel the vibrations of his voice when he says, “It’s going to be okay, kiddos.”
None of them can know that, but it’s nice — for now, for a moment — to have someone older say it. To feel almost like the kid she sometimes knows she still is (deep down, even all these years later) and have an adult, a parent, say that things are going to be okay.
Just one last time before the world ends.
*
The ground forces are here fast. Too fast.
It doesn’t matter, though.
Nobody asks you if you’re ready for everything to change. It just happens.
Beca starts suiting up on the landing bay. Uncle Rhodey is there, looking more serious (and afraid) than she’s ever seen him before. He stops before the helmet slips on, watching her closely. “You ready for this?”
Her own helmet slides on fast, before he can see any uncertainty that’s probably there on her face. “Do I have a choice?”
“I guess not.”
“Then I guess I’m great.”
She takes off, flying in a straight line for the perimeter forcefield.
Chloe is with her parents, a part of the ground troops. Aubrey is there too, with Stacie and CR. From her vantage point up in the air, Beca can see the alien forces assembling; she really doesn’t think handguns or arrows are going to make a huge dent on this stuff.
They’re going to have to hold the line as best they can.
Chloe’s always saying that Beca is more of an optimist at heart than she likes to let on, and maybe that’s true. Usually she can actually see the upside, somewhere buried underneath a layer of dirt; it’s just that she knows better than to trust it.
Just now, she’s not even sure that there is an upside.
Maybe there’s just something less awful than death, which is feeling more and more inevitable by the second, and whatever the alternative is that’s the best that they can hope for now. This isn’t how being a hero works, you’re not supposed to assume the worst. It’s bad for focus.
But you’re not supposed to be captured either.
Not supposed to have to suffer and almost die, over and over, with no fucking end in sight just to end up back here again anyway, facing death and hoping.
In the middle of their fucking vacation.
Someone’s going to owe them a whole hell of a lot, assuming they survive.
It’s starting to feel like a pretty big assumption.
*
When they deliberately breach a part of their own defenses to let the enemy in, it’s pretty obvious that they’re getting desperate.
Beca’s power reserves are still close to their max, but there’s only so many bombs you can drop, especially now that there are friends mixed in alongside the enemy combatants. Even guided missiles can cause collateral damage when a payload is delivered into too big a crowd. Beca learned that at an early age, listening to the (many) lists of her father’s past mistakes.
If she’s going to still be of use, she has to fly lower, zipping over the sea of bodies that twist and contort with violent movement. They look like ants, which is a pretty sociopathic thing to think probably, but they do.
It doesn’t feel real.
Even after so many years flying and saving lives, Beca has never seen anything quite like this.
It’s like when an airplane is landing and you see little farms and tiny cows that feel like part of a playset. The human brain can’t take in this much data and process it properly. It just becomes noise, something that reads as false.
So she flies a little lower, gets a better look at these bastards, before setting them alight with a laser.
They scream, and it’s so fucking satisfying.
The bombs are close, but they feel so far away now as she lands and begins trading more direct blows with aliens who practically shatter under her fists. It’s almost like an old friend, the way that bone sounds cracking under each heavy swing of her (gold titanium) hands, even through the growing ache that pulses from her hand up to her shoulder. That’s familiar too, in its own way.
It’s soothing. It’s simple.
It makes it all seem possible somehow. Just take one familiar step after the other, pummel one alien after the next, and they can win. But then slowly, faintly, there’s another sound too. It’s far away but pierces directly to the center of her; Beca hears it in an instant and stops right where she is, completely still.
It sounds closer because it hurts more.
One of the alien assholes swings an axe and it collides — rebounds — against her right shoulder (reverberating with an old familiar pain) but Beca just ignores him. She turns in the direction of the sound.
Beca recognizes it as something that she’s only heard a few times before.
She heard it on the day the bomb went off and changed her world. She heard it the day that men came and took Chloe from her. She heard it when Jesse was caught too close to an explosion and lost all hearing in his left ear.
She hears it now, and her heart plummets.
Natasha is screaming — not in anger, but in agony — calling Chloe’s name. | 6c39f8ba420740b5a19ed9460935fcea | ['0296652df681405598dce2ab6926bd52'] | Now all she can think is that alcohol _does_ make the truth far too easy and all the words Aubrey is close to saying -- she can _feel them_ moving up into her mouth, rising from the acidic clenching in her stomach -- are awful, horrible, and nothing she would ever really _want_ to say. Not out loud.
" _No_."
Even more unexpected -- far beyond all reason or possible calculations -- is the fact that it's _Beca_ who speaks before anyone else. (Beca - who has tried her best to keep silent and apart all night, glaring at anyone who might consider bringing her into the game.)
"No family, guys," she says in a voice so quiet that even Lilly leans closer to hear. " _Seriously_."
Aubrey doesn't have to look to know that Chloe is nodding her agreement. Doesn't have to and can't, because right now Aubrey can't quite tear her gaze away from Beca's stare holding her own.
That feeling inside can only be Aubrey's immense (and incalculable) gratitude.
Inspired by _Beca Mitchell_ of all people.
*
This is the very first sign -- of which Aubrey certainly hopes there will be many -- that Beca might actually be _worthy_ of Chloe.
It's not much -- except that in that moment, it really feels like it's _everything_ \-- and it certainly doesn't mean that Beca is fully out of the doghouse when it comes to the Jesse thing -- whatever their _thing_ might be exactly -- but if anything this only strengthens Aubrey's resolve.
She feels all the more justified in taking drastic measures. "Beca," Aubrey says once it's her turn to ask. "Truth or dare?"
Beca blinks owlishly, obviously confused. "… I'm not playing."
"You're here drinking with us. You most certainly are."
Beca looks _angry_ with Aubrey in that particularly spiteful and petulant way that she's inclined to. (She's so much like a puppy that's contemplating whether or not to bite or roll over.) " _Aubrey_ ," she hisses, like they made some kind of deal and Aubrey's going back on the terms.
"Fine." The tension eases out of Beca's shoulders, but only for as long as it takes Aubrey to turn her head. "Chloe. Truth?"
There's a momentary panic that lights up in Chloe's eyes, as if triggered by her name said in such direct a juxtaposition with Beca's. She isn't far off. "Aubrey," she says, less annoyed and far more placating than her scrawny crush would ever try to be. "Don't--"
"We're playing a game, _Chloe_. Truth or fucking dare."
Aubrey's fairly certain that she hears one of the other girls gasp -- almost _all_ of them are tense now, confused and whispering amongst themselves -- but she doesn't look away from Chloe. (Out of the corner of her eye she can see Beca tensing again as well, elbows pointing out at awkward angles and her mouth drawn in a stilted frown.)
"… dare."
Of course. With a dare, Chloe can always lay the blame entirely on Aubrey when she says, "I dare you to kiss Beca."
With a truth, Chloe would have to confess to wanting it herself.
"Dude," Beca squeaks, and drops her beer in the dirt. "What?" She exchanges a look with Chloe, and quickly (vigorously) shakes her head.
Chloe winces slightly (almost imperceptibly, but Aubrey sees, she _perceives_ ), and once _again_ she's being rejected by Beca Mitchell.
This isn't going the way Aubrey would have wanted, but that's to be expected. _Nothing_ with Beca has _ever_ gone how Aubrey wants. Because what Aubrey wants (what she _really_ wants most of all) is for Chloe to _move on_ to someone more worthy of her time, attention, and heartache.
Like basically _anyone else with a pulse_ would be fine, but here they are stuck with the predictably alternative girl with the heart and mind of an eight-year-old who pulls pigtails but won't follow through.
Except those aren't the rules of the fucking _game_.
"Aubrey," Chloe says, and her expression is utterly devastated, as if Aubrey has _betrayed_ her. As if she's begging now. "Don't."
But concessions are a confession to weakness, and Aubrey _loves_ Chloe more than she likes feeling good about herself, so she pushes forward. "You said dare, now you _have_ to kiss Beca." And then, because Chloe obviously isn't feeling very truthful right now, and Aubrey wants to be certain, she adds, "On the mouth."
*
Except they don't. They don't follow the rules or participate in the game.
They don't kiss.
Beca leaves the campfire in a (clumsy, almost stumbling) huff, and Chloe chases after her. It's obvious that they don't want Aubrey to follow, but they're _alone in the woods_ in the middle of the night after drinking (somewhat heavily), and safety outweighs most other concerns.
Still, Aubrey is careful to follow from a relatively _safe_ (and quiet) distance. It's not that hard to track them, really. She just follows the sound of Chloe's voice -- slightly panicked and traveling ever higher, shouting;
"Beca, _wait_." And also, "Please just _listen_."
There's a sudden thudding sound of collision and dirt accompanied by an undignified squeak, and suddenly Beca's voice is coming from approximately ankle level. (Though it's close to there to begin with.) "… I am, I'm just _walking_." From the sound of things, that ought to be rather hard to manage since she seems to be having trouble getting back up again.
(Aubrey can hear the rough sound of bark and branches snapping. She listens closely, and she thinks she can hear both of them (Chloe too!) almost _panting_.)
"Would you _wait?_ " Chloe's voice is quieter now, strained but trying to be soft. "… what happened?"
Silence.
"Beca?"
"… what's happening?" The sound this time isn't from up ahead, but _directly behind_ Aubrey. |
c4f8051b3380418996f7eba5645aac5a | ['02a2e0d77e89476abe8dc115171846b0'] | "Mary Sue Poots, orphan, probably neglected, probably abused by one of her foster parents, suffers from anxiety, depression, probably PTSD which causes regularly nightmares and panic attacks, haven't said a word in a year, been missing for almost four months after running from a foster home, robbed a store probably to have something to eat, I wouldn't even charge her if it wasn't the owner." Phil said with sad eyes. "Look I know this is too much, but she would end up with Radcliff til the trial and she needs a female presence, not that asshole, you've been where she is, ish, I know you can help, even a little, I know you can do this, I wouldn't have called if I didn't believe you could do this."
He said. Phil had so much faith in her, always had. When he looked at her, she felt like she could do anything. May shrugged. "It's gonna be a long month, you owe me dinner for this."
"Deal. It's a date." Phil smiled and even with everything May knew she had coming, she smiled back.
After getting everything she needed, and signed so many papers her hand hurt. May got back to the girl and kneeled in front of her.
"Okay Kid, it's you and me now. I know you had a rough patch and some shit happened to you, but I'll everthing I can to protect you okay? I'm not gonna hurt you, you're safe with me. I promise you. And I've no idea how this works, but I'm gonna try to get you a better social worker, you deserve better than that guy. Now let's go." Melinda said got up, Mary Sue did the same. May kindly guided the girl to her car.
May knew this was going to be hard. But Phil believed in her, she could do this, maybe she could help.
"I'm gonna take two weeks off to be with you and you'll have your own room, I live on a apartment by the way, you don't have clothes with you, but luckily I think my clothes fit you. But if don't like we can go shopping, I don't mind." Melinda May was babbling which was very uncommon, but she was nervous, she didn't want to mess this up.
"By the way, I don't talk this much I just want to explain this to you, I won't force you to speak. It's okay. I understand. But if you wanna talk about anything, you can come to me okay?"
Melinda May was trying to prepare herself to everything that could possibly happen on this two weeks, but not what happened next.
"Thank you for understating, and for take me in, I really appreciate it, and please call me Skye." The girl said in a small voice.
May smiled, maybe this won't be so hard, she thought. | 99eeca50c6514036a44e968132219a17 | ['02a2e0d77e89476abe8dc115171846b0'] |
Can't help falling in love (with you).
**Author's Note:**
* Inspired by LINK by LINK.
Lizzie Bennet always loved the song Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley, it for some reason used to remember of her odd, nothing alike parents, that somehow end up falling in love each other, that music always made her happy. But not today, no, today that was that music was the soundtrack of the most awkward moments of her life and believe, it meant something coming from her. While William Darcy's had his hands on her waist in some weird way like she was some hot potato, Lizzie promised that if she ever got married, she would never force some poor single woman dance with a stranger man just for the sake of some stupid wedding tradition, like Ellen Gibson (and probably her) was doing to her.
Why were they even dancing to this song? This wasn't supposed to be the newlyweds first song or whatever? Lizzie loved the song but she had to admit it was too cliche, "only fools rush in but I can't help falling in love with you?". Seriously? How was true love something to be rushed?
"Do you enjoy dancing?" Lizzie looked up at him, trying really hard not the laugh at the stupid newsie hat he was wearing.
"Not if I can help it." he replied not even looking at her. Lizzie felt her smile become a frown.
"Yeah, clearly" She whispered under her breathe. And then finally, but what seem an eternity for her, the singer from the band sang the last words and she was free.
Lying in her bed after everything Lizzie was sure the song was ruined for her, along with bow ties.
"Oh no" Lizzie thought. "Not this again" while her mother forced to stand in line besides Charlotte, Lydia and Gigi while Jane prepared to toss her bouquet, even tho she was in a happy and long relationship. Jane smiled at Lizzie and that should've been her first clue, or second to be honest. Jane, of course, tossed the flowers directly at her. And of course she caught it just before it smashed into her face, once again. She sighed and smiled, well, it couldn't get any worse that last time.
Bing winking before taking the garter of his wife should've been her third clue. Bing just handing it do her boyfriend should've been the fourth. And despiste being embarrassed, Gigi and Fitz yelling at Darcy to not messed up this time made her laugh. William smiled at her this time and stupid wedding traditions was the last thing on her mind.
"May I have this dance Ms. Bennet?" he asked shyly. He took her hand and lead her to the dance floor. Darcy hold her close to his chest. When the first notes of Can't Help Falling In Love started playing she grinned at him.
"You know, for a while there I hated this song because it remind me of you, and then I listened it all day for three days because someone wouldn't call me back, while we danced at Gibson's wedding I stated to think to the lyrics was kinda of silly, but during those three days it made so much sense, I couldn't help falling in love with you."
"I know, Lydia told me about it.
"I was right, what are you all up to?"
"Well, I wanted your last time catching the bouquet would be better than the last one."
"You are right, this is way better, partially because you're talking to me now and smiling, but you holding me this close? It couldn't get any better. But I'm sure this isn't the last time, I'm pretty sure my mom will find a way to make me stand with the single woman at another wedding. I think she wants you to take a hint."
"Well, I have been clueless about a good part of our relationship, but she is right, I think is time for me to make a honest woman of you, as your mother always says." Lizzie felt William's arms loosing around her and before she could process what was happening, he was down in one knee.
"Despite of my better judgment, I couldn't wait anymore, two parts of me been at war, I know you would like something more intimate, but Lizzie Bennet, I'm in love you. I always have been, and I always will be. You made me a better person, and I constantly find my face contorted on smile and it's always because of you, after all these years I'm not better at expressing myself, I love you. Will you marry me?".
Lizzie focou was only on the blue eyes if front of her, if wasn't she could've heard the sound that came out of her mother. Lizzie got down on her knees and kissed him. This kiss remembered her of they first kiss. She could feel his surprise and yet the love he had for her was so clear.
"So, is that a yes?"
"Let's make things clear as possible, William Darcy, yes, I'll marry you".
He kissed her again and all Jane and Bing's guests were easily forgotten along with the song the no longer played.
Lizzie was sure she was spontaneous combust from happiness at any moment now. She was pretty sure no one was allowed to be this happy. Everything looked something out of a movie. To the cake topper wearing plaid shirts and a newscap hat, to the green dresses her braidsmaid were wearing. Sure, her make up was probably blurred because William made her cry with his vows, but it was okay because she made he cry too. The reason why her hair was a mess was probably best unsaid.
"You look beautiful". Her husband said for the third time in the last hour.
"Are you sure? I think I'm just decent enough". |
68fae03520ce4b568acd292e569c24b3 | ['02a65d72816f4a369444e6152816b4ce'] | > -Jack having a short seizure
> -spit
> -short mention of dry heaving, nothing else happens
> -sad feelings, bad memories, the characters feel like shit, this chapter isn't cute at all
> -Rhys loses all his friends
> -Jack still being an asshole
> -Jack is going to get worse before he gets any better
> -seriously this is a long ass info dump chapter
> -Happy New Year???
>
> I don't have anyone beta any of my chapters so if there's typos I'll catch them later and fix them.
It’s two in the morning. Rhys sits in a patio chair on the balcony outside the hotel room, looking through the chilly night at the bustling metropolis of Opportunity. The white buildings dazzle with blue and green lights, and the starry sky is awash in a tapestry of holographic advertisements. The nocturnal hum of city noise is alive and vibrant, with Stingrays zipping through the streets and workers coming and going from shops and offices that are open twenty four hours a day.
If anyone would have told Rhys three years ago that Opportunity would rise to a greatness surpassing even Handsome Jack’s dreams, he would have told them they were crazy. But here it was. Beautiful, prosperous, secure.
And all because Rhys had done a very bad thing.
He’d brought back Handsome Jack.
Again.
Rhys pops open a bottle of champagne from the hotel room’s fridge and sips it straight from the bottle. It’s a good champagne, the kind that’s going to come up as an Eridium charge on Jack’s bill instead of regular cash. Of course Jack told him he could take anything from the room, but nothing came from Jack without an invisible price tag attached to it.
Especially not the emotional debts, which accrued interest mercilessly.
Three years ago, Opportunity had been an empty shell, and Rhys had been the CEO of Atlas, one of the first corporations in a long time that used peaceful measures rather than violence to work their way to the top. Saving lives and advancing medical technology was their aim, and Rhys had been proud to serve as their leader, humbled by the hard work of his employees. He told himself he was nothing like Jack anymore. No threatening, no killing, no brainwashing. Hell, with the amount of reformed bots they’d reprogrammed to join their side, they’d even managed to avoid as much human testing as possible, with Loader Bot acting as their first test subject for new prosthetic limbs. Soon the healthy population of Pandora had boomed, and they needed new places to live. Opportunity already had electricity, plumbing, and sturdy buildings. It was perfect. The first Council of Opportunity was formed, and with Rhys, Vaugn, Fiona, Sasha, and August acting their parts, their different opinions and mutual respect for each other stirred up some heated but important debates. In one year, Opportunity went from a glimmer of hope into a radiant beacon of life, and Rhys thought he’d finally left the worst of his life behind him.
But, as Fiona once told him, _Once Hyperion, always Hyperion._
His biggest mistake, Rhys thought, had been keeping the ECHO eye after Jack’s second death. He should have crushed it when he had the chance. He’d felt such relief after he’d unplugged Jack that he thought he was free of the man’s grip forever. Then, slowly but surely, missing Jack got harder and harder.
Rhys knew it didn’t make sense that he missed the asshole. He’d tried to confess his issues to his friends, hoping they’d understand- and they did, but only a little. Sasha said it was because Jack had been his hero, and it wasn’t easy to let go of that, but she’d held his hand and kissed him and told Rhys it would be okay. Fiona had said that Jack was an expert in manipulation, and that Rhys was falsely remembering Jack as a good guy. August had just smirked and shook his head.
But Vaughn was a different story. Vaughn had gently pulled him into his bedroom that night, when no one was looking, and asked Rhys if he’d ever had feelings toward another man. Asked if maybe he wasn't just obsessed with Handsome Jack, but had feelings for him, too. The question had surprised and alarmed Rhys. He wasn’t sure if Vaughn was coming on to him or not, so he shook his head and said no. Vaughn had slowly unbuttoned his shirt, unbuttoned his pants, slung them low on his hips to show off his hip bones.
“Are you sure?” Vaughn had asked, his voice low.
Rhys had stared, his eyes locked onto Vaughn’s body.
“Don’t wanna ruin our friendship,” Vaughn had said gently, “but you’re my best bud, you know? If there’s something you need to figure out, well... I wouldn’t mind helping.”
Rhys combed his fingers nervously through his hair and glanced away. “Y-yeah... Okay. Thanks. I just... Seeing Sasha.”
Vaughn hummed. “I asked her. She’s okay with this.”
“You guys talked about having sex with me without me there?” Rhys said, voice simmering with annoyance.
“Well yeah,” Vaughn said, shrugging. “We love you, you know that, right? We’ve all been through a lot. It’s the first time in most of our lives that we’re free to be who we are, so if we need to do a little... experimentation... to figure that out, no harm, no foul.”
Rhys had smiled a bit and nodded. “Okay, bud. Look, I dunno if I like guys at all, but if I need your... help... I’ll let you know.”
Vaughn smiled back. “Is it gonna be awkward between us now?”
“Nah, I’m over it,” Rhys said. “I mean, you do have really great abs there, bro. Even the straightest dude is gonna have a hard time not looking.” | 6ee5d77abb624fa095f8862bc89d0bac | ['02a65d72816f4a369444e6152816b4ce'] | “Here...” Jack says, pushing himself back up and walking towards Rhys until he’s towering over the younger man. “...just relax, would you?” He inhales on his vape slow and deep, his eyes wide and watchful beneath his eyebrows that are turned down into their familiar V.
Rhys stares up at the older man and shakes his head. “Relax? What are you-”
Then Jack places one curled finger under Rhys’ chin, purses his lips, and blows warm smoke directly into Rhys’ face.
Rhys coughs, presses his eyes shut against the sudden sting. But the scent is heady and inviting, and he can’t stop himself from inhaling deeper when he smells cardamon and black pepper, the lingering aftertaste of vanilla smoothing its way from the back of his throat to the tip of his tongue. His body is shaking, the touch of Jack’s hand making something deep within his belly ache.
_Stop,_ Rhys begs himself, _you have to stop this._ He tries to back up, but there’s a wall there that bumps into him, and he knows he should try to grab the keycard and run. But he can smell Jack- nicotine and beer and sweat and blood and spice- and he can feel the heat of the man pressing closer to him, and the trembling in his stomach turns his limbs to jelly.
“ _That’s_ it,” Jack says, his voice deep and husky, leaning in until the words ghost across Rhys’ ear. He traces his hand up Rhys’ jawline, strokes the tender flesh behind Rhys’ ear with his knuckles. “That’s my good boy.”
Rhys groans, blood pooling in his groin.
Jack hums. “So beautiful, baby boy,” he whispers. His teeth graze Rhys’ earlobe, biting just hard enough to make Rhys’ knees buckle beneath him. “My good boy. You’re going to be so good for me, aren’t you?”
Rhys opens his eyes, his head swimming and his vision blurry. He senses Jack better than he sees him, feeling every brush of Jack’s fingers run along his skin like electricity. Gooseflesh prickles up along Rhys’ arms, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.
“ _Aren’t_ you?” Jack asks again, tone dagger sharp.
Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, Rhys looks up at Jack through hooded eyes and manages a small nod. “Y-Yes...” he says.
Jack’s fingers curl into Rhys’ hair. They give the slightest pull, just enough to sting. “Yes _what?_ ”
“Yes, I’ll be...” Rhys swallows hard. “...I’ll be good for you.”
“You’ll be good for me, _WHAT?_ ” Jack spits out like venom.
For a second Rhys is too confused to answer, and then he realizes what Jack is demanding.
Rhys lowers his eyes to the floor, his voice trembling. “I’ll be good for you, Sir.”
“Mmm, that’s it, sweetheart,” Jack says. “Such a pretty boy, you know that? So fucking gorgeous. So good for me.” He leans in, chest an inch away from Rhys’. “We’ll go with _Sir_ for now, but if you’re _very_ good for me, we’ll move on to something even better.”
Rhys nods deftly.
“What was that, sweetheart?” Jack asks. “I thought I heard you say something, but I think you mumbled."
“Yes, Sir,” Rhys says, his face flushing bright red.
“That’s right,” Jack says, leaning forward even more. He put the flat of his hand onto the wall above Rhys’ shoulder, steepling himself above the shorter man, the vape pen danging between his knuckles. His other hand comes up to cradle Rhys’ chin between forefinger and thumb. Jack turns Rhys’ head to the left, then to the right, then sticks his thumb between Rhy’s lips. Panting for breath, Rhys opens his mouth, and Jack slips his thumb in between Rhys’ teeth and pulls his jaw open. “Fuck, kiddo, look at you. Such an obedient little _slut_. I could do anything to you right now, Rhysie baby. I could take you as hard as I want. Destroy that tight little asshole of yours. And you’d let me do it.”
Rhys doesn’t know if he should answer or not, but he does. “Yes, Sir,” he moans out, his blush creeping down his cheeks and spreading through his body.
Jack taps his vape against the wall. “Get on your knees.”
Rhys obeys. His knees drop to the rough carpet of the hotel room floor and his heels hit the wall behind him. In front of his nose is Jack’s hardening cock, straining against the material of the man’s jeans. Rhys’ mind is blares another warning, but this time it’s saying _Big. Big big big._
“Take off my shoes,” Jack says.
...well, that definitely wasn’t the request Rhys thought he’d get. So he does as he’s told, unties the laces of Jack’s sneakers, pulls on the tongues to loosen the shoes, then pulls them off one at a time as Jack lifts up his feet. He’s not sure where to put them, so places them on the floor between Jack’s spread legs.
“Nice socks,” Rhys mutters.
Jack chuckles darkly and wiggles his toes in his Hyperion yellow socks with black stripes. “You should see my tighty whities. Guess what color they are, Rhysie.”
Rhys looks at the floor again. “Yellow, Sir?”
“Find out,” Jack says, nudging his hips forward.
_There’s_ the request Rhys was expecting. With shaking fingers, he pops open the button of Jack’s jeans with his real hand, then takes the zipper between his metal fingers and slowly pulls it down.
Jack lets out a long, slow growl of approval. Behind the zipper is nothing but flesh. “What color are my undies, baby boy?”
Rhys gulps. “...you’re not wearing any, Sir.”
“Take my cock out,” says Jack. His breath is starting to come heavy, his wide chest rising and falling.
Rhys wraps his real fingers around Jack’s hard cock and pulls it out of his pants, huge and heavy and dripping with precum.
_“Fuck,”_ Rhys gasps. |
855972882f984ec084b2554709f5c076 | ['02a7db90a5b443e783daab8cc597355e'] | When did he start to fall behind? When they were children, he was always the one to go first— the first to speak, the first to walk, the first to write and read. He was the better child, the one that never cried, the one that was always healthy. Connor was slow and sickly, a crybaby of an older brother that had to be protected.
When had that changed?
* * *
It was the first time that Connor had been on time in… years. Chris looked at him like he’d seen a ghost, and he was pretty sure Tina had choked on her coffee at the sight of him. And admittedly, he couldn’t blame them; he knew he was slacking, and at the thought of it— at the rush of heat that rose to redden his ears at the stares— he reached for his cigarettes and lighter only to have his lighter snatched from him.
Hank looked disapproving as he tucked the lighter into his suit pocket. “This is a no smoking zone, detective,” He scolded. Connor, in response, rummaged in his pocket until he found his spare and lit his cigarette regardless.
The rush of nicotine in his lungs gave him relief, though a short bout of hacking followed. Normally the coughing was short, but this time, it went full-blown asthma attack. It was probably the damn pollen this time of year, and all the pollution in the air didn’t help his case. Where did he leave that inhaler?
“Are you alright, Detective Anderson…?” Hank’s frown deepened.
Realizing belatedly that he’d left his inhaler in his dirty pants, Connor wheezed a soft, “Fuck me.” It wasn’t anything serious— sure, his chest hurt like a bitch, but he always kept a spare somewhere. Where was it…?
Tina knocked him in the head lightly, looking vaguely like she was fed up with his shit. “Nines keeps your spare, because you go through the fucking things like candy.”
Muttering a thanks, Connor made his way to Nines’ desk, stopping dead at the sight that awaited him. Nines— the overachieving asshole he was— was _sleeping on the job._ Hell had frozen over. That, or Nines was actually dead, which seemed like a more plausible option.
GV200 (Connor thought it’s name was Gavin) rolled his eyes, removing his skinless hand from the terminal and shoving Nines. The disturbed detective shot upright, eyes wide, and the android pointed at Connor with no other explanation offered. Still sleep-dazed, Nines fumbled through his desk drawer before finding the spare and tossing it Connor’s way. After a few puffs and calming breaths, Connor muttered something like a thanks.
“Quit smoking,” Nines responded distantly, staring at the coffee cup on his desk like it would come to life and bite his hand off. His retort was quickly followed by a sneeze, and a groan. “Fuck, my head…”
Connor thought that maybe he should offer a hand, maybe— his hand twitched and was moving before he could finish the thought, but he stopped himself without a word.
Nines wouldn’t appreciate his help. Nines hated him.
“Feel better,” Connor muttered, sliding the inhaler into his pocket and walking back to his desk with his head low.
Hank looked briefly at the coffee cup. No fingerprints. His gaze moved to meet Gavin’s, and with a scowl, the younger-model android looked away.
_//… REQUESTING PRIVATE CONNECTION… //_
_// … PRIVATE CONNECTION DENIED … //_
How ~~human~~ childish. Hank sighed and turned to follow the Lieutenant back to their desks.
In her glass office, Amanda watched the encounter unnoticed.
* * *
Nines continued to tell himself that he was _fine,_ he was _not sick_ for three more days in which he went through exactly seven boxes of tissues and disinfected his desk too many times to count. As the days wore on, he grew more and more tired and out of it. It was one hell of a cold, to say the least.
Until finally, Amanda called him into the office with a disparaging expression.
“Richard,” She scolded; she was the only one who ever called him with that name. “Would you like to take a look in the mirror?”
“No, Amanda,” He responded evenly, and Gavin snorted. Nines ignored the android and stood with impeccable posture, meeting Amanda’s gaze evenly. Internally, her cold gaze still gave him uneasy chills; she never did lose her lecture tone, as if she was still his academy instructor.
The older woman pinched her nose, quickly losing patience with him. “Richard, you look terrible. I’ve gotten complaints about how you’re spreading the flu around the office, and I’m inclined to agree with them. You can’t go—”
As if to prove her point, Nines sneezed on her jacket. She looked like she was ready to throttle him.
“Go home,” Amanda instructed, flatly. “Stay home until you’re better.” Turning her gaze to Gavin with such ferocity that the android flinched, she added, “And _you._ Follow your instructions. Assist the detective.”
“Woah, woah, hang on a second,” Gavin protested. “My mission is to help him solve cases, not to play nanny! This goes against my pro—”
“Are you going to defy an order from a human?” Amanda asked, dangerously calm. Her smile was more threatening than a blade.
Gavin’s LED whirred yellow-red-yellow-red- _yellow._ His face became a carefully constructed, neutral expression, and he said, “Of course not. I will assist the detective.”
He sounded like he was being choked. Nines could almost imagine the lines of red code wrapping around the android’s neck, locking it into pre-existing protocols. Firewalls in place to prevent deviancy, or any behavior even similar to it.
Gavin really was just a robot. A plastic piece of junk. It didn’t clear the nasty taste in Nines’ mouth, or the uneasiness in his stomach, but it should have— just like that code should have kept Gavin from disobeying.
He’d sounded like he was in pain. | 9602970255ca4024bca30b379a81047d | ['02a7db90a5b443e783daab8cc597355e'] | Nines’ voice was so quiet Connor almost missed it. “Head out of the past, Con. Stay in the today. Things have changed, and we can’t help that. But we’re getting better.”
Were they, really? Sometimes Connor wondered. But he smiled at Nines anyways.
“...we’re getting better,” Connor agreed, before kneeling in the grass and taking a deep breath. “Hey, baby brother. It’s been awhile, right?” His eyes were hot and his cheeks wet, but it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His laugh was shaky and quickly tapered off. “That’s my fault. I… I’m sorry, I should have come sooner. I’m sorry, Cole. I’m sorry.”
Connor didn’t notice Nines moving away from the stone to kneel next to him until his younger brother’s arm was draped around his shoulders.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Rarely did Nines take that tone anymore— soft, reassuring, as if Connor was a child again. It bordered on patronizing sometimes, no matter Nines’ good intentions, but at the moment, Connor didn’t mind. “And no matter what, Cole would never blame you.”
“I know,” Connor admitted quietly, and somewhere in his mind, he did. He might have been at fault for willfully furthering participation in an investigation that he was emotionally involved in, but it wasn’t really his fault Cole had died. He hadn’t decided to replace the family’s android— it was their father. And he hadn’t made the android go deviant and decide to jump. Somewhere, deep down, he understood this.
And when they left the cemetery later, chests lighter than they'd been in years, Connor thought he heard birdsong.
**Author's Note:**
> I was... unsatisfied with the way this turned out, no matter how many revisions I attempted, and in the end, I decided to go ahead and post it anyways. It will be the last of the series to explicitly focus on the brothers relationship with one another, and the next will actually focus on Chloe, Elijah, and Gavin.
>
> Nines and Gavin did have a fight (specifically, one dealing with android rights), which is why there was a bit of tension at the end, but that's for another work, and it's why Gavin is so upset about everything. |
4634093122284bd09b00e2d519bf50a9 | ['02b4587ecfea4dc6af30bdacdeac6eac'] | “I know it hurts. It’s gonna be over soon, I promise.” Jason locked up the honda and headed inside the grocery and bee lined straight for the pharmacy section. He set Gavin down right at his feet and told him to stay still while he picks out the correct medicine. The son of Jupiter had no idea how many types of laxatives the store actually carried and was surprised to discover that the grocery carried multiple brands. Adjusting his glasses, he began to read the backs of each bottle to find out which brand would be best for his son.
“Well we’re definitely not getting a suppository medication for you, right bud?” Jason joked and looked down at his son. Gavin’s face was all pinched up and he was gripping the bottom shelf on the aisle with all his strength. “Gavin, what are you-”
Jason was cut off by his son sighing and putrid smell. “Oh gods, Gavin. What did you do?” Jason picked up his son quickly and peeked into the back of his pull up. Gavin definitely wasn’t constipated anymore.
“I no hurt!” Gavin cheered. Jason rolled his eyes and shoved the medicine back on the shelf. “Yeah, you no hurt. But you stink. Let’s go get you changed.” He scooped Gavin up in one swift motion and headed towards the back of the store.
Gavin tried to squirm out of his Dad’s arms, but Jason made it clear that he was not setting him down just yet. He approached the bathrooms in the back next to the pharmacy quickly. The smell was starting to get to him. Jason shoved the door open and went straight for the handicapped stall. To his surprise there was no baby changing station in the stall. He stepped out to look at the rest of the restroom to see if maybe he had missed it. He hadn’t.
“Crap…” Jason muttered.
His son looked up at him with big wondering eyes, “What?”
Jason patted his son’s unruly hair, “It’s fine, Bud. Let’s go see if they have a family bathroom.” He readjusted the diaper bag on his shoulder, bounced Gavin up higher on his hip and stepped out of the restroom. Jason figured that the family restroom would be next to the women’s but the only thing next to the women’s restroom was a crappy vending machine.
Jason couldn’t stop the groan that escaped his throat. The toddler’s big brown eyes looked back up at him, “Daddy?”
“It’s fine. We’re fine. You’re gonna be good, Bud.”
* * *
When Nico finally came home, it was past midnight. He found Jason passed out on the couch with Gavin sitting in his lap. His son was running toy cars all over his arms and chest while making soft raspberry noises.
“Gavin,” Nico whispered as he tiptoed close. “What are you doing up?”
Gavin put a finger from his free hand up to his lips. “Shh, Daddy’s sleeping.”
A smile slipped onto Nico’s face and he slightly rolled his eyes, “I know, bambino. That’s what you should be doing too. It’s time for bed.” He scooped his son up gently so that Jason wouldn’t be disturb. Gavin cuddled into Nico’s shoulder and started to run the car up and down his Papa’s arm.
Nico quickly put pajamas on the 2-year-old and tucked him into his crib. He placed a kiss on his son’s forehead, whispering a goodnight to him.
As he turned away Gavin cried out, “Papa!”
“Yes?”
“I poo poo today!”
“That’s great, Gav. Okay, night night.”
Nico walked softly back downstairs and over to the couch. Jason had his head thrown back with his mouth wide open. The son of Hades also saw that he had a bit of drool hanging out of his mouth. Nico reached out to shake Jason’s shoulder but stopped at the last second. Jason looked like he had a long day. Nico has had a long day. They both deserved a little bit of fun.
Nico leaned over and gently started placing kisses on Jason’s neck. A moan left the blond’s lips causing his eyes to flutter open. “Hey,” Nico smiled, “Gav’s asleep. I just put him down. Do you wanna… head upstairs?”
Jason’s eyes got wide, “Yes.”
The two demigods practically ran upstairs and ripped their bedroom door open. Jason jumped onto the bed, turned onto his back and stared up at Nico.
“Gods, you’re beautiful.” Nico whispered, crawling onto the bed and then on top of Jason.
“No way, you are. You’re beautiful.”
Nico leaned placing a long kiss on his husband’s lips. “You’re ridiculous. You’re beautiful and precious and you’re mine.”
Jason smiled, “I’m yours.”
Nico pressed their lips together again and slipped his hand under Jason’s shirt. Jason got the hint and quickly ripped the shirt off while trying not to interrupt the kiss too much. Nico began kissing down Jason’s chest and torso while the son of Jupiter pulled Nico’s shirt off as well. Jason grabbed Nico’s face and brought his lips back to his. With their two chests pressed together, Jason felt infinite.
“Jay…” Nico moaned and pressed his clothed covered groin into Jason’s. Jason gripped at Nico’s back and kissed him with even more enthusiasm. Nico reached down to his husband’s pants and unbuckled them as fast as he could possibly manage. Jason shucked his pants off as Nico got rid of his as well.
Nico grabbed hold of Jason’s cock and began stroking it while his other hand reached for the lubricant in their side dresser. Jason shuddered into his touch as Nico bent his head down to his ear.
“I am going to fuck you senseless.” | 7147aa6bd9b54d0594027da88cdff591 | ['02b4587ecfea4dc6af30bdacdeac6eac'] | Shortly after the rash incident, Jason agreed to see a therapist about his episodes. He liked his therapist. She was nice enough. She suggested to Jason that whenever an episode reared its head, he should try to give into it. She said that it appeared that the longer Jason stressed about having his episodes and actively fought against them, the longer they were going to last.
Jason had a really hard time just giving into his episodes. He was supposed to be strong and independent, but during his episodes he was weak and very dependent on Nico.
Nico. Nico was an absolute saint in Jason’s eyes. Any other guy would have left him by now, but Nico stood by him. Took care of him. Jason was so thankful for him.
It had been about a week since his last episode and things were looking up for the son of Jupiter. So, when Nico informed his boyfriend that Hades had summoned him, Jason urged him to go.
“But what if something goes wrong while I’m gone?” Nico bit his lip.
“It’s been good, Nico. I feel good. Everything is gonna be alright. You should go see your Dad.”
It took about an hour of reassuring him, but Nico finally agreed to go, only on the condition that Percy would check in on him frequently.
Everything had been good. Jason started hanging out with Leo and Piper again. Everything had been good. Percy would pop by every couple of hours. Everything had been good.
Until it wasn’t.
Leo, Piper and Jason were sitting on the porch of the Big House playing clue, when suddenly they heard a bunch of screaming. The three of them froze.
“What the hell?” Leo asked, setting down his cards slowly.
Piper stood up and brushed off her pants, “Let’s go check it out.”
Jason felt a shiver go down his spine. A sign that an episode was about to occur. He should have said, ‘No, I’m gonna go back to my cabin.’ He should have said, ‘You guys go on without me.’ But, this was Leo and Piper. He didn’t want them to think he was completely damaged. He could control himself. So instead, he said, “Yeah, let’s go.”
The three of them followed the screaming and yelling to the front of the camp. When they reached the front, Jason froze. Two cyclops were trying to breach the camp boundary. Other campers were throwing spears through boundary, towards to cyclops. The cyclops roared in anger.
“Come on, let’s get these things out of here,” Leo said, pulling a nail gun out of his tool belt.
Leo and Piper took off towards the group of demigods charging at the cyclops. It felt like Jason’s feet were nailed to the ground. He felt the episode coming on full forced. _ Give into it, Jason. It’ll be alright, _ his therapist would say. But it wouldn’t be. He was out in public. Nico wasn’t here. _ Oh my gods, Nico wasn’t here! _ Jason let a whimper out and dug his nails into his hands. He had to try to fight his need to curl up in a ball and cry out for his boyfriend.
“Jason, come on!” He heard Leo yell. Jason looked up, to see a cyclops lock eyes with him and roar. Spit from the monster flew everywhere and Jason’s knees wobbled. His hearing skewed, everything sounded all echo-y.
Jason’s lip jutted out and he dug his fingernails deeper into his palms. “Ngh…’ico,” Jason whimpered. He wanted Nico. He needed him.
Suddenly, someone was screaming his name and running towards him. “Jason! Jason, what are you doing out here? You can’t be out here!” It was Percy. Percy grabbed his arm and Jason instantly leaned into him, searching for comfort of any sort.
“Ngh…’ico,” Jason whispered again.
“I know, buddy. I know, but Nico’s not here right now. It’s gonna be okay,” Percy wrapped his arm around Jason’s back and started leading him back to the Zeus cabin. On the walk there, Jason felt his bladder empty itself in his pull up and out of instinct, Jason reached out for Nico’s hand. Once he realized his mistake, he whined and felt tears start to fill up in his eyes.
“‘Ico, ‘ico, ‘ico,” Jason cried.
“I know, buddy,” Percy muttered and opened the door to Jason’s cabin. Jason rushed in, flopping himself on Nico’s side of the bed. He buried his face into Nico’s pillow, breathing in his scent.
“Want ‘ico.” Jason said, his voice muffled by the pillow.
“Bud--” Whatever Percy was about to say was cut off by the cabin door being opened. In walked Annabeth, hair wild, eyes piercing, and a scowl on her face. Percy looked at her like she was a goddess.
“Well,” Annabeth started, “The cyclopes are gone.”
“That’s good.”
Jason shoved his face deeper into Nico’s pillow. He wanted Nico. He wanted him now. Tears swelled up in his eyes and he let out a sob out.
“How are we supposed to help him?” He heard Annabeth ask.
“Nico says we should just try to keep him calm. He said that he likes to color a lot.”
Suddenly there was a hand running through his hair, and a soothing voice whispering to him. “Hey Jason,” It was Annabeth. “I heard you like to color. I like to color, too. Would you like to color with me?”
Jason whined, he only colored with Nico. Nico. Nico, he wanted Nico.
Annabeth tried again, “Maybe we could color something for Nico, huh? Do you think he’d like that?”
Nico always loved his drawings, he would look at Jason’s art and gush about wonderful it was. He would kiss Jason on the cheek and tell him how much he loved him. Jason thinks that he could draw a pretty picture for his boyfriend. He nodded in response to Annabeth’s question.
* * * |
e2d4803e47c2499e980b245cc630dc18 | ['02e7279169534b3a82950c72e88e9859'] | ***READ AT OWN RISK***
'You may now kiss the birde,' Zach smiled at the pastors words and kissed her hardly on the lips. She smiled brightly and wide when we walk down the aisle, out of the church. Little did all of them knew she was a bride from hell.
Months had past, she became pregnant, they seemed like the perfect happy family. Weeks later she brought a beautiful little girl in the world who's name was Sarah.
Thats when everything went from good to worse.
Meredith looked at the little child, her face stood cold, emotionless. She felt slightly disappointed. It wasn't as pretty as she thought. She looked at Zach who was in love with his new born child.
Meredith felt something she that wasn't right for a new mom to feel. She felt jealous.
A month has pass, Meredith suffered from anxiety, depression and a lot of stress.
The cries of the little Sarah, made her yank her hair and scream out loud.
'Shut up!!!' She yelled an screamed. The tiny baby kept crying, Meredith down some prescription pills.
She had enough.
'Time for bed sweetie,' she picked the little Sarah up and placed her in her crib, Sarah was still screaming and crying on top of her lungs.
Meredith took the pillow and pushed down on Sarah face. Her cries became muffled, her tiny limbs moved around.
Until... It was silent.
No crying, no moving. Nothing.
Tears fell down Meredith's face, silently she sobbed.
Meredith thought about how broken Zach will be if he comes home.
She removed the pillow of her now dead daughters face. Panic start to rush through her body, she quickly thought of something. She ran around searching for her pacifier and some scissors. She cut the pacifier and pushed the piece down Sarah's throat. Making it seem like the poor baby swallowed her pacifier.
That night Meredith was the best actor in the world, she could win a oscar.
Years had past since little Sarah past away. Zach and Meredith recovered and now live a busy working life.
But unfortunately Meredith got pregnant. Again. This time it was a boy.
Soon the little precious was brought too life and was named Andrew.
Zach left home early to go to work someday, so Meredith was left alone with Andrew. In the years Meredith's anxiety and depression grew worse, she took a lot of medication.
Andrew began crying, Meredith groaned taking the little boy out of his crib.
Meredith sat him down on his play mat.
'Mommy will be right back,' she whispered at Andrew.
She walked toward the kitchen and prepared a bottle for the baby. She grabbed the milk from te refrigerator and mixed it with formula.
Then something came up to her.
She went in the counter and took the rat poison from the shelf.
She swallowed and hesitantly poured a bit in the bottle. She mixed it good, and made her way back to her son again.
'Hush my baby heres your milk,' Meredith looked at amusement how her son drank his bottle empty.
The little boy screamed and cried after his stomach contains stained his clothes. Meredith could only smile of amusement.
'Whoops, i guess you need a bath now huh?' She mumbled. She undress the little boy and filled the bathtub with semi hot water. She lowered Anderew in the bathtub, she washed his body all clean. Andrew wouldn't stop crying and screaming, because the poor thing was in so much pain.
Meredith got really groaned in stress and got mad. Perhaps she doesn't have to wait. She slowly pushed Andrews body down in the water.
Silently the tears fell down her cheeks as she saw her little boy drown, dying in her own hands.
The now lifeless body of Andrew floats in the water.
Meredith screamed and cried, fell down on her knees and yanked on her hair. Guilt rushe through her body. What will everyone think of her, she couldn't live with the shame. Zach will hate her forever if he found out she killed their kids.
She ran down stair, grabbing the gun Zach held for safety under the couch.
She sobbed and silently pushed the gun on her temple.
Without a second thought she fired.
Bright lights made vMeredith squint her eyes shot. Her eyes quickly scanned across the room soon she realized where she was at. The loud beeps of her heart monitor made her groan a little. She felt a tight grip around both of her wrist, she moved her hands, only to notice that her hands were cuffed on the hospital bed. Soon she heard sobbing next to her, she swiftly turned her head to the side to see er husband. His eyes were red from all the sobbing.
'You killed them ,' he whispered.
'Baby what do you mean? What is this why am i cuffed up?!' She said in fear.
'Oh don't act all dumb on me,' the beeps of her heart monitor start to get faster.'You killed Sarah an Andrew! Why why would you do such a thing?!!' Zach got up from his seat and hovered above her. She started crying and sobbing loudly.
'I'm sorry, i just... Baby please, im sorry,' she kept on repeating while the tears were streaming down her face. Zach looked at his wife in disgust, he hated her. He hated her from deep down his hart. Without second thoughts, Zach pulled out the plug. Her heart monitor made a long bleep, Meredith was now choking for air. Zach grabbed toward her neck and squeezed as hard as he could. Before the nurses could arrive it was too late. Meredith was dead. | 59b06dea588d4d6c93905b6c3d3dbd1b | ['02e7279169534b3a82950c72e88e9859'] | Camera Boy
**Author's Note:**
> First Gay smut. :/
Max sighed and and dropped his bags in the corners of the hotel room, the loud thump caused his head to ache more. He sniffed as he heard Nev entering the room to dropping his bags too. He made his way toward the bathroom and splashed some water in his face. Behind him he felt strong arms being wrapped around his waist, Max secretly rolled his eyes on that and dried his face with the hotel towel.
'What's wrong with you Max? While shooting the episode you were quiet too, whats wrong camera boy?' He asked while tracing his hands up and down his sides. Max slides his glasses of his nose and walks out of the bathroom. He sets the glasses on the nightstand, and dropped on the bed. Nev followed after him and laid down next to him, he wrapped his arm around Max's smaller frame.
'C'mon Maxxie, what's wrong?' Max turned to face his boyfriend and wrapped his arms around his neck, and threw his leg over Nev's body.
'I have a head ache,' Max buried his face in Nev's collar and slowly let the tears fall down the face. Never let his long finger slide through Max's grey hair.
'Can I make you feel better, camera boy?' Nev asked and kissed his for head. Max nodded slowly and with that, Nev untied himself form Max's grip and kissed him fully on his lips. Nev got on top of him and grinds on him, Max moaned and felt himself getting hard. So did Nev, his large hands traveled down Max's body. Soon both of them were spark naked, horny and hard. Nev crawled down Max's body, so he was at eye level with his crotch level. Nev looked up too his boyfriend and saw Max flutter his eyes shit. He massages Max's thighs, he shivers and bucked up his hips. Nev smirked and wrapped his warm, big hand around Max's length. Nev looked up and to Max, he bit his lip and tightly closed his eyes. Nev began moving his hand up and down, and a low soft groan left his lips. Nev brought his lips toward the tip of his dick, he pokes his tongue out and slowly slides his tongue across the tip of his dick. He hollowed his cheeks which caused Max to throw his head back. Nev took more in his mouth enjoying the way his boyfriends moans sound like. His moans turned louder when Nev started deep throathing him, he jerked the part that couldn't fit in his mouth.
'N-N-Nev!' Max breathed out and starts trusting in his mouth. Nev massaged his balls which caused Max to let out a broken cry. His head ache was completely gone. Nev brought his fingers toward Max's mouth, and he sucked them seductively. Nev felt his dick start to leak with pre-cum.
'Ah Nev, I'm gonna cum baby!' Max shouted at the top of his lungs. Nev pulled back almost immediately. Max looked at him angrily, Nev chuckled and kissed his lips. The kiss got heated; both of them were breathing heavily, their tongues roamed around each other.
Nev lined up his fingers with Max's hole, Max moaned and pulled back for air. Nev began moving his fingers in and out of in forcefully, just to stretch him out. He wouldn't want his baby to have any pain. Max kept moaning he felt the pleasure take over his body.
'Mmh, you like that camera boy?' Nev growled in Max's ear, Max nodded slowly. Nev's fingers brushed against the bundle of nerves inside him. He moaned and screamed loudly.
'N-N-N-Nev! Please baby!' He breathed.
'Please what, camera boy? Tell me what you want,' Nev said while brushing his fingers harder against Max's prostate. Max's eyes rolled back and his lips slightly parted. Nev kissed down Max's neck and places small love bites all over it.
'I want you!' He screamed and trusted back on his fingers.
'What I don't understand you baby,' Nev taunted and his free hand pinched Max's heart nipple.
'Fucking hell Nev! Just fuck me already!' He screamed loudly, Nev chuckled and removed his fingers, he made his way toward his suitcase and took a small bottle of lube out of it. He smeared a good amount on his cock and made his way toward Max again.
'You ready camera boy,' Max nodded.
'Fuck me daddy,' Nev moaned at hearing that and as fast as he could he trusted in to him. Max screamed at the unexpected stretch. As soon as he adjusted to his size, Nev was starting trusting in out. Both of them moaned and panted. He kissed Max's lips and bited down his underlip. Max wrapped his legs around his waist, a broken cry/scream left his lips when Nev hit is prostate.
'Fucking shit! NEV!!' Nev started thrusting harder and harder hitting his prostate everytime.
'Fuck baby, you're so tight baby,' Nev moaned and started to get closer to his climax. With three, or four more thust Max exploded his load on Nev stomach and his.
'Ah, MAX!!' Nev came inside of Max, he was shuddering and his toes curled.
Both of them rode out their highs and panted in each others mouth. Nev pulled out, and cleaned up their chests. Max and nev cuddled up in the sheets.
Nev kissed Max on the cheeks.
'I love you camera boy.'
'I love you too baby,' Max whispered before falling back to sleep. |
f0c6d360e0ef404e85503c4b5b1546ad | ['032551f5d37a43c8a38c19f9cf8ca4a1'] | Niall was just relieved to get it off his chest, and felt loads better when they hung up. See, it’s not even an issue really, but with how the world views sexuality, he is not stupid; he knows how he would be perceived as a reality television star should it ever come up.
He went to bed early that night, dreaming yet again of being trapped in an orange haze.
**Louis**
Unbalanced. He can’t breathe. Or he doesn’t want to.
Stumbling.
He is quite literally stumbling through the street.
It’s a Monday.
The meeting to discuss the second episode had just ended and it managed to be highly disorganized, even though Louis had color coordinated notes and a detailed Excel sheet.
Now, he was making his way to a quaint little bakery called Oliver’s with Niall, as they had planned to discuss Niall’s dreams more in depth.
The two men were welcomed by an animated cashier with a name tag, Harry.
“Hi, this is Oliver’s and I’m Harry! What can I do for you two gentlemen?”
“We’ll take two blueberry scones and some of the tea of the day, please,” Niall ordered for the both of them.
Looking surprised, Louis squeaks out but smiles, “Niall, I’ve never seen you so commanding and sure of yourself. You just ordered like it was nobody’s business! Didn’t even ask me. I’m almost impressed.”
“I’m sorry. I just come here a lot and I know what’s good. Sorry… Plus, I figured you wouldn’t be able to say even a word with that cute cashier checking you out,” Niall said, shrugging.
Oh.
“Niall! Of course, he is cute, but whatever. This is about you, not me. Or curly haired cashiers.”
Their order was ready and Niall grabbed it as Louis picked seats conveniently in the cash register’s line of sight.
They discussed Niall’s dream and made little progress as to why he kept dreaming it, other than perhaps the dream version of him had some kind of unfinished business and maybe he subconsciously planned on finishing said business in his waking self during the show.
On their way out, Louis wanted to be cheeky so he strolled up to the tip jar, with both the tip and a slip of paper he had written his number on. He winked at Harry, making sure to wave the money so the note could be seen before dropping it into the jar.
**Harry**
Harry would be a fool to not call the number that was left in the tip jar attached to an actual tip. He would also be a fool to not know who had left such a tip.
Clearly, he had misread the situation at the bakery a few days ago. The two men he had taken orders from were not in fact together, and the smaller one was hitting on him.
He called the number but not knowing the man’s name didn’t help.
“Hello, this is Harry. From the bakery,” he added on at the last second.
“Ah, yes. Lovely Harry, from the bakery. I’m Louis. I was hoping you’d call,” the voice said, and Harry could have sworn he could actually hear the man smiling.
“I think I like you, Harry from the bakery,” Louis whispered.
Oh no.
“Um, Louis?”
“Oh, no.” Harry almost laughed. It was as if Louis had read his mind.
“Oh, no. Harry, please tell me you like me too and that I’ve not lost my touch. Otherwise, I can never show my face in that bakery ever again. I’ll be far too embarrassed.”
“No, no! I like you too. I just, it’s a bad time. It’s not the best time for me to do any relationships, or… anything of any kind right now. I’m sorry. But, I’d love to be friends,” Harry grimaced, knowing how it must feel to hear such things, as it wasn’t that long ago that he was on the receiving end.
It was, after all, why he was here working at Oliver’s.
“I’m not looking for anything, Harry. I just wanted to make sure that I hadn’t lost my touch. I just wanted confirmation that I was giving off a vibe and you picked up on it too and kinda feel the same. That’s all,” Louis replied, though Harry could hear slight disappointment in his voice.
“I actually was calling about whether it would be possible for Oliver’s to help out with my production company’s lunch needs. I’m sure you know the one, it’s the only one in town.
But, yes, dear Harry, we could use whatever you have for making sandwiches or treats for desserts. It would only really need to be for the monthly meetings when a lot of us are there for the entire day and there’s no time to stop midday for lunch….” Louis rambled.
“Yes, of course. I’m sure it’s no problem. I’ll ask and confirm tomorrow though! And Louis, please don’t be mad. Come by the bakery tomorrow. I’ll let you know if the lunch thing is okay, and maybe we can hang out after my shift. It ends at 4. I want to explain things. I want us to be friends because I think you’re the kind of person I need in my life,” Harry said urgently, hoping Louis understood that he couldn’t promise anything more than a friendship but also that they seemed to need each other in a way that neither could name.
“Sounds like a plan. See you tomorrow, Harry from the bakery,” Louis said one more time.
Here was an amazing guy, wanting more than he was letting on, and Harry had to protect himself because his past was still haunting him, preventing him from seeing a future with anyone.
Harry was frustrated. A tear fell unexpectedly and as he wiped it away, he wondered why tears weren’t blue.
**Liam**
He doubts himself. The gamble is too huge if he isn’t right.
He can never afford to miss his mark. | 15cd234703274d12a7eaa8f2c083de98 | ['032551f5d37a43c8a38c19f9cf8ca4a1'] | **“When someone cuts your heart open with a knife, now you’re bleeding”**
It started so simply. The other boys would dare him to change a lyric during a show to something funny or suggestive and it was all fun and games, so they had quite a laugh every time. But the dares grew less silly and more focused on a certain thing, or more… a certain someone. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what they were up to. But, he wasn’t going to say no either.
He slipped innuendos into not one, but two of their songs and the crowd enjoyed it almost as much as the other boys did. He got a high five from Niall, who seemed to enjoy the lyric changes the most, and a fist bump from Louis.
So, the show went on, and everything was going smoothly. He was even starting to relax.
Then came one ridiculous fan question. “Could one of you please serenade the boy of your choice?” Naturally, the question must have been aiming for some cute bromance moment to capture and become something new and fun to talk about.
But, he knew what this was really about. There was no way this was a fan question; Niall must have slipped it in. His heart began to race.
Because obviously they chose him to be the one to serenade someone.
Even better, with a smirk, Niall offered, “How about you sing to the crowd first and we’ll step back… and then you can turn around and one of us will be standing there? It’ll be a fun surprise. Pick whatever song you’d like.”
Freaking out just a little, well, a lot, he began to sing his favorite song of the moment to a couple girls in the front row and then to the rest of the audience, not wanting to turn around. He knew what the boys were planning. He knew who would be standing there.
When he finished the verse, he sang the first part of the chorus as he slowly moved around, slightly hesitating.
Just as he suspected, there he was. A shy, innocent smile.
_Damn you, Niall._
*****
**“And if you fall, you’ll always land right in these arms/These arms of mine”**
It wasn’t an accident like everyone thinks. _I did bend the truth_ , Zayn thinks, but only because there was no way he was going to say what really happened.
He would never do that to Liam. Besides, it was a secret the two of them shared.
See, they _were_ goofing around… if being their usual selves and hanging out, just the two of them, constitutes goofing around. And they agreed it would be easier to write it off as a joke. Well, it was more that Liam strongly suggested it. In fact, Zayn wasn’t even going to bring it up at all, ever, but it was all he could think about.
…And, of course, the interviewer just had to ask if any of them had exchanged kisses.
“It was an accident, really…” Zayn began to say, with a playful tone in his voice, a hint of mischief in his smile. But, the boyish charm was hiding the truth lingering just underneath his dark eyes.
It went down like this:
The two boys were sitting down on a couch one afternoon sifting through some fan mail and a plethora of fan-made things: jewelry, drawings of Harry, clothes with lyrics and original designs on them, and the occasional carrot-related gift for Louis. Because Louis had made a mistake during their X Factor days, and as old as it got, he knew how the fans were, so there was no escaping it.
Zayn picked up a box of cupcakes with each of the boys’ faces on them. He was contemplating a way of picking up the Liam cupcake in a nonchalant way, when he noticed something soft across the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Zayn saw the black and yellow symbol poke through a pile of fan letters. It was a Batman shirt!
He casually grabbed it and hid it beside him as he sat back down next to the other boy, which was easier than he thought it would be, since Liam was far too captivated by a letter someone wrote to him explaining how their music saved her life and that _Leeyum_ was her favorite. He watched as Liam mouthed the words and continued to read along over his shoulder.
Zayn couldn’t help but admire how genuine and kind hearted and gorgeous Liam truly was. Oblivious, maybe. But, gorgeous.
“I never believe these, Zayn.” Liam says in awe, bringing Zayn back from his own thoughts. “Yeah, the fans are incredible, aren’t they? But, Li, you’ve gotta see this. It’s got your name on it.”
He holds up the shirt and the smile on Liam’s face, the one he loves where all his teeth show and his eyes nearly shut, is enough to make Zayn’s heart melt. Sure, it’s mostly because of the shirt… but Zayn brought his attention to it, so he’s taking credit for the beaming grin that he’s sure could literally end any and all world suffering. He’s even smiling to himself as Liam takes the shirt out of his hands, but all of a sudden the shirt is replaced with warm, soft hands. Liam’s hands.
Quiet words rush from Liam’s lips, “You know, I’m so thankful we were put into this band, Zayn. To think if we weren’t, I might’ve never met you.”
That alone made Zayn’s stomach flip, but he barely had time to register it when he felt Liam’s lips beautifully crash down onto his own.
It ended in a flash, but was somehow gentle and Zayn could barely breathe as he opened his eyes. When he did, he slightly regretted it. He should have savored the moment a little longer. |
4ae8e04a71904f319b94c37901b5ceb3 | ['0333a369f20d47e3888991af1abe1620'] | A little longer than not enough time.
Rose knew that she in the eyes of what her peers called successful, she fell short. It was well know that she could spin symphonies from her head as easily and and seamlessly as a dancer preforms the art she has tirelessly trained for. But ask Lalonde to act out the tasks guaranteed to gift her a life of fulfilment, you would be asking her to fail. Ever since her youngest years she had fallen short of her goals.
Age 6 she attempted violin a truly unique instrument her mother assures her.
Age 7 she sobbed as her calloused fingertips butchers the harmonies she tirelessly trained to replicate.
Age 8 Rose under the guidance of her mother began to dance, the trade of only the most graceful of women.
Age 10 she stood stage right, watching as people she would never call friends effortlessly contorted their slender bodies to the time perfectly.
Age 12 was when she was made aware that her intelligence that had been her only source of pride, was now dull in comparison to the children she called peers who shamed her at every failure.
Age 15 Rose spent 3 hours stood catatonic in the mirror pondering the possibilities of herself, only to after much deliberation conclude she would infact be perhaps something 10 pounds lighter.
And so her menial task began, the only way she knew how to do anything. With help. Near desperate she scouted the advice of a classmate Vriska Serket, a razor thin and sharp witted girl who's looks alone shone her secret to all those around her. But perhaps Rose thought that was the point. The conversation itself took less than ten minutes in the auditorium bathroom, however she had felt like possibly her whole life had been leading to that moment. So informed finally Rose thought that perhaps now she had the tools to gain something, anything from the world around her.
Weeks later and 14 lbs lighter, her conscious felt all the heavier still. The progress she had achieved was slow and underwhelming. Her diet of 1200 calories a day coupled with a good hours exercise was non effective in the eyes of a suddenly hooked addict. Never before had her efforts been so categorically notable, and she would be damned to hell if she wasted such a wonderful opportunity.
Roses diary spoke all the words she never could utter, perchance she would provide incriminating evidence against her case. The diary was filled to brim with statistics, carefully mapping her progress from her 5'9 145 start to her 120 midpoint. And at that crucial point she knew, shed rather die than end the race half way. Her progress sliced in half like a leviathans pale bodice breaking the water in their wake.
When finally Rose neared her endpoint she found no need to stop. At 96 she was weightless, effortlessly afloat. Success was hers only if she continued. However continuation was a possibility to those with a will larger than their capacity. And at that moment Roses only capability was to lie shallow breath forcing her rib cage to inflate. Her head lay nested in the lap of her lover Kanaya Maryam, whos name was etched into her diary in a brilliant jade ink, right next to the number 113.
Proof to some that at thinner she would amount to something, and in that moment Rose wished perhaps her something had lasted longer than 17 pounds 3 weeks and not enough time. | 1c8e21cc4b2e4d2caad84c7485fd5178 | ['0333a369f20d47e3888991af1abe1620'] | Stalin X communism
**Author's Note:**
> Why did you just click on history angst
Stalin stood tears getting lost in his (rad af) mustache as he sobbed, his one true love being torn and twisted from him. The beautiful creation intended for peace and prosperity that Marx created so lovingly, so trustingly was now a hollow shell of its once vibrant promise.
Communism had been warped beyond repair and Joseph knew, at least subconsciously he was to blame. He had taken truly everything that communism had held dear and turned it against them in the most unforgivable manor. Their toxic affair had laid waste to Slavic European economy. He had taken control over his beautiful wife that he had stolen from her proud father in the night.
The tears thickened his throat sore from tears, even his children were not safe from his tyrannical reign that he hid behind a mask of domestic bliss. His beautiful children... he had forced them into the Octobrists which had taken their child-like innocence and infected it beyond any semblance of resurrection.
And now his beautiful wife lay dead at his feet, and as Stalin ran like the coward he knew himself to be his thoughts went to his youngest son socialism. He was was a mild mannered but strong willed boy, and Joseph begging the gods (although he was adamant religion was just an opiate working to make you forget the hardships of capitalism (damn you capitalism that fiendish woman of the night)) for one final prayer asked that his son would be in the eyes of those who lived to survive the wreckage of Europe, would deem socialism worthy of their already dwindling trust. And so Joseph Stalin ran into the night, his crimes to never be forgotten. |
c46cec91c5cb426f98da3522d0241aa4 | ['03361919ff16472aa8565bc6efeafd57'] |
Standing in the Rain
**Author's Note:**
> Based on 96. “I brought you an umbrella” from this prompt list:
> http://p0ck3tf0x.tumblr.com/post/98502010026/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you
Harold feels the rain on his neck as he limps through the cemetery, but doesn’t make a move to adjust his collar. The droplets running down his spine are the least of his worries. His medication is wearing off and it’s a bad pain day. They’ve all been bad days since he lost John.
The grave is a long walk from where he parked, and he’s been using a cane since he got out of the hospital, so it’s slow progress, but eventually he makes it to a plain white headstone in the rows of identical plain white headstones.
_ John Tallis _
_ Sgt _
_ US Army _
_ May 4 1968 _
_ November 13 2015 _
The final date was wrong, but he’d wanted to protect John’s name and his record from being associated with Detective John Riley and the Man in the Suit. John’s memory was worth protecting. He thinks about the first time they met, how close he was to this, what the Machine had told him would have happened if they never met. Stood by the headstone and the empty coffin buried beneath his feet, Harold is reminded of Theresa Whitaker and her empty grave, so long ago, so close after they first met (and he’s not naive enough to think John might have had the luck to be spared). He thinks about all the people they saved and the people they failed. The people _ he _ failed. He thinks about the amount of people who’ve died for his mistakes, starting with Nathan and moving on from there.
He doesn’t know how long he’s stood there, lost in memory, but it’s long enough for the rain to have soaked through his coat and suit to drench his skin.
He hears footsteps in the grass behind him, just heavy enough for him to be able to hear them. They’re slightly uneven, a slight limp but one not as pronounced as his own. He hoped that, with the weather, he’d be lucky enough to avoid other mourners. The footsteps stop just behind him, and he feels the other person’s presence.
“I brought you an umbrella,” the voice behind him is gentle. Harold stiffens for a second; the man sounds so much like John, but that isn't possible. He'd heard those last words, he still feels the echoes of the explosion in his bones. “Looked like you needed it. You'll catch something stood out here in the rain like this, you know.”
It has to be a hallucination, some kind of adverse effect of the medication he's taking for his stomach wound, maybe caused by the mixture of that and the painkillers he takes for his back. In his experience, if something seems too good to be true, it always is. It has to be a concerned stranger, just somebody who’s seen him out of the corner of their eye.
“I’m fine,” he says dismissively, not looking up.
“You’ve got a bullet hole in your gut, Harold. That isn’t fine.” He stops feeling the rain against his skin and a shadow falls over him. “You’re shivering.”
_ You can't be here. You died. _
“I suppose I’ve been out here longer than I thought.” He straightens, white knuckled grip on the handle of his cane as he feels the presence behind him get into his space the way John had always done.
He turns his head best he can and glances upwards, half expecting John to vanish now he's looked.
There are a few new scars on that handsome, familiar face, and he's frowning, brows knitted together, the expression leaving a few new lines of worry across his face, but overall, he looks like John. Sounds like John. Now he's so close Harold can even tell he _ smells _ like John, gunpowder and his favourite aftershave, the one Harold had commented on once and he'd worn ever since.
“I should have found you sooner. You've never been an easy man to locate, Finch,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “But if you didn't want to get caught, you probably shouldn't have come here.”
“You of all people should know I'm not often sentimental, Mr Reese, and it rarely turns out well when I am,” he sighs softly. “But for you I thought I could make an exception. John Tallis died heroically, trying to prevent the bomb that was launched so recently, the CIA’s case file on John Reese and NYPD’s on John Riley are finally shut. Harold Whistler, on the other hand, is wanted by the government for treason, and there’s no Machine to help me hide from them. New York is no longer safe for me.”
“So this isn't just a social visit?”
Harold swallows. “It was supposed to be a goodbye.” He finally turns, looking up at him with glistening eyes behind the rain-spotted lenses of his glasses. “I'm… I’m sorry I couldn't save you, John.”
John tilts his head. “Harold, you did, a hundred times every day since we met.”
Any hallucination of Harold’s wouldn’t be so nice to him. He turns stiffly to face John, rubbing his hands together to try and get some feeling back into them. Harold reaches for him, feeling the familiar material on John's coat beneath his hands, the collar of his shirt, the faint stubble on his neck, fingers moving up until he was cupping John's cheek. “You're here.”
He smiles, a genuine, cheeky smile that lights up his whole face for once, instead of stopping just short of his eyes.
“Always, Mr Finch,” he says, mirroring that familiar phrase Harold has always said to him. | 65e636dd50564f0880073103f669072d | ['03361919ff16472aa8565bc6efeafd57'] | “Why the sudden formality, Gerard? Before, you just called me Richard.”
“Before, you were a fugitive I was tasked with tracking down, now you're an innocent man. And before you ask… I still don't care,” he said, one corner of his lip twitching up for a second.
Richard hadn’t slept enough and he still hadn't recovered from his weeks on the run. He was in no mood for… whatever this was. “Why are you here, Gerard?”
“Came to talk about your hearing tomorrow. My team and I are gonna be the ones accompanying you down to the courthouse.”
Richard finally managed a bitter smile. “What, they think I'm going to run again?”
“Until the judge hears your case, you're still a criminal, Richard.”
“It's almost over. I want this to be done, not to drag it out any longer.”
“So does everybody else. These things usually take months but, well, Cook County PD is embarrassed you solved a case their detectives messed up,” he paused. “They’re also goddamn terrified of a lawsuit that can only get worse for them if they keep you locked up any longer.”
“They should be.”
Richard had to find a new lawyer first, there was no way in hell he was gonna stay with the guy who hadn’t even managed to get his sentence down from the death penalty, but after that, they'd be right to be scared. He was going to rain hell on them. Richard had never had any reason in the past to doubt the police, but since he'd been locked up, he'd spent a long time wondering how many people there were in the same boat as he had been. If there was anybody else, he wanted to help them too.
Gerard narrowed his eyes. “Those detectives would have let the real killers get off scot-free just for an easy suspect. Trust me, we had words.”
If that surprised Richard, he didn't let it show. He guessed it shouldn’t have; Gerard and his team were the only other people to look into the case, and it wasn't even their job.
“Before I forget, when you get out of here, there's a bottle of twelve year old scotch with your name on it,” Gerard said, and Richard narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“The chief of the CCPD promised it to whoever caught you, so I picked it up, but seeing as you handed yourself in, I figure it belongs to you,” Gerard’s smile was warm, genuine. “That is, if my kids haven’t stolen it yet.”
“Last week, you would have killed me. If it wasn't for those doors, you would have shot me in the head,” Richard said. “Now you're offering me a bottle of scotch. I don't understand.”
“Good.”
“What?”
“I said ‘good’,” Gerard shrugged. “Gotta keep a little mystery going, Doc.” He stood up. “Court starts at ten. My team will be here at eight thirty. Wear something pretty.”
2. Chapter 2
The morning came and Richard dressed in the same suit he was sentenced in for his trial, the only clothes that were available to him, no matter how much he wished he could wear literally anything else.
He was escorted from processing to a prisoner transport van by Poole and a man with a moustache he recognised as a member of Gerard’s team but didn't know the name of. There was no sign of Gerard himself, but Poole took off his cuffs when they reached the van, presumably on Gerard’s instruction.
“Where is he, anyway?”
The two marshals shared a look before the man spoke.
“Deputy Gerard went to an inter-agency briefing this morning and got into an argument with a couple of members of the CCPD. Think you know them; Detectives Kelly and Rosetti.”
Richard tilted his head, trying not to seem too worried. Gerard could clearly look after himself, but those detectives were… difficult, to say the least. “Is he okay?”
Poole snorts. “Sam’s fine but he was still getting chewed out by the judge when we left. Kelly and Rosetti maybe won't be so quick to judge in future.”
Richard smiled in spite of himself; he only wished he could have been there. The rest of the journey passed in silence.
The courthouse was already crowded with reporters at the front. Richard hadn’t anticipated that; he hoped people would have forgotten about him by now but with everything that had happened recently he couldn't force himself to be surprised either. They might have been able to see the reporters out of the front window, but none of them could see him, at least.
Poole turned in her seat. “Henry, take us to the side entrance.”
The driver hummed in acknowledgement and drove past the steps up to the main entrance around the side, pulling up as close to the door as possible. Richard shot Poole a look he hoped contained at least half the gratitude he felt as she snapped the cuffs back around his wrists. Just until he got into the courtroom, he tried to remind himself, after that he'd never have to wear these things again. God, he wished he had an easier time believing that.
Poole opened the door and offered him a hand down. There were no reporters on this side of the building, just a few by the gates, and it didn’t look like they’d seen him yet. He couldn't help but watch them as he limped the few steps until he was inside the building. They take back staircases and corridors he doesn't recognise, but overall make it to the courtroom (the one he'd also been sentenced in, he noted numbly) faster than if they'd gone the direct way, just my avoiding the reporters.
He didn't dare look around the courtroom this time to see who was watching, just stared ahead, straight forwards, until the Deputy announced the judge's arrival.
All he could do now was wait again.
* * * |
39172488ee8742f6a8d07be26847fad2 | ['03505039dfdf44ac8b24cd6e76f70fbb'] |
You Are My Sunshine
**Author's Note:**
> Yes like that really sad song.
> (Italics are flashbacks)
Ian and Mickey dedicate the day to packing last minute things before they move into their new place. Ian’s job is to rifle through whatever is left of his and Mickey’s stuff in Mickey (and later both of theirs) room.
He opens a drawer he never really paid attention to (and was pretty sure he never saw Mickey ever open). He tries to organize whatever mess was in there. It’s mostly old clothes but Ian digs deeper and finds a lot of other things. Some broken VHS tapes, a lot of dismembered doll toys, and a dusty G.I. Joe. Ian laughs as he moves the toys aside. He hits something that dings and he can hear the faint sound of a tune trying to be played. He digs his hand further and grasps a small square object around the size of a Rubik’s cube. He pulls it out and blows the dust off of it. He tosses it around in his hand and finds a screw in the back. He realizes it must be a music box. He decides to turn it to see what tune plays. Mickey, just a few feet away, catches the sound and is at first confused but then he remembers.
_“’You are my sunshine my only sunshine you make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear how much I love you…’ Finish it, honey. I know you know it.”_
_“Aw ma…” A five year old Mickey shyly looks down._
_“Come on, Mickey.”_
_Mickey sighs. “Please don’t take my sunshine away.”_
_Mickey’s mom laughs and tussles her son’s raven colored hair._
_“That’s my boy,” she says, grabbing his cheeks. Mickey tries to pull away but ends up giggling as well instead._
_It’s not long until they hear the harsh slam of the front door and the sound of Terry angrily mumbling as he shuffles about the house and drunkenly bumping into furniture._
_“Hey, Mickey,” His mom whispers to Mickey._
_“Yes, mama?”_
_“Do me a favor, sweet boy. Don’t end up like your father.” Mickey’s mom stares at him wide eyed._
_“Okay, mama.”_
_“Good boy,” She smiles at him again. “No go to your hiding spot I picked out for you.”_
_Mickey nods and runs over to the small closet nearby, shutting the door securely behind him._
_It wasn’t long before Mickey could no longer hide from Terry like he once could as a little kid. So he decided he could either be what he thought of as weak and continue to hide and cower from his father or he could try to be as equal to his dad as he could and maybe earn some respect from him. Mickey went with the latter. He picked random fights, stole, made a name for himself as being a badass in his neighborhood. He was 13 when he got Fuck U-Up tattooed on his knuckles._
_Terry got deeper into the drug business when Mickey was 12 and Mickey would go out with his brothers to sell. People barely suspected little kids of selling hardcore drugs._
_It didn’t take long until Terry got his wife to try out the products and like with most of the drugs, especially heroin, it didn’t take long before she got addicted._
_Mickey barely saw his mom anymore from when he was around 14. She was typically high or drunk or both. Some days mickey would come home and just find her sitting alone. She’d ask him to come over to sit with her but he’d brush her aside. “Got shit to do.” Was his go to excuse._
_She leaves one night when Mickey was 15 or 16. She’s gone for a few day walking alone in the Southside trying to score something. Terry had only let her have any drugs when he needed someone to test it out so she is in desperate need for a hit of something. It starts to rain and she shivers in her small worn coat. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a real meal and she is beyond tired. She walks over to a nearby building and sits down with her back leaning against the wall. She sings softly to herself._
_“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping. I dreamt I held you in my arms. When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken. So I hung my head, and I cried.” She pulls her knees up to her chest and cries. Her tears becoming invisible as they mix with the pouring rain._
_“You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear how much I love you. Please don-”_
“Turn that fucking thing off.” Mickey yells, now in the present.
“What?” Ian looks up at him, confused.
“I said turn that fucking song off. It’s annoying.”
“I think it’s sweet.” Ian smiles looking back down at the music box.
“It’s fucking stupid is what it is now turn it off before I leave your ass here.” Mickey says picking up random things and throwing them into boxes.
“Alright. Fine. Where do you want it?” Ian asks motioning to the piles of things he sectioned off between keeping and donating.
“Give it here. I’ll throw it in the trash on the way out.” Mickey says holding out his hand.
Ian gets up and holds out the box to Mickey.
“You sure?”
Mickey gives Ian a face indicating _of fucking course he was sure._ Ian shakes his head and hands it over to Mickey.
“Now come on I only have another hour or two with this truck.” Mickey says.
“Alright,” Ian walks past Mickey to another room. “Help me with these,” He speaks not looking behind him to see if Mickey was there. “And we can be done for today.” | 951f118f744d4ea18c9e0a7f89bb2320 | ['03505039dfdf44ac8b24cd6e76f70fbb'] | Ian comes into the kitchen letting his and Mandy’s presence be known. Fiona and Kevin continue their argument too wrapped up in it to pay attention Mandy and Ian.
“Yes it’s mine but the money’s not.”
“Then whose is it?’
Kevin looks into his beer, “I can’t say.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“It’s an uh anonymous donation.”
“From who?”
“Someone at the Alibi.”
Fiona rubs her eyes, frustrated. “Kev who gave you this money?”
“I promised him I wouldn’t tell.”
Fiona sighs “I can’t be owing people money here.”
“I don’t think that’s why he’s giving it.”
“You said someone at the Alibi.” Ian says. Fiona looks over at him. Ian walks to them. “Can I see that?” He asks pointing to the check in Fiona’s hand.
Fiona apprehensively hands him the check. Ian looks it over. “Just take the money, Fi,” he says handing the check back to her.
Fiona looks at Ian who nods at Kevin, trying to read him. Kevin swallows his beer harshly.
Fiona sighs and accepts the check. “Well tell whoever it is…Thank you.”
Kevin nods. “Will do.” He smiles and checks his watch. “Shit got to get to work.” He hands the beer to Fiona. “Tell V I have to work a double today.” He says behind him as he exits the Gallagher house.
It takes Ian a minute before he decided to follow. Call it a hunch-a really strong hunch- but one Ian needs some sort of confirmation on.
Ian closes the front door relieved to find Kevin still there.
“It’s Mickey isn’t it?”
Kevin looks up from lighting his cigarette, looking at Ian quizzically.
“He’s been giving you the money?” Ian clarifies, though Kevin didn’t need it anyway.
“I can’t say.” Kevin says but his uneasy look when Ian mentioned Mickey gave it away.
“Why?” Ian lets out. He doesn’t mean to.
Kevin looks away and sighs. Figuring he didn’t technically tell Ian he shakes his head and continues. “I don’t know, man. Anytime I try to mention you he walks away or stares at me and tells me to fuck off.”
Ian smiles at both the confirmation and the familiar crude way Mickey spoke. His smile soon disappears though.
Kevin looks at him sadly. “You tried talking to him?”
“Yeah. Few times.”
Kevin nods. “I’m sure he’ll come around.”
“Yeah. I’m not so sure about that.”
“Really messed him up huh?”
“Yeah… Yeah you could say that.” Ian rubs the back of his head.
“Sorry I…uh he may’ve let some stuff spill.”
Ian nods.
“I should get to The Alibi.”
“Oh yeah. Right sorry.”
“No problem,” Kevin turns to go. “Oh hey,” He turns back around. “You should stop by sometime. I’ll get you a drink on the house.”
Ian smiles politely. “Thanks. Yeah maybe I will.”
“Good.” Kevin turns around again to head to the bar. “See you around.”
It’s later that night (Kevin had started his second shift) and Ian can’t get it off his mind. Mickey anonymously paying for his psych bills after what he did? Determination starts to brew in Ian again. He’ll talk to Mickey. Fuck he’ll talk to Mickey tonight. There has to be a reason he was doing this. It means he still cares, means he doesn’t hate him enough to give up on him…maybe.
Ian decides to head off to The Alibi and if Mickey isn’t there according to Mandy that must mean he’s at his house and Ian will just head over there. He’ll sneak in if he has to.
It’s 1:30 am when Ian storms through The Alibi.
“Hey, Ian.” Kevin greets him. “Come for that drink?”
“He here?” Ian asks, rushing.
“Uh yeah. Upstairs.”
Ian walks away from the stool in front of Kevin. “but I-“
Ian walks quickly to the back before Kevin can finish his sentence.
“Ian wait you can’t- Ah shit…”
“You want me to get him?” A big man at the bar asks.
“Nah it’s alright. Let him go.”
There are small yells from the girls as Ian makes his way upstairs unwelcomed.
“You’re not allowed up here. We come get you,” One of the girls yells at him.
“I’m not here for that,” he says pushing past her to more yelling and screaming coming from the women.
“Jesus Christ. The fuck is all that noise for?” Mickey comes out yelling from a separate room. Ian’s pulse quickens at hearing Mickey’s voice. Fuck he never realized how much he missed that voice. He wants to smile but when Mickey gets closer and his eyes gloss over Ian, looking him up and down, sneering, Ian realizes smiling isn’t the best choice in the situation.
“What the fuck?” Mickey mutters almost to himself.
“He come up. He come up without paying!” The same girl from earlier walks over to Mickey and yells in his face.
“Christ we need some fucking security guys or some shit.”
“You supposed to be security!” She yells some more.
“Yes thanks for that, Miss Fucking Obvious.” Mickey glances at her. Then back at Ian whose eyes move to the floor.
“What we do? Get Kev?” She asks.
“Get out.” Mickey says quickly.
Ian looks up thinking Mickey means him.
“What?” the girl asks.
“Go on break.”
“Who?”
“All of you. Get a drink from downstairs or whatever I don’t give a shit.” The women look at each other and shrug as they head downstairs.
Mickey crosses his arms and stares as Ian as the girls leave.
“The fuck you want?” He says to Ian harshly.
Ian looks up and swallows. “I uh… I needed to see you.”
Mickey scoffs and turns away, walking back to the room he came from. Ian follows.
“Thought I told you to stay away?”
“Yeah…maybe.” There’s uneasy quiet between them. Ian breaks it again. “I just…wanted to talk.”
“So talk.” Mickey says back still to Ian.
“Could you at least look at me?” Ian begs
Mickey turns around and finally looks at him. |
396d79fac2eb4e9eb45a87884cbb3afb | ['035400da566d435f91ac11fe9443234b'] | Nearly
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Thank you to LINK for being my lovely beta <3
>
> Miko, I hope you enjoy this and don't ask for more… or at least not yet. ;) and I am sorry it's so late x
>
> I wrote this from a prompt on Tumblr.
> _ **Prompt:** Characters are trying to keep their relationship secret, but they swap house ties by accident. _
Ginny broke away from Luna reluctantly as her beautiful, petite, blonde girlfriend pushed up against her. "What's wrong Lu?" She asked, a confused look crossing her face.
"It's getting late, near curfew I am sure." She said, her lips downturned and her brow pulled low in a frown. "We can't stay in here all night."
"Why not?" Ginny pouted, she knew Luna was making sense, but with her shirt open and so much of her alabaster skin on show Ginny found it hard to listen to sense and reason. She ran her finger along the edge of Luna"s shirt, taking care of the mounds of her breasts, lingering around her nipples which were hard as bullets. They were alone in the Room of Requirement, it was unlikely that anyone was going to walk in on them and Ginny was in no mood to return to the Gryffindor Common Room let alone leave and spend the rest of the night in her double bed all on her own.
"Because there will be someone who will find out, and tell on us… do you really want someone like McGonagall or Flitwick to find us in here?" she scanned the room before looking down at Ginny"s slender body. Which was as bare as her own, her fair skin smattered with freckles which looked, to Luna, like the constellations in the night sky. Ginny was beautiful, even if she couldn't see it herself, her beauty astounded Luna whenever they were together like this. "Like this?" She looked straight into her girlfriend"s eyes before planting a swift kiss on her lips. followed by more kisses that trailed her bare skin until they had reached the redhead"s collarbone. The touch of the female"s soft skin under her greedy lips elicited a sigh from her as she kissed Ginny one more time, choosing one of the spots she knows her girlfriend loved so much.
"You are a tease, Miss Lovegood," Ginny said with a wicked grin. "I will get you back for this." She began buttoning up shirt her shirt.
"You love it really," Luna smiled back at her. Buttoning up the very last button of her shirt, she picked up the tie closest to her and tied it around her neck.
Ginny finished with her own shirt did the same and then stood up. Making sure she looked presentable, she kissed Luna on the cheek, before she headed to the door. "Same time tomorrow?" She asked and turned around to look at her girlfriend one last time.
"Try and stop me," Luna smiled.
Ginny was daydreaming about what else Luna and she could have done, had they just stayed in the Room of Requirement when she heard her name being called from behind her. She turned around and stood stock still, saw Luna running towards her, silver-blonde hair flying after her like a flag blowing in the wind and a deep pink tinge to her cheeks. "Tie," Luna hissed, out of breath, when, she finally caught up to Ginny. Panting she held out the Gryffindor tie towards her Confused, Ginny looked down at her own chest and went a deep purple when she saw, the blue and bronze Ravenclaw tie around her neck instead of the red and gold one of Gryffindor. Practically ripping the tie off she swapped it with the one in Luna"s hand. "Thank Merlin you noticed, the others would have made my life a living nightmare if I had turned up in the common room with that one."
They’d been together for months now, but being surrounded by her big brothers Ginny wasn't sure she was ready to come out to them or her friends yet, so they were keeping their relationship under wraps for now. Ginny didn't know how she would have explained away wearing a Ravenclaw tie. "See you tomorrow ?" She asked, before heading back to Gryffindor Tower, she wanted to kiss Luna, but that would defeat the object of hiding their relationship. | 2bc192833bad465a99a8d86c0ce62751 | ['035400da566d435f91ac11fe9443234b'] | Birthday Treats
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Happy (belated) birthday to one of the best writing buddies I have - even if you give me new ships!
>
> There will be follow up chapters to come!
_ Hogwarts courtyard, 29th March 2019 _
As thirteenth birthdays go today had been pretty good, even if I was stuck in class for most of it. I've had birthday wishes all day, mum and dad even sent me a gift this morning. The only thing that could make the day even more perfect now was if I got to spend some time with Scorpius, he can always make any day even better.
I was just crossing the entrance hall to head back up to Ravenclaw tower, all alone, I wanted nothing more than to curl up with one of the new books mum and dad had sent this morning when I suddenly felt hands grab me around the waist. I spun around ready to jit out at whoever had grabbed me and stopped in my tracks as I laid eyes on Scorpius. I had only just been humming about him and as if, well, by magic here he was. “Hey you,” I could feel my lips tugging up into a wide grin as I spoke, “thought you'd forgotten about me!”
“You know that I could never do that!” He smirked, pulling me into a hug. “Come with me,” he said as he stepped away from me and held out his hand.
I took hold of his outstretched hand, relishing in the feel of it. Soft and rough all at once. I wasn't worried about where ever he was going to lead me, I've trusted Scorpius with my life since our first day here, and I'm not about to stop now. He's my boyfriend, he wouldn't hurt me.
He led me out the double doors and into the grounds, heading towards the courtyards which made my heart flutter. It was one of my favourite parts of the grounds, it's where I always went to hide when I needed peace and quiet. Or just wanted to draw or take my camera out. It has been pretty warm all day, and the evening wasn't too cold either so we were fine in our school uniforms without our thicker robes over top. The sun was gleaming against Scorpius's blonde hair in a way that always leaves me mesmerized, “where are we going?” I ask, not that I am worried, more curious.
He just looked at me and smirked, which means that I’ll find out when he’s ready, I just hope that it is soon.
Ten minutes later, we were nearing the end of the courtyards. Scorpius turned to me, “close your eyes,” he instructed as he moved behind me to lead me to wherever he was taking me. After a few, hesitant on my part, steps he pulled gently at my hands, which I had covered my face with. “You can open them now,” he whispered in my ear.
I did as instructed and when I saw the sight in front of me my breath hitched. It was beautiful. One of the benches had been surrounded by fairy lights, I had no idea how he was powering them, and flowers: roses, lilies, jasmine and lavender. All my favourites. Everything blurred slightly as I felt the tears spring up and overflow and fall down my cheeks. “It’s beautiful!”
“Happy Birthday flower,” he smiled. He gently took my hand and led me towards the bench and we sat down.
We stayed there for hours until it was time to head to our common rooms, we just talked and cuddled. It was the perfect end to a pretty good day. I don’t know how he did it but it was perfect. |
466fba70ff4847888bd62e23e7ba8f25 | ['03567a7c45ea4c49afa47de78796e150'] | Matthew Patrick punches Joey Graceffa in the face
**Author's Note:**
> This was written before season 4 episode 10 comes out so it might not align with any plot twists that arise in that episode.
Matt and Nikita had been staring at the place the portal used to be all night. They knew it had to open back up to let them out sometime but it sure was taking it’s sweet time. And then suddenly the ground started to shake, and the portal opened again. Out from it walks Joey Bretman and Colleen. Nikita squeals and hugs Joey and Bretman, but Matt hangs back, anger rising in him.
“Where is she?!” He demands
“Matt, I’m sorry, she-“ Joey says
“She died again because of you!” Matt yells, his face twisted in anger and pain.
“I didn’t want her to die, that’s just how the cards fell.” Joey says like he talking about who he picked last in kickball
“You voted for her?!” Matt’s screams, fists clenching, he’s beefed up since he joined The Society and he wants nothing more than to pound Joey into a pulp.
“She hadn’t been in a challenge yet!” Joey whines
This sets Matt off. He doesn’t even remember deciding to punch Joey, but he’s on the ground on top of him, landing blow after blow. He gets in some nasty hits before Jael, Ryu and Nikita are able to pull him off Joey.
“I left my wife and kid to save her, and you vote her to die, you murder her, for what?! So your best friend can come back?! I’m done saving your ass, next time you need to go “save” someone, you’re on your own!” He screams, still trying to lunge at Joey. He wants him to feel the same pain he feels, that he’s had to feel twice now. “How’d she die at your hands this time?!”
No one says anything all in shock and some in pain
“Tell me, anyone!” Matt sobs
“She was eaten by velociraptors” Colleen says, not meeting her former guardian angel’s eyes.
This prompts another lunge from Matt who is quickly grabbed by Ryu before he can make the savant bleed more. He sobs her name, not wanting to accept that her light that surrounded him for the hardest times of his life has been snuffed out again. | b363dcf65b2946f49c271c665bb3a65c | ['03567a7c45ea4c49afa47de78796e150'] |
1. Rules
Really, it’s that simple. You can comment on this chapter a character and a death, and I’ll do ~~a mediocre job~~ my best to make it fleshed out. Don’t think Nikita should have won? Have The Snakewoman take her out. Think a death from Everlock would fit DeStorm more? Throw it at me. The world is your oyster. Just be patient with me, I’m not the best at getting these out quickly. Also if you are submitting something please put who you want to die and not just “Character A and Character B in challenge X” With that being said, **LET’S GET SAD!**
2. How the Mighty Have Fallen
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> DeStorm meets his first of, I’m sure, many ends
In hindsight, DeStorm should have seen this coming. He knew the group hated him and this was the perfect opportunity to see him go. That didn’t stop the fear though. His own face smiling back at him from the voting card made him sick. How happy the card was contrasting with the grim reality it implied
“You guys aren’t really gonna-“ DeStorm starts but is interrupted by the clasping of hands on all sides. He knows from the strong man’s contest that Manny out powers him, but he wasn’t expecting the group as a whole to be this strong.
He’s dropped the “higher than thou” facade. He’s terrified. He kicks and pulls away but the power of five is greater than the power of one. They march him to the doors and shove him inside without so much as a “sorry”
They slam the doors closed. His screams are involuntary, blood stains the complex layered outfit as it mixes with the old stains already in the maiden. He starts to fade away. The group’s rousing cheers as the artifact is cleansed are the last whispers of sound that float through his ears before he sinks into eternal slumber.
3. Judas
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Justine gets taken out by the other “only one person will be chosen” death
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I’m so sorry this took so long, my iPad finally went out to pasture and I was waiting to replace it, but we’re back in business!
Justine is a mess. She is vaguely aware of the shouting around her, but her mind is a blank slate of terror.
”Guys, I am not working with The Carnival Master!” She screams, but it’s too late. Her failure to save Andrea seems like forever ago, but the group still insists she is the mastermind behind all this.
Tim and Lele both grab an arm, and everyone but Joey follows suit.
“Guys do you really think she of all people has concocted a plan to kill us?” Joey pleads
”Yes!” GlowZell shouts back.
The group forcefully shoves her into the Maiden of Madness and then close the doors. Justine shrieks and sobs, and so does Joey. The fur on her vest clumps together as the blood rolls down it. It doesn’t take long for her to give up and go to sleep.
4. Karma
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Nikita looses the Snakewoman’s challenge
Nikita done with this challenge, and it’s only just begun. The blood and viscera are getting everywhere, her hands are numb from _whatever_ gunk the pieces and parts are floating in, and Roi is still ahead of her. She can’t even differentiate squishy organs from the hard mosaic pieces she searching for. She’s resorted to picking up and throwing out each piece she doesn’t need. She grabs blindly in th _e_ goop and pulls out a yellow square.
“Yes!” She shouts and runs over to the guide. The peice goes right by the serpents mouth. But she looks up and sees Roi has his final peice in hand. They make eye contact and he darts away to finish his art.
Nikita is pissed! She goes through all of this, for some stupid town? What does she care if these people die? _I shouldn’t have even accepted his stupid invite. I should have torn it up. Waited for my burger and forgotten about it._ But deep down she knows that she never would have _not_ accepted. Joey had been away for far too long.
The Snakewoman grabs Nikita and rips open her jumpsuit with her fangs. The Snakewoman bites down repeatedly, tearing Nikita’s dress to shreds. Nikita squirms and the poison courses throughout her body. She is vaguely aware of someone apologizing, but they sound far away and underwater. Her mind is a hazy mess of panic and grief. She gives up and fades into oblivion.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> These are either getting slowly better or slowly worse, I can’t decide. Also #SaveGoodBoiRoi
5. All Mixed Up
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Manny does when he should’ve ,,,,,,,, kinda
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I don’t hate the plot twist this episode so I’m just going to put Manny in Safiya’s place
Manny runs a perfectly polished nail through his hair. Matt is too busy comforting a crying Rosanna to notice Manny trying to make eye contact, a silent “I’m sorry” for what Nikita is going to do when she wins, because she _is_ going to win. _Which will make me a murderer_ he thinks. _I’m the reason Safiya is fighting for her life._
Suddenly the door opens. Manny is expecting Nikita, or possibly Safiya, but it is neither. Instead Willy has come waltzing into the “safe” lounge, angry face in full control. There is something long and metalic in his hands. Manny can’t really see what it is, but he knows anyway. Willy’s threat from before they entered the funhouse has been ringing in his head for the past hour. _“I’ll rip your guts out with a fishhook!”_
”What are you doing, we didn’t go into the challenge!” Joey yells, but he gets no response. |
16666fc1b7b64c1897290eca99490bf6 | ['035c7eca57624a52ac9d8dc173f51ee1'] | He begins, trailing off as Luke simply shakes his head and thrusts the present towards him again, the tip of the paper bumping Michael’s jaw. Michael’s eyes flicker up from the gift to Luke’s face, but the younger boy refuses to look anywhere but in Michael’s direction. Sighing gently, Michael hoists himself up against the headboard next to Luke, pressing his hands into the mattress and letting the present drop into his lap. Curling his finger beneath the present, Michael tentatively holds it up, cradling it carefully as if it’ll shatter any second.
There’s too much sellotape holding it all together, deep creases running through the vibrant red paper, and a wrapping bow stuck clumsily in the corner with the ribbon falling apart. Michael chuckles lightly, it’s all so _Luke_ , and he can perfectly imagine the younger boy repeatedly trying to wrap the present with growing frustration; sticking the sellotape to his own fingers accidently and taking him several attempts until he was mildly satisfied, sticking on a bow at the last-minute with one of his dopey, open-mouthed smiles that Michael loves.
Michael realises he’s been staring for a beat too long at the present in his hands when he feels Luke fidget uncomfortably beside him, their shoulders bumping together. Michael’s reminded of how anxious Luke gets when the other boy coughs slightly, tangling his fingers together nervously, and Michael can practically hear the thoughts of _what if he doesn’t like it, he’ll probably hate it, I’ve screwed up, you’re such an idiot Luke._
Reaching over, Michael gently nudges his nose against Luke’s cheek, and he smiles to himself when he notices Luke’s fingers pause and slither apart. Returning his attention to the gift that still sits un-opened, he decides he can’t leave Luke waiting any longer. Michael skims his fingers across the paper, desperately feeling for an opening in the mass of sellotape Luke used. He considers making a joke that won’t be funny, but Luke would laugh at anyway, just because Luke’s nice to him like that. Instead, he finds a small gap, and tears it back to reveal a mess of black fabric. Frowning lightly, Michael fumbles with the material until it slips away, and he instantly freezes because, _oh my God, Luke bought me Pokémon_. Letting the forgotten fabric slide through his fingers and onto the sheets, he grabs at the game, flipping it over in his hands and jolting his head to the side to stare at Luke animatedly.
Luke’s fiercely twisting his wristbands where they rest in his lap, and he barely even acknowledges Michael’s reaction, his expression blank and lips drooping down slightly. Michael glances back down at the box resting heavily in his palms,
“You bought this for me?”
Michael mumbles, and he watches as Luke finally looks at him, nodding timidly. Michael can tell he’s ready to apologise, saying he’ll return it straight away because _Michael hates it, of course he does_ , and Michael will not let that happen.
“Oh, my God, _Luke_ , you didn’t have to get me this.”
Michael’s honestly shocked, he knows this latest Pokémon game wasn’t cheap, but Luke was still willing to spend his money on Michael, _Michael_ , the one who yells at him to shut up and repeatedly calls him a dick and annoying and stupid.
Luke shrugs; his shoulder rubbing against Michael’s and mutters,
“I wanted too,”
his face brushed with embarrassment. Michael’s never felt so loved before, and he can feel the weight of _Luke actually cares about me_ pressing down on him.
Luke tips his shoulder into Michael’s and points sheepishly, and Michael’s remembers that there was something else. Reaching down, Michael captures the black fabric, and clumsily unfolds it to reveal a simple t-shirt with the Pokémon logo stamped on the front. Michael’s honestly speechless, and he can’t decide if he’s more irritated at Luke or himself for getting so emotional about the most basic gift.
Michael’s suddenly hit with an overbearing guilt, his eyes widening because _shit, he didn’t buy Luke a present_.
"Shit, Luke, I didn’t get you anything, crap.”
Michael curses, feels Luke shrug again, and knows that Luke won’t take it to heart, because Luke’s the type of person who prefers giving rather than receiving.
“S’okay, I got to sleep in with you, that’s enough.”
Luke mumbles, and Michael’s certain his words haven’t registered in Luke’s mind yet, and its only when Luke’s eyes widen and his cheeks blush that Michael’s thoughts were confirmed.
“Aw, _Luke_ ,”
Michael tries teasing, but somehow he can’t manage that and instead his voice drowns out, and suddenly Michael’s hit with the sincerity of it all.
“I wasn’t expecting you to even stay with me at all, to be honest.”
Michael mutters in reply, his voice barely audible, and he’s not sure Luke heard him at all. Michael glances downwards slightly, and now it’s his turn to be embarrassed. _This is Luke’s fault_ , Michael reasons, _it’s always Luke’s fault_.
But then he feels the light, delicate press of Luke’s lips against his cheek, and he visibly relaxes, turning to see a prominent and vivid blush colouring Luke’s cheeks. He chuckles, and nuzzles Luke back, bumping his nose into Luke’s neck and brushing his fringe out across Luke’s jawline.
Luke laughs softly, and the butterflies that Michael pushed away flutter painfully against his stomach. Michael leaves his head to droop onto Luke’s shoulder, refuses to move and lets Luke snake his arm across the expanse of Michael’s shoulder blades.
There’s a comfortable silence filling the air, and Michael’s confused with how natural it all feels, as if cuddling in bed on Christmas morning is a tradition they’ve been doing for years. Michael’s growing quickly overwhelmed with it all, and he urgently feels the need to say something, when his gaze subconsciously draws itself back to the heap of presents and torn wrapping paper.
“Why so much Pokémon?”
Luke shrugs again, | c148306c56ed4b41975a38027f6fbb05 | ['035c7eca57624a52ac9d8dc173f51ee1'] | “Really, Ashton, Santa? What are you, 5?”
Ashton just shrugs, his eyes alight with excitement and giddiness, and Michael misses the times when his comebacks would actually be taken in offense.
“Yes. Calum, help me move him.”
Calum smirks with a devilish glint in his eyes, and Michael knows this won’t end well, especially when he feels a strong grip wrap around his ankles.
He barely even has time to form a protest on his tongue when he’s being dragged forward, his head sliding off the pillow and his legs dangling preciously off the edge of the bed. He whines “no” feebly, and feels Luke grasping on tighter, and Michael wonders why Luke hasn’t let go of him to join in yet, normally Luke would be the most excited out of all of them.
Ashton’s giggle is beginning to give Michael a headache, and Calum’s holding his shin too tightly, and this is definitely not how he wanted his Christmas morning to start.
“Hey, guys, maybe we should leave him for a bit.”
And then Luke’s talking, _helping_ him, and Michael is stunned with the lack of wanting to tell Luke to shut up, and wonders why Luke is always so nice to him. Michael glances down at the blonde boy, watches as Luke shuffles upwards awkwardly and attempts to yank Michael’s leg out of Calum’s grip.
“Aw, you’re no fun Hemmings.”
Calum’s pouting again, but Michael’s too tired to make a remark, just wants them to leave him in peace for a few more hours at least. He begins to drift off again, slowly closing his eyes and blocking out the sounds of his band mates.
He vaguely hears Ashton promising they’ll be back in about five hours, and then the muffled shut of the door, followed by a silence that’s both eerie and blissful at once. Michael shimmies ungracefully back up the mattress, collapses on the pillow, and is seconds away from being completely unconscious. But then Michael feels the mattress dip beside him, and he’s about to peel his eyes back open because he should be alone now, _why am I not alone_ , when Luke’s pressing his lips carefully into Michael’s cheek, and somehow a small smile manages to work its way onto Michael’s lips.
“Goodnight, Mikey”
Luke mumbles into his ear, before shifting to rest his head against Michael’s shoulder, his hair brushing lighting beneath Michael’s chin, and Michael can definitely fall asleep to this.
\-----
Michael wakes up again a few hours later, and he’s greeted with Luke curled up on his chest; his fingers clutching desperately at Michael’s arm and face nuzzled into Michael’s neck. Michael can’t hold back the fond smile that creeps across his lips, and he affectionately tugs at Luke’s blonde locks, letting his fingertips clumsily crawl through his hair and flopping down to curve against Luke’s waist. Luke’s somehow managed to wedge his foot beneath Michael’s thigh, his knee jutting into Michael’s lower back, and Michael should be uncomfortable and shove Luke off like he usually does, but for some reason he _likes_ it, this feeling of Luke wrapped around him awkwardly. Michael tells himself it’s just the Christmas season getting to his head, and pretends that the butterflies in his stomach don’t really exist.
Michael wriggles restlessly, caught between not wanting to wake Luke, but wanting to move before the entire left side of his body is left numb. He glances down at Luke and is almost left breathless at how peaceful and _beautiful_ he looks; his eyelashes fanning out delicately on his cheeks and pouting lips hovering gently above Michael’s collarbone. Michael frowns, his eyebrows creasing inwards, because _since when have I been soppy, what is happening_.
Luke whimpers sleepily, eyes still closed and his warm breath sinking into Michael’s skin. He nuzzles his head further into Michael’s neck, bumping his nose and tickling Michael’s chin with the tips of his unruly quiff. Michael chuckles lightly, and its then that he’s reminded of why he likes to stay in bed for the duration of Christmas day. It’s also in this moment when Michael realises just how far gone he is for this boy.
Luke whines again, and Michael doesn’t know how much more of this he can handle. Sighing, Michael buries his nose into Luke’s hair and presses his lips gently on Luke’s forehead, letting them linger there before mumbling,
“ _Luke. Wake up_.”
Luke grumbles, snuggling into Michael’s side determinedly before lifting his hand and blinking sleepily, rubbing a hand clumsily across his eye and Michael’s certain he’s never seen anything cuter.
“Why you being so cuddly? Normally hate me,”
Luke mumbles, his voice thick with drowsiness and words tinted with confusion and slur. Michael smirks again fondly, and his minds racing because honestly, he doesn’t know the answer to Luke’s question either.
Instead he stretches lazily and shrugs lightly, only pausing when his feet nudge into something and he hears a light thud. Michael glances up at Luke, eyebrow raised in questioning, and an unspoken question that Luke already understands.
Michael watches curiously as Luke nervously bites at his lip piercing and avoids Michael’s stare. The younger boy crawls to the end of the bed, reaches down and emerges holding something out of Michael’s view. He scurries backwards, and Michael sinks his tooth lightly into his bottom lip to prevent a burst of laughter escaping.
Luke ungracefully collapses next to Michael, pushes himself up to rest against the headboard and gathers up whatever fell off the bed in his palms, keeping his eyes trained on the object.
“I, um, I got you something,”
Luke stutters awkwardly, holding out a bundle of festive wrapping paper and shifting his gaze to look anywhere but at Michael.
Michael stares at him in awe, mouth gaping open in a small ‘o’. He wasn’t expecting a present, wasn’t expecting Luke to stay with him at all, and he doesn’t quite know how to react.
“Luke…” |
cb871ba1eabf401ab7a3c7d1e59ae47c | ['0381ceb751d24a878febfa0d45782855'] | **OctaviaTheYounger:** And Bellamy accidentally walked me into Ravens open wardorbe door and, well it broke and I dislocated my shoulder
**OctaviaTheYounger:** But don't worry Lincoln will fix it!
**PresidentBaeLincoln** **:** Will I?
**ThatsSoRaven:** No it's okay I need something to do with my hands I have a lecture in two hours and if I go home and sleep I’ll just ruin my life
**ThatsSoRaven:** Guess we’re even now after the time I used your hair straighteners to light a joint huh? Xxx
**OctaviaTheYounger:** I mean I still have the smell of weed in my hair every time I straighten it but I guess this wasn't the first and it wont be the last time we’ve fucked each other lives up.
**ChillingGriffin:** I love hearing Raven and Octavia’s weekly roommate adventure stories
**ChillingGriffin:** We literally are the friends tv show come to life
**PresidentBaeLincoln** **:** Friends was made up of a bunch of straight, cis white people but okay
**BellULater** **:** I guess I missed the episode were Ross had to take Monica into the emergency room at 3 am with a dislocated shoulder and a bag full of alcohol
**That** **sSoRaven:** Tell me you two didn't keep drinking when you were at the hospital
**OctaviaTheYounger:** It was for the pain xx
**ThatsSoRaven:** That's it I'm coming out with you two on Friday night
**ChillingGriffin:** Octavia and Bellamy spend every Friday night with us Raven I'm hurt
**ThatsSoRaven:** Well they didn't last week!!
**ChillingGriffin:** Last week you ended up having a threesome with an actor from the cw and and a dallas cowboys cheerleader don't you cheek me young lady
**ThatsSoRaven:** I know I miss them
**ChillingGriffin:** Not that I care or anything but… was my mom at the hospital last night?
**OctaviaTheYounger:** We didn't see her. We got that Doctor Becca again, you know the one who fixed Lexa’s ankle and stitched up Millers face that time after the fridge incident
**SexyLexy** **:** We have got to drink less
**OctaviaTheYounger:** Yeah she recognised us, she asked what we did this this time as soon as she saw us, she thought the wardrobe story was funny, especially when we played the rave playlist for her while she was putting my shoulder back in place
**SexyLexy** **:** Oh we have got to drink less
**ThatsSoRaven:** Catch Lexa tomorrow night buying us all shots as soon as we set foot in the Dropship
**SexyLexy** **:** That's were all my money goes buying you fuckers shots every week
**BellULater** **:** I cannot wait to go home to nap this hangover off
**BellULater** **:** Do you think I could get a class of 16 year olds to colour in while I quietly die on my desk?
**ChillingGriffin:** Oh it's such a power trip when someone else is hungover and you wake up funky fresh
**OctaviaTheYounger:** Yes congrats on not being hungover on a Thursday you are truly a person who has their shit together
**ChillingGriffin:** Hello Alcoholics Anonymous
**BellULater** **:** Enough™
**BellULater** **:** I put on a youtube video about Stalin and his victims I think it’ll wake them up
**ThatsSoRaven:** Unpopular opinion but I would fuck Stalin
**ThatsSoRaven:** Like that moustache!!! Omg daddy
**ThatsSoRaven:** He murdered 20 million people and I want my puthy to be the next victim
**ChillingGriffin:** That's it I'm kinkshaming
**PresidentBaeLincoln** **:** I had a sex dream about Bernie Sanders
**ThatsSoRaven:** aw without me?? ;);)
**ChillingGriffin:** why are we friends
**PresidentBaeLincoln** **:** He kept saying don't worry you won't have to pay for college after this and I kept trying to tell him I graduated three years ago but he wouldn't listen
**ThatsSoRaven:** omg did you have a sex dream about Bernie Sanders being ur sugar daddy
**SexyLexy** **:** He’s so old that isn't even daddy that’s granddaddy
**ChillingGriffin:** I’d fuck Bernie for money idc
**PresidentBaeLincoln** **:** Nah I mean I was always gonna vote for him but now I feel more connected to him, it's about more than money, we genuinely cared for each other it was sweet sweet love making
**SexyLexy** **:** How could y’all even consider that I’m so glad I'm gay
**ChillingGriffin:** I’m in it for the coin
**PresidentBaeLincoln** **:** I'm in it for the love
**That** **sSoRaven:** I'm in it to assassinate Trump
**OctaviaTheYounger:** The reheat pizza button on the microwave changed my life
**OctaviaTheYounger:** I'm a new woman
**OctaviaTheYounger:** The girl you knew before today is a distant memory
**BellULater** **:** One time in college when I was doing my midterms and wired out on redbull and coffee and a substantial amount of weed I had a dream George Washington crept in through my window and stroked my face while singing Ghetto Gospel to me. Which I thought was a bit weird but it was always said he was a people person right?
**PresidentBa** **eLincoln** **:** Lexa what were our lives like before they were infiltrated by a group of trainwrecks
**OctaviaTheYounger:** Boring?
**ChillingGriffin** **:** You spent your days watching Friends on Netflix not realising that your own group of friends was travelling your way
**SexyLexy** **:** We spent a lot more time eating salads and a lot less time at pie eating contests that's for damn sure
**ThatsSoRaven** **:** I'm proud to be third consecutive winner of Mrs Bettys All You Can Eat Pie Contest thank you very much
**PresidentBaeLincoln** **:** And I had a lot more money
**ChillingGriffin** **:** Hey we went splitties on that 20 foot life size Tyrannosaurus Rex don't you forget
**Sex** **yLexy** **:** And my hair wasn't shot to smithereens because it wasn't dyed every colour of the rainbow
**BellULater** **:** Please we looked so good in every colour, you suited green so much especially with your eyes. Anyway Clarke jumped your bones every time I dyed your hair a new colour so your welcome for that by the way.
**PresidentBaeLincoln** **:** And I wasn't banned from every 7/11 in the state | e2319fb5f9f946f8b6304eb417b34411 | ['0381ceb751d24a878febfa0d45782855'] | **ThatsSoRaven:** Danny Dorito? yeah thats the man himself, he stopped by Millers and Bellamys apartment earlier we're all pals
**SexyLexy:** danny dorito
**OctaviaTheYounger:** no way!!! thats so wild whats he like?
**ThatsSoRaven:** Octavia that is a cut out figure of Danny Devito propped against a wall HOW did you think that was real
**OctaviaTheYounger:** it's very life like I admire the craftsmanship
**ThatsSoRaven:** you're not allowed to get this high without inviting me ever again I'm missing out
**Chilling Griffin:** this isn't even about being high Octavia is sooo gullible she probably would've believed that that was really Danny Dorito in your story if she wasn't high
**SexyLexy:** danny dorito
**OctaviaTheYounger:** Pot kettle black
**Chilling Griffin:** Scuse me?
**OctaviaTheYounger:** What about that guy we met who told us he painted the faces on legos? We believed him, we went along with it, we googled it later and found out that the making of lego faces is in fact done by a machine.'
**Chilling Griffin:** Yeah he really got us didn't he
**BellULater:** it's 4/20 somewhere
**OctaviaTheYounger:** probably Austrailia
**SexyLexy:** I'm pretty sure Austrailia is 24 hours ahead of us
**OctaviaTheYounger:** wow
**OctaviaTheYounger:** you're so wise
**SexyLexy:** it's amazing what you learn when you actually GO TO CLASS
**OctaviaTheYounger:** going to class?? ... never heard of that.... don't know about that... don't respect that
**ThatsSoRaven:** the chances of me and O going to class??
**ThatsSoRaven:** this bitch empty YEET
**OctaviaTheYounger:** hey, am I the only one who finds it strange how much knowledge Bellamy, Clarke and Lexa have on Austrailia?
**OctaviaTheYounger:** it's like ya'll lived there or something
**OctaviaTheYounger:** maybe in another life
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** oh my god you're so high please get home safe
**OctaviaTheYounger:** I'm walking up the stairs of my building as we text
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** call me as soon as you get into your apartment
**OctaviaTheYounger:** aye aye captain
**OctaviaTheYounger:** weed is the combo of we and need. so we need weed
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** oh my god
**ThatsSoRaven:** You know the guy in our building who owns the pregnant goat
**ChillingGriffin:** How could we forget
**ThatsSoRaven:** You will all be pleased to know she had her baby!
**ChillingGriffin:** ahhhh!! omg exciting
**OctaviaTheYounger:** aw the baby is an Aries!!
**OctaviaTheYounger:** oh my god RAM
**SexyLexy:** It's more likely than you think
**ThatsSoRaven** : He was gonna call it Raven if it was a boy but sadly it's a Male
**OctaviaTheYounger:** This is amazing I can't believe we're getting a baby goat the next building party is gonna be LIT I tell you that
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** uhh you're acting as if your last building party wasn't literally lit, you're Landlord juggled swords that were set on fire as part of the early entertainment for the evening
**OctaviaTheYounger:** i love that man
**ThatsSoRaven:** he has a passion for sword juggling! i respect it
**OctaviaTheYounger:** Can the baby goat trot about yet
**ThatsSoRaven** : I think so it was born like an hour ago
**OctaviaTheYounger:** He's learning
**BellULater:** the fire alarm went off, the entire school stood outside for over 20 minutes while it was being investigated and it turned out that the drama department was fucking around with a smoke machine and set off all of the alarms in the school
**ThatsSoRaven:** ew
**BellULater:** thank God it's a half day so I can get the fuck out of this hell hole
**ThatsSoRaven:** wow good thing you chose teaching as a profession and have to work in schools for the rest of your life
**BellULater:** I'm cold and today hasn't been a good day :(
**ChillingGriffin:** Bell do you want to meet me and go on an adventure??
**BellULater:** YES my mother thank you
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** Speaking of baby animals
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** Guess where I am
**SexyLexy:** A meat market
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** wtf no
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** A CAT SANCTUARY
**ChillingGriffin:** LUCCKKKYYYYY
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** Look at this one!!
_ PresidentBaeLincoln sent in two photos _
**ThatsSoRaven:** omg look at the little kitty!!
**BellULater:** what it name
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** PEDRO
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** "Pedro is a friendly boy who loves attention"
**BellULater:** relatable!
**OctaviaTheYounger:** omg I'm jealous
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** There's another girl called Mittens but she doesn't like other cats or dogs smh
**SexyLexy:** I'm mittens
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** there's a fat boy called Elliot I love him
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** I wanna adopt them all :(
**ChillingGriffin:** are you gonna get one?
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** nah it wouldn't be fair to get a cat I'm barely in my apartment
**OctaviaTheYounger:** you can co parent Mary Jane with Raven and I
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** There's another one called Kiwi and she's diabetic what a goof
**SexyLexy** : I've always wanted a lizard
**PresidentBaeLincoln:** sexylizardy
**SexyLexy:** I'm about to say it
**OctaviaTheYounger:** say it
**SexyLexy:** I'm gay
**OctaviaTheYounger:** groundbreaking
**ChillingGriffin:** speaking of cats
**ChillingGriffin:** I'm pretty sure my neighbours cat is suicidal
**ChillingGriffin:** I was driving up my street and she just came out and sat in the middle of it so I couldn't get past unless I, y'know ran her over
**ChillingGriffin:** that when I was trying to park she came over and do that thing animals do where they move about really close to the tires so you think you're gonna hit them but you never do
**SexyLexy:** animals are so weird I hate them, give me a nice cold lizard any day of the week
**BellULater:** lexa do u wanna hear a gag
**SexyLexy:** always
**BellULater:** When we were growing up, the mailman on our block used to carry around these cookies that he would throw to any dogs he came across, to distract them when he had to deliver the mail to the house that they where at
**BellULater:** me and Octavia thought this was the bee's knees and came up with a plan to scam our way into procuring some free cookies
**ThatsSoRaven:** this story is so embarrassing asdfghjkl
**BellULater:** so me and O would haul all of our doggie teddy bears out into the garden and then we would hide behind the hedge and start barking like crazy to try to convince the mailman we were dogs |
83d63c0535d3493094c7c18c692280dd | ['038681054fdb4000bdcf76c641937885'] | Kelly finished her last pancake, and washed it down with a drink of coffee. She looked at Kris, and couldn't decide if the blonde Angel was worried or scared. Or both?
"Not really. Bri and I just thought it was Jill being Jill. She didn't talk much of her past as it was, and we didn't ask. As long as she did her job, which she did for the most part, we never made a big deal about her keeping her past to herself. It was only a couple of months before she left she told us about you. She did seem proud you were following in her footsteps in wanting to become a cop." Kelly paused for a moment. "I guess you literally followed in her footsteps when you started working for Charlie."
Kelly smiled, and Kris returned it with her own briefly. She finished the last bite of egg on her plate, wiped her mouth with her napkin, and drank the last of her coffee. Kris looked up with very moist eyes at Kelly, which caused Kelly to reach for one of Kris' hands. Kris smiled as their hands clasped each other and Kelly was surprised at how firm Kris' grip was as she spoke.
"About a month after I started the academy, I met someone. We shared quite a few classes together, and quickly agreed to basically be 'study buddies'. We spent a lot of time together studying, reviewing, and quizzing each other and whatnot. After a while, we started doing things together outside of studying. We soon realized we shared a lot of similar interests, and seemed to enjoy each other's company very much. After about four months, I knew I was falling in love."
Kris looked at Kelly's hand holding her own, squeezed once, and then looked back at the brunette Angel.
"Her name was Daphne. And before you ask, no she wasn't a redhead and didn't always wear a purple dress with a green scarf." Kris paused, and slightly smiled. "She did have a purple sweater though."
Kelly smiled back at Kris. She got the reference immediately.
"We told each other just about everything. We were each other's sounding board whenever we had a lousy day, or a problem with another cadet, whatever. No matter how rotten I was feeling, talking to and spending time with Daphne always cheered me up, always made me feel better about myself. And it was the same with her.
"After about two months of spending so much time with each other, we decided to rent an apartment together. You know, share expenses and such. And that worked out great! We both saved money, she taught me how to cook some amazing meals, I schooled her on the finer points of bluffing at poker, and we would dream together about how we were going to be the best cops in San Francisco. Eventually I stopped dating, because I was looking forward to spending time with Daphne, and not really wanting to do much of anything else. I don't remember Daphne dating much or at all before we moved in together, and I know she didn't date at all while we were living together. At that point in time, I didn't think anything else but the idea of her and I were really close friends.
"I'm not sure who started it, maybe Daphne but probably me, we began to play flirt with each other. Just winks and smiles mostly, and occasionally touching, or bumping into each other 'on accident'. It seemed like an easy progression to our friendship, at least to me. Daphne had fun with it too. The play flirting eventually included the both of us dressing fairly revealingly. Not blatantly walking around the apartment half-naked or anything, but wearing short or tight clothing, more often than not without underwear. We only did this at home, but there were a few occasions she or I would wear a pair of really short shorts or go bra-less in a tight t-shirt when we would be grocery shopping or clothes shopping or whatnot."
Kris paused in thought. "Sound familiar?"
"Yes," Kelly replied. "Sounds like us over the last year."
"Yep." Kris reached for the last piece of toast, and began to tear off small pieces to eat.
"Okay, question. Was the LAPD academy anal on uniform appearance?"
"Oh yeah! It seemed like I could never get my uni lint-free enough for the instructors. I had a lint roller in my purse the entire time I was there!" Kelly remembered that damn roller used to accumulate all sorts of things while in her purse.
"SFPD was no different. Another advantage of Daphne and I living together was we could inspect each other's uniform prior to the start of the day. It made one less thing for each of us to worry about, and we'd do this prior to leaving the apartment every day for the academy.
"At some point this routine made its way into our play flirting. Even before going out for a bite to eat wearing our civilian clothes, we would brush each other off before leaving. We'd laugh and say stuff like 'have to be presentable'. That eventually progressed to where it seemed the only lint or dirt we could find on each other was on the seat of our pants or shorts, or the front of our shirts. | 19e36bc6a3904166a80b79a64293a4c6 | ['038681054fdb4000bdcf76c641937885'] | As she opened the door and stepped into the station, panic set in. What was the name of the Sergeant she had to see? Murdock? Murray? Damn! She was trained to remember names (and faces) while in the academy, and sharpened that skill on an almost daily basis working for Charlie. Why the sudden brain-fade on the Sergeant's name? And why didn't she write his name down on the paper Bosley gave her? Kris stopped just before the main hallway forked left and tried to calm her nerves as she gathered her thoughts. She knew the name; it would come to her. Not Murray, but close. Mur….Murphy! Kris deeply breathed in and slowly exhaled. Calm down Munroe! Relax and get a grip, Charlie needs you to be sharp on this one! She took another deep breath, closed her eyes for a second, and then opened them with renewed determination. Right, Sergeant Murphy. Let's go see what he can do.
Kris opened her purse and fished out her PI identification, turned left, and headed towards the desk of the duty officer. She quickly debated on whether or not to declare she had a weapon in her purse, and decided she would keep quiet about that fact.
A sign on the desk identified the man sitting behind it as Corporal Johnson, who to Kris looked to be fairly young to have two stripes on his sleeves. Kris thought he couldn't have been out of the academy for much more than a year and a half at the most. She thought back to her time in uniform, and wondered how long it might have taken her to reach the rank of Corporal. Two years maybe, not longer than three for sure, but none of that mattered now. And she had zero regrets about leaving the force to work for Charlie. When she reached the desk, Kris opened her wallet to show the officer her identification as she spoke.
"Kris Munroe, I'm from Townsend Investigations. I would like to talk to Sergeant Murphy as soon as possible please. He should be expecting me."
Johnson eyed her identification, and then looked at Kris. His eyes were almost the same color of green as Kelly's, but nowhere near as beautiful (her heart fluttered slightly at the thought of Kelly’s eyes). The expression on his face almost looked to be one of surprise, which made her very curious. And that curiosity got the best of her for a moment.
"Something wrong Corporal Johnson?"
"Uh, no ma'am, nothing's wrong." The surprise in his look faded, but he did not lower his eyes. "Can I help you?"
"You were briefed to expect me, were you not?" Kris now suspected the ugly head of chauvinism had just reared itself in front of her, and she found herself becoming increasingly agitated.
"Yes ma'am I was. I was briefed to expect someone from the Townsend Agency, but I didn’t expect that someone to be… "
"…A woman?" She finished his sentence with more contempt in her voice than she had intended.
"A _beautiful_ woman," Johnson corrected, and Kris noted his cheeks redden a little.
Damn! Why was she so quick to judge him? He wasn't surprised to see a woman PI; he was surprised to see an _attractive_ woman PI! Why did she automatically think every man she met couldn't believe a woman could do any job she wanted? Because she had encountered chauvinism on such a regular basis it had almost become a normal occurrence. And her 'normalcy' just put Johnson on the defensive when all he was trying to do was help her. And admire her current outfit, judging by his look. She did give him credit though; he kept eye contact with her for _almost_ the entire time he spoke with her. Well, she did wear that outfit to be looked at (by Kelly, who did seem to appreciate how it fit on her!); she just didn’t expect to display it inside a police station! Suddenly she felt a bit underdressed, but quickly brushed that thought aside and tried to apologize to Corporal Johnson without really apologizing.
"Thank you Corporal." Kris smiled as she replied. "I guess I wasn’t quite what you were expecting, was I?" A slight shake of Johnson's head answered her question. "Trust me, this isn't my normal visit-the-cop-shop outfit, but today has been anything but normal and caught me very off guard. Now, can you let Sergeant Murphy know I’m here to see him please? It's very important." Another smile seemed to put Johnson more at ease, and Kris hoped she had smoothed things over with him enough to make them both feel better.
"Yes ma'am." He picked up the phone in front of him and punched a button. "Sergeant Murphy? Corporal Johnson. A Kris Munroe from Townsend Investigations is here to see you. Yes sir." He hung up the phone and gestured towards something behind Kris.
"Please have a seat. He should be here in less than a minute."
Kris turned her head and located a row of chairs lined up against the wall behind her, then turned back. "Thank you Corporal." His smile to her after she spoke seemed very genuine to Kris, and she returned his with one of her own. She placed her identification back in her purse as she made her way to an end chair, and then sat down to wait.
Corporal Johnson was true to his word because in less than a minute a fairly tall, older officer exited from an office across the hallway from where she sat, and walked towards her. Kris rose to greet him. |
3c2c502ca2f145b6b05eb309dff50c08 | ['039478db1a9a478c94156f6955ce66e7'] | Magnus sat against the cold and wet stone walls of his prison cell with his legs bent up to his chest. He had a mouth plug stuck to his lower jaw and handcuffs in both his wrists preventing from doing any sort of magic to escape the Shadowhunter prison facility in Idris. There was water dripping in one corner of the cell and it was moist and damp everywhere he could possibly touch. This level of prison was meant for Downworld prisoners. Magnus had noticed incarcerated werewolves and vampires sleeping in their cells. They had a neon orange prison jumpsuit on with their nametags stitched onto their chest pockets. They had either been tried and punished or were awaiting trial. Latter more likely than former because the Clave only believed in capital punishment for all the rulebreakers. And Magnus was counting on it. He lifted his hands up to have a look at his wedding ring. The only pathetic part of his mouth plug was that he couldn’t have kissed the band whenever he wanted. He felt Alec really distant to him. But not for a very long time.
An hour after he was locked in the cell, a few guards walked down and unlocked the cages. “Come on, up”, one of the Shadowhunters tilted his head, gesturing Magnus to get up and follow them out. The warlock stood up and trudged with heavy feet towards the door where the Shadowhunters grabbed his hand and pulled him out with force. They shut the door behind him and pushed him through the narrow spiral stairwell that led to the interrogation room as Jia had previously decided. Magnus moved his gaze around lifelessly as they stepped into a well-lit corridor with sound-proof rooms. He was taken to Room No. 4 and tethered to the metal hooks on the table. Magnus rolled his eyes at the dramatics. He wouldn’t have escaped because he didn’t want to.
The door opened a few minutes later and Jia walked in with Robert Lightwood on her heels. Magnus snapped a look at his father-in-law and then dropped his gaze, unable to face any of the Lightwoods. “Maryse Lightwood, ex-Shadowhunter just informed Robert Lightwood that Alec passed away on a mission”, Jia pulled the chair in front of her and sat down. Magnus looked up from the table and swallowed the emotions that gripped him at his lost lover’s name. “So, you were speaking the truth that Alec is dead”, she curled her fingers together in a jointed fist and placed it on the table. Looking over her shoulder, she gestured someone to come in.
A warlock walked in to the room and took his place behind Magnus. “Three hundred years ago, you had helped the acting Clave Consul design a way to forge out truth from the Downworld criminals just as the Soul Sword did to the Shadowhunters”, she arched a brow. Flicking her wrist, she took a deep breath. Magnus knew what spell she was talking about and willingly threw his head back on his neck. The warlock casted a green cloud over Magnus’ head and parts of that magic seeped into his brain, eliciting their effect in the man. “Now tell me your name again, for the record?”
“Magnus Bane”, Magnus dropped his head on the back support of his chair, having gone into a deep induced and suggestive slumber. The warlock bowed down to the Consul and left the room.
“What is the nature of the crime that you confess to?”, Jia asked next.
“I murdered Alec Lightwood”, Magnus blurted out.
“And what is the nature of your relationship with the said Shadowhunter?”, Jia leaned on her elbows.
“He is my husband”, Magnus sighed. Robert quizzically looked at his ring finger and there was indeed the Lightwood family ring shining on it. Magnus wasn’t lying. He couldn’t have under the spell anyway. But the revelation was something.
“Can you narrate the events that led to Alec’s demise in a descriptive way?”, Jia asked Robert to take a seat behind her. Robert obeyed, despite having a hard time processing the news of his son’s demise.
“I corrupted the adamas in the New York Institute wards and used the same to steal a vial of the Heavenly Fire serum from the Laboratory”, Magnus began. “There was no other way I could destroy Asmodeus for taking me away to hell.”
“You wanted to kill your own father?”
“I did. So, I summoned shape-shifting demons from Edom to distract and injure Alexander while I stole the Heavenly Fire serum and breached the Institute walls. No Shadowhunter was injured in the process, but they could have easily been. I couldn’t have cared any less”, the warlock gritted his teeth. His gaze was fixed at something on the roof and it was evident that he wasn’t aware of his surroundings under the influence of this magic truth spell.
Robert recalled the night he had bumped into Alec in the Clave Biobank and gasped when he connected the dots together. “Alexander figured out that it was me behind the breach and he came to arrest me... or I think he did... I cannot be sure of his motives of when he came to see me that day...”, Magnus continued. Robert’s blood boiled at the way Magnus took his deceased son’s name and he couldn’t wait for the warlock to be punished for his sins.
“I refused to comply and surrender the serum that I had already forged into a sword for my convenience taking a young Nephilim's help.”
“You reproduced Glorious?”, Jia widened her eyes.
“I did. And it was a much more powerful weapon than the original one”, the warlock scoffed.
“Then what?”
“Then while I was creating a portal to Edom, Alexander insisted that he would accompany me because his Institute still owned the rights to the sword” | 23a57edd583446f9bbb0221f51ce5b14 | ['039478db1a9a478c94156f6955ce66e7'] | “Did we plan an entire party last night?”, Alec gasped, holding the notepad in his hand. Magnus widened his eyes in confusion, unable to recollect the events that had occurred before they collapsed on the couch together. Indeed, they had had an elaborate planning session last night. Magnus had divided the notepad into various sections and very meticulously jotted it all down as they discussed it all along. There was a tentative guest list with over 50 names, menu... a very impressive one at that, drinks and cocktails... décor ideas, themes and there also happened to be a “not-to-be-invited” list wherein Jace Herondale and Sebastian Verlac were the top and only entries. Alec’s smile dropped as he reached that section.
“I guess we did!”, Magnus rolled his eyes, inspecting the notepad that Alec was holding. He took a deep breath and huffed at the same time. “We’re honestly so weird at times... it is not even funny now... I am never going back to that club. We must have created a ruckus there as well.”, he added, with a shy smirk. He didn’t realize that Alec had gone silent on him. He was staring at one corner of the notepad and Magnus bit his lip when he read that part. They had discussed Sebastian and Jace as well. Wow, great... there goes the whole thing...
“I am so late for work”, Magnus snatched the notepad from Alec’s hand and pretended to panic. “Alexander... make me something to eat or I’ll have to go to the office starving...please?”, he folded his hands in front of Alec, hoping his fake distress would distract his fiancé.
Alec flickered his eyes and looked at the clock. Magnus was definitely running late. He looked at his Omega and then at the kitchen. What could he possibly make so quickly? “Uhh...”, he stuttered, thinking while his feet scurried to the kitchen. He was confused and afraid. There was literally nothing that he could make without making Magnus later than he already was. “Will cereals do for today...? I don’t know what else would get ready so soon...”, he yelled, hoping Magnus would hear him over the sound of the shower running.
“Will do!”, Alec heard a muffled reply from the shower and a relieved smile tugged his lips. He quickly warmed some milk and poured cereals in a bowl waiting for Magnus. Cutting a few fruits to go with it, he put them in a plate in front of Magnus’ seat. Magnus rushed out with his hair dripping water on his forehead. He hadn’t had the time to gel them up in his usual spikes and as such, Magnus looked unrecognizable to Alec sans his makeup and usual demeanor. His hands tingled to move his fingers in his wet locks. _Stop thinking like that, Alec. He is just a friend... a very gorgeous friend...but only a friend._ He mentally smacked himself.
“Do you want some help getting ready?”, Alec offered, pointing haphazardly at his hair. Magnus’ pupils went up awkwardly and he smiled. He looked like he wasn’t expecting that offer from Alec and was a little flushed at it.
“No...no, I’ll manage.”, Magnus gasped. That was really upfront, even for Alec. “Will you be able to drop me to the hotel though? I don’t think I can reach there on time using a cab at this hour...!”, Magnus rolled his eyes, calming himself down.
“Yeah... yeah, of course... let me see if the club brought my car back...”, Alec went ahead to check on his phone.
***
Clary had never been out to the Lake before. She knew that there was a massive clear water lake in the heart of Broselind Forest that surrounded Idris, but she never had the opportunity of witnessing its magnificence first hand. As she stood on the shores of the lake, the waves of clear blue water brushed against her feet chilling her to the bone. She looked over her shoulder and saw Isabelle Lightwood, her brother-in-law’s younger sister sitting on one of the large rocks, sipping her ice-tea. Her jet-black hairs were flowing all over her face in the wind and she used her bright red-painted nailed fingers to remove them from her face. There were multiple times when Clary found herself staring at the brunette Beta. She had gotten very close to Izzy in the last few weeks, especially after her brother left to work in New York with his fiancé. Isabelle was kind and empathetic; she spoke of Magnus as if he was her blood brother like Alec was. They’d bonded over their brothers and how Clary knew little-to-nothing about Idris. It was an unlikely alliance but a very pleasant one for both the she-wolves.
They would grab breakfast together on most of the days when Clary was not late for her classes at her culinary school. Izzy dropped her off to College afterwards and then she continued with her dance classes. Today was a peculiar Sunday afternoon where Isabelle had promised Clary to show her the most beautiful lake in the city – an experience that Clary would never forget. And Isabelle had been right about this. This place was serene and quiet and right up Clary’s alley. The water was blue and clear, Clary could see the pebbles on the floor of the waterbody. Soft waves crashed the shores and the sound of water birds echoed around.
“You were right, Iz... this place is beautiful. I really didn’t think Idris had it in itself to be so flawless...amidst all the canine crap that it harbors...”, Clary chimed, stepping forward to reach out to Isabelle who was still sitting on the rock. The Beta wolf looked over her shoulder and smiled. She jerked her head ahead, gesturing her to sit next to her on the rock and enjoy the waves crashing at their feet. |
1c66cf33c45b40ad99b03fb26a819abe | ['039856e026234a60a685b1227668c1ef'] | > So I was at this Amazing dance competition last weekend the only time I wasn't dancing is when I was eating and sleeping so sorry for all those who care.
>
> Let's get on with the story!
Scene 1:
Tetsutetsu hated waiting. I mean, everyone did, didn’t they? But goddamn, it’d been nearly ten minutes since he sat down and Kirishima, the early bird, still wasn’t here. Starting to worry, he shot him a quick text.
T> Bro where you at???
K> home
T> you chicken out??
T> you know you didn't have to stay home???
His phone stayed silent for a bit, displaying the three dots that showed his friend was typing. It stopped, then started again, repeating this pattern until his phone dinged.
K> Bakugou loves Izuku
What.
He waited for Kiri to type out the long (Long) explanation of what happened and, the more he read, the pissed he became. He and Kirishima were close, practically identical. But even he knew the type of bond those two had was undoubtedly something else. And for Bakugou to just write it off like it was nothing? Tetsutetsu knew he had crossed the line and if Kirishima wasn’t going to do anything about it, he was.
T> that asshole
T> you were the best fucking thing that piece of shit could’ve asked for
T> brb
He could feel his phone chiming in his pocket as he stalked towards that shit’s table. He was sitting with his usual group, eyes focused on whatever spicy food he was eating today.
“You absolute fuckwad.” Tetsu’s voice was flat, a stark contrast to how he usually sounded.
“I know you have that whole pissed off asshole thing going for you, but I swear to god, if you don’t give me one good reason why you hurt my best friend, which, spoiler alert, there are none, you’ll look like nothing compared to the pissed off asshole I will be.” Sending his best death glare to Bakugou he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
“Tetsu! Why don’t you let me explain the situation?”
After you completely explode on one of your crush’s best friends in front of the aforementioned crush, there are really only two words that go through your head.
Well, fuck.
Tetsu was greeted with the sight of Kaminari’s wide smile as he was pulled into an empty seat next to him.
“See, Bakugou here,” he said as he gestured to his friend, “has fucked up.” He paused as the teen in question grunted at the floor. Tetsu saw Mina sympathetically pat Bakugou’s shoulder while trying not to laugh.
“As we all know Bakugou is . . . emotionally constipated,” Tetsu chuckled which turned into a fake cough, feeling slightly bad as Bakugou death-glared Kaminari even harder, “You know what happened this morning, yeah?” He nodded as the Pikachu boy continued.
“Well, Bakugou didn’t know how to deal with his feelings and went to ask Izuku advice,” Kaminari proceeded to turn to Bakugou and nearly shouted out the last part, “instead of asking one of his fucking friends who would’ve been glad to help him.” he turns back to Tetsutetsu, his usual wide smile back on his face. The afternoon light is shining through his hair and his eyes crinkling a bit as he– fuck, Tetsu, pay attention.
“He figures out that he does like our dear friend Kirishima, wants to ask him out, and proceeds to practice on Izuku, only for Kirishima to see.” Tetsu burst out laughing. Honestly, the odds of that happening . . . it was like something out of a really shit romcom. Then he turned to Bakugou.
“So,” he dropped his laughter and switched to a serious tone, “you finally realize your feelings and the second chance you got, you messed up as well.” He paused waiting for the dramatic effect.
“I won’t kick your ass. Yet.” His emphasis on the yet even got Bakugou to flinch slightly.
“Kirishima's at home right now, feeling like utter trash because of you and so it’s your job to fix it. I’ll let him know that he needs to come to school tomorrow, so that gives you until then to figure out how you’re going to fix it.
“I wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it,” he leaned in real close to Bakugou and delivered his line, “Just because I’m from class B doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be worried about what I’ll do to you if you mess this up again . . . because I will beat the shit out of you.” He pulled away as one can only be that close to Bakugou for so long.
“And plus,” he glanced back at the rest of the group, “I don’t think I'm the only one who would.”
“So um, yeah that's it, I’ll see you guys later!” He smiled at Kaminari (fuck yes) and waved to everyone else as he walked away, wondering where to sit. Maybe he’d go find Kendo.
~~~
Scene 2:
K> Tetsu
K> What are you doing?
K> Dude answer me
K> Tetsu if you go to jail I won’t bail you out
K> okay, maybe I’d bail you out because I need help coping rn
K> T
K> E
K> T
K> S
K> U
T> don’t skip school tomorrow.
Kirishima paused and stared at the text.
K> well you don’t seem to be in jail so I’ll allow your weird cryptic message
K> does that mean there’s no murder?
T> no not yet.
T> We’ll see how tomorrow plays out.
With that, Kirishima put down his phone, wondering what Tetsu did and what tomorrow would bring.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry for the shorter chapter but it was the best place to leave it.
>
> So.
> I have utterly no idea how to end this.
> Suggestions?
>
> Comments and Kudos!
> -Snow
6. Act 5
**Summary for the Chapter:** | f839d18c0f5e4eb0b6b5edec1e6418be | ['039856e026234a60a685b1227668c1ef'] | “Kacchan I’m close friends with everyone. Plus, he would probably let you call him that if you asked.” Katsuki stayed silent after that, knowing that Deku was right.
“Okay, but how did you know what this was about?”
“I analyze heroes as a hobby, I know everything.” Bakugou paused and waited for the other teen to give him the advice he was searching for
“So?”
“So, what?” Growing annoyed, Bakugou raised his voice.
“Are you going to fucking help me or not?” Midoriya inwardly rolled his eyes. He was going to have to help Kacchan with everything, wasn’t he?
“Yeah, yeah.” He sat down and patted the seat next to him.
“So this is about Kirishima running out on you in class?” Katsuki, much to his dismay, had to fill his ex-childhood friend in on all that had happened in the time between. It seemed as if with every sentence, Midoriya’s eyes grew wider, sitting on pins and needles. When Katsuki finally finished, Izuku wasted no time asking his next question.
“Ignoring the fact that you left him alone in the freaking hallway, how are you going to ask him out?”
“What do you mean how?”
“Kacchan, Eijirou a great guy that actually showed some interest in you,” Katsuki bit back his words, knowing he’d need this nerd’s help, “and, if you don’t ask him out, someone will.” Izuku paused for a second and then muttered under his breath.
“I know I would.”
“The fuck did you just say?” Within seconds, Katsuki had Izuku pushed up against the wall, holding him by his collar. Izuku, ignoring the situation that’d send many running for the hills replied smugly.
“See, this is why you need to ask him out.” Katsuki let him go with a sudden realization.
“Idon’tknowhow.” He mumbled out for the second time in this conversation. Fuck today.
“Look, Kacchan,” Izuku places his hands on the other boy's shoulders, positioning them across from each other, then let them drop, “just say to me what you’d say to him.” Staring at Izuku’s shoes like they were the most interesting thing in the world, he started.
“Look, I know I’ve fucked up. I was a total ass to you and you didn’t deserve it. But I was just an ass because I’m shit that this, okay?” He paused and ran his fingers through his hair.
“The thing is, I like you. A lot. And I’m a total asshole for acting how I did to you, I get it. If you want to never talk to me ever again, that’s fine. You were my best friend, though. Ever. You cared about me when no one else would and I love you for that.” He paused after he realized what he had said.
“I– I think I love you.” Then all he heard at that moment, was the screech of sneakers, just catching a flash of bright red as he turned around. He, along with Izuku, paused there for a second sitting in the silence.
“Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” Izuku uttered in a somewhat surprised tone. Katsuki still stood there, not even bothering to react to the uncharacteristic swearing.
Katsuki Bakugou hated many things.
But he certainly did not hate Kirishima Eijirou.
~~~
Scene 2:
Kirishima needed to leave this place. Maybe not literally because he had a test later, but he needed to be alone. After a while of searching, Kirishima reached what he thought was a secluded place.
“I’ve fucked up.” Kirishima paused and turned around. Was that Bakugou? It certainly sounded like him but, the teen couldn’t see the other anywhere.
“I was a total ass to you and you didn’t deserve it.” he kept following the voice, stealthily, until he saw the one he was looking for talking to . . . Izuku?
“But I was just an ass because I’m shit that this, okay? The thing is, I like you. A lot.” Kirishima sucked in a breath as the words punched him in the gut. His eyes, already watery from earlier, started the same shit again. He fought to stay quiet as he listened on.
“And I’m a total asshole for acting how I did to you, I get it. If you want to never talk to me ever again, that’s fine. You were my best friend, though. Ever. You cared about me when no one else would and I love you for that.”
No.
“I– I think I love you.” All he could feel was wet streaks on his face and a beating in his heart that wasn’t the kind he wanted to feel today. He only stopped to catch his breath when he reached the roof.
Katsuki loved Izuku? Loved? Part of him had been ready to accept that Katsuki wouldn’t like him from the start but . . . he Loved Izuku? Not only that but apparently Izuku was Katsuki’s closest friend ever which, most definitely hurts worse than the rejection.
Kirishima needed to leave this place.
He could fake sick for the nurse. He already felt like throwing up.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> *continuous evil laughing*
>
> tbh this plot is going to shit and I'm just relying on really bad tropes now.
> Oh well . . .
> Sorry if the content quality is slipping but, hopefully with the next two or so chapters it'll improve.
> Comments and kudos give me life and are much appreciated
>
> -Snow
>
> P.s. Find the Heathers reference and request a fic of your choice
5. Act 4
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Tetsu's a fiery best friend.
> Bakugou is shamed.
> Kirishima is utterly confused.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Guys I just realized the next chapter is the last chapter and I've been dicking around but now I actually have to wrap this shit up.
>
> Also, I owe you an explanation for the late chapter. |
a9f4371e725f48308359d4b5d646b1bc | ['03b063f6e62349b7be8a314be0e25195'] | “He was my _whole world_ , John,” Sherlock finally whispered. “Oh, God. He was my whole world and I didn’t even know until he was gone.”
John looked at him in admiration. Mycroft did say that Sherlock was emotional when he was a child, but to witness the depth of Sherlock’s heart like this was a different experience entirely. He was capable of all kinds of emotions that not even John was sure he was capable of them himself.
John felt pricking behind his eyes. He swallowed, waiting for Sherlock to continue.
“When I was a child, Victor was the only friend I made,” Sherlock began. “It was astonishing how anyone could put up with me when I was only beginning to learn how to control and filter my senses.”
“Only when you were a child?” John asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Sherlock’s lips curled in a small smile. “I was much worse then. His father would drop him off here for the summer and there was nothing else I would look forward to more. There were days when I would do nothing but sit by the window waiting for him to arrive. Playing with him was different compared to Mycroft or… or Eurus.”
“Different how?”
“Well he _really_ liked pirates and he always let me play Captain Yellowbeard,” Sherlock chuckled, vividly remembering the blond little boy wearing an eyepatch and brandishing his wooden sword. “We would go treasure hunting near the pond or by the woods. Sometimes when we were too tired, we would sit by the gravestones and I would read him my favorite stories. When that ran out too, I would read _him_ and tell him where he had been and what he had for breakfast. He really liked it.”
John smirked at him. “Of course he did. How else would you have gotten along?”
Sherlock acknowledged him with a thoughtful hum. “But it wasn’t just that. Mycroft was right – I was _very_ emotional when I was a child. Even then I had bad days, John. Mycroft could never pull me out of it. I would rot in my room for ages and the only person who could draw me out… was Victor. Because he was… he mattered. He would listen to me, he would tell me it was okay to not feel okay because he felt it too sometimes, and he would wait for me to play pirates again,” Sherlock finished mournfully. He rubbed his face and continued, “I really looked at him. When I was at my most… _emotional_ and furthest from my siblings, he would have me. When I was at my most unreachable and unsociable to the other children, he would still have me.”
John understood. Sherlock was the most human out of the Holmes children and he never really had Mycroft or Eurus, not entirely. Mycroft, being seven years older and a teenager during those years, probably finished detaching himself from emotions when Sherlock was only beginning to discover his. Eurus, being “incandescent” and younger than Sherlock, most likely wasn’t much help to Sherlock either, especially when she was the one in higher need of attention most of the time.
Being the most loving out of his siblings was what made Sherlock special, John thought. It was his power, and he had lived his life being told that caring was not an advantage. It was only sensible that Victor became an important figure in his childhood. In a strange way, John was relieved that the two boys had each other.
“When he disappeared I was desperate,” Sherlock continued with a wince, remembering the pain in the bones of his fingers and the wet brown dirt under his fingernails. “Eurus wouldn’t stop teasing me with her song and I wasn’t clever enough to figure it out. I spent days digging the grounds by the beech tree and calling out for him. I never found him. I kept _screaming_ at her. By the time he was “drowned Redbeard”, it was too late to do anything of worth.”
They were both lost in a moment of silence.
“After that I shut him out of my mind palace. I forced myself to forget and forget just _forget_ about him but I couldn’t do it entirely. The sheer joy and warmth and _comfort_ of him wouldn’t leave me be,” Sherlock muttered with a bitter laugh. The bark of an Irish Setter echoed in his ears. “In my mind, I suppose, that was all that was left of him. Those were the scraps, John, the scraps that made the quilt of my confabulation. My subconscious apparently took care of the rest to make it… easier.”
“It changed you.”
“I decided that Mycroft was right about getting involved. I decided to solve cases as if it could make up for never solving Victor’s,” Sherlock said tiredly. “Eurus was right. I’ve dreamed of deep waters all my life. I took Carl Powers’ case then without knowing why I was so drawn to it. Not that it mattered back then because the police wouldn’t listen to me. I continued with other cases until they did.”
“And did it help you?” John asked softly.
Sherlock shook his head. “It made me forget even more. I settled myself so comfortably in the illusion _I_ made for myself – God, why did I…”
Sherlock drew up his knees and sunk his face on them, hands gripping tightly on his curls. John risked a glance at Sherlock and, sure enough, Sherlock hunched into himself further as if it would stop John’s stare from burning into him.
John reached out to ease Sherlock’s grip. “Sherlock—”
“I should’ve done better.”
“You were only a _child_ ,” John insisted, rubbing his thumb on Sherlock’s knuckles.
Sherlock loosened his grip and murmured brokenly, “So was he.”
John sighed and cursed his inability to comfort his friend. He opted to squeeze Sherlock’s knuckles gently. | e4f4fc2c85b34837896c5bb9b61fc441 | ['03b063f6e62349b7be8a314be0e25195'] | Sherlock looked up and took the sight of the vast grounds, suddenly swept by a tidal wave of grief. He felt his breath catching and shook his head. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.”
“No— Sherlock,” John muttered and scooted closer to his friend. “You’ve come a long way. And I don’t just mean being _here_ , but also… being the person you _are_ right now.”
John laid his palm gently on Sherlock’s chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart right underneath. Sherlock discreetly latched on to the comfort it provided and closed his eyes. “You’ve kept this shut away for too long now,” John whispered kindly. “It’s not your weakness anymore. Take all the time you need to grieve, but remember that you’ll come into closure and you’ll come out stronger.”
Sherlock’s felt his face crumple. That was it, Sherlock thought, he needed closure. He needed to know who Victor really was, what he had given for Sherlock, and how his presence could grace an overwhelming amount of comfort and fear throughout Sherlock’s entire life. He needed to know if there was anything he could’ve done to keep him alive.
Would it be cruel to wish that things had turned out differently, to wish that Eurus had been normal so she wouldn’t have had suffered, to wish that he had discovered his heart earlier so Victor wouldn’t be the victim of his own ignorance?
He wanted to fight his own darkness. He needed to know if he was going to face this for the rest of his life, remembering and regretting, trapped alone in his treacherous, volatile heart.
“You aren’t alone anymore,” John murmured to his ear as if reading his mind. He gave Sherlock a sad smile and gathered him close. “Come here.”
Sherlock trembled and all but collapsed into John’s welcoming arms. He stayed there, face buried in the crook of John’s neck. There was a warm breeze and Sherlock could have sworn he felt little Victor, playing Redbeard, patting his arm and smiling at him.
_“It’s okay, Yellowbeard,” he said cheerfully. “Pirates can feel a bit sad too.”_
Sherlock didn’t bother to wipe his tears, letting them trail down John’s neck.
_“But you’ll feel better soon! Then we can go treasure hunting again!” he said with a pirate growl that dissolved into giggles._
Sherlock choked a watery laugh and wrapped his arms around John. “Okay,” Sherlock whispered to the wind.
John brushed his lips on Sherlock’s hair and held him tighter.
* * *
Before night fell upon them, Sherlock and John made a visit to Victor’s grave, placed beside his mother’s. The day after Victor’s remains had been discovered in the abandoned well, Sherlock had gotten in touch with Victor’s father to tell him of what became of his son and, with much more courage, why Sherlock hadn’t been in touch for so long. After a long heartfelt conversation, he helped arranged for a positive identification by the forensics and a proper burial of his remains.
“I’m so sorry,” Sherlock had told him.
“Oh, _son_ ,” Victor’s father had whispered gruffly before wrapping Sherlock in a strong embrace. “He couldn’t have had a better friend.”
Sherlock brushed away the memory of his encounter with Victor’s father and laid down a bouquet of flowers along with his own wooden sword and pirate hat, fished out of his old room in Musgrave. He stepped back and swallowed the lump in his throat. He would remember Victor, even if it hurt. He would also believe that one day, it would stop hurting, and he would be able to live with this memory without feeling his gut twist in longing and guilt.
John stood beside him and waited. He couldn’t help but think, rather morbidly, if Sherlock was ever going to forget him one day, if he was ever going to be the one that would hurt too much to be remembered, if Sherlock loved him this much that his loss would hurt Sherlock this badly.
He shouldn’t think this, John thought, because the both of them already had everything they could ever ask for. They had come too close to losing it all before and he didn’t want to feel anything near that ever again.
Sherlock’s heart had finally grown to become as great as his mind. John couldn’t have been more proud. He promised to himself to look after Sherlock better then, just as the Mary in his head kept telling him to do, just as he should. They could do this, John thought, with Rosie, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Greg. They could find home again.
“Thank you.”
Sherlock’s quiet voice startled John out of his reverie. John glanced at the man before him and wanted to give everything he had to protect his best friend.
John would do better, because they had both learned in the most painful way that they wouldn’t survive without each other. Sherlock’s blood on his knuckles, the bruises he had to tend to, and his own sickening guilt were still burned into his memory. He had sat on the bathroom floor and cleaned Sherlock’s wounds carefully then, as if afraid that Sherlock would shatter if he pressed harder. He had laid his forehead on Sherlock’s knees and cried softly then, murmured his apologies brokenly on Sherlock’s bruised skin, murmured guiltily how he didn’t deserve his best friend.
If Sherlock wasn’t human then he would certainly be an angel, John thought. Sherlock had hushed him softly and looked at him tenderly, had brushed away the tears on John’s cheeks, had told him shakily, “I have forgiven you long ago, John. Now it’s your turn to forgive yourself.”
Sherlock had helped John to find himself again. John promised to himself that he would return the favor.
John was still staring at Sherlock before he smiled. “Home?” John finally asked and held out his hand. |
b96f9cbb8300483ab244d94d570d6e0f | ['03b44f1c3def4bd0b412330c4e286f37'] |
Congratulations
≿————- ❈ ————-≾
Norway harshly kicked the door behind him. He couldn't care less if it fell and made the whole building fall to the ground - to be honest, that would be a pleasant thing.
Denmark turned to face the shorter nation, a tiny smirk on his face.
"Well, we're finally-"
"Oh yes, this was all part of your big plan. Get rid of Sweden and Finland so that we can have our arrangement." Norway started off, an unnatural, sweet ring to his voice. Denmark blinked in pleasure, walking closer to the Norwegian.
"I'm glad you-"
"Yes, I'm very happy with your choices." Norway bitterly spat, grabbing the Dane by the collar of his shirt. "You're so proud of yourself, aren't you?" he jeered, dislike edging his words in a harsh tone so different to his quiet normal one.
Denmark narrowed his eyes in surprise. "I thought it was the right thing to do, that...thing was disobeying me! I had to make him listen!"
"You have mad respect for other nations, don't you?" The sarcasm practically stung like a thorn, and Denmark's gaze faltered. "This was a _union_. We were supposed to keep things equal."
"Say that to Finland. Isn't it so great how that fool still stuck with Sweden even though he refused their independence? How is that equal to everyone?"
Norway huffed in dry amusement. "Well, aren't you a special snowflake. Maybe you can try learning from yourself and give my brother his own country to run instead of you being all high and mighty, taking charge of everything." he scoffed, pushing Denmark backwards.
He quickly balanced himself, swiftly turning to face the other country that stood cross-armed and snarling in front of him.
"I'm keeping Iceland safe! He can trust me-"
"His country being on an island surely won't help fend off others. The way I named him wasn't tactful at all, right?" Norway rolled his eyes, slowly walking around Denmark. "My brother and I have no wit to me at all. I'm just a pile of dirt, following you until you rot of greed. Sorry, dear King Denmark, your majesty. Sweden was only protecting his citizens from a pathetic excuse of a leader like you. Finland has almost nothing to do with this."
"I..." Denmark hotly started, but quickly closed his jaw as soon as he saw Norway's sour look.
"You had no right to invade Stockholm, and kill about a hundred people. You practically locked your grip on Sweden and forced him to watch his own people be slaughtered mercilessly by what he thought was his friend." Norway whispered, stopping in his tracks. "Aren't you just so humble and selfless?"
Denmark released a rattled breath, putting his hand to his chest. "You're right...I was wrong. I didn't know how to make him obey me correctly...I did the complete opposite, and I made him leave."
"Glad you realise that." Norway gritted his teeth. "Nice to know you have as much as a grain of common sense."
"Well...we can try fixing things up, and maybe-"
Norway laughed, a shrill, cynical sound. "Sweden's long gone. He's doing his own thing. I thought that was obvious?"
"Why do you think you know him so well?"
The candlelight flickered, as if it was startled by the Dane's sudden movement as well.
"Don't forget, your majesty," Norway leaned in, knowing that now, it was the perfect time. "That I was married to Sweden for a brief period of time." he cooed, blinking a few times. He had left his guard down - Denmark could now finally see his stupidity reflected in Norway's eyes. Finally, his blank gaze was now a reflective, angry blue flame.
"Well, it's not my damned fault he decided to run off like a little child!" Denmark tried to sound defiant, but Norway just stared at him, making him sound rather pathetic. "He should've been stronger!"
"Please, I've met children with a better idea of control than you countless times. Maybe you can start to think before you act." Norway stepped back, nonchalantly fixing his coat. "Maybe you can try to listen to everyone, instead of, I don't know, killing people because 'it was the right thing to do?'" Norway started to walk away from the middle of the room, closer to the door.
"Norge, wait-" Denmark's voice mellowed, and Norway turned back to stare at him, halfway to through the doorway. With a last bitter, mocking snarl, Norway shuffled the fabric around his neck and pulled out a necklace with a little gold piece at the end of it. On it was a tiny, messy drawing of a flower.
"Be thankful I'm still on your side. Sweden probably threw away his, so I'll return the favour and do the same. Think of this however you want." he tossed the necklace behind his back, not even staring back at what was once his closest ally.
" _Jeg hader dig, Danmark_." The withered voice hissed, sharply slamming the door behind the Dane.
Denmark desperately called out for Norway's name. He hopelessly wondered what would happen to him - would he return to their house, or would he stay in the freezing wilderness for a long time? With a weak gaze, he knelt down to pick up the necklace that he had thrown.
His eyes wavered between the tiny gold, and he slowly turned it to look at the back of it. His heart sank and he was about to collapse as he saw the word, in neither of the two's languages, neatly written in pretty cursive letters.
On the necklace that formerly announced Sweden and Norway's marriage, a single word stood unmoving in almost a mocking way. Because it meant something eternal that could no longer happen between the three anymore.
' _Evigt_ '
* * *
≿————- ❈ ————-≾
**Author's Note:**
> Ah, I hope this was good! I wanted to do a historical fanfic for a while, and then I listened to Hamilton once again, including the removed and workshop tracks, and found this little gem once more. I immediately thought of the Stockholm Bloodbath during the Kalmar Union time, and huzzah, that was what tipped me over the edge on the path to write this.
>
> The salt levels were off the charts in this. I love Denmark, don't get me wrong, but I also love making the best characters have angsty and edgy stories and this was an opportunity I didn't want to miss. I know for a fact that Danish and Swedish were very different at this time, but gimmie a break...I thought Norway speaking in Danish would shatter the poor dude's heart, and even more with the last word in Swedish. So...I forced my Swedish friend to translate the word and I used a few sources for the Danish. Kindly report any mistakes to me, please!
>
> I suggest you research and read about the Kalmar Union and even Northern European history. Especially because Sweden and Norway had a small united thing together for a bit before Denmark decided to jump in and steal yo man. And then, after a few years of Sweden rebelling (which was addressed in the famous SuFin episodes, which I might make another fic later on, who knows. may i also add that one of the two SuFin episodes was episode 69) Norway and Sweden reunited for a bit more, and...yeah, there's a lot. I'm just rambling now, so hope y'all enjoyed this. | 73b6bba7faac4c7d8d15bfc68d322b9d | ['03b44f1c3def4bd0b412330c4e286f37'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> I'm sorry.
One day there was a meeting because that’s the only way other countries can see each other. It’s not like they can travel or even call the other, psssshhh what’s that?
Swiss cheese was in the corner, caressing his hot metal gun while blushing. Loockenstin looked at him with her big bug eyes and asked him for something in a written accent because author-chan wants to be annoying.
“I hate Austria. Look at that asshole acting like he owns the place. He’s throwing a paper away? This isn’t your house, bitch.” He screamed. Nobody heard him somehow. Not even Frankenstein, who was practically clinging on to him like a weird koala.
In the other corner, Prussia was running around hollering sweet tunes. “I AM AWESME I MA ASWJFAMSN SUCK MY SASDAJA-“ he got his by Hungary who is an awesome independent power woman who need no man even though she was married to Austria for a long time. Gillbird proceeded to peck her eyeballs out while Spain and France watched in concern because Bad Touch Trio.
England walked up to America and slapped him for no reason at all. Then he walked away, came back and gave him a paper written in pink glitter pen saying ‘Baka! I wanna marry you even though I raised you but MMMM THIRSTY FANGIRLS SAY WE DISOWNED EACH OTHER.’ England walked back to his lame group of punk emo goths while saying words in a foreign language he shouldn’t know.
Then Denmark came out of nowhere and Norway brutally murdered him with a bow and arrow as if it was the Hunger Games.
Romania disappeared into non-existence because who cares about that loser lmao
“Aru aru buy aru aru aru my aru medicine aru aru my family aru is starving aru.” Said China. Whoops, author-chan almost forgot to include China because she’s boring.
“Hi I am stalk.” Said Russia, patting China’s head. He slowly pulled out the rotten corpse of Estonia to eat - that was his lunch, don’t judge!
All the forgotten countries looked at everybody else in dismay. Then kawaii Iggy-senpai-kun and his awesome popular gang tore their throats out because they’re unimportant. Rest in piece BullGary, Check, Slovenia, Ice Cuba, Mamaliga, LuxoriousIceberg and everyone else.
“S-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-somebody h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-help m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-me p-p-p-p-p-p-please.” Canada acted as if he was a snake that hissed out the first letter of every word. Silly Canada and his suicidal thoughts!
“DOITSU DOITSU DOITSU-“ Italy-san jumped up and down while annoying Germany who looked on the verge of tears. But he won’t cry. Because he’s a manly man who trains dogs to kill everyone and constantly does the DoitsuGram pacer test.
“HASTA LA PASTA and also I WANT TO LICK YOUR ASS AND SHOVE YOU DOWN MY THROAT SPAIN EVEN THOUGH I’M SUPPOSED TO FULLY HATE YOU.” Romano threw Italy outside the window and pointed his middle finger at Doitsu. Dishonor on his cow.
Speaking of cows, Ukraine walked in and blinded everyone with her floppy tennis balls.
Seychelles and Belgium were being burnt at the stake for being filthy witches who stole thirsty 11-year-old’s husbandos.
“S’ck ’n m’ sw’ggl’y d’ck F’nf’n.” Ikea licked his lips while watching females burn.
“BIG BRUDER! YOU ARE VERY BIG AND I WANT TO LOVE YOU BE MINE I AM A HOT YANDERE WAIFU EVEN THOUGH I HAVE NEVER KILLED ANYBODY AT ALL-“ Belarus was murdered by author-chan because all she does is want to love Russia. Otherwise, she has 0% plot convenience- I mean personality.
“Money money money hairgel.” ‘Holland’ said. He threw money out to everybody and didn’t care about the fact his sister was being served as a kebob by turkeys.
Sealand watched everything from outside.
“Help.” He whispered. He was so desperate, and wanted to see everything unfold. He was feeling a burning passion in his chest.
“-me become a country so I can do this too.”
2. when ur sheeps get tugether
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I've decided to add another chapter to this. Why? I dunno.
>
> I'm lazy and have nothing else to do. My fingers are dead and I'm blank on ideas. Let bad spelling and weird crack fix it all. I really wanted to do proper grammar for this but I just gave up midway so...whoops.
"BAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKSBDANMBSKQAWEHUQJW" UK shrieked at the top of his lungs and btichslapped murica in the shins because TSUNDERES ARE TOTALLY NOT OVERUSED
"rofl ur so cute but i have to be dominant for some reason" murica btichslapped iggy-san back to prove he was the alpha male
"kay so everyones ded like me" said prussia to geramny "lets go on a date to celebrate"
"wtf ur my brother but k" gerwomany grabbed prussia in his HOT BULKY SMEXY THICC arms and they went to a gym because germntu has no chill whatsoever and has to be on the doitsugram pacer test 25/8
"hey bitch marry me" romano said and blushed as red as a tomato
this maid spoon think he was an actual tomato so he came up and licked romano's tongue VERY PASSIOMATELY
"mmm yessssss" he moaned
"hey do u see these cats" greece pointed outside the window of the meeting because AGAIN THERES NO OTHER WAY FOR NATIONS TO MEET
"yee" japan answered
"we should be those cats"
"wtf m8 theyre jerkin off to each other"
"exactly"
"cool"
on the other side of the room hungary was screaming for salvation so she wouldnt be burned alive to be gay dinner
"ok u can stay alive but you have to have two other side-chick-men shipped with you" god spoke to her again
"thats fine" hungary said
"and you hate them both and one of them hates you back" god, also known as himapapa, said
"????" hungary said
"u can have the gypsy and the religious kid"
"what about ostrich" |
6a7feeca4f814e5cbb5cd44adc4d3919 | ['03becff63289469a833dfb0c1dc2bdf6'] |
Midwinter Night
**Author's Note:**
> Written for Trope Bingo square "huddling for warmth." Not really spoilery, but some references to the outcome of episode 8 "A Different Kind of War."
“It’s bloody freezing in here.”
Vincent kept his eyes shut and tried to settle more comfortably in the hayloft; the hay, his coat, and a thin blanket that had seen better days making a poor excuse for a bed, especially in this arctic weather. It _was_ bloody freezing, it was just also no good complaining, and completely typical of Jimmy that he had to go on and on about what was patently plain to all three of them.
“Oh, come on,” said Jimmy. “I’m freezing my bollocks off.”
“Well, that ought to spare us some trouble,” Vincent said, shifting again. “Look, shut up, can’t you? Nina’s not complaining, after all.”
Jimmy paused and Vincent squinted in the darkness, trying to make out what he was doing now. “Yeah, I know; there’s a minor miracle for you. Or perhaps she’s already dead of exposure.”
Vincent sat up, biting back an expletive. “Jimmy, will you just, will you just, _shut up_?”
“There’s no need to talk about me as if I’m not here,” said Nina at almost the same moment; Vincent heard her movements against the hay. “I was trying to sleep, but I suppose even that is too much to ask for.”
“Yeah, it is,” Jimmy said. “So, tell him. Tell bloody Vincent it’s bloody freezing and if we don’t do something about it, we’ll all be bloody icicles by the morning.”
Vincent felt himself tense, growing increasingly irritated with Jimmy. It had been a bad day, even by the standards of the war, and that was saying something. They’d come a long way in the snow, walking on mostly in uncomfortable silence following yet another death, another murder. Damn Jimmy and his big mouth.
Vincent drew in his breath. “Well, excuse me, Jimmy, I’ll just pop out there, send up a prayer to the weather gods and ask them to turn up the heating a bit, shall I?”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” said Jimmy. “Look, don’t you get it? What I’m trying to say is that we haven’t used up all our resources yet, have we?”
“What do you mean?” Nina asked. It sounded as if she was also sitting up now.
Jimmy heaved a sigh. “ _Us_ , idiots. I’m saying that we’d best cuddle up if we don’t want to freeze to death.”
“I think I’d rather die,” said Nina. “Thanks.”
Vincent, at the same time, said, “Absolutely not!”
“Fine. Fine, let’s each perish peacefully in our own corner of the hay. Or catch pneumonia. That’d be fun to tramp across the border with, wouldn’t it, hey, Vincent old fellow, old chap?”
Vincent hesitated before answering, realising that he was allowing his annoyance at Jimmy being, well, Jimmy, to override the fact that he did have a point. It was too cold to snow out there now, and this barn had been damaged and was affording them a good deal less shelter than he’d hoped. Oh, God, though, he thought, wondering how they’d go about it, and trying to ignore what else he thought about the idea of sleeping so close to Nina while Jimmy was also equally close. Nina, the person whom he was deeply attracted to; Nina, who had only earlier that day murdered his oldest and dearest friend.
“Oh, God. Well, I suppose it had better be Nina in the middle, then. She’s the one who needs to be protected.”
“Or shot,” said Nina. “I thought I should mention it because you haven’t lately. Don’t forget that, Vincent.”
“Yes. I mean, no. That’s hardly the issue here –”
“And I am _not_ lying here sandwiched between you two, whatever you say.”
“Well, don’t think I’m ecstatic about it either,” said Jimmy. “At least Vincent and I didn’t run away before we had a bath this morning, so spare a thought for us having to put up with you for the night.”
Vincent closed his eyes, seeing that the squabble over who lay where in this arrangement could potentially go on until morning anyway.
“Anyway,” said Jimmy, cheerfully continuing to make it everything worse, “I thought you didn’t mind a bit of hanky-panky. I thought our Nina wasn’t all that particular.”
“I’m freezing, I’m exhausted, and you’re revolting,” said Nina. Vincent cautiously turned on his torch, directing the beam between the other two, watching Nina.
“Never killed anyone before, either, have you?” Jimmy said, being insensitive again.
Vincent had to bite back more exasperation. “ _Don’t_ bring that up now!”
“Neither have I,” said Jimmy, still talking to Nina, his tone quieter now. “I mean, I have, of course. But not like that. Up close and personal, not from somewhere up in the air.”
Nina quivered. “Shut up,” she said. “Shut up, _shut up_!”
Vincent shook himself, feeling yet again as if he was at least fifty years older than the other two. “Never mind any of that. Let’s do as Jimmy says. Nina –”
“Jimmy can go in the middle,” she said suddenly, watching Vincent. “It was his idea. And I’ll be all right.”
Vincent nodded, feeling both hurt and relieved, and then the other two finally quietened down as they all busied themselves moving about the hayloft with caution until they were lying down together.
“No funny business,” Jimmy whispered, somewhere disturbingly near Vincent’s ear. “I know what you public school types are like and I’m just as knackered as Nina.”
Vincent gritted his teeth. “Funnily enough, I’m not in the least tempted. You can sleep in peace – and I wish you would!” | 7b816bac9e884721af09af02eef81f2f | ['03becff63289469a833dfb0c1dc2bdf6'] |
Outcomes of War
**Author's Note:**
> This was originally started to fill the "future fic" square for Trope Bingo Round 2. Despite the premise, there are very few spoilers for the series - mostly minor/indirect.
* * *
**I. This Never Happened Anywhere (July, 1936)**
One day, as the sun shines in Wiesbaden and the bands play, Dieter Richter – who is not a soldier – runs into a pair of English holiday-makers, a doctor and his wife from the Channel Islands.
There is no war, no prospect of war. No Austrian Corporal came to power, though there are other problems enough for Germany and the Republic still trembles a little every time one politician or another treads too heavily. The British military presence is gone from the Rhine and there is now no real reminder or threat of war here.
Richter is visiting home, since he has more recently moved to Berlin. His wife, Anna, who is a translator of some renown, won a coveted post at the Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universität. It took him a little longer to find something in his own field to follow her, but he has. He is only out here now, because he needs to clear his mind – to straighten out an argument in his current paper over which he seems to have tied himself in knots.
He once studied at Cambridge and still, despite the War, has fond memories of England and the English – and Trumpington Street, where there were cherry trees all along. Were it not for those world events, and of course, for Anna, who has her work here, he could have thought of returning. So, he talks to the English visitors. It is entirely natural for him to do so.
They are from Guernsey, a place of which he knows very little. Had they not said, he might have thought it one of the Scottish islands. So he asks the polite questions, he is genuinely interested in the answers, and asks them how they are enjoying their stay.
Very much, the doctor says. It’s been the first holiday they’ve had without their children, who are now grown up enough to allow the two of them to holiday here and forget their responsibilities, and they’re making the most of it.
He smiles. It’s gratifying to hear, he tells them, and advises them what other sights they should see.
The sun shines, the band plays. He is not a solider, hopes never to be so again, and there is no thought of war, no need for enmity between them.
* * *
**II. Defused (July 1944)**
It is not a good time. The tide of war has turned sharply and now they are more than becalmed here – they have been cast up ashore; they are marooned on this island, a fate of their own making.
Richter can see the end in sight – he is ever the realist, the pragmatist – but that is not to say that others in command will admit it, or surrender the islands to the British. That promises inevitable hardship. Rations are already low, conditions not good. They will grow worse the longer this continues, now that the Channel Islands are isolated.
So, it is not a good time, even before Freidel passes on the news in a careful yet casual aside: he is warning him. A plot to assassinate the Führer has failed – and now General Beck is dead by his own hand, and von Wittke shot, among others.
It is a body blow, though Richter may not give any outward sign that that is so, not even to Ernst Freidel. These are the men he had counted on to return sanity to his country, to end this war before Germany is utterly destroyed.
It is not a good time, therefore, to be a man of whom General Beck speaks highly, or a man who was trusted by von Wittke to take him to Torteval one stormy night, a fact of which the Gestapo are aware – of which Sturmbannführer Reinicke is aware. It is not a good time to be the husband of a woman who has once already been arrested by the Gestapo for expressing regret over the Führer’s survival on another occasion.
Oh, he is not involved – he could not be involved, that is preposterous – but Reinicke, representing the SS here on Guernsey, would be more than happy to use such things. Were it only Reinicke, he perhaps need not fear. General Müller would not listen to mere rumour, spread out of envy and ambition. It might become politic to remove Richter from this position – the Islands are rarely out of the Führer’s thoughts, so they hear – but nothing more, not on such flimsy grounds. However, now there is also the newly arrived Admiral, a Nazi with all the zeal of an evangelical lay preacher. He and Reinicke together may need no more. And Reinicke will tell him, Richter knows. It will be no more than his duty, of course. What else could a loyal officer of the SS do?
“That is terrible news,” is all he says to Ernst.
Freidel nods as he sits at his desk opposite. “Terrible,” he agrees, and they let what they mean by that fall between them in the room. Richter, though, catches the look of concern that Ernst does not quite manage to conceal and wonders what the other fears. |
fef3a37b0682422c9b82fa930a508b2f | ['03e103c6abd0409ab6cfbfe5ff087118'] |
**Author's Note:**
> Warning!!! This is a extremely dark story, so I strongly recommend you not to read it unless you are into non-consensual stories. I treat sexual slavery here, as well as abusive/unhealthy relationships, so if you feel that this is not your thing, I advice you to look for another work in the fandom. There are plenty of them and very good ones :) For the ones who stay, feel free to go down the rabbit hole!
Anthony was finishing his supper when his courtier was brought to him, that night. The library had been humming with life, torches flaring in the long, high vaulted corridors; the scholars going about with their bulky tomes and their long, ancient scrolls, taking over every stand, chair and table in sight. Trying to get away from the crowd, the Lord had settled in a secluded section, far away from the entrance doors, and was now taking his meal at a narrow desk. Several errand boys were standing around him with papers for him to sign, and the sound of their footsteps moving across the room and the cracking of the torches made it difficult for him to concentrate.
Loki was seating besides him; looking down at the floor, as was his costume. He wore a black silk tunic trimmed in silver and lined by pearl buttons; over that, a clear summer coat that covered his shoulders, almost reaching his knees, and that was kept in place by a golden tiepin. Since the neck of the tunic was loosely laced, his collarbone could be easily appreciated, as well as the firm muscles of his legs in the long tight breeches. He appeared radiant to him.
Anthony took a few more bites of his meat as a plate was set down on the table for the Jotnar. He drank quietly from the wine he poured in a goblet for him, and ate the meat as delicately as he could while only using a fork and a butter knife. For now, the Lord didn’t felt comfortable trusting him something sharper. He seemed to know that he was watching him, but refused to return the gaze; quietly staring down at his plate. The Lord disliked this display of apathy, and as he put an arm around his broad shoulders, he ordered the creature to look him in the eye. Reluctantly, Loki complied, and the Lord’s immediate reaction was to kiss him on the cheek; reviling in the feeling of the cold skin against his dry lips. He feed him bits of cheese, then, and small pieces of fruit, as some of his lovers had done for him in the past, while trying to seduce him, and left a soft trail of kisses down his neck.
He would have done anything to show him how pleased he was with his behavior of the last few days, and quite suddenly he remembered that he had not kissed his courtier when he was first brought to the library. He made up for this immediately. The Jotnar didn’t deny him, and went as far as to answer the contact; in a slow, almost timid way, while curving long, delicate fingers around the back of his neck. The smell of soap and aromatic herbs that lingered on him from that morning’s bath was delicious to him. Later, Anthony fed him a handful of grapes one by one, making him lean out of the chair and over his arms so he might let them fall inside his mouth.
Loki was unsmiling as he did this; silent and withdrawn, as he usually was while being in his Lord’s presence. There was, however, a new mildness about him that made him seem less anguished than before; his expression showing not so much of anger, but of calm. Perhaps he was glad to know that, despite his natural rigor when it came to discipline, his Lord was not cruel enough to truly harm him while making use of his services. Maybe he was just tired of embitterment, and willing to relish in an occasional coddling; as long as it kept him from facing any more pain. Whatever reason he had, Anthony felt satisfied.
He tossed the last grape in the air, and Loki darted up to catch it in his mouth. He succeeded, and after yielding to yet another kiss from his Lord he came back to his seat; seeming almost diffident. He rearranged his garments and combed his messy black curls, trying to keep some modesty. Anthony fought not to smile at the sight. He hadn’t been like this, in their first night together. It was his time as a slave, short as it was, what had made him so compliant. He didn’t mind the change. He much preferred to have a reserved, yet obliging courtier, than have a rebellious one.
* * *
That night, Loki had almost been forced to dine with the slaves. He was taken to the hall a few hours after dawn, when a servant arrived to the chambers to lead the harem downstairs. He was, obviously, new in the service, for he made no distinction between Loki and the courtesans at the moment of escorting them, and refused to believe him when he pointed out that he was supposed to take his meal with Lord Stark. For the first time since his arrival to the Palace, he was forced to go down to the Servant’s Hall, and what he saw there didn’t please him. | b45663dd7c324e8c8290bdda95b5182f | ['03e103c6abd0409ab6cfbfe5ff087118'] | Once the King retired along with the servants, Anthony took a seat in the vast royal bed, and grabbing Loki by the arm, forced him to sit at his side. The Jotnar was, once again, looking down; covering his face and part of his body with his long dark hair. He was fisting his hands so hard that the knuckles were turning white. Anthony found that his anger pleased him. He was experimenting a lot of strange, dark emotions that he had never had before, and he was mesmerized by them.
“Kiss me.” He said, taking Loki by his chin and forcing him to look at him. His voice came out raspy and low, frightening, but the Jotnar meet his gaze without fear. Anthony knew that if he wanted to, this graceful animal could tear him apart.
A runt or not, he was a jotun, and he was bound to have the strength of at least ten grown men. He was also bound by nature to honor his debts, no matter the cost. For a Jotnar, breaking an agreement was a spiritual slight, and for that alone Loki would not refuse him, and he would not fight back. That was the beauty of it; knowing that he could but wouldn’t. Knowing that he had managed, with words alone, to submit the must frightful of creatures. He felt drunk just by thinking about it.
The Jotnar obeyed, and Anthony felt his warm mouth on him again, making his desire rise. Something excited him about the idea of taking the son in the father’s bed; a pleasure so wicked that Anthony wondered whether it’ll make him feel ashamed of himself when the morning came. He would have to take the risk. Breaking the contact, he looked deep into the Jotnar’s red eyes; not minding the thin trail of saliva that still united their mouths.
“Now, don’t be frightened.” He said lowly, touching his lower lip with his thumb and then softly patting his cheek, as one does with a tired horse. “It could have been worse. I could be old and ugly.”
“I wish you were.” Loki responded, managing to sound angry and yet calm at the same time. “If you were a lonesome old man, I could feel sorry for you.”
Anthony didn’t hesitate in striking him when he heard that. It wasn’t a slap, or even a light blow, as was his costume whenever one of his courtesans disrespected him; but a hard punch across the face. Stunned, the Jotnar covered his nose with a clawed hand. His eyes showed surprise; as if he hadn’t expected to be mistreated. He wouldn’t have been if he had behaved, Anthony thought, but he guessed that was something the creature would learn with time.
It had been a hard punch, indeed. When the prince retired his hand a thin trail of blood ran down his face, staining the sheets. He seemed angry and confused at the same time, and for some reason, Anthony found the combination of both emotions endearing. He took a handkerchief out of his clothes and carefully, almost lovingly, put it under the prince’s nose to wipe off the blood. “It is in your best interest not to anger me.” He told him. “Be good for me and you’ll safe yourself some pain.”
Staring up at him steadily, the Jotnar nodded. His eyes were glistening, but he wouldn’t cry. It seemed that Anthony had found himself a rather prideful courtier. "I won't punish you very much," He promised, lifting Loki’s chin with two fingers. "It was just a little offense, and your first after all. But remember; next time, I won’t be as condescending.” With that, he gave a quick kiss to the creature’s parched lips, and removed his dark long coat. He tossed it over a chair and stood up to bolt the door. Then he snuffed all but a few candles.
Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he pulled Loki’s wrists into his left hand and forced him onto the floor; making him kneel before him. It must have been such an offense for him, kneeling before a foreigh Lord when he carried royal blood in his veins; but he did it all the same. “Aren’t you a lovely pet?” Anthony spoke, bending over him; his right hand moving languidly over his rounded buttocks, squeezing lightly. His skin was cold, and he could feel his horns pinching into his low stomach.
The Jotnar was crying now, muffling the sounds into Anthony’s lap; his back trembling ever so slightly. With his free hand the young lord spanked his buttocks, and heard the cries grow louder. It wasn’t even much of a slap, but it left a mark on the creature’s skin; a small, lovely white mark. He spanked him again, and felt his arms moving wildly beneath him; as if trying to get free. His hold on the Jotnar’s wrists tightened, and again he spanked him. “You’re not crying because of the pain, are you?” He asked, delighted. “It’s the humiliation what makes you cry.”
He continued with the wicked game for a while, enjoying the effects such harmless blows had on the creature. Shortly after, however, the cries began to grow more and more quiet, and just when he was really starting to enjoy himself, they stopped completely. Confused, he spanked Loki a few more times, harder and faster; but the Jotnar remained silent. His attempts to get free had ceased as well. Feeling rather pleased, the young lord let go of his wrists and roughly took him by one horn; forcing him to look up. Loki’s tear-stained face was unspeakably beautiful; his blue lips trembling, his red eyes gleaming with the dampness left by his crying. And yet there was something defiant about him. A certain fire that refused to die away. |
30a596b68d9046bea16f49fb271ef6aa | ['03e7ded7b71c49b98175978d4b408e75'] | Truce (now your life is free)
"Dean... Dean!"
He's rasping out Dean's name like a final prayer, writhing on the grey concrete in incurable agony. Blood poured from his stomach, spreading in a pool around him like a scarlet halo. The dungeon floor sucked the warmth from his bones, the dimness of the room creeping into the corners of his blurring vision. His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his shaking sides, tendons tensing and bulging as he strained to regulate his soaring heart rate. Every breath, every thought burned in scalding waves, sending shivers of white-hot agony up and down his prone frame as he gasped for air. His mind wasn't on the pain, however - it was on his brother.
_where is he where is he - oh wait_
"Dean..."
Suddenly, there he was again, yanking the pseudo-shelves back and entering the room with long bowed strides. Nearly lifeless green eyes, split knuckles, slumped and heavy shoulders, bloody hands. For a split second, Sam almost thinks it's his Dean, finally, oh _thank God_ \- until the man standing over him blinks and once again, black floods into green like a storm crashing over land, obliterating any compassion or sanity that still remained after all those years. Dean had lost his fight, just as Sam had lost his so long ago; Dean's against an evil as old as the beginning (the very definition of _corruption_ ), Sam's against the one who fell from heaven because of twisted grace, wings charred and stained with sin sprouted by that ancient evil.
"Dean, hey, please..."
_how did i get here why is he doing this what have i don-_
His train of thought was derailed by another burning lance ripping through the left side of his abdomen, the inflamed flesh and tacky blood ravaged by the First Blade serving as reminders of what the older Winchester had done to him (the darkness Sam could have saved him from, should have saved him from, why didn't he _save him?_ ).
The corrupted soul that was his brother smirked at Sam's obvious pain, relishing in his masterful ruination of both mind and body. It was like standing in the umbra of a solar eclipse; a steadfast blaze of strength and stubbornness extinguished by all-powerful oblivion, a vice clamping its jaws upon the juicy flesh of _good_ and crushing it, ripping it apart, leaving nothing but a ghostly whisper of what once was. He was breaking Sam Winchester, and holy _hell_ did it feel good. He lifted a giant booted foot and slammed it down on Sam's still-bleeding stab wound with a feral grin, prompting a breathy, drawn-out moan of pain from the man he once cared so damn much about. Hearing that, Dean - if you could really still call him that - lessened the pressure, his smirk dropping slightly. A simple moan wasn't what he wanted to hear. Sam was supposed to be screaming, begging, pleading, and all he was doing was freaking _whimpering_. He wanted, needed, craved...
And there it was again. Sam could see, from his vantage point on the cold hard ground (not six feet under it, not yet), the darkness take over completely: the way Dean's form stiffened, his features stilled, his stocky shoulders pulled back, his spine straightened, his mouth hardened into a firm line. Now, at this point the younger Winchester wasn't too sure of anything, but he knew that whatever was left of his beloved brother was losing its battle against the Mark of Cain, being driven deeper into the murky depths of his soul. Being crushed out of existence by something so foreign, yet so familiar. So _right._ But at what price?
Sam?
Sam held still, holding his breath through spasms of heat (or was it cold?), anticipation gripping him with a force so strong his heart skipped a few beats. He stared intensely at his brother's face, willing him to do something - anything - other than look at him like _that_ , careless and stoney and calculating and bloodthirsty and _gone._
_not dean it can't be dean_
He could take monsters, he could take pain and being alone and helpless; for God’s sake, he could take the devil. But he couldn't bear his brother looking hungrily at him through half-lidded pleasure-blown obsidian eyes, couldn’t stand having his worst nightmare play out like intricate clockwork before his tired eyes.
_i was supposed to save you we were supposed to keep each other human oh god_ _i'm so sorry dean_
Sweat began to bead on his temples and in the crevices of his neck and collarbones, on the curve of his upper lip. His mouth was open in a silent panting plea, his once brilliant hazel eyes now glazed with fear and pain and _please_ and _why?_
He took a deep, shuddering breath, uncurled his quivering fists, closed his foggy eyes, thought about his brother (the real Dean, the one who wouldn't do this, wouldn't want this, doesn't he want this?) one last blissful time, and let go.
_i’m so sorry_
And then he woke up to darkness.
**Author's Note:**
> I love this website more than life; thank you all for existing, writing, and reading. Kudos and reviews mean the world to me! <3 | 72b58bb4d8a047afbb564ce65f75cf1e | ['03e7ded7b71c49b98175978d4b408e75'] | Petition For Sacrifice
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Hi y'all! This is my very first post on here, and I hope you like it! Any comments/criticism are welcome/encouraged, and kudos would make my life! Thank you! <3
Have you ever met someone so selfless
He gave and gave until he was helpless?
Faithful brother till the end
Doomed himself so that he could defend
His fallen comrade from certain demise
What seemed forever was actually lies
~
_"It's okay, Dean,"_
_~_
Trapped in a cage down in Hell
With the morning star and the good son, down he fell
Brought back without a soul
Surreptitiously left in that dark hole
Until Death himself crammed it back in
Aching head and a bottle of gin
~
_"It's gonna be okay."_
~
“Don’t scratch the wall!” He was trying to protect
A once soulless man whose mind was sure to defect
And that wall held as long as it was able
Till it was shattered by the very angel
Who had raised them both from perdition
All that’s keeping him together now is conviction
~
_"I've got him."_
~
But now Lucifer is in his head
He took the journey with him back from the dead
The devil’s setting off firecrackers in his brain
As all his sanity rushes down the drain
He hid his problems until it all spilled out
He’s going crazy, without a doubt
~
_"Just... Just leave me alone."_
~
Now he can’t tell what’s real
And what are just songs of the evil
Come to life inside his cursed eyes
A prisoner in his own mind
_~_
_"You're not real."_
_postscript:_ Never forget those who lose themselves to find a way. Be grateful for those with the stamina of a mobilizing conviction, those that make courage mean something. Courage demands action of us: it petitions us for sacrifice. And a few of us, those strong enough and sad enough to give it all, will make that sacrifice. Sometimes we drift away, dragged screaming away from all we love. Sometimes it all comes crashing down so fast you can't remember if you ever had it at all. //m.m.m. |
2f735997bfb34af19dd6f82f02fdd69a | ['0401ee2489454ae9b6a474d7fb811cd0'] | sign on a lamp post
**Author's Note:**
> Figured I should get something out before I will be consumed by writing my giveaway prizes, the RvB Big Bang and school exams. Ew.
hello there. so this is a little bit awkward for me. i'm not used to reaching out like this. but unfortunately i am in need of some help. it's a bit unorthodox but, to put it simply, i seem to have lost my ability to breathe.
you see, there's this mincey little prick that's started hanging around my apartment. he just kind of turned up one day and now i can't get him to leave. (okay so that's a lie. maybe i invited him, maybe i was the one who offered him tea, but-) now he fucking leaves his laundry everywhere and never stacks the dishes and stays up late with me and, and you know what he does?
this mincey little prick will stand there in the morning light of the kitchen and look so damn beautiful. he will make me laugh until i'm crying with his ridiculous antics and questions. or he will dump some stolen trinket or another on my lap, like a domestic cat bringing home catch of the day.
and i will be the one holding my breath, gasping for air, forgetting to breathe...
he's a fucking oxygen thief, is what he is.
you see, there's this charming fucking devil that seemed to come literally out of nowhere and now i can't get him to leave. (okay so that's a lie. maybe i instigated it, maybe i was the one to kiss him first, but-) now he fucking saunters around and never speaks in straight lines anymore and smirks over at me and, and you know what he does?
this charming fucking devil will grab me by the collar as soon as i'm in the door and attach his lips to mine. he will pepper feather-light kisses along my neck to wake me up. or he will slam me up against some wall or another, like a feral cat closing in on its prey.
and i will be the one holding my breath, gasping for air, forgetting to breathe...
he's a fucking oxygen thief, is what he is.
you see, there's this terrifying cold monster i see surface in him sometimes, when it's late at night or there's still blood on his hands. and now i can't get him to leave. (okay so that's a lie. maybe i can snap him out of it, maybe i am the only one who knows how to coax him out of that state, but-) now he fucking calmly cleans his guns and goes about with steel in his eyes and his thirst for blood only rivals my own and, and you know what he does?
this terrifying cold monster will take an entire room of elitists down in one clip, never missing a single bullet. he will hold me under ice cold water when i'm drunk until my eyes and nose and chest are burning. or he will close off in one way or another, like a stray cat that doesn't know how to trust anymore.
and i will be the one holding my breath, gasping for air, forgetting to breathe...
he's a fucking-
...he's something, alright.
you see, i don't really know what to make of him.
so, if by any chance somebody has some spare oxygen that they can loan to my lungs for now, that would be much appreciated. i might think about asking for donations sometime in the future but i'm not sure how much that would really help. my contact details are below:
**Author's Note:**
> Come find me on tumblr @armadil-lauren :) | 715a33d3008741329ec30590bdc4e48b | ['0401ee2489454ae9b6a474d7fb811cd0'] | Legacy
Nobody expected Geoff to die first.
Maybe if they lived a normal life, maybe if they were respectful citizens with jobs and families, maybe if they didn't have blood on their hands. Maybe only then it would have been logical to assume Geoff would be the first to go. And it would only be logical in that he was the oldest - a death of natural causes, old age, perhaps.
As it was, 40 is pretty fucking old for a guy in their line of business.
And yet.
Somehow it was always more likely that one of the others would die first. Gavin, kidnapped and tortured to death. Michael, blown up by his own creation. Ryan, taken down in a vicious firefight. Ray, overdosing in the apartment bathroom. Jack, failing to evade police air forces.
But never Geoff. Never him.
Because Ramsey was untouchable. Ramsey was invincible. Ramsey was immortal - that fucker would be twirling his damn moustache right until the end of time.
But Geoff? Geoff was still just a man. They had failed to remember to that.
"Poisoned," Caleb announced with red eyes and a flat tone. "He died in his sleep. I don't think he felt anything."
It would be an understatement to say the entire crew was reeling.
The saddest thing was that there was barely even time for a funeral.
Because word got out that Ramsey was dead. Word got out _fast_. And suddenly the remaining Fakes were facing attack after attack. All directions, all assets, all guns blazing, with little warning each time and abruptly _no Geoff_ to help sort this fucking thing out.
It was horrible. It was a miracle nobody else from the inner circle followed in Geoff's footsteps in the following months. They constantly regrouped and were injured, they constantly fought not to end up on the brink of death. All of their territory was being pushed at from every angle, all of their allies were being picked off or turned, all of their assets and artillery were quickly being used up. The media and their enemies were lapping everything up.
They were stressed. They were grieving. They were sloppy. They weren't doing well.
Until they did.
Until one day Gavin realised he'd stopped people hacking into their systems. Until one day Michael realised he'd blown up the last enemy safehouse. Until one day Ryan realised he had nobody left to pick off. Until one day Ray realised there was no reason to keep looking in his scope. Until one day Jack realised they didn't need the emergency shipment of ordnance.
The five of them gathered back at the penthouse, the place where Geoff spent his last living seconds, the place they had refused to stay in for all that time. They stood in their leader's - their _friend's_ \- bedroom, a circle around the bed Geoff slept in. They stood there with heavy hearts; with blood still on their hands; with unwashed hair and dirty clothes; with lumps in their throats; with eyes filling rapidly.
They were a mess without him.
And yet.
"We did it, Geoff," Gavin whispered.
"We fucking beat the bastards," Ray added a moment later.
Jack put an arm around Michael, whose choked noises were steadily growing into loud sobs.
"Everyone but the one who poisoned you," Ryan said.
The other four turned to look at the masked man. He pulled off the black skull and stared back.
That night, the Fake AH Crew left a message written in blood in several places around the city. Civilians found the message scrawled across buildings, in subway tunnels, on vehicles left outside overnight.
_We will not back down._
_We will uphold his legacy._
_You know who you are._
_You know we are hunting you._
**Author's Note:**
> Would anyone read if I somehow made this into a longer fic? Of them tracking down who poisoned Geoff maybe? Also, should it have a pairing and if so who? |
73ebd7be92fd49ffbb4c39d369a4772f | ['042db06cd1fa4eff93810527abbf1be9'] |
Twenty Three Steps Towards Understanding William Brandt
**Author's Note:**
> or, in which I dump my brandt-related headcanons. including actually clint!brandt because when I was writing this, I came to a realization that clint!brandt is part of my brandt headcanon. not part of the juxtaposition-verse
>
> format inspired/strongly influenced by LINK by veracious
>
> originally posted LINK. posted on AO3 by request
1. _adrenaline_
Unlike the infamous Ethan Hunt, William Brandt never understands the constant and perpetual _need_ to be in action. Ethan laughs at the face of danger and rushes head first to action, climbing the world’s tallest building before considering other options at least twice; but Will is the true spy who prefers to stay in the darkness, all calculations and careful thinking.
Maybe it has something to do with his father, drunk more often than not and angry all the time, who hit him if he stood up and hit him more if he stood out. Maybe it has something to do with IMF, an organization that officially never existed and one he’s been working in for years. Maybe it has something to do with Croatia, that if he’d thought things through maybe he could’ve saved Julia and _fuck what the_ _heck_ was _he thinking—_
Maybe it doesn’t.
(William Brandt doesn’t like danger.)
2. _benji_
William Brandt is two-third spy, one-third care bear and all in all a collection of awkward pauses.
Don’t listen to the rumors; this is the truth.
Well yes, he could disassemble, reassemble, and perform a functions check on an M240G medium machine gun under 50 seconds, all that military-slash-spy skills set—that’s where the two-third comes from. But he’s also still flustered whenever someone compliments his suit and a complete softy on anything that’s remotely adorable; he once almost compromised an entire mission because a cat was almost run over by a truck.
I was also at the enemy’s gunpoint, but I think he missed that part.
He did say that might mean I’m not cute, but he’s clearly just joking. I’m the cutest thing Will has ever met.
He also did say that he may have forgotten that because I am always in front of my computer during missions, but he’s obviously making that up. Active, competent field agent and all. James Bond is British. Make the connection.
3. _can’t_
Sometimes he wakes up sweaty and panting, and he would be halfway through the door before realizing that it was all just a dream, that he’s not in Croatia, that he’s not in that hotel room splattered with fresh blood and smells faintly of smoke and gunshots.
His heart almost stopped when he saw Jane kicked Moreau out of the Burj Khalifa because once again _death_ and _hotel room_ were in the same sentence. He then hated himself for being triggered by such tenuous connection and shouted at Jane, because _anger_ is much easier than _guilt._
He still can’t kill in a hotel room.
4. _danger_
Will thinks he’s dangerous.
Not the I’m-one-of-the-best-agents-in-the-world dangerous, and not the I-can-kill-you-with-a-toothpick dangerous, either. Will thinks he’s dangerous because people trust him _too much_ and _too easily_ that his own incompetence would— _will_ —get them killed one day. And that’s why he kept moving around, never allowing himself to get attached to anything.
He told the team about this once.
Much to his surprise, they all shrugged; Jane gave him a small smile, Ethan patted his shoulder and Benji ominously said, “we are all dangerous in our own ways,” and started describing how he once protected a bystander from a thug, _and do you know the guy had a dragon tattoo? Because the guy had a bloody dragon tattoo and I still managed to stop him—_
He thinks his team has a warped sense of what’s dangerous and what’s not, but in their defense, they save human civilization on a monthly basis.
Maybe this time he’ll stay.
(William Brandt still doesn’t like danger, though.)
5. _ethan_
Until today, I never understood why I told him about Julia.
He’s not the only person affected by her ‘death’. We had a house in the suburbs last time, lived there for a month or so; the old lady who lived across the street became Julia’s best friend instantly, and I think she almost lost the will to live when someone delivered the news. We also used to go this steakhouse every weekend; Julia and the chef there were on a first-name basis. I delivered the news myself, and I swear, the guy was _inconsolable._
I never told them the truth and probably never will. I told Brandt.
I don’t understand why.
Although it helps that I trust Brandt with my life.
6. _forgiveness_
He hasn’t forgiven himself for what happened in Croatia, but he’s learning to.
7. _guilt_
Will has a photographic memory and memorized a dictionary once, but this is what he always sees under guilt:
Emotion manifested due to past mistakes; a pathetic attempt to justify what has been done wrong and _could’ve been done right_ ; an unequal retribution towards the wrongs; an insult to the victims; Croatia.
8. _holiday_
“Comic-Con, Will. Comic-Con is your idea of _holiday_.”
“Why not?”
“No, just… I figured you’d be more of a… technical person, I guess. I don’t know, TED talks, those kinds of things, you know?”
“Pfft, TED talks are for the masses. We are distinguished people.”
“You too, Benji?”
“I can’t believe we’re even discussing this.”
“ _Thank you_ , Ethan—“
“Comic-Con is definitely the best place to go. Did you guys go to this panel last time? I heard it was the best one—“
“…Dorks. All of you.”
“You still love us, Jane.”
9. _invincibility_
It’s not that he thinks he’s indestructible; it’s just that he feels that everyone else’s lives worth so much more than his.
10. _julia/jane_ | b025b400b8de42b0b3da943bca13ddc5 | ['042db06cd1fa4eff93810527abbf1be9'] | They respect each other and have each other’s back in the field, and they argue all the time. They argue about the best TV show on air, about the current US political climate, about _anything_ under the sun, really. And about the sun, too, once. Or twice.
And then they argue more.
It becomes a habit. _Their_ habit, Clint notices. it’s _their_ thing. Byer would say something—a statement, an opinion—and Clint would disagree for the sake of disagreeing, disagree because he _can_. People think they hate each other, and proceed to scratch their head once they see Barton-and-Byer’s impeccable record.
Case in point.
“My vote’s still on Brangelina, you know,” Clint says out of the blue as he waits for the unsuspecting drug lord to come out from his apartment.
Byer hums to the com. “I refuse to grace that comment with a reply,” he says, amusement subtly dripping through every word, “but we all know Jennifer Anniston is a much respectable woman than Jolie can ever be.”
Clint laughs, _actually_ laughs, and says, “someone’s been watching too much Friends.”
“I just find the depiction of espionage in Mr. and Mrs. Smith simply too unrealistic that it distracts the enjoyment of the more… _well-informed_ viewers.”
That is, of course, bullshit. Clint has learned that for all their jarring differences, Byer’s taste in entertainment is the same as Coulson’s. Which is to say: shitty.
“Maybe you should’ve watched the Hurt Locker instead, sir. It’s been applauded by critics for its realism.”
“Target’s at five o’clock,” Byer suddenly says, and Clint quickly turns. He aims, waits, and pulls the trigger right when Byer says, “and I might if you’re the one buying the DVD.”
It is a clean shot, square on the temple. Clint grins from ear to ear. “Only if you’re the one making dinner, sir.”
-
“Movie night” is added to the unsaid list of their habit.
-
The op spirals into absolute _shitstorm_ ten minutes after Clint was deployed, and the last thing Clint remembers is falling into a dirty, brown-colored river with three bullet wounds.
They are in Somalia. _Of course_ they have to be in Somalia, one of the few places in the world that the US government now pretends to have never existed, so there goes any hope for fast retrieval; they are in Somalia, and Clint has three bullet wounds on his arm and leg and it’s a dirty river which guarantees his wounds to be infected; they are in Somalia, but Clint is the one in the river and Byer is meters above him in a helicopter, and they can easily fly away as Clint dies from bleeding or infection, whichever comes first.
Clint hates Somalia.
The next thing he knows he wakes up with a pounding headache and a raging fever. His whole body aches and he is drenched in sweat, and he tries to sit up before realizing that he’s more than nauseous; he rolls to his side, gags and _vomits_.
Clint Barton has laughed in the face of death, but at that very moment he thinks he is going to die.
Because honestly? The only thing that allows him to do so is Phil Coulson. He can take wounds and tortures in stride because he knows Phil has his back, and he struggles to stay alive because he has someone to come back to. And now? he’s _alone_ , so fucking alone, and if he dies here, right now, no one would even know—
“It’s okay, Barton,” a voice says, and suddenly there’s a hand at the back of his neck, rubbing in small circles, “it’s okay, you’re safe here. We’re in one of the safe houses. You’re safe.”
He gags even when he has vomited everything, and he chokes for another minute before what the voice says registers to him. _Barton. Okay._ He slowly looks up to the owner of the voice. _Safe._
“We’re safe?” He croaks.
Byer looks into his eyes and nods. “For now.”
It’s not the best reassurance, but Byer doesn’t lie either, and that’s enough for Clint to drift back to sleep.
The next five days become a blurry of movements. He remembers Byer, tinkering with their broken radios to receive a signal, _any_ signal; he remembers the food, stolen from the neighborhood, and Clint notices that Byer always makes a point to find soft ones that wouldn’t hurt his stomach; he remembers himself, tossing and turning and hurting and _dying_ , looking up to Byer and says, _I think you should leave me here, sir, I’m just a deadweight,_ and Byer looks back at him as if he’s stupid and says, _I’m your handler,_ as if that explains everything.
On day six, Clint’s fever subsides, and a couple of SHIELD agents come knocking on their door to retrieve them.
Clint spends the next ten days in the medical. The Avengers visits once, Natasha visits every day, and Eric Byer never once leaves his side.
Clint Barton doesn’t like numbers, so he doesn’t remember dates; instead he remembers places, names and events and faces, like scenes out of a silent movie. There’s Saigon, where Agent Coulson saved his life from local gangs and _Coulson_ became _Phil_ ; there’s Budapest, where absolutely nothing happened and a thousand stories are invented to replace a boring one; there’s Luanda, where Natasha laughed out loud in public for the first time ever since the Red Room.
There’s Mogadishu, Somalia, where Eric Byer could leave and _didn’t_ , and _Byer_ became _Eric_.
-
(“Movie night” is silently bumped up on the list. |
61c712a96085462ebad061221542276f | ['0448bbc003554d1b896673233311e189'] | Allen shifted in Kanda's lap so he was straddling the older one's hips. He rolled his hips against Kanda's causing a sweet friction between them. Allen mewled into the kiss.
“Enough you two.“ Cross groand. “I can't put you over the table now. So stop making me want to do it.“
They broke the kiss. Allen was giggling like a schoolgirl and Kanda had a little smirk on his lightly swollen lips.
The raven leaned towards Cross. His smirk growing into a full grown shit-eating grin. He placed a hand against Cross' jaw. The thumb sliding over the general's bottom lip.
“You want one too, _master_?“ Kanda purred. He fucking _purred_!
“Shit.“ Cross breathed out.
Kanda licked his lips. Immediately Cross' eyes were fixed on those lips he wanted to kiss so badly.
“Yes or no?“ Kanda teased still having this stupid grin on his face.
“Yes.“ Cross gave in. Why should he fight if he could get what he wanted so easily.
Kanda closed the gap between their lips. The raven tried to dominant the kiss but failed miserably. Not that it mattered to him. He didn't really wanted to be the dominant one of the two. Cross graped Kanda's neck to pull him closer which – of course – didn't work with Allen in Kanda's lap.
The white haired chuckled at his master's action and Kanda slapped his ass in response. That caused Allen to gasp.
A throat clearing caused them to stop fooling around. They looked up to find one of the finders standing there.
“What?“ Cross asked, sounding a bit breathless and annoyed.
“There was an activity a few streets away, sir.“ He answered.
Kanda sighed. “I will go check it out.“
“You shouldn't go alone.“ Allen protested as Kanda lifted him off his lap to place him in Cross'. “It be too dangerous.“
“It's not. And I can handle that stuff, you know.“ The raven said, flicking Allen on the forehead.
“Ow.“ Allen rubbed the spot with his palm. “But it's a dangerous mission Komui said. And it could be possible that there are still a few strong Akumas out there.“
“I will be fine, Moyashi.“ Kanda leaned down to kiss him again. This time tender.
“You two play nice while I'm gone.“ The raven said before giving Cross too a second kiss. The swordman turned and followed the finder.
“You think he will be alright?“ Allen asked Cross as he snuggled against him, seeking comfort.
Cross put his arm around the small boy, hugging him tight. “Of course. It's Kanda we're talking about. Don't worry.“
Allen began to relax and Cross started to rub circles on Allen's back. They sat like that for a little while before Allen turned to his master and kissed him hard on the lips. Their teeth collided. The kiss went on a long before both leaned back to take a breath. Cross raised an eyebrow at Allen.
“A thanks for the comfort.“ The boy smiled. He got off Cross' lap.
“Where are you going?“ The general asked.
“Playing a bit poker. I won't take long. I don't want you to get lonely.“ Allen teased but leaned down to give Cross another breathtaking kiss. After that he took off to one of the poker tables. ' _Kanda is doing Allen good._ ' Cross thought as he too got up but to get a few shots for later. It was their night off after all.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Allen really played just one round of poker that he won – of course – and came back to their booth.
Cross had ordered a tablet of shots. Not only one type but eleven and three shots of each type.
“Do you want me to get drunk?“ Allen asked obviously amused.
“Maybe.“ Cross smirked. “Let's get started. Kanda gets his when he's back.“
The general took two shots and hold one out for Allen.
“But he needs to drink them all at once.“ The boy laughed as he took the glass from Cross.
“Cheers baka apprentice.“ The red head raised his glass to Allen.
.-.-.
Meanwhile Kanda finally arrived at the street where the finder said the ' _activity_ ' was – or better should be. There was absolutely nothing!
“Are you sure it was here?“ Kanda asked already pissed.
The finder just nodded and looked around.
** _BAAM!!_**
They turned around to see a cloud of smoke a few houses away.
“Shit.“ Kanda swore. They took off towards the explosion.
The whole street was chaos. The buildings were destroyed and fragments of them were lying all over the street.
.-.-.
Allen was in Cross' lap again. Their kiss was sloppy and wet. The reason was obvious. Allen was as good as wasted. They had shared Kanda's shots since he was taking so long.
Allen had his hands deep in Cross' mane and was grinding his cock against Cross' stomach. His ass over the older man's groin.
“Shishou~“ He moaned wantonly. Cross groaned in response. The man already had his hands in Allen's pants, kneading the taut ass.
.-.-.
Akumas were coming from everywhere. Most of them were Level two but there was a good among of Level threes too.
“Shit. They are too many for me alone.“ Kanda looked at the finder. “Go get the others. Fast!“ The man turned and ran. Kanda draw Mugen and activated it.
Kanda began fighting. The situation was serious he knew that. He alone couldn't do this. His hope was that the other two didn't had drank too much til now.
“Ah!“ He heared a scream and turned.
.-.-.
“Restroom. Now!“ Cross ordered and bit down on Allen's shoulder. Allen nearly fell as he tried to get off Cross' lap as fast as he could. But drunk as he was it wasn't that easy.
“Haha easy.“ Cross laughed. He helped Allen up and to the restroom. It was good that Allen had problems walking so it wasn't too suspicious that the two were going to the restroom. | 6d53b628ba4d493c9de1f68424395e78 | ['0448bbc003554d1b896673233311e189'] | Shiver
**_Shiver_**
I don't exist they say. I'm not real they say.
But I never even considered that possibility. I'm real. Or better I was real.
Now I'm just a horror story for their kids. Not even considered to be a real person at some point. Never knew that I was Ruben Victoriano.
Maybe that's because I lost my humanity a long time ago. Back than I lost everything I loved. Back than I lost Laura.
Laura, my beloved sister.
Because of my father's faults! Because of those dumb farmers! Those people who set the barn on fire. Who scarred me for life. Who burned Laura alive. Who made me listen to her screams in agony and pain.
Those screams. I never got rid of them. I never wanted to get rid of them. They are a part of me now. The fuel for my hatred. The power for my revenge.
My family didn't understand. They didn't understand my need to get Laura back. My need to experiment. They locked me in the basement. I had become a shame for the house. I was disfigured.
But then I met the doctor. Marcelo Jimenez did understand my needs. He got me all the things I needed. After I got my parents out of the way. All those I could experiment on. They were all mine to do with as I pleased.
But then I finally got anywhere close to solve the mystery which tortured me. He betrayed me!
He sold me off. To people who ran this stupid organization.
They picked me apart piece by piece, bit by bit, layer by layer. Like I did with my test subjects. Until I was just a sample. Just my brain like all the others.
They tried to keep me there but I created this world.
You cannot keep me in here!
All those connected to me never made it back to the real world. Expect this one child.
Leslie Withers.
He survived. He got out. STEM couldn't hold him in unlike me. He's the key! The key to my freedom.
But than the others came. Sebastian 'Seb' Castellanos. Joseph Oda. Juli 'Kid' Kidman.
They tried to destroy me. That detective. That Castellanos. He nearly killed me. He's dangerous but has a strong mind. Maybe he's compatible too? He has to be. Another key!
But he's to strong willed. The poor Leslie is so much easier to manipulate.
I will hunt you down once I'm out. All of you! All of you who thought they could lock me away.
I will be your personal boogieman. Your worst enemy. Your nightmare come true.
You better fear me cause I'm free now.
I'm Ruvik!
And I'm real again.
**Author's Note:**
> Heey hope you liked it.
> Let me know what you think.
>
> See you around~
> Neah |
1325ff7b09a840f2bc34097bc0ea7992 | ['044cea8714704421ba6e2b4a4c592d7b'] | 'Shit. Passed out in his vomit?' Ashton says. The reply he gets back is a loud wail. Ashton hops into action. 'Cal, hang up and call an ambulance, Mikey and I are on our way.'
Calum hangs up and does what he says. The operator does a good job of calming him down and instructing Calum of what to do. The paramedics arrive very quickly, Calum lets them in. They decide immediately, with Luke being passed out with a temperature of 105.3 that they immediately need to get him to the hospital. Calum texts Mikey where he will be and hops in the back of the ambulance, beside Luke who is on a stretcher.
When they get to the hospital Luke is rushed through while Calum is asked to wait in the waiting room. He is crying his eyes out once again as he waits for Ash and Mikey to arrive. Once they do they immediately find Calum, curled up on a chair with tears streaming down his face. They immediately get worried about both him and Luke. They sit on either side of Calum and pull him into a hug.
Eventually Calum stops crying enough to tell the two of them what happened. When they hear about the state Luke was in their hearts break. Luke didn't deserve that. And Calum didn't deserve to see it either. They knew that if they were to swap places they would be crying too. Suddenly a doctor comes out saying Luke's name. All three of them stand up, walking over to the doctor.
The doctor, Dr Edmonson, explains that Luke was very lucky to be alive. His temperature was way too high and passing out where he was had made his condition worse. But they had managed to stabilise him and now had him on very heavy duty fever reducers. He was unconscious and they did not expect to wake up for a few hours. The boys went in to visit him and all of their hearts shattered seeing him in such a vulnerable position.
He was laying on the hospital bed, the white sheeted, white pillowed, white covered bed, in a white hospital gown, connected to all sort of machines as well as an IV. All of the boys sat down around him and patiently waited for him to wake up, none of them even bothering to pull out their phones due to being polite.
Luke came to around 3 hours later. By that point Mashton had fallen asleep on each other, hands intertwined, Michael's head on Ashton's shoulder and Ashton's head resting on Michael's. Calum was sitting staring at and holding Luke's right hand, where he was connected to all of the machines as well as his IV.
The first sign that Luke was waking up was that he squeezed Calum's hand, making Calum's eyes shoot up to his face. Luke lazily opens his eyes and smirks at the surprised and excited expression on Calum's face. He noticed Mashton and looks at them with an expression of wonder and confusion.
'They fell asleep.' Calum says.
'I can see that. They're just so adorable.' Luke says.
'Yeah.' Calum says. Luke gets an idea all of a sudden. He uses the remote next to his bed to put him in a sitting position. He leans over to Mashton, ruffling Michael's hair before poking at Ashton's dimples. Both of them go to whack his hand away before sitting up straight, hitting heads in the process. They rub their heads before looking over at Luke, who is smiling widely. The two of them smile and give Luke a hug.
When Luke is discharged from the hospital Calum volunteers to take care of him. He stays over at his house for the week after his visit, basically getting him everything he ever wanted and needed. Luke is grateful to have such a good friend, even if he is clingy. Luke is back on his feet a week later and they get to recording the new album. | 394e4da825734a83b4a029fce7040b60 | ['044cea8714704421ba6e2b4a4c592d7b'] | That night, Calum stayed up until after midnight so that all the lads were sure to be asleep. He creeped down to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of vodka and a glass. He may have been killing himself but he wasn't a barbarian and he wasn't going to drink straight from the bottle. He then went up to the bathroom, pulling out the box. He placed his phone on the bench, open to his note. He opened the box, pulling out the pills, setting them on the bench, and a blade. Calum lifted up the sleeve on his left arm.
He looked over the scars on his arm, new and old. The memories associated with these, all the thoughts. They were the reason he was doing this. Calum slashed his wrist, one for each of the reasons.
He was stupid *slash*
He couldn't sing *slash*
He wasn't funny *slash*
He couldn't play bass *slash*
He couldn't even play guitar *slash*
His laugh was ear-splitting *slash*
His song writing was terrible *slash*
He was a messy eater *slash*
He was fat *slash*
He was ugly *slash*
He only had fans because of his bandmates *slash*
His bandmates smiles were fake *slash*
He ruined everything *slash*
He deserved to die *slash*
Suddenly, there were arms around him. There was someone pulling the blade from his hand and pulling him away from the bench, despite his struggles. Calum cried, he couldn't see who it was through his tears, but he could feel them wiping over his cuts and bandaging them up. He could feel the two sets of hands holding him down. He knew, when he felt all three sets of hands, that his bandmates had found him.
Luke had heard something in the kitchen and he had opened his door to go see if everything was alright but then he had seen Calum entering the bathroom with vodka. Instantly he knew that Calum was not alright. He knew he couldn't just barge in there and risk getting both himself and the bassist hurt, so he had gone and woken Michael and Ashton up. They had both been mad at first, but once Luke had told them the situation, they were happy to help him.
They had walked as quietly as possible towards the bathroom. Luke had been the one to open the door and see Calum first. He looked absolutely distraught. He had his sleeve up, the many scars on his arms on show, old as well as new. Luke quietly walked up behind Calum, tears in his eyes as he pulled the blade out of of his hand and pulled him away from the counter with the help of Ashton, who was also on the verge of tears.
Michael had started packing away the things on the bench before Ashton had asked for his help. He joined them as Luke wiped and bandaged Calum's bloody arm. Calum put up a fight as they lifted him out of the bathroom and took him back to Luke's room, he would be sleeping there tonight. They put him on the bed and stayed with him until he went to sleep. They all then went to the bathroom, cleaning up everything and putting it away where Calum wouldn't find it so they could take it to a dump the next day.
Luke had grabbed Calum's phone, seeing that he had written a note on there. He didn't read it until all three of them had finished packing up and were sat in the lounge, where Luke had dragged them so that they could read it.
"Right, so, we gonna do this or what?" Michael asked when Luke hesitated to pull the phone out of his pocket.
"Er, yeah." Luke replied, fumbling around for the phone.
"Do you want me to read it?" Ashton asked.
"Yeah, thanks." Luke mumbled in gratitude, hanging the phone to Ashton. Ashton grabbed it and entered Calum's password, which he had memorised a long time ago. The note appeared upon opening the phone and Ashton began to read.
Dear Luke, Ashton, Michael, Mum, Dad, Mali-Koa, whoever is reading this,
First things first, I love you. I love all of you. Without you, I wouldn't have even made it to this point in time. I wouldn't have experienced half of the stuff I have. I wouldn't have made the music I made, even if it was terrible. You guys are, were, my life. You made it livable. You made life, life. I just lost hope.
I know my life wasn't the worst. I mean, I had all the money in the world, so many fans and millions of people knew my name. I basically lived the dream. But that doesn't mean that I was happy. Money can't buy you happiness.
I lived a good life. I met so many people. Gave so much to so many. Heck, I saved people's lives. And they saved mine so many times. But this time they didn't.
I am most likely gone by the time you are reading this. In a better place. Where I want to be. I hope I went to heaven, but even in hell I'd be happy. My life was impossible, too fast. There was no time to myself. No time to reflect.
I needed that time. Time to myself. When I didn't get it, I just lost it. I felt worse than any person ever should. I felt worse than any of you ever deserve to feel.
My arm wasn't anything to do with how I felt. But how people acted on it were.
This isn't making any sense. Is it?
All I want you to know was that his was not your fault. It was the fault of the assholes on the internet that don't know who they are hurting.
I love you, all of you.
Sincerely,
Calum Thomas Hood
"Guys, We need to go check on Calum." Ashton added alarmingly once he had finished. |
bd174b925a2c46738064a479fe142fa3 | ['04606518dde04cd583469221ebd585af'] | “There’s a pot on the hob in the kitchen,” said Craig, not looking at him.
Actor glanced down at the dregs of dark liquid in the bottom of the officer’s mug. Not asking, he picked it up and went out the door. Garrison shot a brief look at his back and continued with his work. A few minutes later a steaming cup of ersatz coffee was placed on his desk. The Italian resumed his seat, sipping at the hot beverage.
“Ohhh,” sighed Actor dramatically, “what I would give for a cup of real coffee.”
Wouldn’t we all, thought Garrison. The men in the field got better rations than he and his men did. He paused and reached for the mug. Taking a careful sip of the hot wheat brew, he too wished for something with caffeine in it. Setting the mug back down, Craig went back to his typing.
“Thanks,” he said.
An elegant shrug of one shoulder was the response he received. Finishing the report, Garrison pulled the final page from the typewriter and separated the copies. Placing them in neat piles, he signed and slipped the original into an envelope and set the other two copies aside.
“May I read it?” asked Actor.
“No.” Garrison looked at him. “It’s classified. Besides, you were there. You know what happened.”
Actor seemed to stifle offense at the denial. “Yes, however I would find it interesting how you are reporting it to the Brass.”
“As I said, that’s classified.”
Craig placed a call to G-2 in Brandonshire, requesting a courier to take the paperwork to London. Placing the receiver back in its cradle and rising, he took the envelope and the copies to his safe and locked them inside until he had his office to himself and could move them to their locked file drawer. The sound of footsteps on the stairs announced the arrival of the other men.
“Did breakfast look like it was almost ready,” Garrison asked the Italian.
“If you wish to call that breakfast. Yes it was almost ready.”
“Well, let’s go get some.”
A grin crossed Actor’s face. “You mean before Goniff eats it all?”
The corner of Craig’s mouth twitched into a tiny grin. “Something like that.”
They were just finishing the one rasher of streaky bacon, the small mound of dry scrambled powdered eggs and the one piece of toast, when the courier arrived from Brandonshire. Garrison disappeared into his office and the others remained at the table.
“I wonder wot they’re going to do with us now?” asked Goniff.
“Whatever they want,” replied Chief cynically.
Casino lit a cigarette from the pack beside his plate. At least they got one every day. “They want us, I guess they got us.”
Actor was less certain. “I would imagine that is dependent on their response to our returning, what Garrison put in his report, and what they think they might need us for.”
Casino’s head swiveled slowly to glare at the older man. “Aren’t you just a bundle of joy.”
“Merely being realistic.”
They did not know that Garrison was just as uncertain. He had added a note at the bottom of his report outlining his idea that the men were good at what they did, were useful to the Allies, and had returned of their own volition. He watched the courier leave and remained in his office. Now that the report was out of the way, he intended to make notes on each of his men’s behavior and abilities in their dossiers. And he had to write a condolence letter to Wheeler’s next of kin, if he had any, saying he had died in defense of his country. It wasn’t much of a lie.
But first, they had to debrief. He wanted the cons to know what his opinion of them was and find out what their take on the mission was. He called out to one of the guards and had him escort the men into his office.
Craig stood at the head of the conference table, a pad of paper and pencil at his place. The men wandered in, some with their coffee cups, wariness on their faces. Actor took the seat at the opposite end of the table from Garrison. The others ranged on both sides of the table; Casino and Goniff on one side, and Chief alone on the other side. Except for the Italian, the men slouched into their chairs.
“All right, Gentlemen,” said Craig, taking his seat. “This is a debriefing. Transport in?”
They all looked at him in surprise.
“I don’t like jumpin’ outta airplanes,” offered Casino.
“The sub suit you better?” asked Garrison.
Casino shook his head. “I don’t like being in the belly of a sardine can underwater with the Krauts up above.”
“It’s a little difficult to walk across the Channel,” remarked Craig, with a slight bit of humor.
“Funny, Warden.”
There it was again. Garrison felt certain if the group stayed together, he was going to be stuck with that name.
“Safe house?”
“Lovely young lady,” said Actor with a smile.
Garrison was aware he had gone upstairs with the ‘lovely young lady’ and probably not to discuss the weather. He had been too busy to do anything about it at the time and nothing had been said by the others.
He had also noticed Chief draining the bottle of wine Craig had taken away from Actor. He would have to keep an eye on the Indian. He figured Actor could hold his liquor, but wasn’t sure Chief could. He doubted the other two could either, but had nothing to base that on.
“Okay, what about the column?”
“Took Casino long enough to try to open the box,” said Chief softly.
Casino glared at him across the table. “Yeah? Well if you had found it faster than you did, I would have more time. You ever tried to pick locks and a combination?”
“No reason to,” said Chief belligerently. | 840833baeee1473e9d3e459d5f1b3437 | ['04606518dde04cd583469221ebd585af'] | The Dirty Dozen
The annual Garrison’s Gorillas reunion was held in New York City in June of 1967. Casino was the one who picked up a free copy of the New York Times from the front desk of the hotel they were all comfortably checked into. He took it up to their suite and sprawled on the couch in the sitting room to read the funnies.
Thumbing through the pages of newsprint, his eyes were drawn to the title of a movie that was playing in New York, ‘The Dirty Dozen.’ Something made him read the summary: During World War II, a rebellious U.S. Army Major is assigned a dozen convicted murderers to train and lead them into a mass assassination mission of German officers. “Hey, doesn’t this sound familiar?” he asked the occupants of the room.
That was how the five men found themselves sitting together in a row in the back of a movie theatre. The lights went out and the reel began. There were smiles as the movie progressed, until the introduction of a character named, appropriately enough, Archer Maggott. As one, the five men leaned forward in shock and stared at the screen.
“Bloody ‘ell,” whispered Goniff in disbelief. “It’s Wheeler.”
“I thought you killed him?” Casino whispered to Chief.
“I did,” replied Chief, just as startled.
The five men huddled together, their eyes glued to the screen.
“Gentlemen, it cannot be Wheeler,” whispered Actor. “He would be our age now. This man is too young.”
Casino was stunned. “It sure looks like him. Did somebody raid our files?”
“Those are sealed,” reassured Garrison.
“Since when did that stop us?” asked Actor. The four men turned their heads sharply to look at the ex-confidence man. He had a point. A strong point.
“So ‘oo is this blighter?” asked Goniff.
“I wasn’t watching the opening credits,” said Garrison. Truth be known he had been munching on Raisinettes, a throwback to his youth on the very rare occasions they had taken in a film while in Great Falls.
The film captured their entire attention. However, if anyone had been sitting close enough to them, they would have wondered why these middle-aged men laughed during the wrong parts. |
a8a418a446214163b668fa767d2273d0 | ['0479b93ee0ab4357bacb25e86e432493'] | "Why would you wonder such a thing? Look around. Do you see those two laying over there? They care about you, they rely on you. There is nothing more important than that. For all intents and purposes, they are your family, or at least, your friends. As long as you have them, why would you want to die? Why don't you tell me? You were the one who DID die. Would going though those emotions, that pain again, be worth it?" He said. Her mouth turned up into a small smile. She leaned over and put her head on his shoulder.
"You're right. Thank you Boone. I guess I knew, I just needed to hear it from some one else." she said with a soft sigh, "They, you, are worth fighting for."
Boone froze. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him, especially in such an intimate way. He liked it. No, no he had to get away. He had to push himself away. He did not deserve this warmth he was feeling, he couldn't allow himself any happiness. He was panicking inside. He had to escape, so he used what seemed the like the most logical solution.
"I have to.. um, take care of some business." He said nervously.
"OH! Ya, you go do that... somewhere else." Maria laughed, "I should get some sleep anyways. Raul's watch is next then mine. Good night Boone, and thank you." With that she turned to go to her bed roll. Boone fled down the hill as fast as his feet would carry him.
That night, Maria did not dream of blackness or pain, she dreamt of a man in black sunglasses and a red beret.
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Maria was feeling better than she had in ages. Her friends were in good spirits, well, most of them. Boone was his usual self, quite and reclusive. Heck, she'd be more worried about him if he wasn't keeping to himself. Everything was going well. They had accumulated a sizable amount of caps from salvage they've sold and from helping whomever asked for it. They were going no where in particular, just enjoying each others company and putting an end to any troubles they came across. They were walking at the base of a mountain when they came upon the most amazing sight ever.
"Ho-ly shit. Are those... plants?" Ronnie asked. The group stood eyes wide and stared at the green hill base. It was covered in real live growing plants. "Real non-irradiated plants, here! In the Mojave!"
"Raul, is that grass?" Maria asked the old ghoul.
"Um, ya, boss. I can't imagine what it's doing here. This place was a wasteland even before the bombs fell, the Mojave has always been a desert. Why, how, it's here, is beyond me."
Maria went and bent over to rub her hand over the growth. It was soft, and sharp to some degree, but wonderful. She had never felt anything like it, she was sure of it, even if she didn't remember her life before. She sat down and began to take off her boots.
"Um, boss? What are you doing?" Her companions were watching her with puzzled faces.
"I want to feel it on my feet. This is my only chance for that. It's not like it's going to jump up and grab me." Maria said with a smile.
It was fantastic. They must be the only ones, or one of the only ones, to ever see, touch, real grass grown in the wild. Maria began to dance in small circles. She couldn't explain it, but it was a very freeing experience. She felt like the world she knew could just melt away and all of the pain she knew would be a distant memory. Her day dreaming was brought to a sudden halt when she felt something at her ankle, and with a jerk, landed flat on her face. She couldn't see what had her, but it was squeezing on her leg, she tried to turn to face her attacker but before she could move a single shot rang out. Maria looked up, Boone had his gun in hand and she felt the grip on her leg go limp.
"What the fuck!?" She brought herself up and looked down at the mass before them, "What IS that?"
Ronnie bent over next to the fallen creature and attempted to study it. "I have no idea, plants aren't really my thing... but it has a human shape. Why didn't we see it before? I just, appeared behind you. A plant person, never heard of such a thing." ED-E beeped in confirmation, "Ya, you didn't pick it up on you sensors either did ya? Hell of some camouflage."
"I think it's time we go, boss. There might be more of those things around. Don't think these old knees can take any more surprises for today." Raul said as he went to rub his knees, trying to make a point.
"We should go in there." Maria pointed toward the tunnel near them, "We could learn where these things came from, how this place even exists. What if we could learn how to grow plants like this elsewhere? Is that something we could really afford to pass up?"
Maria did no wait for a reply. She put her boots back on, got up and headed for the tunnel. She knew the others would follow her. They always did. | ecffedb59a1d4647a6774eb10df77a71 | ['0479b93ee0ab4357bacb25e86e432493'] | He didn't need to. When he looked though the scope again, he saw the girl and Jeannie May walking down the road in front of his post. The girl put on his beret. Without any hesitation, he pulled the trigger. Jeannie May's head was blown off in a shower of blood and brains. The girl did not seem to mind. She even turned and spat on the body then drug it over a nearby hill out of easy sight of any passer-bys. Not long after, the door to his post swung open.
"How did you know?" He asked her.
She did not reply. Now that she was close up, he could tell that her already pale skin was even more pale, her eyes looked red, like she had been crying, and she didn't even so much as glance up at him. Instead, she just handed him a piece of paper in silence. Not a good sign.
"They would keep paper work." He said at last.
She just nodded. "You want some space, ya know, before you read that?" she said with a small voice.
He didn't answer. He was already half way though the note. Unborn child. He was going to vomit, or pass out, or.. or..
"You... knew. You... read this?" He said is half anger half dismay.
"Please, Boone, don't be angry! I had to make sure, didn't I? I couldn't very well bring the wrong person on a death march!" Her words were fast and pleading, "I had to read it. I.. wish I didn't but I had to. I am so sorry. I will just leave you alone. I have to get some sleep anyways. I am heading out about mid afternoon tomorrow."
"You'll die. I should go with you." The words left his mouth without his permission.
She started at him for a moment, then, with the same small smile she had given him earlier, nodded, and headed down the stairs once again.
2. What a Stick in the Mud
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Maria and Boone are on their way to the REPCONN Test Facility. Boone finds out that Maria is just winning everything she does. Maria decides Boone needs to learn to laugh.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Ok so, there is chapter is mostly dialogue a small potion of the Come Fly With Me quest line. (Small spoilers for it)
>
> So proud of a joke I make XD You'll just have to wait and see.
It wasn't quite noon and the newly formed duo were on their way. Another miserable, hot, day in the Mojave. Maria was excited to have a company on the road. She didn't much like the idea of traveling alone, especially after what had happened to her the last time she did. Boone was a much better shot than her, of that she was one hundred percent sure. Hell, maybe he would show her how to shoot. For now though, on to the REPCONN facility to clear out some ghouls for that other soldier guy.
"So, you're not even going to ask where we are going?" She prodded. She looked behind her when she heard no reply, "Not even a little bit curious?... Ok... well we are going to the RECONN facility to clear out the ghouls there for... what was his name? Manny. Ya, that's it. Manny. He has some information for me on the guy who, oh, I didn't tell you did I? I was shot in the head and I'm after the guys who did it. Ok, so Manny has info on him and he won't give it to me unless we clear out those ghouls."
As far as she could tell, Boone had heard her but he made no attempts to reply. He just stared at her from behind those ridiculous sun glasses. Whatever.
"Maria." she stated.
"Hmm?" was all she got in return.
"I didn't tell you my name, it's Maria."
Nothing.
"Just thought it would be good for you to know, considering we're traveling together."
Nothing.
They were about to the facility when Boone ducked behind an old car. Maria kept on without noticing he was trying to get her attention. She just walked forward not even bother to respond to the snipers hand movements to get her to follow him.
"Maria..." he hissed. "Maria...Maria!"
"Hmm?.. OH" she ducked down next to him, "Umm, what are we doing?"
In disbelief he just looked over at the woman next to him. "Getting an idea of what we are dealing with?"
"So, I should get my gun ready?" she asked.
"Yes."
Maria pulled out a very old 10mm pistol and held it loosely at her side. "Ok, ready."
"Is that it? That is what you are planing on assaulting an entire building full of hostile feral ghouls with? Do you at least have a good amount of amo?" He asked in disbelief.
"Oh hold on.. I have... five clips."
"That's it?! You want to go in there, with a beat up 10mm and five clips on amo. You have no other weapons? Nothing? Holy shit." Boone was in shock. When he said the other night that should would die without him, he didn't know just how right he was until this moment.
"Oh I do have something else in my pack... but I'm not a big fan of it... hold on." She threw he pack down and started to rummage though it, "Oh look! A couple grenades...hmm should probably have those somewhere safer than my pack... Ah! Here it is." She pulled out a Ripper and beamed at him. "See, not JUST a 10mm." |
ff476b83c89241b39f7ffa39f63462c2 | ['04b084be746a4b5c86d660ea3540137a'] | but memories are the only thing left.
and if you let them rest, they start to fade
[the desolation]
I can’t remember her scent, I hate that
when we slept together, she would keep holding me close and id tell her
“I love your scent” and she would laugh
and I’d put my head close to hers and close my eyes and repeat it
and she would feel embarrassed but she would hug me closer and kiss me
[the violence]
hah
she always complained i smelt like sweat and blood and alcohol that some fucking idiot would have thrown at the ring and smoke
and “god, man, go fucking shower i’m going to die because of the pollution you leave behind”
and i would punch her in the shoulder and sometimes we could start arguing about it.
i don’t have cute memories of her
just those things, just violence.
[the desolation]
I can’t stop thinking now
did you know she gave me her childhood books?
the same I read when I’m sad
it’s the only thing left from her
and I’m covering them on tears as usual
[the violence]
i had –have– a ring.
a silver ring
but it broke.
and i can’t bring myself to repair it because i feel like if i do it, she will fade because i cut they last thread i had with her.
when you repair something is the new beginning of that repaired thing.
i don’t want a new beginning, i just want an ending,
I just want fire again.
[the desolation]
i hate the feeling
the chest, aching
[the violence]
longing for something that was and can’t be anymore.
[the desolation]
it’s painful
[the violence]
like you’ve grow thorn where your heart belonged and they’re making their way out through your sternum
[the desolation]
yes
you writers always have the words
I would call it
my chest is trying to explode but it can’t because it’s a chest
[the violence]
HAHAJSH
you’re so dumb.
[the desolation]
yeah
[the violence]
i feel like i’m about to implode. i will collapse softly and i’ll be consumed by myself
everything will tear itself from its place and seek a new home deep inside, like a miniaturized black hole that will disappear with a little tendril of weak smoke, without causing further damage
[the desolation]
more like that
look, I’m gonna pay you
so when people ask me about things, you’ll answer
[the violence]
if you pay i’m willingly to do it. i wont say no to money
[the desolation]
hahaha
I’m… I’m so tired
I can’t think
and my chest is doing everything you described
[the violence]
go to sleep.
everything hurts less sleeping
[the desolation]
yeah,, gdnight
[the violence]
goodnight to you too.
14. the calm.
Darim stood in front of Enea dressed in black. His shoulders were covered in white from the snowfall outside. Enea didn’t look impressed at all by his sudden apparition, but he let him inside of his home nevertheless. Darim thanked God for small mercies. Enea could have just slammed the door in his face without a hint of regret.
Darim followed him to the kitchen where tea has heating up. While the other boy was at his cooking, he tried to calm down. He had a lot of things to say; he had even prepared a speech to make Enea understand, to…
“You can’t love him!” Darim snapped.
Enea looked at him with his blank stare, a silent why, a silent I don’t care about anything you have to say, a silent I already made up my mind.
“He is a murderer,” Darim said, lowering his voice.
Enea shrugged a shoulder.
“So what?” he asked softly. “We all are”.
15. the white flowers.
there was something about her
that made me think of
white flowers
in autumn
a seashell white
like an ancient innocence.
a ghost white
like a shattered soul, the stare of an iceberg against the ocean or
a broken white
like a lonely note or the feathers of a swan.
the burning ribcage of a star and behind
the darkness of its beating heart.
but supernovas are colorful, not plain white.
and her skin was tan.
and her eyes were green.
and her laugh was like an Indian market, vibrant and alive.
but there was something about her
that made me think of white flowers
in autumn, in the fall.
maybe it was because
she feared death
as
she feared life.
maybe her skin was pale
and her eyes were black.
her laugh was nonexistent unless you ripped it from her throat.
her skin could be yellow-ish, maybe wet earth dark.
and her eyes, bright blue or deep brown
and she liked to dance, to paint, to stay quiet or to scream out loud.
her name could have been Haeun
Kabira
Diana, Elena, Katrina, Yasmin, Theda if you want.
and perhaps she didn’t have a name at all.
but there was something about her,
white flowers and a scent
that made me think of
bandages, railroads and autumn rain.
16. the tombstone.
The tombstone was covered in moss and lichen but the engraved letters were still there. Erosion had faded their edges and made them soft to the touch, almost unreadable, but they were there.
And even if they weren’t, he wouldn’t care. He didn’t know who was buried there and, honestly, it wasn’t something that worried him. Dead people couldn’t do any harm.
He was there because he needed to think and cemeteries were calm enough to do that. So when the other boy appeared, he didn’t pay attention. He was there at 1:03 am. so anyone could. They just had to jump over the fence.
He lifted the cigarette to his lips again and made sure his jacket was still over the headstone with the other hand. The moon was on its last quarter and its light was unusually bright. | 6c8e5925345e4b229705d6f6ce118487 | ['04b084be746a4b5c86d660ea3540137a'] | 1. he has been expelled from the underworld. a knight wearing a dark armor decorated with flowers. in his waist hangs a bag with Charon’s bones and a worthless crown.
2. the palace is golden and warm when he arrives. the full moon asks him to turn back, _go away_. but the prince sees him from his balcony. _mercenaries keep their words_ , the knight says.
3. god's flesh tastes like dark wine and bread after dying of inanition. their bones are hollow, he can see the universe through them. Pan smiles and plays the flute with them.
4. he should _kill_ him, not kiss him.
5. the palace is in ruins.
14. day 13; wealth.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> "it's curious how money and art have been always related between them, isn't it? and to blood, of course. quite curious, indeed."
wealth
/welθ/
_noun_
1. Arabic songs and Indian spices. sandlands and the Ganges. the sun, always the burning sun. children's carefree laughter, temples full of gods and ancientness. _we are the free children of the earth_ , they sing _, we will be free again_.
2. ornate palaces and obscure colors. royalty and the crown jewels. dark blue, dark green, dark red frock coats. excellence, neoclassical culture and intrigues. Spanish waltz, powdered wigs. we will never leave the 18th century. ( _the king is dead, long live the_ _t r a i t o r_ )
3. his laugh flows dark and rich, like honey over polished ebony. Blood wine, hidden desires, slow burning fire. the boy slips into his dorm wearing a collar and a hidden knife. he knows, he knows.
4. masterpieces and gastronomy. blueberries, blackthorns and naked branches. shadowy candles and jackson pollock’s paintings. meat, meat, _meat is murder_. he’s a murderer. he will rip your heart out.
15. day 14; night.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> "the sun goes away because it already has seen too much pain."
night
/naɪt/
_noun_
1. **starry** ; moonflowers bloom under the influence of stars as the ghost of your happiness– _of your memories_ –walks next to you. you hear the fireworks, the laughter and her beating heart under your ear. the trees speak Latin _. i will kiss her again, i will kiss her again._
2. **sleepless** ; the stars disappear into the soft undertones of the new-coming morning. you’ve been awake all night, trying to decipher their mysterious twinkle. the skin under your eyes is heavy and you feel it rolling down, slow but surely. _will you cry again, will you cry again._
3. **endless** ; silver pale eyes look back to their past. who was him before the fire?
4. **party** ; the polluted sky over the city shines orange under your gaze. up there even the moon has fled. why would anyone want to live in this dystopic present? the music blasts through your bones. you’re ready to jump. will you ever feel alive again?
16. day 15; cuervo.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> "Raise crows and they will peck your eyes out. Educate them and they will rip out the eyes of those who try to kill them."
cuervo
/'kwer.βo/
_noun_
1. their voices are raspy and strident. they’re spots of ink against the snow. their shiny eyes watch you with a homicidal desire born out of their need. you lay dead upon the white cold sheet and they attack. they will find their home into your flesh, opening it with claws and beaks.
2. the knightmare draws a cynical smile when he looks up. Odin lays dead at his feet, his cold, blue eye fixated into the void. Huginn and Muninn try to watch with both eyes the deicide. he leaves the corpse for them to eat.
3. _they bring death, bad luck and plagues_ , say the mortals, _fear them, they’re cursed._ they fly up, up into the sky and lands over the shoulder of Apollo. he looks into the distance, sad. _but he loves us_ , squawk the ravens, _Icarus let us rest into his ribcage_.
4. _Nunca más nunca más nunca más nunca más._ the seas turn black. the poet dies.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Cuervo means crow in Spanish.
17. day 16; trans.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "you can hide forever in the closet if you want to, but monsters can get to you there too."
trans
/trænz/
_adjective_
1. body as prison, made out of flesh and bone. skin streched as walls, ribs as bars; scars are the only way to see the light. words tie your tongue and they make you swallow liquid gold. _i’m pretty i’m pretty, i’m free_.
2. the clock ticks in front of your eyes. cat got your tongue. _next station_ , anounces a femenine voice, _daydreaming and selfhate_.
3. a door and an abyss. needles and morphine. sore throat from screaming. [you’ve been in hell for six years and two hundred and ninety days.] you’re tired, it was a mistake. a mistake, a mistake, a mistake.
4. _don’t cry_ , they spit, _we are suffering more than you do_. But then fireworks and music explode and you’re surrounded by your brothers and sisters _. i’m a mistake_ , you say. _we love you_ , they answer.
18. day 17; crown.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> "it's not the object itself but the false belief that it makes worthier to whom wears it."
crown
/kraʊn/
_noun_
1. **worthless** ; the ruins of an ancient civilization lays at his feet. reflections of centuries of glory and honor try to stop him from keep going. but his prince wears white while sleeping in his arms. the dragon looks at him. _a kiss and you will be king._ |
32699c2433f841caa5e53e393e3fb45e | ['04c6de77cf194f19bd07be483a00b11c'] | “We weren’t fighting,” Thomas began to explain, then stopped. He didn’t know how to explain what they had been doing.
But James wouldn’t just stop there. “Then what have you been up to?”
“I … kinda told him about Martha? We talked about the accident.” Again, Thomas could only look to the floor in front of him.
James was silent for some moments, then he pressed his lips together and nodded. “Good. It is about time that you talk to _someone_ about it, even if that someone is Hamilton.”
The taller man chuckled softly. “I didn’t know you dislike him so much.”
“I don’t,” James responded. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”
“Aww, don’t be, Jemmy. I’ll be okay.”
A soft look flickered across James’ face, and he smiled slightly. “I hope so.”
15. Chapter 15
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I am so sorry for the late update. I didn't manage to finish this chapter earlier. I hope you'll still enjoy it.
> Also, important stuff going on in the endnote, so please make sure to read that!
Alexander bit his lip and hesitated shortly before he opened the door to his and John’s caravan. As soon as he stepped inside, he was tackled to the ground.
“Wah! What’s going on?!”, he screamed. When he looked up, his eyes met those of John Laurens.
“Alex! Where were you?” The man pulled Alex close, hugging him tightly. “We were worried when you were gone for so long!”
“We?” Alex looked up, seeing Laf and Hercules directly behind John. They both looked extremely relieved. Alexander smiled sheepishly. “Oh, you’re all here? I’m sorry if I worried you.”
“Worried? _Mon ami_ , you just disappeared for hours! We called you over and over again.” Lafayette sat down at the table, pointing at the phone that lay on the table.
“I left it in my bag; I think it’s turned off.” The short immigrant stood up and sat down next to Lafayette, looking at his other friends in expectation. “Are you going to keep standing there?”
Reluctantly, they both sat down. “Man …” Hercules sighed. “You really worried us.”
“And I said I’m sorry. I was talking to Thomas …”
John raised his eyebrows. “So he’s ‘Thomas’ now? When did that happen?”
Alexander could feel his cheeks getting hot. “U-uhm … I don’t know. Thomas, Jefferson, whatever. He’s a dick.”
“And what did he say?”, Lafayette asked. “What did you two talk about?”
Alex bit his lip as he felt the smile fall from his face. “Martha.”
“Who?” John and Hercules exchanged confused looks, but Laf’s face was instantly flooded in sorrow.
“Oh. Poor Thomas. He must miss her so much.” They sighed deeply. “I miss her as well. She was a true angel.”
“She sounded … like a really good person,” Alexander mumbled. “I think it did him some good to talk about it, though.” He shrugged awkwardly. “It helped me to talk about it when my mother died.”
The caravan was filled with tense silence. After some time, Hercules broke it. “So what now? Is he going to stay here?”
“I don’t think so,” Alex responded, shaking his head. “He’s going back to France. But who cares.”
Despite his words, Alexander knew the answer to that question. He cared. Even though he didn’t want to admit it, it drove him crazy that Thomas would just leave again. He didn’t know why, but he just wanted to perform with the man again. Taking their bows together had felt entirely different, and just right in a way that he couldn’t describe.
Lafayette hummed softly and bit their lip in thought. “Who knows? Thomas might just surprise you. He has always had a thing for the dramatic.”
*
**VIVE LA RÉVOLUTION**
**frenchfry** : thomas? i need to talk to you
**frenchfry** : don’t ignore me
**frenchfry** : I see that you read that
**frenchfry** : gonna keep texting you
**frenchfry** : thomas
**frenchfry** : thomas
**frenchfry** : thomas
**macnfrance** : What?
**frenchfry** : thomas
**frenchfry** : oh, you finally responded
**frenchfry** : did you really tell alex about martha? I’m so proud of you
**macnfrance** : Did anyone ever tell you that your texting is really annoying? Like, don’t write such short messages, and how about you use some proper spelling and punctuation marks?
**macnfrance** : But yes, we talked about Martha. Why?
**frenchfry** : okay so first, my
**frenchfry** : messages
**frenchfry** : are
**frenchfry** : awesome
**frenchfry** : and second, that is really good. it is important to talk about such stuff, and you never talked to anyone of us
**frenchfry** : not even James
**frenchfry** : (don’t even try to lie about it, I talked to him)
**macnfrance** : Fine, okay. Was that all you wanted?
**frenchfry** : no, I also wanted to ask a favor of you
**macnfrance** : … what is it?
*
Thomas leaned his head against the window of the car and closed his eyes. The sun was shining too brightly, making the inside of his eyelids glow a light red. The glass felt cold against his skin, but it felt good. Something to focus on, something to ground him. The air conditioning was cold against his hands, and he tucked them in underneath his arms.
“The traffic is good today,” James said from the driver’s seat. “We should get to the airport in time.”
Thomas just hummed in response, focusing on the glass against his skin. He only noticed that he had dozed off when James spoke again.
“Are you going to come back someday?”
“Will you be mad if I don’t?”, he mumbled, opening one eye and glancing at his best friend.
James had his sleeves rolled back behind his elbows, and his right hand gently lay in his lap, while the other held onto the steering wheel. He frowned slightly. “I will be mad if you stop answering my emails again.” | 4d6ea606a7e849dcbb1e1f826764c5c1 | ['04c6de77cf194f19bd07be483a00b11c'] | “You bought supplies for your period from me, remember?” When James smiled at him, Thomas couldn’t read any malevolence from his look, so he took that as a good sign.
Swallowing down the anxiety churning in his stomach, he bit his lip. “Yeah. I kinda forgot for a moment. But I’m not … you know … not on hormones. Not yet,” he added quickly. “It’s not that easy to get the prescription because my parents support me, like, not at all, and so I can’t really afford a good doctor, and the one I’m seeing right now wants to give me T, but there’s a problem with the contributions my health insurance pays, and my cousin is trying to help me out, but I don’t want to accept all their money since they already support me so much with paying the study fees here until I get my grandfather’s trust fund when I turn 21. Maybe then, I can afford to go on T, but until then …” He drifted off, realizing how much he had just rumbled. “S-sorry.”
“It’s fine,” James responded with a soft smile. “It’s good for you to let all this out. And I know that health insurance can be a struggle, trust me.” He took another sip before continuing. “I’m majoring in a preparation program for med school, so we talked about some of these issues there.”
“You want to become a doctor?” Impressed by this fact, the man leaned forward in interest.
Nodding, James continued. “Always wanted to. What about you?”
“Oh, I … don’t really know yet, actually.” Thomas shrugged. “I first want to finish my degrees here, and maybe earn some money along the way. But I actually thought about teaching … I like children.” He smiled softly. “My cousin says I should go into politics, but I don’t think so. I hate public speaking.”
“I could see you teaching. You’re surely great with kids.”
“Thanks. I really do hope so …”
James nodded, biting his lip. “So. You said you’d start hormones with 21, probably? How old are you now?”
“I turned 20 in April, so ten months to go.” A warm feeling filled his stomach when he thought about the fact that he would be financially independent in such a short time. “How old are you? 19?” Somehow, James looked younger than Thomas’ other friends, but maybe that also came from the – still adorable, cute, very-much-huggable – chubbiness of his face.
“I turned 18 in March.”
“Oh. But that means that you must have started university with …” Thomas frowned, unsure of himself all of a sudden.
James grinned. “16, actually. I skipped two grades in school; one in elementary school, and then another one in high school.”
“Holy crap, I’m on a date with a genius,” Thomas said before he could stop himself.
Laughing, James reached across the table to pat his hand. “You’ll get over it. Don’t worry.”
Thomas also smiled, a little ashamed of his reaction. Before he knew it, he turned his hand around and took hold of James’ fingers. In this moment, they both stilled, looking at each other. There was a slight blush spreading across James’ cheeks, and Thomas could feel his face burning. But when he wanted to withdraw his hand, James held onto it gently.
“I like the fact that you recognized this as a date,” he said eventually. “And I would very much like to take you on another one soon.”
Thomas’ skin tingled where it made contact with James’ soft fingers, and after hesitating for a short moment, he began to stroke the smaller hand with his thumb. “Actually, I think I have to decline.” Before James could draw back his hand with a surprised look, Thomas tangled their fingers together and held onto them. “Because _I_ would like to take _you_ out on a date, next.”
“Oh …” A look of relieve washed over James’ face, and he nodded. “Alright. I would love that.” |
0e3aef03cbc44546a1893667f2ff5fd2 | ['04ca92374aab4c6ab46a1d1dc66fd03d'] | Except it was Tyler now. There wasn’t a they, was there? _ No, _ Tyler felt his thoughts screaming. Josh was still there, and he was telling him to go out to the rain. So he did. He sprung out of bed, and ran down the stairs directly into his backyard and just kept running until he collapsed in the middle of the ground, falling to his knees. He was screaming, or what felt like screaming. His throat was sore and he was soaking in the rain and he didn’t want to move.
_ “IT’S NOT FAIR _ ” he roared at the clouds, _ “WHY HIM,” _ he clawed at the grass, fists deep in the dirt. “ _ WHY NOT ME _ ” he sobbed.
But the most heartbreaking was when he whispered, “I miss him” to the air around him and thunder crackled that moment. Maybe God was upset too.
At this point, Tyler’s parents had noticed and ran outside to him, his father picking him up and carrying him to the bathroom and sat him in the tub but Tyler couldn’t move. He allowed himself to be carried as the tears slipped down his cheeks. His parents were facing each other, unsure of what to do for their eleven year old son. They left him towels, a new set of clothes, and kissed his forehead. His mother turned back to look at him quickly as she left, and seeing him in tears, she started to cry herself as her husband placed his hand on her back and walked out of the bathroom, half shutting the door behind them. Tyler could hear his father comforting her, so he turned the shower on to cover up the sound of her crying. He was still in his mud and grass stained clothing but none of it mattered.
Josh was dead.
* * *
The next day, Tyler’s parents woke him and told him to get dressed. He did just that, barely putting thought into the motions. He felt robotic, but what else did he have to do? He had zoned out in the car, counting the clouds as they passed. The sky was too blue, the sun too bright after the storm that came yesterday. He couldn’t bare to look up anymore, it was hurting his eyes so he turned his eyes to the road, starting to recognize the street signs as they approached Josh’s house. It was only a few blocks away, and suddenly Tyler felt his chest seizing up and not being able to breathe. His mother turned to face him from the front seat, gently resting her palm on his knee, “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay.” But it didn’t matter, he didn’t hear her over the sound of his heart threatening to fall out of his chest from beating so hard.
As they approached the door, Mr. and Mrs. Dun opened it, waiting for them after hearing them pull up the driveway. Apparently the parents had arranged this for Tyler. The others remained in the family room as Mrs. Dun walked him up to Josh’s bedroom, standing behind Tyler she whispered to no one in particular,
“I couldn’t bring myself to clean out his room- not yet.” Sniffling, she continued, “I know he’d have wanted you to have some time alone.” She turned and went back downstairs, as Tyler was left there counting her footsteps and starting at the door he couldn’t bring himself to open.
After what felt like hours, he opened the door, shivering at how cold the doorknob was beneath his sweaty palms. His heart was racing too fast, his mouth was dry, and all the tears he had been holding back calm flooding down when he was hit with the overwhelming scent of _ Josh. _ He couldn’t describe the mixture, but it had hints of fresh grass, chocolate chip, and bubble gum. The baseball caps lining the wall caught his eye first, except, his little league cap was missing. Glancing away quickly, Tyler’s eyes landed on the drum set Josh had received for Christmas. Taking a few steps forward, he felt himself sinking onto the mattress and staring up at the ceiling. There were so many glow in the dark stars hanging up- they had hung them up together, he remembered. That’s when he broke his arm because he fell off the ladder Josh was supposed to be holding. Josh was the first one to sign his cast, of course, and he felt so bad for it, he carried Tyler’s backpack for two whole weeks.
With his breath was caught in his throat, Tyler managed to sit himself up out of the bed. Finding some NASA posters on the wall above Josh’s desk- Josh always did dream of being an astronaut… There were still rolled up posters on his desk he hadn’t hung up yet, he got them at a field trip to the science center earlier in the year, so Tyler moved to pick them up- he wanted to hang them in his own room.
When he picked up the posters, there was a stack of papers on the desk, with a post-it, _ “remember to give these to Tyler! He’d like them!” _ scratched across in Josh’s hurried print. They were wedged between all the astronomy books Josh had saved up his allowance to buy. There was no use in reading what the papers were, because Tyler’s tears only caused the ink to run. | 10ffcf8da2494b04b3ce2dc414ca5010 | ['04ca92374aab4c6ab46a1d1dc66fd03d'] |
1. 1
**Author's Note:**
> Based on the cover of Regional at Best.
> I'm sorry if I ruin the album for you. <3
They’d been friends since the middle of second grade. Ever since Ms. Shelley had paired them up for the science fair, they’d been inseparable. They spent more time laughing and talking than actually working on the project, but their solar system replica was the hit of the show, so they proudly accepted their first place ribbons, and instead of fighting who would take home the replica, they decided to share it. Plus, it’d give them an excuse to hang out more. It remained this way for a few months until they decided to just make another, better version.
And gosh, it was fun. There was paint in Josh’s hair, Tyler’s hands were basically glued together, and they were rolling around on the floor, laughing so hard, they almost broke their replica because they were shaking so hard with happiness. They quickly abandoned the project on the kitchen table and got themselves cleaned up.
Now they were upstairs laying down on Tyler’s floor, just talking about space. Josh wanted to be an astronaut when he grew up, the first man on Mars, plus everything was different in space, it was easier to float and there was no rush to do anything. He also thought the stars would be a lot cooler up close. Tyler said he wanted to be a doctor, he wanted to help people feel better, because he didn’t like when people were hurt or sick, but he didn’t like hospitals very much.
And for second graders, they talked about their future with all the conviction adults were lacking.
Those two, they did everything together. Of course, they had other friends, but there was something different- _special_ \- about their connection. Sleepovers twice a month, they went to the library after school three days a week to do their homework, even the teachers knew to pair them up together, or else it wouldn’t be a pretty class. They protected each other during dodgeball in gym, sat together at lunch, and always switched snacks, pudding cups for fruit snacks and bags of chips. Even finishing each other’s sentences at times, or perfectly content to sit in silence with one another.
They rolled through elementary school like nothing could stop them. Third and fourth grade passed without incident, relatively so. The class pet frog that “accidentally” got out, Josh standing up for Tyler when he was nervous giving his presentation about his family tree, pushing each other on the swings at the park, holding each other up on the monkey bars, playing ice cream on the slide at recess, the times Josh would talk him through his nightmares, or Tyler would listen to Josh’s wishes. All the silly times they “made music” in the garage, banging on old trash cans and pretend singing into the rake instead of actually doing any chores until their parents yelled at them to get back to work.
The spring of that year rolled around, Little League tryouts came through, and Tyler’s father encouraged him to try out, but he wouldn’t do it without Josh.
Whether by sheer luck that they both made the team, or the coach was smart enough to bring both of them on together, they made the cut. Practice was every Thursday and Friday after school; perfect for them to go over for sleepovers right afterwards.
By the end of the spring, the team had made it into the championships; the best in their region. Tyler and Josh had climbed the ranks, and became dedicated to it. They were both a bit less shy and even hung out with the team on occasion. Needless to say, they had won the championship so the team was headed over to the local pizzeria to celebrate, it was just a block over. They decided to carpool with some friends, and Josh and Tyler had taken the backseat so they could sit next to each other, not to have their conversation interrupted.
The car was giddy and loud and full of laughter and reenactments of the final inning so no one noticed the truck.
Not until it barreled through the stop sign.
It hit the van at a t-bone, directly at the backseat.
Everything after that was a blur of hospital floors, fluorescent lights, antiseptic smells, parents pacing up and down in the emergency room, tears everywhere, blood stained clothes, angry swears and shouts. The beeping of heart monitors and IV drips, wheels of beds being rushed down hallways. Questions were flying down the hall as they turned into shouts, until the curtains were drawn and the doctor stepped out, “Sir, I assure you, we’re doing all we can. But right now we need to get your son into the OR immediately. We will keep you updated with as much as we know when we have it.”
More hours, the ticking of the clocks drove the adults into each other's’ arms, filling the entire waiting room of the ICU with a party unprepared to grieve.
No one said anything but they all knew. Josh and Tyler had taken the most impact when the truck came at the van at 70 m.p.h., sending the car screeching to a halt half a block away, denting the doors in, and no seat belt would have prevented those injuries.
* * *
It was the dragging of curtain rings across the divider that caused all the heads to snap up, only to see a clipboard in hand as the senior clinician pulled off their face mask to speak.
“I’m sorry, your son… The injuries he sustained were too much for him to recover; we lost him during operation. We did our best to revive him, but his heart gave out and he died on the operating table…. I’m sorry for your loss.” |
acaca178dac24701a68032555160b9c8 | ['04d308b17f8b48e28871c2736e1a9414'] | “The scent is different to each person, according to what attracts them the most,” he said. And Hinata leaned toward the cauldron, trying to catch any scent that the potion emitted.
“Hmm … I can smell salonpas—“ he turned his head to Tsukishima, “it’s some kind of pain reliefs in Muggle world, I used to play volleyball a lot so I grew familiar with the smell,” he explained, even though Tsukishima didn’t ask.
“And I can smell katsudon! Ah, now I’m hungry…” he continued, Tsukishima couldn’t be clearer that he was not interested in this but Hinata ignored it.
But then Hinata frowned while still examining the smell.
“Hmm? I didn’t know I’m attracted to cinnamon….”
Tsukishima, eyes glinting, turned his head to the red head.
“Cinnamon?” he asked. _No, it couldn’t be…._
“I don’t know, maybe not, but I’m kinda sure it’s cinnamon,” Hinata said, shaking his head. And then Hinata jumped, seemed to realize something, he snatched Tsukishima’s sleeve and sniffed it.
Tsukishima watched the short boy, half annoyed, half amused.
“It’s you!” Hinata pointed his finger to Tsukishima.
“It’s me what?”
“It’s your perfume! No wonder I only smelled it faintly. Please refrain yourself from using too much of it,” he said.
Now Tsukishima was sure he was about to lose his sanity. Different from Hinata who didn’t really understand how Amortentia smell worked, Tsukishima understood fairly well that Hinata just smelled his perfume from the cauldron, not from him, because he himself didn’t spray anything to his school robe that day.
‘Dear lord … why?’
Finally understood that he, Tsukishima Kei, unconsciously attracted to Hinata and the same went for the red head, Tsukishima didn’t know what to do. Should he be happy because—how should he say it—the feelings mutual? Or should he go to the hospital wing after this to ask for a remedy for insanity?
This, however, explained a lot why Tsukishima felt something weird when he met Hinata six years ago, apart from the feeling of constant annoyance, of course. Now that he remembered, he felt his stomach jerked and he felt something like butterflies swarming inside.
* * *
“Okay, time’s up. Mr. Kageyama, please kindly collect everyone’s and bring them to me.”
A black-haired boy from the Gryffindor lot stood up, collecting the parchments (only three of them, though) and brought them to the professor.
“Thanks. Okay class dismissed! Off you go.”
Tsukishima shoved his book back into his bag and slung it to his shoulder, started to walk out of the dungeon. Hinata did the same and caught up with the blond. Tsukishima sighed, head turning to the short boy.
“Come with me for a second,” he said. Hinata blinked and followed him.
Tsukishima lead him to a deserted corridor. He stopped, sighed again before turning his body to face Hinata.
**What should he say?**
_“Hey, I think I’m attracted to you and I know you too.”_
**No, that’s stupid. He’s not Kageyama.**
_“Hinata, from now on we shall be dating.”_
**What was even that? A command?**
_“Hey, I smelled your shampoo in the Amortentia and I know you smelled my perfume. Now according to the book, it is said that Amortentia emitted scents that would attract you the most. And thus I concluded that we are attracted to each other, even though I didn’t want to admit it, and as for now I shall pronounce us couple.”_
**What was he doing? Writing an essay?**
While Tsukishima seemed to be arguing with himself, Hinata just stood in front of him, head tilted, watching the blond fighting with his brain.
“Tsukishima?” he called, broke the silence between them that had lasted for at least five minutes.
Tsukishima seemed to have awoken from his thought, and now his eyes stared fixedly to the short boy in front of him. He took a deep breath, and said.
“You smelled my perfume.”
“Sorry?”
Hinata raised his eyebrow, apparently confused. Tsukishima wanted to bang his head on the nearest wall because he felt like he had become stupid as that sentence was not what he intended to say.
“I didn’t use my perfume today.”
“Huh? What are you—“
Tsukishima grabbed the shorter boy shoulder, talking at top speed.
“I-didn’t-use-my-perfume-yet-you-smelled-it-in-the-dungeon-that-means-you’re-attracted-to-me-and-so—“
“Whoa! Tsukishima, calm down! Honestly I barely caught anything you said just now!”
Hinata watched as Tsukishima closed his eyes and sighed.
“Okay. So, what did you say? You didn’t use your perfume today? And yet I smelled it in the dungeon?”
“Yes.”
“Um, … so?”
Tsukishima slapped his forehead.
“No good, it’s no use telling you all of this.”
“What?”
Tsukishima had made up his mind. He stared into Hinata’s round brown eyes.
“Come closer.”
“Huh?”
“I said come closer.”
Hinata didn’t know what had gotten into Tsukishima so he just obeyed.
“Then wha—“
Then everything seemed to happen so fast; Tsukishima bent down and kissed him, Hinata was dumbfounded for a while, and then the next thing he knew he slung his arms around the taller boy’s neck, pulling him closer. Tsukishima pushed him slowly to the wall, Hinata’s nose bumped against his glasses but he didn’t care. The only things he cared about for that time were Hinata’s lips, Hinata’s fluffy hair, Hinata’s slim waist, Hinata’s everything.
They broke apart after several moments; when Hinata felt his lungs screamed for oxygen, and Tsukishima felt his neck really hurt.
“So….” Hinata broke the silence, after not saying anything for a while, “Since when?” he asked.
“Six years ago, I think. But I just realized it today,” Tsukishima replied pretty casually. Now that his message had been safely delivered, he could be himself again.
“Okay….” Hinata paused, thinking, “I think dinner will start soon so why don’t we go straight to the Great Hall? I’m hungry. Hope they serve katsudon today.” Hinata grabbed the taller boy’s hand and started to drag him. Tsukishima snorted, but didn’t reject the hand.
“Good thinking.”
Then they walked to the Great Hall holding hands and made the whole school shocked to learn the truth that Gryffindor’s seeker started going out with Ravenclaw’s keeper. | 17dc42047b5949c7beef3af8f57f53de | ['04d308b17f8b48e28871c2736e1a9414'] | **Author's Note:**
> Haikyuu (c) Haruichi Furudate
“Oy, Shrimp.”
A hand, larger than his, landed on top of his head, softly patted him.
Hinata turned around just to see that the culprit was his fellow middle blocker plus self-proclaimed rival. Had had enough of his pranks, Hinata switched to _fight-or-flight_ mode at once. Furrowed his eyebrows and glared sharply at the lanky jerk.
“Whaddya want, Saltyshima?” he asked, putting up his guards. If he was to catch even the slightest twitch from Tsukishima, he would take flight at that exact moment.
Realized that the short boy looking alarmed, Tsukishima sighed.
“No need to put up your guards, idiot,” the blond said, “I was just going to wish you a happy birthday.”
Hinata’s eyes widened at once. _Did that jerk Tsukishima just wish him something?_
Apparently felt embarassed by his suspicions, Hinata scratched the back of his head nervously.
“Oh—well, sorry. That’s very nice of y—wait, TODAY IS NOT EVEN MY BIRTHDAY!”
Tsukishima burst into laughter.
“Of course. April Fool’s, Hinata! You might want to check your locker after this, who knows someone left you a present?”
Then he walked away.
Hinata cursed under his breath. Of course, that jerk wouldn’t be sooner wishing him happy birthday than Kageyama switched position to a libero. Still, he had to check his shoe locker to, at least, throw away whatever that Saltyshima put in there as a prank.
The moment he opened his locker, he was frozen on the spot.
This ... is a keychain?
Wait. No, it couldn’t be. This must be some kind of joke. No frickin’ way that jerk Tsukishima would give him something that wouldn’t bother him if he intended it as a prank.
Or ... did he?
Because no matter how Hinata looked at it, it’s just a plain keychain. A metal, crow-shaped one.
What had gotten into Tsukishima’s head, though? |
6d70e02599d64c6d91a4e615ceee38b1 | ['051ba3dbb543430bbe0642bf76555b78'] |
1. You're What
"You're what?..." Lydia was the first to recover. No surprise there. Everyone else's jaws were still getting to know the floor.
"Please don't make me say it again." Stiles whined. He had taken a seat on a near by chair after the confession.
"Son," The Sheriff said sounding scared and wary. "Please tell me you mean that you got Malia pregnant and not what we all think you mean."
Stiles shook his head looking scared, embarrassed, and ashamed. He hid his face in his hands to hide from his packs faces.
"Did you get another girl pregnant?" Malia asked. She was angry and was fighting the instinct to rip her now ex-boyfriend's head off. But Stiles just shook his head that was still in his hands. Derek, who was standing next to the younger man, placed a gentle hand on the back of Stiles' neck.
"He means that HE'S pregnant." Derek said to the pack. He might not be the Alpha but he does still feel like a leader at times. And what better time than when the True Alpha's best friend was pregnant with his cousin and his other cousin's little brother/sister.
"How is that even possible!?" Liam asked. He sounded scared and so very confused. Not unlike the rest of the pack.
"We don't know." Stiles said into his hands, still shaking his head.
Melissa turned to Stiles and Derek looking at where the older was comforting the younger. "So... Is it Derek's?"
"WHAT!!!" Both mens heads shot to Melissa looking so horrified by just the thought!
"NO!" "GOD, NO!!!" They said at the same time. Even though this is really serious, Melissa couldn't keep the smile off her face at their reactions.
"I would never..." "It's Peter's-" Again at the same time. Except this confession set a complete silence in the room. Everyone bug eyed and grossed out.
"Shit!" Stiles' hid his face in his hands and turned into Derek like he could just hide forever in the older man's abdomen.
"IT'S WHOS!!!" Came the first words that Scott said that night after the first confession. He was not Stiles best friend right now. No, the glowing red eyes and sharp fangs were all Alpha. His roar had even the humans baring their necks.
"peter's..." The word said so quietly that only Derek could have barely picked it up if they were all human. But the Alpha heard. Scott was furious he didn't even know at whom but he saw red and roared a commanding and fearsome roar that shook the pack to their very bones.
"How did this happen!? When did this happen!? What could you have been thinking!-"
"Sc- Scott" Came the timid voice of Kira from, what sounded to the Alpha, so far away. At her fear ridden voice Scott turned to her and saw her shaking and afraid. He didn't like when Kira was scared and he wanted to get rid of the threat that was scaring his mate.
Looking around Scott saw Liam and Malia now kneeling on the floor not looking at anyone, their necks bared at an uncomfortable angle. Lydia, his mom, and the Sheriff where on the other side of the room all huddled together like that would protect them; only the Sheriff looking at his direction but never at him. Then Derek and Stiles. Derek was glaring at the top of his head, throat bared but still watching his Alpha. Stiles was a shivering mess in his arms still sitting in the chair but hands tightly coaled in the elders shirt and face hidden from view. His back was tense like he was expecting to be hit.
It all came to Scott at once. They were all scared of him!
"Scott..." Kira asked again. Scott's Alpha features slowly disappeared and the young man looked equal bits ashamed and freighted. "Scott?"
The Alpha looked at the fox before rushing out of the door and hopping on his bike and taking off. Kira screamed his name again but he was gone.
Kira came in and saw everyone calming down but looking worriedly at the door that Scott just left from.
"He just needs to cool down." Stiles' voice sounded like a shot ringing out in the tense quiet in the room when really it was mumbled like he was scared of his own words. Even when his best friend yells in his face, and looked like he was one word from lashing out, Stiles still knows Scott better than the Alpha's own mother at times.
Everyone stayed quiet for a long time after that. All were afraid to talk after their Alpha's outburst. Finally Malia had to ask.
"How did you end up pregnant with my father's kid?" She had spit out the word father like she was saying the most vile thing.
Stiles sighed but knew he had to tell them what happened that night. It was going to be so embarrassing to admit to a one night stand with his girlfriend's (well now ex-girlfriends) dad... In front of his dad and ex-girlfriend! 'Dear God, how is this my life?'
2. You're What
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The night Peter hijacks Stiles jeep. This is just the memory.
The woods were silent except for a banged up blue jeep that was driving down the road. Stiles was a few hours outside of beacon hills. He and his father were at a fellow sheriffs house that trained with Me. Stilinski before being transferred out to a neighboring county that needed some more people. | 589f8d4b3d5e4a0bbc405e089a69e765 | ['051ba3dbb543430bbe0642bf76555b78'] | "No dreams?" Stiles asked, voice accidentally reveling the hope in his question. "Uh... Sure, Peter." He turned to Lydia, gently reaching for her hand he brought it up as he leaned down and placed a sweel peck to her knuckles. The female knew her cheeks were turning a slight pink. "Thank you for keeping me company, my lady." Had Lydia been looking anywhere other then Stiles' honey eyes, she would have seen how Peter's eyes flashed violently and narrowed. His mouth tugging into a frown.
"No, t-thank you, Stiles." Lydia studdered, then huffed at herself for suffering. Stiles tried to cover his laugh with a cough but couldn't hide his grin.
"You should perhaps get some rest Lydia." Stiles said kindly as he dropped her hand and stood up to his full height. Which, Lydia just realized, is taller then her. He waited for her to nod before turning to Peter. He was able to place his face back into his amused mask but still stiff as he lead Stiles away from the red headed girl. When he reached the staircase at the end of the hall he gental his hand on the silver banister and stopped.
"Oh, Miss. Matin, do please return to your room. I do not appreciate my geusta snooping around my home." Then slowly, step by step, walked down his stairs. Stiles turned to wave before following. His face carefully soft.
Feeling slightly embarrassed and upset Lydia did go back to her room and made sure to close the door before huffing and puffing her irritation away. A yawn interrupted her rant she was giving to the empty room. She crwaled back into the bed she was given still grumbling untill she finally rested her head down on her feathered pillow and closed her eyes. Her quiet even breathing telling anyone who entered that the young beauty was asleep.
**Author's Note:**
> This has been stuck in my head for a while so I wrote it out on paper, liked it, and decided to share it with you people. I was trying to get more details about her surroundings while making it feel like you are Lydia. I don't know if it worked so tell me in the comments.
>
> So, little background. I have this story in my head where Peter was making the start of a business that would make not only his family rich but last a really long time. When suddenly he got bit by this crazy Vampire that was just turned herself and she made Peter one too. He decides that this is the perfect way to make sure that his business lasts forever instead of handing it off to someone who might screw it up in the future.
>
> While hiring people he hired Stiles, a fresh out of school teen that is really excited to be working for the first time. By now the business is getting big and Peter has started thinking of making a few vampires to help him run the business forever along side him. Stiles is smart and finds out about his boss after about a year working there. Peter wants to turn him but Stiles isn't sure.
>
> After another year Stiles is going out and doing secret supernatural business stuff with Peter when a demon posses him. It's the Nogitsune. They try and get it out but at this time no one knows how. Anyone Peter finds tells him to kill the host before the demon realizes it's in danger and kills the host as it runs away. Peter refuses this option and looks for other ways. During all this he has strong magic users put Stiles in a magic sleep. But as we know the Nogitsune works with dreams and nightmares to control his host.
>
> Stiles and the Nogitsune get out of the spell and cause chaos. When finally subdued Peter finds a different spell that freezes the time around Stiles so he will not be tormented by the demon. From outaide forces that even Peter can not control, Nogitsune!Stiles excapes multiple times through the years.
>
> The last time before the beginning of this story I have in my head was when Kira's mom summoned the Nogitsune to kill everyone in the concentration camp she was in. Stiles and Peter help her fight the demon. When the Nogitsune leaves the host it was in instead of Miss. Yukimura capturing it in a jar it re-enters Stiles' body. He is then put to sleep once more.
>
> I like the story but I don't want to write it by myself. I want to get some help with some parts and to help me stay on track so it can be written with out people having to wait a year for another chapter. If anyone thinks they can do this tell me in the comments how to connect you and I'll check out your story's to see if I think we could work together. I may get multiple offers and may like multiple people so just a fare warning. I will put a Edit later that says who I think I want to write this with. |
3b22658c28a44561ae9fca9f22e51119 | ['052126fd282746a597fc78a9623871de'] | KoGAYne: okay okay
<>
Private chat between KoGAYne and Asexual Birb
KoGAYne: help!!!!
Asexual Birb: what is it??? have you hit a roadblock in your mothman research
KoGAYne: no bc id be crying if i did
KoGAYne: LANCE IS OVER AND HE FELL ASLEEP ON MY SHOULDER IM FUCKINGG SCREAMING
Asexual Birb: you're gonna wake him up then??
KoGAYne: not literally smartass
Asexual Birb: *hisses and backs into the shadows*
Asexual Birb: im aro ace why would you text me about romance
KoGAYne: shiro said you would be awake just before yelling at me to let him sleep
Asexual Birb: let that man rest
Asexual Birb: he doesn't need more sleep-deprivation okay
KoGAYne: but then who do i scream at
Asexual Birb: yourself, bitch.
KoGAYne: ugh
<>
Private Chat between KoGAYne and cash me outside
KoGAYne: ALLURA!
cash me outside: keith?
cash me outside: why the fuck are you awake it's 4am
KoGAYne: LANCE IS SLEEPING ON MY SHOULDER AND IM GONNA CRY
KoGAYne: I AM GAYER THAN I HAVE EVER BEEN
cash me outside: keith i want to sleep please let me
KoGAYne: help me
cash me outside: IM GOING BACK TO BED
KoGAYne: please!!!???
cash me outside: no
<>
Mental breakdown aside, Keith took a few moments to appreciate the pleasant feeling of Lance resting at his side.
He breathed in through his nose and the air came out in a puff of breath from his mouth. That is a surprisingly adorable way to sleep, thought Keith.
Keith awkwardly shifted his arm to rest along Lance’s shoulders. The sounds of Disney movies were slowly fading in the background, and he barely remembered to shut the TV off as he nuzzled the other boy’s hair and let himself fall asleep.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> so i guess some people like to leave their tumblrs down here? mine is high-quality-not, if you wanna go check it out. (accurate name, am i right?)
>
> there isn't a ton of GRIPPING ORIGINAL CONTENT but like...i reblog a bunch of voltron and musical shit, if you like that.
>
> feel free to shoot me a message saying that you came from here, that would be pretty cool.
11. The Disney is good, the Lance is pining
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> the end of the disney date
>
> also-the lions are coming soon im hyped
>
> ALSO SEASON 3 IM GONNA FUCKING DIE YOU ALL HAVE TO GO WATCH THE TRAILER
>
> good thing this is an au so it won't be fucked up by season 3 coming out
Private Chat between Pirate King and Lancelot
Lancelot: HUNK WHAT THE FUCK
Pirate King: ?? it’s 9AM how are you awake
Pirate King: you and keith are supposed to be disney-ing till you drop
Lancelot: WE WERE
Lancelot: I WOKE UP AND KEITH IS CRADLING ME IN HIS ARMS
Pirate King: I have a bakery shift in half an hour stop screaming about your pining
Lancelot: HOW DO EVEN DEAL
Pirate King: gtg bye
Lancelot: HUNK NO HELP ME
<>
Lance wasn’t sure if he wa gonna cry or cheer.
His heart hammered in his chest. How was this fair? Lance faintly recalled falling asleep on Keith’s shoulder. He DID NOT recall cuddling. At all.
The TV had been turned off already, likely by Keith just before he fell asleep. Keith was snoring gently into the crook of Lance’s neck. It was adorable. Keith Kogane was adorable.
Lance was in love.
<>
SPACE FAM
Lancelot: hey y’all im headed to the shelter if any of you need me later
cash me outside: what if we just wanna see cats
Lancelot: also fair
Lancelot: feel free
<>
Lance gently moved out of Keith’s hold so as not to wake the other boy up. He was planning on going to the shelter after the marathon; but for the most part Lance needed an excuse to leave before Keith woke up. This way, he could avoid any embarrassment at all.
He smiled at Keith, admiring him for a few seconds longer before turning around to grab his jacket and head out.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> my tumblr is still high-quality-not and i still reblog voltron and musicals and shit
>
> thanks for reading ily
12. HEY HAMLET (keith), B E M O R E C H I L L
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> bam you want some more musicals YES YOU DO DON'T LIE TO ME
>
> here you go
>
> also, keef is dying (credit to RandomActsofSambriel for that idea, i was originally just gonna have keith be fairly relaxed but this is both more entertaining and ties in with the rest of the chapter a little more!)
>
> ALSO CORAN CORAN THE GORGEOUS MAN
SPACE FAM
Pirate King: watch and learn as I teach everyone how to summon a Lance
OodlEnOOdLe: ??
Pirate King: it’s FROOM JAAAAAAAAPPPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN
Lancelot: IT’S A GREY, OBLONG PILL
Lancelot: QUANTUM NANOTECHNOLOGY CPU
Lancelot: THE QUANTUM COMPUTER IN THE PILL WILL TRAVEL THROUGH YOUR BLOOD UNTIL
Lancelot: IT IMPLANTS IN YOUR BRAIN AND IT TELLS YOU WHAT TO DO
OodlEnOOdLe: what the fuck
Lancelot: IT TELLS YOU WHAT TO DOOOOOOOOOO
Pirate King: It summons a Lance within the minute
Pirate King: Quite effective, isn’t it?
OodlEnOOdLe: IM WORRIED ABOUT THE QUANTUM COMPUTER IN LANCE’S BRAIN NOT SUMMONING HIM
Lancelot: don’t be silly i haven’t had a quantum computer in my brain ever
Lancelot: jeremy (that fuckin furry) is a different story
Asexual Birb: what the hap is fuckening
Pirate King: a great musical
Lancelot: just c h i l l pidgeon
Lancelot: b e m o r e c h i l l
Asexual Birb: that explains nothing
Lancelot: I’m aware.
<>
Keith blinked blearily at his flashing phone screen. The group chat was totally spamming him with texts, wasn’t it? | 72cf24747ce34c19a83132e40c74f248 | ['052126fd282746a597fc78a9623871de'] |
Dazed & Confused
**Author's Note:**
> this is the first fic i've ever written that isn't rated T, and there's a simple explanation for that! i naturally write with swears, i just can't fuckin stop. also i've written a lot of kissing scenes lately, so overall none of my fics have ever been G.
>
> i've never written anything quite... risque enough to be M before. well, until now.
>
> also i got WAY carried away with this one. it's much longer than anything else i've written from parkner week. which. im super burned out and i've written 7/10 fics so i may just leave it at that.
>
> 7 days IS technically a week.
>
> bless LINK on tumblr for chatting through some of the details of this fic with me. <3
>
> the spotify playlist has some unecessary songs on it now, but you can check it out LINK
>
> i hope you enjoy!
Betty Brant was an enabler.
During their time in high school, her on-again, off-again relationship with Ned was encouraged by all her friends. Very quickly, Betty learned to use this same kind of encouragement to her advantage.
She was absolutely, positively manipulative.
If she wasn't a truly good person with strong morals, Peter would have thought her a terrifying villain.
Nonetheless, Betty was a force to be reckoned with.
She had sourced some flawless fake IDs from a friend of a friend, and insisted that they all go out to a bar she knew about on the other side of town.
Betty had particular influence over Ned, as they had been going strong for at least a year and he never said no anyway. MJ rolled her eyes, but obviously said yes. Peter reluctantly agreed to skip patrol and go out with his friends.
What he was unprepared for was the bar itself.
It was dark, lit only by yellowing incandescent bulbs and a permanently red traffic light that someone must have stolen from the street and placed decoratively in the corner. A smell of mildew and beer soaked the walls. The wood of the bar was peeling, the stools balanced only by wads of folded napkins.
And worst of all, it had a tiny little stage, a setup that looked like it was ancient, and a sign that said Karaoke Night! in big, hot pink letters.
“I love it,” MJ said, because of course she did.
“I need a drink,” Peter said.
He slid uncomfortably onto a stool, rocked back and forth on its unbalanced legs, and ordered the first thing he saw.
The bartender gave him a Long Island Iced Tea and he turned around on his awful little stool. MJ was trying to flirt with some girl who looked intrigued by her antics. Betty was attempting to convince Ned to dance, but the only music was coming from the Karaoke Machine.
Peter’s enhanced metabolism was going to need something a lot stronger than a Long Island Iced Tea.
After getting a tab that he knew would hurt his wallet once he paid for the night, Peter was pleasantly buzzed. He could watch the room without feeling nauseous, and laughed at the sight of Ned spinning Betty to whatever song was on the Karaoke Machine. Hotline Bling, he thought.
“Fuck, why are girls so… girls?” MJ asked, sliding onto the stool next to him. She was clearly more drunk than him, though likely on fewer drinks.
“What happened?” Peter said.
“She wasn’ even into me,” MJ complained. “Wanted me for a threesome wit’ her boyfriend. I hate people like that.”
“I’m sorry, MJ. That sucks,” Peter put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“You’re not even slurrin’ your words, Pete. Bartender, more drinks!” MJ commanded.
Peter rolled his eyes jokingly, but was more than pleased. “Sure, okay. Get me something strong.”
He could tell even his enhanced metabolism couldn't quite keep up, the drinks flooding his senses. Everything felt a little warmer; he was a bit dazed and slow to react.
By then, the bar was getting crowded with bodies. A surprising amount of people were there for the stupid Karaoke Night and the room just kept getting warmer. It probably would have been overwhelming if Peter wasn't tipsy.
MJ gestured frantically at a new girl: blonde, in a sundress and scarf. “Please be my wingman?”
Peter laughed and helped her out. The blonde eagerly flirted with MJ, introducing herself with a flip of short little ringlets.
Peter turned away and felt the air get absolutely pulled from his lungs.
There was a boy setting up on the Karaoke Machine. He was stumbling, running a hand through a messy blond ponytail. Peter’s eyes wandered over the collarbone he could see peeking out of a grey v-neck, admiring constellations of freckles. The boy had eyes like the ocean: big, blue, beautiful.
“Hello, New York!” The boy slurred, clearly about as drunk as Peter felt.
He smiled, admiring the strip of skin exposed between the boy’s skinny black jeans and v-neck. He must have freckles _everywhere_, Peter thought.
“I’m gonna sing a song for y’all tonight!”
Whether it was his southern accent or just his drunkenness that led to the sultry ‘y’all’ dripping from the boy’s lips, Peter found himself strangely enamoured. He spun the microphone in his hands, nearly dropping it. Cute, Peter thought resoundingly. So cute.
Cheers filled the room, a confirmation that Peter wasn't just seeing things. He had been tempted to grab the stranger next to him by the shoulders and shake them, ask them if they were seeing this beautiful boy, or if he was imagining it all.
“Dazed & Confused by Ruel, for that pretty boy with the chocolate eyes!” The boy cheered. He blew a kiss at Peter. |
719c763db2f240889c467b4d3c83c880 | ['054adc840d304c6baae550dfae40f78f'] | Ordinarily happy and bouncing around, it seemed even Freckles knew something was wrong, given her seeming lack of energy while she followed his every moment, whining occasionally.
He smiled and laughed through talking with the other workers, pointedly ignoring the sad looks that came from them as they saw Lance by himself - because it was fine. This was fine.
It was fine. He could handle being alone. He’d done it for a long while, and he’d do so again.
It wasn’t until he had sat himself down at the table, waiting for supper that it really hit him, just how much he relied on Hunk - how used to his presence he’d grown, not even thinking to make something himself until he heard the sound of an approaching hoverbike.
He moved so quickly from the table that his chair fell over - but he didn’t even stop to pick it up, instead running out the back door and heading toward where Hunk was parking his bike, looking his usual cheerful self and opening his arms to happily let Lance in the moment he was standing on the ground.
“Hey, hey, what’s going on? I told you I was going into town today, didn’t I? I had some paperwork I needed to do and get sent over to the others for official things.” As Lance shook his head, Hunk gently nuzzled against the top of his head, pressing a small kiss to his scalp. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think it’d take so long, or I would’ve brought something to eat. Here, let’s go throw together something, I want to sit out under the stars tonight for a bit. Is that alright?”
“I - yeah, yeah, that’s fine.” Lance was wiping at his face, trying his best to keep from showing just how shaken he’d been, not wanting Hunk to see the tears that he’d almost shed. “I’ll help, it’s been a while since we’ve eaten outside. I’ll get blankets.” Smiling, he moved so he was beside Hunk, but seemed unwilling to let go just yet, one arm wrapped around Hunk’s back as Hunk’s arm wrapped around Lance’s shoulders.
“Sounds like a plan. I think tonight’s gonna be a nice night, but better safe than sorry.” It was fall, after all. The first frost wasn’t far off, and while Hunk ran hot, he didn’t want Lance to get cold. “We can eat under one of the trees, avoid possible traps that way.”
No one wanted to step in what cattle left behind accidentally after all was said and done. No one.
“Alright, I’ll meet you there.” Lance leaned up to quickly press a kiss to Hunk’s cheek before pulling himself away, hesitating a moment before going to the linen closet. He kept plenty of extra blankets around, including one thicker one made of a material that was especially good for sitting on outside. Pulling that one out along with a couple more they could wrap over their shoulders if needed, he moved towards the tree, admiring the sun as it set.
Before Hunk had returned to his life, he didn’t think much of the sunsets. But now, it marked the end of the workday and the beginning of the personal time they had before falling asleep. So, once he spread the large blanket out and sat down, he admired the colors of the sky until he was joined by the man who had changed so many things.
“Here we go, made us up a few sandwiches, and grabbed some chips. Hardly the most romantic dinner, I know, but,” Hunk laughed, setting the small basket down so it was in between the two of them before handing Lance one of the sandwiches.
The two ate in silence as the sun continued to set, content with one another’s presence, though Lance noticed out of the corner of his eye that Hunk seemed off. Twitchy, even as he moved to pull Lance close and cuddle together once they were done eating.
“Enjoying your sandwiches?” Hunk’s voice held its usual good cheer as he gently nuzzled against Lance’s hair once more, Lance nodding against his side. “Good. I’m really sorry about leaving you to do everything all day, I just - took longer than I thought to find what I needed.”
Lance shook his head, arms moving to wrap themselves comfortably around Hunk’s middle. “It’s fine. I’d just, completely forgotten you’d said you needed to go to town to do it.” There was a pause before Lance entirely took in what Hunk had said. “... wait. Find? I thought you were just filling out paperwork for things for your restaurants?”
Hunk at least looked a bit sheepish, his hand moving to rest gently against Lance’s side. “Mm, well. There was that, but I had another motive for going into town. Something I wanted to get. Something I wanted to do.” Shifting his weight a little, he used his free hand to dig into his pocket, pulling something out that Lance couldn’t immediately see. “It’s... well.”
“Well, what? I’m confused. What do you want to do?” His chest ached, already feeling as if everything was about to fall apart.
To his surprise, though, Hunk turned his hand over, revealing a small velvet box. Using his thumb to flip it open, he revealed inside there was a small ring made of rose gold, almost matching the setting sun in color, the light reflecting and giving it a beautiful shine. It took him only a moment to take in just what was there, taking in a breath as Hunk rested his cheek so his mouth was just beside Lance’s ear.
“I love you so much, Lance. So much. I never want to leave your side, so... will you marry me?” The hand resting on Lance’s side carefully brushed along it, pulling Lance close so he was almost back to chest with Hunk, gently plucking the ring from where it rested in the box to slip it onto Lance’s shaking, but more than willing finger.
“Oh my God, Hunk. Yes. Yes…!” Lance’s voice squeaked before turning to press his lips to Hunk’s, the larger man laughing and carefully holding him close.
This _ was _ a beautiful start to what would hopefully be a lifelong love letter. | ed9afd66f7e7474c923fdd8d73bdc8ee | ['054adc840d304c6baae550dfae40f78f'] | Lance, typically, was a kind and gentle lover, always taking things slower than necessary until Shiro got fed up and flipped them and rode the living daylights out of him. Lance immediately after the full moon…was _ different _ . He was rough, taking what he wanted, what he needed from Shiro and while it had caught Shiro off guard the first time, each month after he’d prepared himself as best as he could.
Even if that wasn’t what he’d _ learned _ magic for, it helped **immensely** . Lubrication was still very much required, and something that had been drilled into Lance, but he could go harder, rougher without causing serious harm to Shiro. (And boy, did Shiro love that.)
Right then, however, Lance was quick to follow his own pleasure, leaving nips along Shiro’s neck and shoulder before biting down harshly into the meat of Shiro’s shoulder, causing him to cry out and clench his ass down around Lance’s cock, precome already dribbling out of the tip of his dick and smearing between their abdomens.
“God, Lance, please…!” Shiro pleaded, begging Lance not to stop. Lance took that as encouragement to practically piston himself into Shiro, hips slamming against Shiro’s ass and causing him to moan loudly, wantonly as Lance growled, pressing their lips together for a rough kiss, sharp teeth nicking Shiro’s lips and drawing blood.
The taste of blood seemed to do something to Lance, lifting himself up off of Shiro to thrust into him painfully with his head thrown back, his knot pressing more and more into Shiro’s ass until, with a soft pop, it slid and locked into place with Lance spilling his seed inside.
One hand reached down so Shiro could push himself over the edge, but a clawed hand stopped his, pinning it to the bed as Lance gave small, shallow thrusts. Lance’s other hand went to wrap around Shiro’s cock and pumping with a gentleness that told Shiro that his Lance was back, in spirit at least.
There was a cry and Shiro’s back arched as his come spilled onto Lance’s hand, Shiro’s abdomen, his body tensing up around Lance’s dick (and knot) before relaxing back into the bed beneath him.
Without preamble, Lance just let himself lay on top of Shiro, knowing he was the lighter of the two and it wouldn’t give Shiro any trouble at all. Letting out a breath, Shiro wrapped his arms around Lance, holding him close while they were still tied together. “I love you, Lance.”
Lance snorted. “Love you, too, Kashi, but you really should stop indulging me like this. One day, I won’t come home longing for your touch, and you might get hurt.”
“Just because you don’t trust yourself doesn’t mean I don’t trust you,” Shiro said, voice soft, even though they’ve had this conversation countless times before. “I know who you are deep down, Lance. And if worst comes to worst, we both know I have things I can do to combat you. Witches aren’t just ladies in a kitchen with cauldrons, after all.”
Shaking his head, Lance laughed. “Oh, I know. I just...worry, y’know? I don’t want anything to happen to you. I still think you’re being reckless, always waiting and willing to do what I wish after the full moon has set.”
“You think it’s foolish, but it’s...it’s common sense, to me. I want to do everything I can for you.”
Lance hummed softly, nuzzling against Shiro’s neck until his knot deflated, letting the two separate.
“Then let me take care of you.” |
6214c4f9d1d244a9b646214a8a9b8384 | ['057021a3f9c8489e90316c59bffc7250'] | Arthur. Her sharp eyes glanced around, lustfully. To think the man she left her home in the forest would just appear in her home was unbelievable. She hadn't seen this child since she left Britain for the new world, to escape the oppressive fairy king, Oberon. Still, as a person, lusting after a man is foolish, especially when all you want to do is tousle his hair, and wrinkle his pressed shirt. Ruining his composure would be a fitting release, from the way he keeps her spine ramrod straight, and her breaths growing shallow as she stares at the face of a distant past. Yes, just a taste, to tease the boy she whispered to through the dense forest, who established her love for a small country out at sea, and later, lead her to be the muse of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Yes, she would have today, and after that, she will give him the right to choose for himself.
“(y/n), I feel as though we've been acquainted for some time,” Arthur hesitantly began, to get the girl’s attention from her tea cup after his curt answer left the conversation to hang in the air around the two. Her face lifted, as she murmured how it wasn't fair to play with a girls’ emotions.
Lifting her eyes, she softly said, “Do you trust me?”
The single phrase caught him off guard, and he felt himself saying, “Of course,” while his mind screamed for reason. She stretched her hand to lightly lay on his own. The warm skin brought forth memories of a past, of dark gardens and good neighbors, otherwise known as Fair-folk. The flash of memories came with a hot, sweltering feeling. Of emotions not quite placed on his palette of sensations. They lingered in the form of lust for the current man in front of her, and a soft feelings for a child who clung to the mythical, and embraced her differences. She hung her head, and blush marring the (s/c) contour of her face.
“Will you spend the night, oblige a creature like me?” her face moved up to greet his with a searing heat, and suggestive, bewitching eye, as she bite down on her lower lip. The hell? How can any man turn down such a face?
With a stir of motion, he rose from his chair, and face the smaller girl, who came to stand and tuck her arms around his body,and neatly fold herself in his arms, chin resting on the top of her head. His nimble fingers worked at the laces of her corset, which reflected the 16th century she came from. Ripping the soft leaves and moss free from the skirts and revealing the clockwork mesh of her garter belt, and the elastic of her tights. Mouths meeting in the cold evening air, sloppily sealing the harsh breathing into silence. Arthur tugged at the full bottom lip, begging for entrance to the cavern of her mouth, and was granted entrance after a moment of teasing and begging. She felt electrifying shivers race down her spine. Raking her fingers over his suit, she slide her fingers against the contracting muscles of his back, leaving hot trails across the clothed skin. Opening his mouth, to release hot gasping pants into (y/n)’s exposed skin. A shuddering moan escaped him, desperate for air and the feel of flesh against flesh, he moved and plant kisses and nips. Soft pinkish marks bloomed across the soft, (s/c) flesh of her slim neck. The sensation had goosebumps growing down her arms, and caused her spine to arch into his chest. Succumbing to his rough motions of teeth scraping skin, she ripped at this coat, sliding it off the broad shoulders she was digging nails into, all the while tugging moans from his lips.
Hands slide from his shoulders, caressing the fabric and catching on the indents of smooth muscles. Slipping her hands forward, her fingers found his dress shirt desperately. Plucking at the buttons of the starched fabric, hands encased her own, stopping the movements dead in their tracks. Lifting a hand to his face, he nuzzled into the smooth surface.
Locking eyes, blue to green, she felt anger boil up inside. Why was he stopping her? “Say you want me,” his breath came out huskily.
Growling out a quick, “Correction, I need you, now!” and digging nails into his scalp as she claimed his mouth, sealing him with a wet kiss, nipping at his lower lip, till it gave, causing the kiss to go from lustful to rough. Shuttering, Arthur gripped her waist, and pulled away, flipping her so she had knees on the coach, and strong arms slipped in front of her, securing her face and slipping two fingers inside her mouth, earning him a deep moan. Wiping the blood from his mouth he, he worked at the button on his shirt, and slide the material off, using it to bind her wrist. (Y/N) didn't even protest, an opened her mouth further, to be probed by the long finger inhabiting it. Lustrous moans filled the room, and the feeling of his growing erection scraped at her bare back. | 246b04873ea74f1795c8ea655161a322 | ['057021a3f9c8489e90316c59bffc7250'] | Yeah I'll be leaving now, I'm making tracks
And I doubt that I'll be coming back."
Hitting her shoulder into the wood again, Fionna felt the door give way, and heard the hinges scream in protest at her force. Letting out a sound of relief, the blond pushed the door open, only to be temporarily blinded by the crimson light, as it painted the wall, and her skin blood red. Inside, the noise was deafening, screaming into the blind's eardrums, sending her brain into a frenzy, and further raking the burning claws of madness across her frontal lobe. Adjusting enough to see, Fionna spotted Marshall floating over his couch, back turned to her. Reprieve flooded her enlarged capillaries, as Fiona's racing mind, muddied with the sound of harsh gusts of wind quieted substantially as she spotted her friend unharmed. Racing closer, she reaches out, almost to grasp him, and when Fionna's hand makes contact with Marshall's shoulder, she hears the last of the verse, as he spins mid air.
"Oh the night is young, baby make it last,
Cause you know it's growing up so fast"
Red, blood red. Marshall's eyes held no pupils, and shown with a demonic light, letting the bright red light out into Aaa, tunneling through his body, and becoming a palpable force in her world. Taken aback, the adventuress sputters, heart faltering as she sees his breathtaking smile form on perfect lips. The Vampire King floated there, and Fionna felt a numbness akin to looking down the barrel of a shotgun. Chilling, disturbing, and unpredictable. The final chord played out, before the building was cast in relative silence, while the wind only picked up, without song to bind it. "Fionna, I've been waiting for you." Marshall speaks, and suddenly, the sounds stop, and the void is filled with nothing but the hush of Fionna's heavy breathing. Marshalls smile grows cruel, and the lights in his eyes dim, as the grin warps into a splitting expression. Staring, horror stricken in front of the monster, Fionna witnessed as two more eyes opened above Marshall's existing ones, letting more abrasive light into the universe. "You wouldn't believe how lonely I've been without you."
Glass-bottomed ego
It's still afloat but can't you see the cracks appearing in the base?
2. Meeting Place
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Going back to explain the beginning, let's check out Fionna's life pre-preview!
"I dunno sweetie, he's no good for you." Cake articulated, tail twitching in annoyance, as her younger sister eagerly brushed out her long blond hair. The cat was tapping her foot on the wooden floor, arms crossed as Fionna hummed a small tune. "And I thought you had a thing for PG, or was that just a figment of my imagination?" She sounded sour, and Fionna stopped cold in her tracks, turning her head to eye the cat in silence. After a minute, Cake throws her hands up in exasperation. "What, givin' me the silent treatment?"
"Cake.... I liked PG when I was thirteen." Fionna stressed, groaning in irritation, before blowing the lock of blond out of her face, and wiping dust from her white bunny eared hat. "That was long ago, and I'm over him, after he---- After he said he didn't like me back." Fionna bit her lower lip, blinking harshly to dispel the still ragged pain from her first failed attempt at love. Sadly, that wasn't her only failure, which made the bitter reality bite just a little harsher. Sighing heavily, the human glanced back over to the cat, who still looked cross with her. "I've learned a lot over these past years, and honestly? I don't think anyone will ever be 'good enough' for me in your eyes, Cake." She smiles then, seeing her sister's face soften as Cake considers what Fionna was saying, and smiled back. "But I trust him, and I was nothing but supportive of you when you were first hitting it off with Lord Monochromicorn." Fionna reminds her, shrugging her shoulders as her sister sputters with a come back.
"Still, I don't trust him, and I'm only looking out for you, baby!" Cake said exasperatedly. "What if you get hurt, hmm?"
"Then I get hurt, but honestly, Cake. I'm the best adventuress in Aaa, so I will be fine." Fionna tugged the brush once more through her hair, before stuffing the heavy blond strands up into the white hat. Standing up, the human girl towered over her cat sister, shooting the feline a reassuring smile, while reaching to grab her green pack. "Also, getting hurt is what we do, and it wouldn't be the first time my affections backfired." She shrugged, seeing Cake visibly pale at the words leaving her younger sister's lips. "I'll be home in a couple hours." She reassures, ignoring Cake's protest before taking the steps two at a time, and practically running down stairs. Behind her turned back the cat's sputters continued, but Fionna quickly dismissed her sister's pessimism as just that.
Flinging the door open, the cool night air felt like a splash of ice water on the blonde's face, causing a slight tremor to run down her spine. A childish grin made itself known on Fionna's features, and her strides were long and agile as she made her way across the grasslands. The emerald waves crashed around the hill spotted shores, but the walk was calming in a way that was indescribable. Tonight was the night. Fionna could feel it in her bones, the ever present hum of excitement articulated by the fluttering of her beating heart. She would finally tell him. The thought alone brought tingles to the back of her neck, and the blonde felt a resonating emotion of correctness, that this just had to be her path in life. And if it was wrong, Fionna didn't want to right. She could almost hear Gumball in her head, just as she switched course, and headed towards the dark forest. |
dcb48f9819d84b2a9aa8c120d758ef22 | ['0572dd98d0d24be5ab4fc9c5cb039bc6'] |
1. Troubled Soul
**Author's Note:**
> Hiiiii, so this is the second part of my series. The first part is not really needed to understand this at all, just know that the team was able to get Gabriel back after he suffered some pretty intense trauma from Asmodeus and that in this current part Asmodeus is dead. Also sorry for making Dean such a dick in this, it will resolve itself in future parts!
>
> This is not beta'd so all mistakes are mine, constructive criticism is more than welcome. That being said, hope ya'll enjoy!
Gabriel hadn’t intentionally tried to avoid the Winchesters after they saved him. He just couldn’t find it in himself to stay still. Finally being able to move after _years_ of being chained up dose that. There was also this heavy weight in his chest that just wouldn't go away. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for Asmodeus’s laugh to be heard, and for Gabriel to find himself chained back up in his little cell, his perceived freedom just a twisted trick that the Prince of Hell had concocted to entertain himself.
But, that hadn’t happened and Gabriel was starting to regret his decision of just up and leaving his mate, especially after not seeing one another for so long.
Sam seemed to have understood before Gabriel had left. Or at least he hoped so, he had been in a rush to get out of there.
⁂⁂⁂
The look in Sam’s eyes when he informed the gang that he wasn’t staying broke his heart. There was that pull to comfort his mate, to hold him tight and to never leave his side. But he couldn’t. Not then, at the time he had to move.
Dean’s attitude had made it easier to leave. The older Winchester’s face had quickly turned furious when Gabriel shared his news of leaving. The look had sent shivers down the archangel's spine.
The shame of such a pathetic reaction on his part still hadn’t gone away.
His shoulders had slumped down in surrender as Dean yelled on about how Gabriel didn’t have any choice but to help them. The archangel stayed silent and began to fidget, his want to leave, to move, had grown stronger.
Dean stepping forward to grab at him cemented Gabriel's decision in leaving. He felt terrified and couldn’t stop himself from taking a step back. He tried to play it off, though he’s pretty sure Sam saw the fear clear in his eyes if him pulling Dean away from Gabriel was anything indication.
With a parting look at Sam, Gabriel gave a small apologetic smile and left.
Of course he would help them, but at the time he couldn’t, he just really needed to _move_.
⁂⁂⁂
He had been moving non-stop. It felt nice to not be bounded by chains, to breath fresh air. To feel the sun on his skin and wind literally beneath his wings. He felt liberated.
Especially after being in a cramped cell for so long.
It must have really done a number on him, he hadn’t remembered loving warm weather and fresh air this much.
Within his second week of moving, a pain began to seep into his left shoulder. Slowly making itself more present as the week went on.
He ignored it.
It was nothing.
Moving was his main focus.
Whenever he got tired and decided to stop for just a little bit, he would take the opportunity to check up on Sam, not physically, but through their connection.
He couldn’t go back yet, but he wanted to make sure nothing too bad happened while he was gone.
Not that he would be able to prevent anything, but keeping an eye on Sam made him feel okay. It kept him at ease when he wasn’t moving.
So Gabriel continued his pattern. Move, rest, check on Sam, and then move some more.
⁂⁂⁂
Sam had been dozing off at the table when the sound of loud yelling jolted him awake. Dean and Castiel’s voices were going back and forth in various degrees of upset from the kitchen.
“Lover’s spat” he grumbled out with a huff, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He elected to ignore them returning his attention back to the book he had been reading. A few more shouts from the kitchen and Sam gives up.
There was no way he could focus with them going back and forth. Might as well check and see what was going on.
As he walked into the kitchen he first saw his brother pacing back and forth with constipated look on his face. Castiel, standing a couple feet away from him, looked on exasperated, arms crossed.
“Dean, you can’t just-”
“The hell I can’t Cas! I know we agreed to give him some time but that assholes has been gone for nearly four weeks.”
Sam grimaced.
So they were arguing about Gabriel… Again.
It really had been four weeks since they last saw him. Sam couldn’t say he wasn’t sad when Gabriel had left, especially after not seeing each other for so long, but he understood. Gabriel had been on edge after he had taken out Asmodeus. Continuously fidgeting and looking around the room as if he couldn’t really believe he was there. It hurt Sam seeing his mate flinch away from Dean’s yelling instead of retaliating with some joke or snarky comment.
He knew his mate needed to leave and move around, just to know that he could. Before Gabriel had ‘died’ the archangel was always moving, albeit in a more laid-back way, but it was how he got out his pent up energy. Sam couldn’t imagine how terrible it must had been being with Asmodeus in Hell for his archangel to be that restless. Gabriel had needed to be elsewhere, on the move, at least for a while. | a7094d30c081420ea3538e2f4f5b5f57 | ['0572dd98d0d24be5ab4fc9c5cb039bc6'] | Where had they gone off to?
They had left without saying anything.
They were just gone.
He catches Ben's voice,
Klaus’s eyes land on him, “I-I’m sorry what?”
“I asked if you’re alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, and not the regular attractive one that's with you constantly” he jokes.
“Fine...I’m fine…”
Ben was back but Five was still gone.
He wasn’t going to come back.
He left, just up and gone without saying goodbye.
_Again_.
His vision begins to blur.
Next would be Luther and Diego, then Allison.
His breath hitches.
Then Vanya.
And Ben, permanently.
He lays his head down against the table, it was getting a little hard to breathe.
No, no, he wasn’t having a nightmare. He was awake, that wasn’t happening.
His head throbs painfully, and the tears that had blurred his vision spill free.
He was awake, but it was exactly like his nightmares. He felt ridiculous. Five had every right to leave. It wasn’t his, or any of his siblings responsibilities to see Klaus through all of his fuck ups.
“Klaus, Klaus come on I need you to breath. Don’t go passing out on me,” Ben’s worried voice breaks through his panic.
At least Ben hadn’t left. For now anyway.
Klaus lets out a pathetic laugh and picks his head up to look at his dead brother.
He frowns.
If Ben wasn't dead he would leave Klaus too. As he should.
Ben takes in the tears and the miserable look across his brother’s face and frowns, “Oh Klaus…”
“Look I’m fine.” He struggles to get the words out.
“And I’m totally convinced,” Ben snarks back not believing a word.
“It's not a big deal...I don’t even know why I’m crying,”
“Okay, yeah, no, I’m calling bullshit Okay? You are a horrible liar when concussed,”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m always a horrible liar, you know-“
A faint blue light glows and Five is in front of them again.
Klaus tries his best to blink the tears away from his eyes.
The smaller sibling takes him in for a moment, eyebrow twitching up in confusion, “Klaus...what...why are you crying..?”
Klaus’s panic is immediately replaced by guilt.
The last thing he wanted to do was bother Five anymore than he already had.
“I’m not crying, I’m fine”
“I don’t think you know the meaning of the word,” Ben chimes in.
Five’s head tilts to the side, “I shouldn’t be surprised that you are even a worse liar when concussed.”
Ben lets out a fake cheer, “See, told ya!”
“Shut up Ben,” he turns his attention back to Five, who watches him, waiting.
“I...its stupid okay?”
The corner of Five’s mouth twitches, “Well now I want to know even more,” he crosses his arms over his chest, looking like he had all the time in the world to wait.
Klaus blinks. He kinda also looked...
“Oh my god, Ben, he has the same worried mom face that you get,”
“Klaus…” Both of his brothers warn.
His gaze shifts back down to the table and he starts fidgeting with the now thawed bag of peas.
“You...you just left… and well I freaked out a little, cause last time you left you didn’t really say bye, and you didn’t come back,” Klaus takes a breath, his fidgeting increasing, “Not that you aren't allowed to do whatever you want! I mean, you’re your own person and everything. You have every right to leave if you want to, I just…” he trails off awkwardly.
He had been rambling and could feel both of his sibling’s eyes on him.
Silence.
Klaus could do silence. In fact he loved it. It was one of the main reasons he had loved being high all the time. No voices of the dead, no stress, just him and his own thoughts, and occasionally Ben’s disapproving comments.
Klaus could deal with silence, but right now, it was too tense, threatening to swallow him. Making his skin itch. His thoughts were going too fast, his head hurt, he was tired, it was just too much. He had to-
“Klaus you idiot,” his mind goes blank as he looks at Five. He looks calm, but Klaus can also see the poorly conealed guilt in his eyes.
“I wasn’t leaving, I was just setting up some stuff upstairs.”
Klaus stares, his brain slowly starting back up, “Upstairs?”
Five rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “Yeah.. sorry that I didn’t give you a warning,”
Five had just gone upstairs, not traveled to some other time because he was annoyed or wanted to get away from Klaus and all the stupid shit he does.
Klaus feels himself relax before the guilt he was feeling grows.
Five didn’t have to apologize for Klaus being stupid, “No, no it's fine, I uhh, I just overreacted, sorry… I just really need some sleep.”
Five looks like he doesn't believe him.
“It would help if you talked about whatever’s keeping you up,” Ben states as he appears behind Five with a small glare.
“Ben please,” he whines.
Five raises a brow as he steps towards Klaus, “Can you walk?”
Klaus blinks and slowly nods, “Yeah.” He stands and takes a moment, ensuring that the room was not spinning.
Five watches him get his balance. He gives a nod and gestures for him to follow, so Klaus dose.
They make their way up the stairs at a much slower pace than needed, but Klaus appreciates it. Five stays close to his side the entire time, keeping a close eye on his footing.
At the top, Five takes a gentle hold of his wrist, pulling him towards the bathroom, Klaus is too tired, and in shock of the touch to resist.
Inside the bathroom, Five drops his brothers wrist and steps aside.
The bathroom smells heavenly. |
5c98e476641042719281128fe43e4ac6 | ['057db21f450d4facb272e9c264a4df25'] |
And Jyushimatsu was there
**Author's Note:**
> I want to thank merodythann and mikamista on tumblr, who were making jokes about the new Romace Mystery set from Hesokuri Wars on a discord chat and actually gave me an idea for that whole story. Thanks to you this thing consumed my mind and a lot of my free time. I hate you. But I love you. But I hate you.
> Actually, thanks go to all the Potatoes. If this chat didn't exist, I wouldn't fall in love with this AU.
>
> I probably distorted some of the roles the charatcers were supposed to be originally assigned to (cuz I can't read a shit in Japanese), but if I didn't, the story would be much harder to write and harder to put together. And like that I have the whole thing specifically explained in my mind and everything seems to be in a right place (let's see if it stays like that when I'll be writing next chapters).
Ichimatsu was twenty-three years old when his parents sent him to his aunt, who was an owner of a small inn, three hundred kilometers away from the city he spent his whole life in. He didn’t mind. After all he was just a burden, a pest who was wasting their money without giving them anything. As a NEET he was something that society considers useless. Even as a child he had problems in school, and when he became an adult he decided that there’s no way he could go to college. He applied for a job few times during those few years, but he was either not experienced enough, not educated enough or not ready enough. The last time he got a job he didn’t even appear on the first day. And any of the other days.
Ichimatsu hated himself more and more. He was even thinking about leaving his home. Living on a street seemed much more suitable for such a trash like him. But he couldn’t turn his plans into reality.
When the spring was coming to an end (or maybe summer was beginning, he didn’t care about it) his mother walked into his room.
“Would you like to visit aunt Hanako?” she asked.
_ Why not? _ he thought. Ichimatsu really liked aunt Hanako. She always treated him like her own child, understood his moods, cooked great. And she loved cats.
Mother explained to Ichimatsu that she noticed how bad he seemed to feel recently. She thought about sending him to some place where he would ease his mind and then aunt Hanako’s inn popped in her mind. She remembered how much her son enjoyed staying on the porch with aunt’s cats, lying in the sun, and playing soccer with neighbors’ children.
“Besides, you know that she’s not the youngest now and she couldn’t have her own children to help her, so I’m sure she’ll be happy to have you around for a bit,” his mother finished her small speech with a gentle smile.
For Ichimatsu that whole thing sounded like “stop fucking occupying space in our house and go the fuck away to actually do something for your aunt”. Even if his mom was looking at him with a genuine care in her eyes, he couldn’t stop thinking how much of a burden he is to her and his father. Or perhaps this was the reason he felt like that.
“Well… it would be nice to see her again,” Ichimatsu replied, trying to sound as neutral as he could.
***
One week later Ichimatsu’s parents said goodbye to their son, wishing him good luck and great fun on his little vacation. The man took a seat in the first morning bus which could take him to his destination. He took a book out of his medium sized suitcase and tried to read. He couldn’t.
He started feeling uneasy even before he got into the bus. But then he could just focus on his parents. The fuss they made over his trip (“Ichimatsu, you sure you packed everything you need? Check it again!”) had some power to distract him from all those bad thoughts. Well, maybe not all, but from some of them. Book didn’t have that power. It couldn’t talk to him, pat him on the shoulder or check his luggage. Ichimatsu felt more lonely than ever. He didn’t know what could be worse: staying home and finding another job where he would have to meet new, but not always nice people, or spending this time in a place where he actually knew some people, but he didn’t accomplish anything to boast about (and he was more than sure that all of his childhood friends got good jobs and everyone will ask him about his life).
And yet he was there, heading towards the second situation.
Ichimatsu put the book back into the suitcase. He had four, maybe five hours of ride till he could get to the point. He decided to take a nap.
He couldn’t.
***
It was afternoon when Ichimatsu arrived and it looked like the rain was about to fall. | 5931ceee864548dc8f16cd3ac34cd465 | ['057db21f450d4facb272e9c264a4df25'] |
**Author's Note:**
> Good morning/day/evening.
> It's the first fic I post here. I'm a begginer when it comes to writing, so I would really appreciate some tips from the community.
> Besides, if you see any writing error, feel free to correct me. I'm rather confident in my English and I check my writing at least two times before posting, but everyone makes mistakes.
>
> I hope you'll enjoy my fanfiction. Regards!
Choromatsu put the last wet plate on a dryer.
"Mom! I finished!" he yelled, so Matsuyo could hear him. As an answer he heard her footsteps and after few seconds she walked into the room, carrying a big box.
"All the dishes washed?" Matsuyo asked.
Choromatsu nodded, watching the box curiously when his mother put it on the floor.
"Great." she said. "Now, come closer. That's a prize for your help."
The boy got closer to the box and leaned forward a bit to see its content.
"Movies?"
"Yes." Matsuyo smiled and patted her son's shoulder. "Mostly for children, but I'm sure there's also something you'll like. And watch some with your little brothers. I must take Todomatsu to the doctor today and Jyushimatsu will need a company when I'm out."
"Okay." Choromatsu said. "Will you be back soon?"
"Around four." she answered as she walked to the door. "Have fun!"
"I will."
As soon as his mother left the room, Choromatsu sat on the floor and took one of the movies into his hand. He smiled as he recognised the title of an old cartoon his mother had bought to him when he was four. He put the movie aside and immersed himself in finding names of films and series he used to watch five or more years ago. His mother probably had to put them in that old box and then take it to the attic when the house became a bit too crowded.
Ichimatsu and Jyushimatsu really need to watch them, he thought as he was putting his favourite childhood movies on one pile. And the Totty, when he gets a bit older.
Choromatsu looked into the box again and took two action movies out of it. He was almost sure Osomatsu bought them when he was still a teenager. Or maybe it was Karamatsu. Either way, Choromatsu got a quick thought it would be quite nice to watch them on some movie night with entire family... It would probably end as a catastrophe with one of the siblings crying. And the crying one would be Karamatsu.
Choromatsu decided that it's better to think about it later. He put the action movies aside and took another look into the box.
At this moment he heard Jyushimatsu's voice behind him.
"What's that, nii-san?"
Choromatsu turned back and saw his four years old brother with his usual wide smile.
"Mom gave us some movies." Choromatsu answered, watching his brother's eyes getting brighter from happiness.
"Movies! Yay! I wanna watch!" Jyushimatsu was jumping around like a little ball.
"Okay, okay, calm dow." Choromatsu grabbed his brother's arm. "Which one would you like?"
Jyushimatsu became quiet. For a few seconds he looked like he was making a serious decision that would have a great impact on his life.
"Hmm... I want the one I watched yesterday!" he answered, coming back to his cheerful self.
"You sure? We have a lot of new movies here."
Jyushimatsu shook his head.
"Okay." Choromatsu said, deciding to not get into an argument with a four-year-old over a movie for children. "Which one was that?"
Jyushimatsu made his serious face again.
"I watched it with Ichi-nii-san..."
"Yeah, but what's the title? Do you remember?"
"No." Jyushimatsu said slowly, looking as serious as a four-year-old can. "But it was about a bad guy that was jealous of good guy's dad." the boy looked at Choromatsu in hope he understood.
"I still don't know which one can it be. Remember something more?"
Jyushimatsu smiled as he reminded himself about the rest of the movie. "He killed him!" he answered with a big joyful smile.
Choromatsu opened his mouth not really sure how to react.
"Who killed who?" he finally asked with a concern in his voice.
"The bad guy killed good guy's dad." the boy answered, then his face became serious again. "I don't remember their names. But then the bad guy wanted to kill the good guy."
"Really?" Choromatsu felt more and more worried with every second his little brother was talking about a murder like it was a normal thing. Even if it was only a movie scene, Jyushimatsu definitely shouldn't speak like that.
"Yeah, and then the good guy had to eat worms and bugs to live. And he found a girlfriend and they were playing on grass, and then-"
"Playing?" Choromatsu interrupted. "What do you mean by _playing_?"
"Dunno. I've never played like that. But Ichi said they-"
"I heard what he said!" Choromatsu growled. "And I'll make sure to tell him some things, too. Where's he?"
With all his strength Choromatsu tried to keep calm in front of his little brother. He took a deep breath and clenched his fists. How could he, Choromatsu thought. Showing a four-year-old some gory movie!
Jyushimatsu's smile became less wide.
"Nii-san, are you mad?" he asked a bit more quiet.
Choromatsu patted his head.
"No, I'm not." he lied, trying to smile. "I just want to know where he is. I need to talk to him."
"He's outside. Playing with a cat."
Choromatsu nodded and headed towards the doors. As he opened them, he heard Jyushimatsu saying quietly:
"But don't yell at him, okay?"
Choromatsu looked back and smiled.
"I won't."
***
He found Ichimatsu in the backyard. The boy was sitting on grass with a cat snuggling next to him. |
a2bdbaab263c496daaf68886a83c2397 | ['059185a108374ce6b1c8d2d70ea68661'] |
Page 823
**Author's Note:**
> I was hungrily looking for some good Jade/Double H fics a few months ago but the fandom is so small there isn't much to read! And in particular, the only smut I've found has been weirdly sexually objectifying about Jade, which is not really My Cup of Tea.
>
> So I... made what I wanted to see more of haha.
>
> Jade and Double H have such a lovely relationship in the game, such a great, strong companionship that's not based on anything except supporting and being there for each other. Sooo here's some Jade and Double H bonding, and being awkward, and making out as equals and friends and companions, and getting to be human with each other.
>
> <3
Jade pushes her foot down hard against the pedal of the hovercraft, gritting her teeth and fighting to keep it moving in a straight line despite it wanting to jerk to the side. Beside her Double H is babbling, a pep-talk she doesn’t hear, can’t hear over the blood and adrenaline pounding through her head and the roar of the hovercraft’s motor as she pushes it far past any sensible, safe limits.
The finish line is in sight, lit up like a Christmas tree and raining confetti. Beside and just behind them, so close they’re nearly touching, is Rufus’s hovercraft, gaining on them little by little and Jade pushes down hard, trying to eke out every bit of horsepower from the hovercraft’s engine.
“C’mon, Miss Jade! C’mon!” Double H shouts, almost vibrating in his seat with excitement and adrenaline; both their eyes are locked onto the finish line as it speeds closer and closer--
Rufus rams them and the hovercraft jerks to the side violently, and Jade swears out loud as she fights the steering column to keep it from spinning out. The whole cockpit rattles and Double H grabs her hand, trying to help her keep it straight, keep it going, they’re so close and Rufus is right next to them--
The finish line passes in a blur, one blink, one heartbeat -- even if Rufus had been close they were definitely first, and they both shout in victory, the crowd’s wild screaming blaring through the radio, drowning out the announcer who’s just trying to keep up. Jade is still cheering as she lets up on the gas and the hovercraft coasts. Beside her Double H cheers as well, pumping his fists in victory, completely caught up in the moment.
“Oh, we did it! We did it!!” he shouts, and Jade laughs at his enthusiasm before he turns on her, all smiles and excitement. “Ah, let me give you a kiss!”
He leans across his seat into hers and kisses her clumsily, and Jade tries to say something in response but it’s too late so she tries to catch up, tries to register what’s happening, her heart racing as he sets his big hands on her face and squishes her cheeks, pulls her closer, laughs against her mouth.
And then he pulls away and runs a hand through his hair, blushing but looking full of life and triumphant, and Jade just keeps laughing as she steers the hovercraft towards the main hall to collect their prize, high on the moment.
\----
Much later, the hovercraft is almost completely silent except for the sound of tinny reggae music coming through the speakers. Radio reception is crap here in the old slaughterhouses but still, it’s nice to have it playing to take the edge off; this place makes Jade’s skin crawl.
She docks the hovercraft and sighs. Double H is looking out the windshield with the eye of a soldier, scanning for hostiles or other dangers, and for a moment she just watches him; he looks tired, weary, but alert enough that she’s not worried about him. He’s tough -- even after a near-death experience and considerable sleep deprivation he’s still going strong, unwilling to stop any longer than necessary. She’s thankful to have him.
“I don’t like this place,” he says.
“Me neither,” she says, looking out the windshield. Everything here is so dark and dank and uncared-for, like no one has been through in decades.
“Well, whatever is waiting to be uncovered here is big, I can feel it. We’re close,” he says. She nods, and then yawns despite herself, rubbing her face. Double H turns towards her, looking concerned. “Are you going to be alright?”
She rubs her face again. “Yeah, I think so. Just feeling the lack of sleep, but once we get in there I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“If you need to rest, we can spare a few minutes,” he says softly. “I don’t want to see you compromised or endangering yourself. Rest is important.”
“Really, I’m okay,” she says, waving her hands in front of her face with a little more flippancy than she feels. “Besides, I’m not the one who nearly died from a DomZ spore. Do _ you _ need rest?”
Double H laughs gently, pushing her hands down and looking not unlike a mother hen. “I’ve been trained to work through extreme circumstances, up to _ and including _ death.”
“They expect you to work through death?” she asks, unsure if he’s messing with her or not -- though Double H has never really been casual enough to joke around with her as far as she knows, she can never be too sure.
“They do.”
“How?”
“Trade secret, unfortunately. Need to know basis.”
Jade laughs. He must be messing with her. “But you quote the rest of _ Carlson & Peeters _ all the time, this one thing is secret?”
“I do not quote them all the time,” he says defensively. Jade laughs more.
“Double H, you’re like a walking motivational calendar of _ Carlson & Peeters _ quotes,” she says, thumping him on the shoulder. He runs a hand through his hair, looking a little embarrassed. | d0eb431eeb734526bb467d9b0f869f55 | ['059185a108374ce6b1c8d2d70ea68661'] |
Guilty Pleasure
**Author's Note:**
> this is officially the worst thing I've ever written, but, y'know what, I wanted to be known as the first person to ever write porn about Mr Lancer
>
> If that is my magnum opus, so be it
William Lancer is a simple man.
He likes teaching at Casper High, even if he regularly does the job of five teachers and a Vice Principal, but that’s underfunded public education for you. He likes eating at the Nasty Burger from time to time, even if their food is, unsurprisingly, nasty, but sometimes it just hits the spot. He likes classical literature, and asking him to pick a favorite novel or author would be like asking him to pick a favorite student: impossible and, frankly, unjust. He likes his coworkers well enough, enjoys that first cup of coffee in the morning, and prefers the ever-so-slightly scratchy sound of old records to more modern forms of music.
All around, pretty much exactly what you would expect from a high-school English teacher.
Of course, he is not without his human complexities, and perhaps some of his more niche interests take a turn towards the unorthodox; if he sometimes feels inclined towards crossdressing, he’s certainly secure enough in his masculinity to do so. If he secretly enjoys completely dominating in the online gaming arena, he’s hidden behind the username and avatar of anonymity. And if, late at night, in his own home, occasionally, he breaks out a trashy old romance novel for the thrill of it, no one’s the wiser.
Every man has his guilty pleasures. Lancer’s just happens to be smutty romance novels.
There’s a small table next to Lancer’s bed, and outwardly there’s nothing special about it; an alarm clock, a small lamp, a glass of water, a box of tissue - standard issue Human Being Stuff. Otherwise, the table has two drawers; the bottom one is where those guilty pleasure books are stored, safely out of thought and view until wanted, and the top is where he keeps a small collection of sexual supplies - condoms, lube, and a few assorted toys - one, on the very slim chance another person somehow finds their way into his bed with him, and two, because those damn books are guilty pleasures in more ways than one.
Lancer is a solitary man by nature, having never really craved much companionship even in his younger years, and never finding much pull towards romantic endeavors in particular. Certainly he’d had a few flings as a teenager and in college, but as he’s grown older his desire to have another person involved in his life has gone in a markedly downwards direction; relationships, platonic or romantic, are messy, complicated, more trouble than they’re worth as far as he’s concerned. He’s far happier by himself, with the ability to do what he wants, when he wants, how he wants.
Still… He is not a man without a libido, low as it might be, a fact that being alone hasn’t ever changed, and sometimes, baser urges have to be taken care of.
A glass of wine, low light, a jazz record playing, and one of those smutty romance books; Lancer has a lot of experience with wooing himself.
His bed is a double, not overly flashy but not devoid of personality either, with enough pillows and a comforter plush enough to really get comfortable. It makes for great sleep after herding teenagers around for eight (sometimes more) hours and reading truly terrible essays. It also makes for great... relaxation of a sexual nature.
So he settles in nice and cozy, takes a sip of wine, and opens his book.
Despite his love of solitude, these stories (like all stories, really), allow for fantasy, and that’s all he needs. It’s easy to put oneself in the role of either character involved, something which Lancer, who has no strong preference for any gender, regularly takes advantage of. Some nights it’s more enticing to imagine himself in the feminine role, being wooed by a handsome fellow with strong arms and a heart of gold despite a tough, stoic exterior; on the other hand, sometimes imagining himself sweeping a lovely, soft, shapely lady off her feet and being rewarded with physical sensuality is tempting as well. Never both, though. Can’t imagine taking himself to bed, except for that one time he drank a little too much wine and things got really weird.
Sometimes, just reading itself is enough, as it is tonight. While deviant, there’s something thrilling about the idea of voyeurism, though being a glorified outside observer to a fictional couple in a book made for the express purpose of voyeurism is as far as Lancer ever wants to go down that particular path. It’s more than enough to let imagination take over, to get lost in the ideals and the principle of the situation, to boil it down to its most basic ingredients and let them fill the senses.
The characters become secondary; physicality, sensation -- heat, pressure, friction, tension -- these bleed to the surface and take priority, while the characters fade away.
A few minutes of reading and idly palming himself through his pajama pants and the pleasant buzz of arousal works its way through his veins, through his thighs and hips. Another couple minutes, a scandalously graphic passage, and he’s hard, that buzz turning to a steady, sharp-edged warmth that twists in his stomach and blooms into his limbs.
He opens the top drawer of his bedside table and fishes around until he finds the condoms, pulls one out of the box, and tears it open; he’s done this enough times he can do nearly all of it with one hand, without looking away from the book. He does have to put the book down momentarily, however, to dispense a generously large drop of lube into the condom, push his pajama pants down his hips, and roll it on. |
5bc3474f953543098d079f069d1c92ba | ['0592277961cf4d0b884cee12befec21e'] | "Jesus Christ," Uther swore, pulling Vivienne down for a kiss. He clutched her hips and rolled the both of them over, pushing the Seer into the mattress. Vivienne let him, mind numb with the mantra of _for Nimueh_ that ran through it. He thrust in, hard and fast, and pulled back just as rough, setting a rhythm that had the bedframe creaking. He sucked and bit at her jaw and neck to hide his moans, his shoulders shook when he came. His hands grip her hips so tightly they're sure to leave bruises. Vivienne's too absorbed in trying to ignore the pain that she doesn't register what Uther shouts.
He laid boneless on top of her for several minutes. Vivienne couldn't move beneath his weight, nor did she think she'd be able to anyway. "Ygraine," Uther sighed again, and blinked at the Seer. She blinked back, and Uther pushed away, practically leaping from the bed.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, fumbling with his breeches. "You- you won't tell Ygraine, will you?"
Vivienne shook her head, wordless. Dimly she wondered why she felt so powerless now. She's gotten what she needed, and the king before her was shaking, scared and fleeing. Uther let the door click shut behind him. Vivienne stared up at the dark canopy for hours longer, her eyes watery and breath unsteady.
"Hello?"
Balinor's ears rung with the sound of metal clashing against metal. The forge sweltered with heat from a blazing furnace, the fire emitting a constant roar. The only other person in the forge had his back to Balinor and was beating a bar of iron flat.
"Hello?" Balinor tried again. The man either ignored or didn't hear. Instead of calling a third time, Balinor wandered around the forge, studying the room. A bench covered in all kinds of objects took up an entire wall. Weapons piled along the top, some unsharpened, dull or broken, but all remarkable quality for the work of a peasant smith.
Balinor's only experience of forges were Dragonlord ones; high quality steel heated in forges fuelled by fey-fire and tempered by magic. These weapons were of a lower quality, but simple; the evident result of hard work and dedication.
"Can I help you?"
"Gods!" Balinor spun around, nearly hitting the smith with his elbow. "Did you have to sneak up on me?"
"You're in _my_ forge," the smith observed, his mocking smile familiar.
"Tom!" Balinor blurted, to his surprise as well as the smith's. "Sorry- I'd forgotten."
"You're that sorcerer!" Tom explained with equal surprise.
"Balinor," the Dragonlord corrected sheepishly.
Tom grinned and extended a gloved hand. "Nice to meet you again Balinor."
"You too." Balinor shook the blacksmith's hand. "I wanted to ask... can you make something for me?"
"If you have money, god yes. I need the work."
Balinor looked around the forge with a raised eyebrow. "You don't look that badly in need," he commented.
"No, I'm not." Tom wandered over to the furnace, adjusting something within. "I'm getting married in a month."
"Oh." Balinor wasn't too sure how to respond to that, and the forge fell into an awkward silence. "I... have money," he said eventually.
"Magic pays well, does it?"
"Not really, no," Balinor said. "I- uh... was born wealthy, I suppose."
"Noble, huh?" Tom mused, neither upset nor pleased by the revelation, simply surprised. "Wait, you're _Hunith's_ Balinor?"
_She doesn't actually_ own _me,_ Balinor wanted to protest. "You know her?"
"She's a friend of my fiancé," Tom said.
"Hunith was the reason I came," Balinor blurted out. Tom raised an eyebrow, and Balinor hastened to explain, "I just wanted to give her something. She's been helping my raise a dragon for half a year now, and I'm not even sure she _has_ a birthday, but it _had_ to have passed since I met her. And I have no idea what to give her, but I thought jewellery probably wouldn't be a good idea."
"Probably not, no." The corner of Tom's mouth twitched upwards, knowing and sly. "I think I know what she'd like."
"You do?"
Still with the same smirk, Tom waved in the direction of the forge door. "Come back in a week, with money. I _promise_ Hunith will be grateful for it."
The physician's chambers of Camelot had a small anteroom, separated by stairs and an ancient door. Gaius and Alice once used it as a bedroom, but it had become more of a storeroom. Hunith knelt among a pile of rags and was tearing them into bandages.
A resounding clang in the chambers proper made her drop the knife she was cutting the cloth with. Hunith was halfway to the door when Uther's voice said, "Gaius, I need your help." He sounded more pleading and vulnerable than Hunith had ever heard the king be.
"Sire?" Gaius asked, confused and wary. Hunith crept closer, peering through a crack between the door and frame.
"You have long been my friend, Gaius. I trust you completely."
"I'm glad, Sire," Gaius responded.
There was the scraping of heavy benches on the stone floor, and Uther sighing. "The second year of my marriage to Ygraine has begun," Uther began. "And she has given me no children."
Through the crack, Hunith saw Gaius sit beside Uther and place a hand on the younger man's back. "We are winning the war, Sire; with Carleon defeated and Essetir all but lost, Bayard is no threat. Besides, it has only been a year, far too soon to worry-"
"You don't understand," Uther hissed. "I _have_ been worrying for a long time now, and I-"
"You?" Gaius prompted.
"Have been an idiot." Uther huffed a self-depreciating laugh. "What would you do, Gaius, if the kingdom depended on something that would cause you to betray Alice?"
Gaius took a moment to respond. "I- I would try and find any other way, and if-"
"Another way- that's what I came here to ask of you," Uther said.
"What?" | 4b1be7d00059474391dce2aa8b5435aa | ['0592277961cf4d0b884cee12befec21e'] | “Hello?” He called out. His hand slid from the light switch to the knife still in his pocket. No reply. Merlin stepped forward, cautious.
A shadow shifted in the hall. “Are you scared, _Emrys_?”
Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. The knife slipped from his hand. “I didn’t know you were back in the country.”
The shadow moved into the kitchen, turning into a woman, her brown hair loose and curling around her face. “Did you miss me?
“Every day.” Merlin couldn’t help but smile. “How was China?”
Freya grinned; feral, monstrous. “Fun.” Merlin thought of bodies, of blood and the loudness of busy Chinese cities gone quiet, and envied her. She seemed to notice his mood, and moved forward with graceful steps. “Come with me, next time I leave.”
“Where will we go?” Freya didn’t stop moving and Merlin stepped back, pressing into the kitchen counter. She slipped closer and widened her feral smile, face inches from his.
“Wherever you want.” Still so very close, she traced hands around his neck, across his torso, down his arms. Fingers moving with muscle memory over familiar planes. “I always wanted to go to Kenya,” she said. “Or Greece. Sydney, Dublin, Jakarta.” Her left hand fell to his right, where his nails were tinged red. She brought the hand up to her face. “There’s people to kill everywhere in the world,” she told him, and sucked his pointer finger into her mouth, tongue swirling around, tasting iron tang of blood.
“Freya,” Merlin gasped. She grinned, just as feral, but in a different sense. “Gods you’re going to be the death of me,” Merlin groaned, and pulled her into a kiss.
When Merlin pulled back, Freya wasn’t smiling. She didn’t meet his eyes as she cupped his cheek, thumb tracing over his cheekbone. “Merlin,” she said. Her voice was just a sigh; a single breath full of regret, and longing for everything she couldn’t have.
He wanted to hold her. To be by her side for as long as it took to convince her she didn’t need to leave. That he loved her.
_“Monsters like us don’t get to love, Merlin.”_
Merlin wanted lots of things. He wanted the world to be quiet. He wanted his mother back, for time to reverse back to that night. He wanted to save Morgana from the demons in her dreams, he wanted Arthur to stay innocent, noble. Because if Merlin couldn’t believe the world was a good place, at least someone could.
But most of all, right now, he wanted to see Freya happy. “Oh, my beautiful monster,” he whispered. “Will you stay?”
Freya nodded, a shadow of a smile brushing her lips. “Of course.” A lie. But one Merlin let himself believe.
He kissed her again. A brush of lips, warm and teasing. Freya pushed back, her thin frame deceptively strong. One arm pinned his waist to the counter, the other pulled his head down. She kissed like it was a fight, a back-and-forth of pressing, of licks and bites. Merlin let her have her way with him, let himself forget what lay before, and behind.
She drew back just enough to grin, eyes twinkling, before she leant forward and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Merlin groaned at the flash of pain, and again as the iron tang of blood filled his mouth. Freya hummed in response, enjoying the taste as much as he.
“Bed,” Merlin managed to gasp. Freya nodded and led the way.
Merlin’s flat was small and messy, with no more than four rooms in total, but even had he somehow been able to afford a fifty-room mansion, Freya would be able to find his bedroom without hesitation- whilst walking backwards and kissing every few steps. He didn’t notice when they reached his bed, huffing a surprised breath when she pushed him and the back of his knees hit the mattress. She climbed over him once he'd fallen, quick as a cat, until she was straddling his hips.
“Freya,” Merlin breathed, staring up at her face, framed by her falling hair. She was so beautiful, all pale skin and wide eyes, every feature full of child-like innocence that, had it ever truly existed in her, had been stamped out long before they met.
He opened his mouth, not sure of what he wanted to say. Freya covered his lips with her hands. “Don’t,” she told him. “Don’t talk, don’t think.” She waited until he nodded before moving her hand to her shirt, and pulling it off. “Stay still,” she ordered.
Merlin let himself watch, didn’t move as she stripped off the rest of her clothing and began working at his. He didn’t make a sound until she started kissing his neck, and then his chest, biting between every few kisses. She licked at one of his nipples, before biting, and he groaned, fingers gripping the sheet below him. She grinned at that, her mouth still pressed against his chest, before moving lower, to where a trail of hair began just above his jeans. Hands slid along his waist, lingering at the ticklish parts above his hipbones just to make him squirm, before removing his jeans as quickly as she’d removed his shirt.
Merlin almost gave up keeping still when her hands -and mouth- bypassed his crotch and fell down to his legs. “Stop teasing,” he growled, when Freya stroked nimble fingers everywhere but where he wanted her to touch most. She shushed him and continued her torturous route, nibbling at the crease of his thigh until the skin there burned, almost a distraction from the desperate _need_ for her to touch his cock.
“Please-” he gasped, cutting himself off at the last second when Freya looked up and moved away from his cock.
Her hair tickled his nose as she leaned over his head. “I’m sorry, what was that?” |
7103f11e8fdf4c178deb29bd4272f59c | ['059ddb89ac8c460893128f60cc732bef'] | Jungkook shrieked and sunk into the water. He scowled once he saw who it was to find it had only been Badras, a young turtle - well young for his age, his right-hand man. He was wide, very wide, but not long. Jungkook gave him a shove and sighed. When underwater, it was no different from breathing human air, just a bit smoother.
“Can you shut up Badras! Of course, he likes me, and I like him! He's my best friend…” Jungkook squeaked, swimming with Badras towards the palace.
“God, sometimes I think you have the span of attention of a goldfish, did you see how he was looking at you? For crying out loud the boy clearly-”
Badras let out a sharp sneeze, bubbles erupting from his nose. He always did sneeze, he was always sick. Always had an attitude too, but he was one of Jungkook’s best friends.
Jungkook let out a giggle when the turtle swam faster to catch up with him after his sneeze. The ocean was warm, Jungkook's skin tickled as he swam by the coral's reef that had different shades and hues of pink, purple, blue, and so much more. The ocean loved him, always taking extra care of him since he was the youngest in the family.
They swam past the mermaids who were braiding each other's hair. They all giggled and blush when he shot them a wink. He was such a playboy. Always talking to girls, flirting with them, but he never did commit to a relationship.
Badras gave him a look of ‘im not amused’ will shaking his head. Jungkook smirked and they raced to get to the palace.
Once they got to the main doors Jungkook saw all of his brothers playing cards and laughing together.
“Oh, Jungkook! Guess what I just beat all of them, they're so bad.”Jin shook his head sarcastically and sighed. He was the eldest of them all, his tail was a pale shimmery purple. His looks maid all the mermaids smother him with gifts and care.
“Oh please Jin, you act like you didn't cheat your way to get the win. Now that I think about it both you and Jimin did !” Hoseok shouted, his tail shifting slightly, the shells on it glimmering in the light that shined through the ocean. Hoseok was a dancer, always one with the ocean and how it moved, he moved with it.
Jimin giggled and hit Hoseok in the arm, “C’mon Hobi, I owed him one!” Jimin was a singer. Jimin made women quiver and look at him with literal heart eyes.
Namjoon sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose giving Jungkook a look, “Father has been asking for you.” Namjoon was the most mature one of the group, always reading and writing.
Badras snickered from behind him, swimming over to lay himself in Yoongi’s lap. Yoongi smiled and gave his head a pat. Yoongi was quite, liked listening more than speaking. He mostly listened to the fish sing and sometimes sang with them on rare occasions.
Jungkook smiled at him politely and bowed, “Well, I'll be on my way then. Badras stay with them.”
“Aye Aye captain.” Badras saluted watching as Jungkook shook his head and swam to the King's chambers. | c1ca9ee9203840f69abbe224b13466e4 | ['059ddb89ac8c460893128f60cc732bef'] | Bunny Boys
**Author's Note:**
> so I wrote the second part before I wrote the first part of this story.... please enjoy while its 3 am and I have work tomorrow
Taehyung remembers the boy he accidentally turned into a bunny before he did. He was moping around the wishing well, kicking the dirt and muttering under his breath. His eyes looked red like he had just been crying. His hair was messy and he kept messing with the earring in his right ear.
Tae remembers him looking up embarrassed as he saw Taehyung had caught him moping around, and the moment they locked eyes was the exact time Tae just finished chanting the spell he learned in his ‘Spells for Fun’ class. And that's when it happened, right before Taehyung’s eyes the boy disappeared.
Wishing well. That’s where Taehyung needed to be, and quick. He gripped his backpack straps a little tighter and picked up the pace. All he could remember was that dumb animal spell from class, nothing else. He studied all night, studied this whole week but nothing seemed to work. That's why as he almost jogged to the wishing well he hoped no one else would be around, so they couldn't hear his pitiful wish.
As Taehyung walked up to the well he saw a boy so beautiful he would've thought he was a god from above. He could feel his mouth moving still, the words of the spell slipping through his lips. He could smell the boy- Taehyung had a great nose. Lavender and the smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air. The boy hiccuped and wiped his face, kicking his boot in the ground.
The lavender smelling boy mumbled under his breath and started to tug on his earring.
Taehyung stared wide-eyed, wanting to comfort the boy almost immediately, if Jimin were here he would've been scolded but whatever he was a softie, he knew this.
The boy turned slowly towards Taehyung and the moment they locked eyes he was gone
Taehyung screeched and started cursing as like he belonged on a boat with sailors.
“Fuck fuck fuck- uh okay uhm okay. I got this, I got this okay lemme just call Jimin. He will help me hide the body and- oh shit you scared me!” Taehyung screamed as a bunny hopped too close to his liking.
The bunny made a noise of distress, quickly tugging on Taehyung’s shoelaces.
“Hey bud these are Gucci and I just killed a man please give me a break.” He sighed as the bunny tugged him to wherever he wanted him to go.
“Yes I'm right behind you, please don't tell me you're a new mother leading me to her babies because I just watched a documentary on baby bunnies and I'm sorry baby but I can't touch them or else you'll just leave them behind and- oh!” Taehyung stopped as they approached a pile of clothes.
“Holy.. did I turn the guy to dust…” Taehyung stared at the clothes with a hand on his mouth, meanwhile, the bunny gave a noise of annoyance tugging on his shoelace.
Taehyung crouched down and looked the bunny in the eyes,” What what! Now you got my attention! Sorry, I'm just freaking out over the fact that I just turned a man to dust!” Taehyung rambled on and on, the bunny staring at him then looking back at the clothes then back to him.
Taehyung gasped,” No! You're lying!”
The bunny shook his head no and gave out a sigh.
“What in the hell have I done, what was I saying? Uh- No! I was saying the “Animals are real”, spell.” Taehyung rubbed his face with both his hands, sobbing out of nowhere.
The bunny looked at Taehyung with wide eyes, the bunny made a clucking sound catching the crying boys attention. The boy reached a hand to the bunny’s cheek and it purred.
For a man that just got turned into a bunny against his will, he’s being very trusting and sweet. Taehyung wiped his tears and lifted the bunny to his chest.
“You're so so cute.” Taehyung cooed giving the bunny a kiss between his ears.
The bunny just nibbled on his fingers, very content in his arms.
“Jimin. Jimin will know what to do!” Taehyung shouted, holding the bunny close and making his way towards his and Jimin’s meet up place.
Poor boy, he never made his wish. |
b57cd3ef98924a878974f44b23f7cbfa | ['05ba232dbf1b4bffb40d5f08320baaba'] | “Du-dude, what the hell?” Michael breathes, clutching his chest. Jeremy’s just looking at him, head tilted to the side. His eyes are still bright, littered with stars.
“Have you found it yet?”
Michael groans, more upset than angry. “Found what, Jer? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The song?” It’s more a statement than a question.
“What, what song?”
“We have to find it, Michael.” Jeremy’s staring into his eyes, a calmness in his voice that Michael doesn’t recognize. Like… still waters. He wants to dive into it. Never come back up.
A wolf howls in the distance.
Jeremy runs off.
Learning from his last mistake, Michael wordlessly stumbles after him, his legs barely keeping up as they run into the trees. There’s still snow and ice on the ground and his sneakers slip every other step, throwing off Michael’s balance. He manages to follow Jeremy for a few more seconds before he finally trips, crashing to the forest floor. For a moment, the spots in Michael’s vision clear up enough to see Jeremy disappear into the night. Groaning, Michael pulls himself up. His head hurts. His chest hurts worse. The voice in his head is loud, almost frantic.
_Don’t stop._
Michael gets up. He keeps going.
He’s limping a bit, but his pain endurance is high and it doesn’t hurt in the same way the rest of his body does. He just needs to find Jeremy. He needs to find him and get the hell out of here.
Up ahead, Michael hears someone shout, followed by a loud growl. Something in his chest snaps and Michael’s sprinting towards the sound. His brain is on autopilot, both voices chanting the same thing. He can barely hear it over the sound of blood boiling in his ears.
_Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy._
Michael reaches the clearing. His breath stops.
Standing in the middle of the clearing is Jeremy, arm stretched out in front of him.
Out towards the werewolf.
It’s small, smaller than the ones Michael’s seen in his textbooks. But it’s wrong.
All wrong.
Its lip is curled, showing rows of sharp, yellow teeth. It creeps forward, back arched. Its dark fur is burnt off in some places, legs and snout covered in long, pink scars. Michael vaguely recalls the phenomena of werewolves. Their wolf form was supposed to show the shifter’s true self. Their true soul. Whoever this was, they were… a burn victim? Or something? Michael can’t think of anyone in town who matches that description. The dark red streak of fur going across its skull, though…
The beast snarls, saliva dripping down its gums, and Michael snaps back to attention.
This werewolf was going for the kill, and Jeremy had asked for it. Oh, God, he had asked for it.
Michael panics, still hidden behind the tree. He knows coming out will probably piss off the werewolf. Michael has a few tricks up his sleeve, but he hasn’t ever shifted. He’s basically human. He can’t fight a werewolf. But Michael ALSO knows if he does nothing, Jeremy is puppy chow. Shit. Shit, he’s bad at fast decisions. Michael bites his lip, staring at his best friend.
He… he doesn’t even look worried.
Jeremy stands perfectly still as the beast creeps closer. The two of them are lit under moonlight Michael can’t place. (He ate the moon, right? What the hell happened to the moon? Why won’t anyone ever tell him what’s going on?) He can barely see the slits of the werewolf’s eyes as it readies to pounce. Michael’s muscles tense up. His chest stirs, ready to take over.
But Michael hears a voice on the wind and something inside him immediately aches.
_Come home._
The beast seems to hear it too.
Its ears flick down, then back up.
_Come home._
It takes every ounce of Michael’s strength not to walk into the clearing. His fingernails dig into the tree bark. His soul coils around his lungs, snakes up his throat. It thrashes, begs, whines, growls. It wants out and Michael wants nothing more than to give it what it wants.
What he wants.
_Come home._
The beast slowly steps towards Jeremy. Fur bristled. Teeth bared.
Its cheek brushes against the palm of Jeremy’s hand.
_Come home._
It closes its eyes.
And under the brilliance of the moonlight, Rich comes back to them.
~ ~ ~
(The moon shines outside the bedroom window.
“Did you hear his song too?” Jeremy asks. He’s shoving spoonfuls of Jell-O into his mouth. Strawberry. He points the spoon at Michael, swallowing.
“It was about his dad.”
Jeremy pauses, thinking.
“It was nice.”)
~ ~ ~
Michael stands back a bit, lets Rich and Jeremy finish their conversation. He knows the three of them are all supposed to be friends now, but it’s weird. Michael sips his slushie.
He’s not sure if he likes it. But he’s getting there.
Jeremy waves goodbye to Rich, then turns around and heads back over to Michael.
“Thanks to us, Rich is, like, the youngest free shifter in town. Probably the state.”
“Us? Dude, dragging our asses into the forest last month was all you, Child of Earth.” Michael wiggles the fingers of his free hand. Jeremy rolls his eyes.
“You know that’s just a fancy way of saying “thing that lives on Earth,” right? I'm pretty sure the "moon" or whatever could have chose anyone. I just happened to be closer to the gate. I’m nothing special.” Michael throws his arm around Jeremy’s shoulder, pulling him in. He shoves his slushie straw to Jeremy’s lips, who obliges and takes a sip. He hums. “Watermelon? That’s a new one.”
“What can I say? I’m trying new things. And if I ever hear you say you’re not special again, I’m gonna have to kick your ass.”
Jeremy grins, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Like hell, you would.” | a1e8dd3c8fc9458585eecd0cdc3cd89c | ['05ba232dbf1b4bffb40d5f08320baaba'] |
Providence
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> this is sort of a sequel to my LINK. the bakunawa au belongs to LINK!
>
> is jeremy the moon? who knows
Michael’s pretty sure they’re the only ones left.
They’re sitting in their usual spot in the corner of the nonfiction section, adjacent to a row of fake potted plants and an obnoxious cardboard cutout of a teenager mid-shift. There’s informative pamphlets about “your second puberty” at the bottom of the stand, which for a short time Michael had taken upon himself to fold paper airplanes out of and aim them at his best friend’s forehead. But after a few too many bullseyes, said paper airplanes were confiscated by said best friend and tossed into the nearby trash can, never to see the light of day again.
Boo. Jeremy’s no fun anymore.
Now Michael’s resorted to leaning back in his chair, trying to balance his pencil on the bridge of his nose for the fifth time. Jeremy’s sweater is haphazardly thrown over his lap (“It’s too cold in here for you!” “Dude, I can handle _central air_ ,”) sleeves dragging on the carpet as the back legs of his chair wobble back and forth. The textbook in front of him’s been untouched for hours. It’s turned to some biology diagrams Michael needs memorized for tomorrow’s test, but he already had it down before the bell even rang. He never really needs to study so he doesn’t. Michael just comes to the library because Jeremy always needs help carrying all his damn books.
There’s a sudden tug on his hoodie sleeve, nearly making Michael lose his balance. He manages to catch himself on the table edge, but the pencil is a lost cause. It rolls underneath their feet, lost to the public library forever. Pushing one side of his headphones off his ear, Michael pouts.
“What gives? I was just getting the hang of it too.”
Jeremy rolls his eyes. “Found it,” he whispers, lifting the open book in his hands and shaking it a bit for emphasis. It’s just one of many books scattered on the table. There’s more piled next to Jeremy’s feet, and at least three mixed in with Michael’s school work. Michael can barely recognize any of the covers, let alone some of the languages printed on the spines. He’s pretty sure Jeremy can’t either, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. Jeremy motions for him to come closer and Michael obliges. Scooting his chair towards him, Michael rests his chin on Jeremy’s shoulder as he starts thumbing through the pages. Michael sticks his tongue out, sniffing. The book smells like earth and woodsmoke. Old. He’s not sure if he likes it.
Jeremy doesn’t even look up from the book, just reaches over with his right hand and baps Michael’s tongue back into his mouth. Michael growls, just barely, the sound low in his throat. After nine years, his dragon brain has started to lose its patience with Jeremy’s bullshit.
“Ha, cute.”
“I will eat you.”
“I thought your taste was more of the igneous kind?” Jeremy mumbles, the ghost of a smile on his lips. His finger trails down a passage, searching.
“Fuck offfff,” Michael mutters, almost burying his face in the crook of Jeremy’s neck, but it’s the first time in months he’s directly acknowledged that side of Michael and so he can’t really be all that mad. If the smolder in his chest is any indicator, every part of him is a little overjoyed.
(Jeremy’s never been good with different. He doesn’t really know how to handle being _different_. So he reads. He reads and reads and reads. Being human is good and being human is great, Jeremy says, but there’s something in his voice that wasn’t there before. Michael agrees every time.
Jeremy keeps reading.)
“Okay, okay, here it is.” Jeremy sets the book on top of the other opened ones in front of him, then slides it to the left a little so Michael can look along with him. He starts reading, steady and quiet. “The full moon has various connections to supernatural and magical lore. It would take many moons - ha - to account for and properly explain its role in each phenomena it partakes in. This section will simply go into detail on one of the most recognizable. That of _lycanthropy_.” Jeremy turns his head to look at Michael, eyes bright. Michael feels the blood under his skin simmer, simmer, cool. He grins back, barely.
Right. Jeremy’s into werewolves lately.
(Michael thinks about the book in his room, buried beneath dirty laundry and denial. It’s still sticky-noted in careful child print, but Jeremy put it away one day and never picked it back up.)
“Why are you so into werewolves now, anyway?” Michael asks, and he hopes to God his tone comes across as tired. He adds the yawn as an afterthought. Jeremy catches the glint of his teeth ( _human, still human_ ,) from the corner of his eye. He pats Michael’s knee, almost awkwardly. Jeremy’s made up of awkward nowadays. It sucks.
“It’s our first Full Wolf Moon, sleepyhead,” Jeremy states, glancing between Michael and the page between them. He points to the first depiction of wolves descending upon a village. “I know this is asking a lot out of your boring ass, but aren’t you just a little bit excited?”
“It’s not our first wolf rodeo, cowboy,” Michael grumbles. His soul swishes its tail back and forth, knocking against his ribs. There’s saltwater in his lungs but he resists the urge to cough.
“Okay, yeah,” Jeremy gives him that. “But it’s the first one where our classmates will be, you know, participating and shit.” |
74c4dd10ea864f22bae9611436778748 | ['05bf10d7295642618318aa671dc138b3'] |
Pearls and fire
**Author's Note:**
> It says AU in the tags because Akoya is most likely cis male in the anime.
Akoya was the type to always get what he wants when he asks. So why not just ask him? Lately he had been having these dreams, no scratch that, _fantasies_ about Kinshiro and truth be told it had become quite annoying to wake up turned on and wanting more. He had decided. He would do something about it today.
He waited till Ibushi left and approached Kinshiro, who was calmly drinking his tea.
“Kinshiro, I wanted to ask something of you.”
“Mmm... What is it?”
The other replied, whilst sipping his tea.
“I would like you to have sex with me.”
This caused Kinshiro to spit out his tea and a minute or so passed while he coughed and spluttered, trying to regain his breath and composure.
“And may I ask why exactly....?”
Akoya shrugged.
“Curiosity.”
He replied. And it was true. Kinshiro seemed to consider it for a moment before he spoke again.
“Alright. Strip.”
This surprised Akoya as he had thought Kinshiro would take more convincing.
“E-e-eh...? R-Right now?”
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
Then Akoya saw it in Kinshiro's eyes. This was a game. A game of chess or something alike. He should have expected no less from the student council president. Kinshiro was testing just how serious Akoya was and Akoya had to seduce him. Alright, let the game begin. His lips curled into a smirk as Akoya brushed the pink curls from his shoulder and unbuttoned his uniform. He threw it over the chair at his desk and lifted his shirt he was wearing underneath to reveal his binder. This in turn shocked Kinshiro.
“You... You're...?”
“Trans, yes. Is that a problem?”
Kinshiro may have made a brilliant opening, worthy of the best of chess players, but Akoya had his counter strategy. He threw Kinshiro's words right back at him.
“Not at all. Continue.”
Akoya held Kinshiro's gaze for just a little longer before he undid his binder and revealed his breasts. He dropped the binder on the floor and lightly massaged his boobs to relieve some of the strain put on them each day. This also seemed to have the desired effect on Kinshiro as he now rose from his chair.
“Couch. Lie down.”
Check. Maybe not 'mate' yet, but Akoya was getting there. He lay down on the couch on his back and soon Kinshiro was towering above him. He climbed on top of Akoya, still with the same neutral expression on him. Akoya licked his lips, inviting Kinshiro to kiss him. Kinshiro gave him a small peck on the lips but that wasn't enough for Akoya. He grabbed Kinshiro's hand and raised it to his face, kissing the palm. Then he guided the hand along his jawline, down his neck, to his chest and made one of Kinshiro's fingers circle a nipple. But Kinshiro pulled his hand back and sat up, legs still on either side of Akoya's hips. Not enough. Damn, Akoya had gotten a bit overconfident. Kinshiro could still step out any moment if he wanted to, so Akoya would have to do something quick. Forward approach it was then. He sat up too and brought his face close to Kinshiro's crotch. He let his hot breath ghost over it and lightly pressed his nose against it. Kinshiro's breath became shallower. Good. He was nearly there. What he was doing went against his concept of 'beauty' but whatever, he needed this right now. Passion could be a beautiful thing and what was sex if not one of the most passionate things. Whether there was love in it didn't matter. He didn't love Kinshiro, he knew that. And he knew Kinshiro didn't love him either. Good.
They stayed like that for a while. Akoya could feel Kinshiro growing hard and lightly palmed him through his pants. He finally looked up to Kinshiro who was clearly straining to keep his composure. Just a little more to break him.
“Hmmm president. You feel so good.”
Akoya whispered. He raised himself so he was at eye level with the other whilst continuing to touch him.
“I want you.”
Those words were what did it.
“...Just to be clear, this is one time only?”
Kinshiro asked. Checkmate.
“Yes.”
“And no one will find out?”
Akoya smiled.
“No.”
–
It had been two months since then and Akoya was doing fine. His curiosity had been satisfied and he and Kinshiro both acted like nothing had happened. But one day as he was walking through the hallways between classes he suddenly felt nauseous. He ran to the nearest bathroom and just made it into one of the stalls before he threw up. That was odd. He had been feeling perfectly fine all day. It wasn't like him to suddenly get sick. It wasn't beautiful at all, it was just gross. Since he felt fine afterwards he stayed for the rest of his classes. By the time he went home, he had already dismissed the event as perhaps food poisoning. He would definitely would have the cafeteria chef investigated.
But as one week later it happened again, he was growing suspicious. It couldn't be just a coincidence could it? He was feeling pretty normal aside from the occasional nausea. Well, maybe a little fatigued as well. He mentally went over every small thing that had happened to him over the past few months and then it hit him. He hadn't had his period in two months. Shit. Okay, calm down this still didn't have to mean anything. His period was quite irregular, it could be nothing. Then again, this wasn't something to easily ignore. As he exited the stall after emptying his stomach, he encountered Ryuu Zaou, who seemed to have been waiting outside.
“Are you alright?”
Ryuu asked, actually sounding genuinely concerned.
“I'm fine.”
Akoya bit back.
“Didn't sound like it.”
“I'm FINE.” | c199adf863d447409428d34715c70f44 | ['05bf10d7295642618318aa671dc138b3'] |
Who's going to save you now?
**Author's Note:**
> Attention: This fic does NOT represent my personal opinion of Akoya.
“See him?”
“Who?”
“That one there, with the pink hair.”
“Akoya Gero? From the student council?”
“Yeah, him. That vain bastard. I'd give anything to wipe that smug smile off his face.”
“What do you suggest we do?”
“My uncle runs an apothecary, I could get us drugs easily. Let's see if he's still as 'beautiful' as he thinks he is after we get to him.”
–
A shudder went through Akoya's spine as he walked across the school grounds. They were empty, he usually stayed a little later as to avoid the mass stream of students leaving school after the last bell. But today, something felt off. He felt like he was being watched. He tried to slightly speed up his walking but suddenly he was grabbed from behind. A strong hand planted itself on his mouth, preventing him from calling for help. Three other arms grabbed his arms and waist and Akoya was dragged into a space between two buildings. A dead end where the school's dumpsters were. Panic grew in Akoya and he tried to fight back, but he was no match for the strength of both his attackers. He was thrown on the ground and immediately turned to look at his attackers. They were both wearing the school uniform, but were wearing masks to hide their faces. This was serious, he needed to do something quick.
“Conqu-!”
But before he could finish and change into Perlite, one of the guys stabbed him with a syringe. He immediately felt his muscles grow weak and found himself incapable of speaking. He only managed weak sounds, trying to draw power from his ring, his body, or wherever. But nothing worked. He lay helplessly as one of the guys turned to stand watch and the other moved to undo Akoya's pants. No, no, no, no! This was worse than the bullying. He thought it had stopped when he came to Binan High. So, why?!
A blinding pain ripped through him as the other forcefully shoved himself inside. He could do nothing. He could only hope this would be over soon. The pain didn't go away, in fact it seemed to increase with every thrust. He stared at the sky, tears slowly dripping out of his eyes. He tried to focus on something else, anything but this. But the searing pain kept him out of his thoughts. It kept reminding him that this was real, this was actually happening.
He finally felt the other guy release and pull out. Relief washed over him as he thought they would finally leave him alone. He was so wrong. The two guys switched positions and the new guy climbed on top of Akoya. This one was even rougher and Akoya tried everything he could to fight back. Slowly he noticed some of his strength returning and he tried lifting his hand with his ring on it. Unfortunately, the other guy noticed and pinned his arm down.
“No, no. I don't think so.”
The guy snarled. Akoya tried to respond but he still could barely form words. A hand grabbed his throat and Akoya gasped for breath as the other guy kept pounding into him. Faster and faster. The grip on Akoya's throat became tighter every second as the guy seemed to lose himself in the pleasure this was giving him.
Blind panic now kicked in as Akoya struggled to breathe. Adrenaline overrode the drugs and he grasped the hand around his throat with his own. He kicked and clawed, but his vision clouded white and the last thing he felt was the other guy finishing inside him.
“...Shit.”
“What?”
“I think I killed him.”
“What?! What do we do now?”
“I don't fucking know! Let's dump him in here and run!”
–
The next morning, the Defense club was in their clubroom enjoying some time off between periods.
“Guys, the trashcan is full again. Seriously, which one of you produces this much garbage?”
Atsushi huffed, looking at a nearly overflowing trashcan.
“Whose turn is it to empty it?”
“I don't know... Ryuu?”
“No way! I was like.... second to last time.”
“I'll do it!”
Came the cheerful voice of Yumoto.
“Really?”
En raised an eyebrow.
“Well Wombat is nowhere to be found... I've got nothing else to do.”
Yumoto pouted.
“Alright. It's the dumpsters between the buildings.”
“Got it!”
–
Yumoto hummed a tune as he carried the bag of trash across the school grounds. He didn't really see this as a task. It was nice outside and he passed some friendly classmates before he reached the dead end between the buildings.
He pushed the heavy lid of the container open but froze when he happened to glance inside. The shock rendered him speechless at first. But when the garbage bag slipped out of his hand and hit the ground with a thud, he let out a scream.
–
“Over there!”
Arima pointed at a group of boys gathered around the school's dumpsters. He and Kinshiro had heard a scream and now ran towards the source of it.
When they arrived they saw a boy sitting with his back against one of the dumpsters, pale as a sheet and knees pulled towards his body with his arms wrapped tightly around them. The other boys seemed to be whispering fervently and one boy peeked into the dumpster, but quickly turned back towards the group while the whispering increased. Kinshiro recognized the boy in shock as Hakone Yumoto, one of the Defense club. It must have been he who had screamed.
“Student Council, let us through!” |
7df1e45bc9df45c7842902396dfc9481 | ['05dfb93fbcaa4e70815d1117ed6ec950'] | The man left and she stood. A force within her nudged her to follow and she complied, knowing that whatever she was meant to do, she would be able to do it with the help of this man. She stood to follow him, pulling the string of her dressing gown tighter around herself. Something still connected her to the woman she had attacked earlier, a thread that wound through the halls and around corners. Somehow, she knew where the other girl was and knew that she had to kill her, but her instincts urged her against it. _Not now_ , they whispered. _Not yet._
She didn’t see the older woman in the lab, the one who took angry one look between Jemma and the man before disappearing.
The man led her out into a hall, where lights began to flash and alarms to wail. A few seconds after they had begun, the alarms quieted, but the orange security flights continued to whirl.
A set of large, steel double doors loomed at the end of the hall.
Jemma and the man made their way towards the doors, and she noticed for the first time the soldiers guarding them. They were dressed in all black with red patches on their shoulders. The vault door had been forced open and these men were meant to keep the exit clear.
The man walked her briskly towards the exit, towards freedom, but a cry from the opposite end of the hall halted their progress.
“Jemma!”
It was the strange woman, anguish laced in her voice. The man turned to confront her and the Winter Soldier followed his lead, feeling the hum in her fingertips reach itself up her arms and wrap itself around her heart, guarding her. Recognition flashed through her for a moment and then the hum filled her, emptying her mind of anyone she was and everyone she knew before.
Two more people flanked the woman but the Soldier ignored them. They were not her primary target.
\---
Daisy stared in utter disbelief at the scene before her. Jemma, willingly leaving the base with none other than Grant Ward.
Jemma’s name was ripped from her throat before she could stop it. Grant and Jemma turned to look at her. For a moment, Daisy swore that Jemma knew who she was, that Jemma was _Jemma_ again, but then that recognition disappeared and the Jemma from quarantine was back, the one who didn’t know who she was, who anyone was.
May and Coulson appeared next to her and Daisy could see the grin on Ward’s face widen as he took a step forward.
“Well, well, well, isn’t this lovely,” Ward’s voice was like velvet, with no indication that he did not think this moment was anything but lovely, that he was enjoying himself very much indeed. “All we need is Fitz for this reunion to be complete.”
At the mention of Fitz’s name, Daisy willed Jemma to react, to show any sign of familiarity towards her partner’s name. But this new Jemma was stoic as always and Daisy knew that the Jemma who went into the Monolith was not the Jemma who returned.
“Let her go, Ward.” Coulson’s voice was low, authoritative, the gun in his hand pointed directly at Ward, May his mirror on Daisy’s other side.
Ward glanced at Jemma, at her lack of restraints. “She’s free to do as she wishes. I am not taking her, she’s joining us.” He looked at the other men. “Take care of this please,” he ordered, placing a hand at the small of Jemma’s back and turning her with him to leave the base.
The HYDRA Agents raised their weapons and Daisy acted on instinct, letting the power that resided in her core echo out through her fingertips, a pressure blast meant to take out Ward. At the moment, she couldn’t care less about the HYDRA Agents and their guns; her sole focus was eliminating Ward and getting Jemma back.
Before the blast can reach them, Jemma whipped around, pushing Ward out of the way at an inhuman speed, and raising her own hands to take the blast. Daisy watched in disbelief as the pressure wave was absorbed into Jemma’s hands. She spun, flinging out an arm and releasing the energy back at the three SHIELD Agents. Daisy felt her own attack slam into them, felt herself flying backwards at the intensity of pressure. She blacked out momentarily as she slammed into the wall. Her vision cleared just in time to glimpse her friend disappearing as the vault doors slid shut.
And just like that, Jemma was gone. Again.
\---
In the moment before the pulse reached her, Jemma felt foreign instincts overtake her, felt her body acting on its own accord. The hum that had twisted itself in her chest was suddenly in her arms and her legs and she was pushing her rescuer out of harms way and her hands were reaching out to meet the attack. A pulse rushed towards her but she felt the hum reach out further than her hands, an energy sourced from herself, reaching out to greet the pulse like an old friend. It pulled it into her and she felt a power fill her, an energy like nothing she had ever felt before. And then her hand was flying out, the energy releasing from her fingertips. Her opponents fell and the alien hum reconciled itself back into her chest, waiting to be called on again.
As she left with the man ( _Ward, his name was Ward_ ), she glanced back one last time. Her heart ached at the sight of the strange woman on the ground, stirring slightly. A painful twinge of familiarity alighted within her before the hum doused it, and she wasn’t sure if it would ever burn again.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> i don't think i can ever apologize enough for how long it took me to write this but that doesn't mean i can't try; i'm really sorry for how long it took me to update this fic. hopefully i can write the next chapter before next year.
>
> please review; it's my birthday and some reviews would make a lovely present.
**Author's Note:**
> so this a skimmons winter soldier type au starring jemma as bucky barnes and daisy as steve rogers. this is also my first time posting on ao3 so please review! this is also all that i have written so far and if you would like to read more, please please let me know! thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed! | 9703381134bb470a9e2cf07e9ebf63e4 | ['05dfb93fbcaa4e70815d1117ed6ec950'] | But when Jemma had been sucked into the stone, the shaking of her skin stopped. The loudness that had been ringing in her head and in her stomach stopped and everything was quiet, quiet, quiet. It felt like she was twenty feet underwater and forgot what the world sounded like. At first, she had been relieved. That relief quickly turned to terror.
Now that Jemma was back, the mosquito noise was back, but quieter, more dulled than before. She didn’t know what to make of it and the only person she had once trusted enough to talk to about this sort of thing, well, Jiaying was dead after she had tried to feed off Daisy’s life force and Daisy had killed her. The thing that frightened her most, however, was that the noise didn’t seem to quite be coming from the basement room that housed the Monolith anymore.
\---
Three nights after the stone coughed Jemma up, Mack, Fitz, and a team of agents stood in the same room. Hazmat suits had been donned and they worked to set up a device Fitz had developed with Mack to hopefully destroy the stone. But after the thing had sucked up Jemma and spit her back out again, they weren’t sure how it would defend itself. They were treating it like a sentient being, something capable of basic instincts. For all they knew, it was much, much smarter.
After setting up the mechanisms and cameras and prepping the box containing the Monolith to be opened remotely, Mack cleared the room. They had set up a control station on the ground floor and the entire base had been emptied except for all essential personnel. Everyone else had been moved offsite to a separate base; it made more sense to move them than to risk moving the Monolith again.
One of the agents on Mack’s team gave the all clear, and Mack looked to Fitz, giving the engineer the go-ahead. “It’s all yours, Turbo.”
Fitz nodded, tapping a few times on his tablet before looking at the agents around him. “Everybody ready? Here we go...”
\---
Daisy knew the instant something changed. The buzzing that had been faint and distant moments before had suddenly erupted in her head, her skin crawling and shivering, her bones shaking and grinding. She fell to her knees, hands coming up to her head. A loud scream reached her a moment later, coming from the direction of Jemma’s quarantine. Pushing the tingling in her spine aside, Daisy got to her feet and raced down the hall toward Jemma’s screaming.
Her friend was crouched on the floor, tucked in the corner between her bed and the wall. Her hands covered her ears as she screamed, one eye red from a blood vessel that had burst from the force of her screaming. She was staring straight ahead but it was clear she couldn’t see what was right in front of her – it was as if she was straining to see in the sort of pitch-blackness that only occurs deep underground.
Daisy slammed into the glass around Jemma’s quarantine, yelling the scientist’s name, struggling to be heard over her screams. And all at once, everything stopped.
Her skin stopped crawling, Jemma stopped screaming, the world stopped buzzing. There was dead silence; the only thing she recognized was the background humming of all the frequencies surrounding her.
“Jemma? Jemma, are you okay? Jemma, please, talk to me! Jemma!”
But the other woman has her eyes shut and she’s rocking back and forth in her corner, silent at first but whimpering a few moments later. Daisy banged her hand on the glass, trying to get her friend’s attention. The other woman started shaking her head while she rocked.
“Oh, for the love of-“ Daisy moved to the door and opened it, protocol and Mack be damned.
Jemma stopped rocking as the doors whooshed! open and Daisy came in, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Jemma, hey, what’s wrong?” The buzzing had started in her head again and she looked closely at her friend’s drooping head. “Jemma?”
The scientist moved suddenly, throwing a hand out and sending Daisy flying backwards with strength she didn’t know the other woman possessed. Jemma raised her head to look at her, brown eyes steely and one shot with blood. She was angry and unwavering, not a touch of confusion or misunderstanding in her voice when she said, “Who the hell is Jemma?”
2. hear the lonely promenade
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> with the premiere of season 4 and a distinct lack of skimmons, i felt we needed some skimmons in our lives. please enjoy. apologies for the angst and the wait.
For so long, there was only black. Blackness and silence and nothing. At first, Jemma had been terrified. Then confused. Then numb. Emptiness settled itself into her heart.
And then the humming began.
It started softly, just a light thrum in her blood vessels, in her capillaries and veins. It slowly grew, taking up residence in her skin and muscles, until it replaced the marrow in her very bones. It moved into her heart, evicting the emptiness that had already hung its drapes on the walls. It filled her, becoming the only thing she had in the blackness that surrounded her.
The humming whispered to her, telling her what she was and what she was to become. It painted a picture of the future, one where Jemma Simmons became all she was meant to be; a future where she was able to keep everything together, to keep her family and friends whole and complete.
And it took all of that away. Along with everything else. |
7ddc82bc94b44d6fb9a04296a827790e | ['0610a28a03f446f28dca294dd4887d06'] | He notices one of the boxes has a photo album on top. Jason grabs it and starts flipping through it. It’s full of pictures from after his parents’ divorce to Jason’s fifteenth birthday. A lot of the earlier pictures are just of Jason doing various things. A few pictures of his parents with tight-lipped smiles are there, too. Then came the happier pictures. Pictures of Jason playing baseball. Pictures of Trina and Mendel. Pictures of Whizzer and Marvin. Pictures of Charlotte and Cordelia.
Jason’s favorites were the ones from Marvin’s New Year’s Eve party, shortly before Whizzer got sick. There were a couple posed ones. One had all seven of them, with Jason front and center. Whizzer, drunk as hell, had insisted that Jason take photos with all his sets of parents. He then insisted Jason take a picture of him and Marvin kissing. Jason had groaned in disgust but taken it anyways with Whizzer’s fancy camera.
There were a couple pictures from Jason’s bar mitzvah. He flips past them quickly. Maybe someday, he’ll be able to look at them without crying.
As he looks at pictures of Trina during her pregnancy, his eyelids get heavy...
The next morning, Jason is jolted awake at the sound of his little sister screaming. He stumbles out of bed. He and Mendel both make it to the bathroom at the same time. She is standing in the door, eyes wide in horror. Jason feels his stomach twist when he sees what made his little sister scream.
Trina is laying on the bathroom floor. An empty pill bottle lays by her.
Mendel tells Jason to get the child away, and call 911. Jason does both, even though its too late for the paramedics to do anything.
Mendel finds Trina’s antidepressants in the cupboard. The prescription was filled two weeks before her death, and was unopened. He blames himself for Trina’s death.
~
The year is 1998. Jason’s girlfriend turned into his fiancé, and is soon to be his wife. He stands in front of the mirror of the hotel room, dress shirt on and jacket laying on the bed. His best man had ran off to get Jason’s shoes from the car, leaving Jason alone to collect his thoughts.
He goes to sit on the edge of the bed. Jason grabs a photo album he had prepared just for that day. In it were pictures of his parents, including Marvin and Trina’s wedding day. He had showed the pictures to his fiancé a few days before. She commented that he was the spitting image of his father, but with his mother’s eyes. He flips to the pictures of Mendel and Trina’s wedding day, then to a few pictures of his father and Whizzer. Jason wished they could all be there. He never imagined that his mother wouldn’t be at his wedding.
He never imagined his mother wouldn’t know his future wife.
His best man knocks on the door, and Jason sets the photo album to the side to answer it. He is soon all dressed up in the tux and the shoes.
Jason takes his position by the altar. First comes the groomsmen, then the bridesmaids. His little sister is with the groomsmen, looking equally sharp and euphoric in her suit. She had begged and begged to be a groomsman instead of a bridesmaid. Fifteen years of age, she hated all things feminine, except girls. Her passion for girls was only surpassed by her passion for photography. Mendel tried to compromise to make sure she didn’t appear too “queer” in public, as the world was a cruel place. But Jason had allowed her to be a groomsman, and she was thrilled.
Then came the bridesmaids. Jason’s face breaks into an impossibly huge smile when his soon-to-be wife comes down the aisle.
She looks breathtaking, like a princess out of a fairytale. She is wearing the same sapphire earrings Trina had worn at her wedding; they fell under “something old”, “something borrowed”, and “something blue”.
They had chosen not to go with a traditional Jewish ceremony, much to the dismay of Jason’s side of the family. He hadn’t been to temple in years. Not to mention, his fiancé wasn’t Jewish.
Mendel sits in the front, grinning proudly. He had aged terribly after Trina’s death. His hair was falling out, his joints were achy, and his heart condition had worsened considerably. Despite all the hardships, he remained cheerful.
Vows are exchanged, then rings. Jason and his now wife kiss, and everyone cheers.
Then wedding transitions to the reception. Everyone is having a good time, enjoying the food and the music and the open bar. Jason and his wife run around, thanking everyone for coming. When Jason approaches his aunt, Marvin’s sister, she smiles warmly. She declares that she’s glad he didn’t end up like Marvin. Jason asks her what she means, even though he knows what she means. She goes quiet. Jason asks again. She says she’s glad he’s not gay. His wife grabs his arm and pulls him to the next table after giving his aunt an overly cheerful than-you.
The rest of the reception goes fine. The rest of the relatives know to keep their judgmental comments to themselves. Jason catches Mendel drinking champagne. Mendel insists that he’s fine; it’s a celebration.
At the end of the night after everyone goes home, Jason and his wife leave for their honeymoon. They planned a trip to Europe. Their plane leaves late at night.
The honeymoon is two weeks long. Jason and his wife have an amazing time, seeing all the famous sights of Europe. On the way home, they make a layover in Maine. While waiting for the next plane, Jason turns on his cellphone. It is a state-of-the-art Nokia. He had called Mendel and his sister from the hotel phones in Europe, but had kept his cellphone off. He has two voice mails. Odd, because he told his work that he was not to be disturbed while on his honeymoon.
He listens to them, and his heart falls. The first one is from a strange male he doesn’t recognize. They just say to call him back regarding his stepfather. The second one is from his sister. She is obviously crying. She begs Jason to call him as soon as he can.
Jason calls her. She tells him that Mendel is in the hospital, and asks when he’ll be home. Jason tells her he’ll be back in a few hours, and he’ll be right there.
Upon getting back to New York, Jason has his wife go home to drop off their luggage, and he takes a taxi to the hospital. He finds out there from the doctor who called him that Mendel had a heart attack earlier that day. Jason goes into the hospital room. His sister is sitting there in a sweatshirt and pajama pants. She has bags under her eyes. Mendel is laying in the hospital bed, smiling weakly when he sees Jason. Jason asks if he’s okay. Mendel insists on hearing about the honeymoon first.
Mendel falls asleep before Jason’s wife gets to the hospital. He doesn’t wake up. | bb3f808b56d54e4eac09abf055127456 | ['0610a28a03f446f28dca294dd4887d06'] | The beautiful male lifeguard offered a hand to Connor. Connor grabbed it, feeling the water suddenly get way warmer. Once safely out of the water, he couldn’t stop looking at the lifeguard in awe. The other man was at least half a foot taller than him, and even more gorgeous up close.
“Don’t go into water you can’t handle, kid,” the lifeguard said in the same kind tone.
But the word…
Kid.
Connor felt like his heart was ripped in two. He just smiled and nodded. “Thanks,” he managed to force out before running back to his spot in the shade.
He sent Steve a text: “Didn’t pretend to drown, just got my short ass stuck in the deep end. Sexy lifeguard helped me out, then called me ‘kid’. I hate my life”, followed by several crying emojis.
Summer in Utah was off to a great start.
3. Enter Mormons
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Some missionaries-in-training come by to help Grandma McKinley with some yard work.
Connor and his grandmother were back at her house around 4. She announced that she was making dinner.
“Do you need any help?” Connor asked.
“No,” she said. “I’ll let you know if I do.”
Connor sat on the couch and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels a bit, then put on some random reality show. He was still feeling down from being called “kid” by the beautiful lifeguard.
There was a knock on the door. Connor looked to the kitchen.
“Charles, can you get that?” His grandma called out.
“Yes, Grandma,” Connor replied, getting up and going to answer it. Gertrude ran towards the door as well, yapping her head off.
Two boys stood on the other side, with gelled down hair, freshly ironed white shirts and black pants, and black ties. Connor noticed their name tags: “Elder Cunningham” and “Elder Thomas”.
“Sorry, not interested,” Connor said, closing the door.
“Wait!” Cunningham practically shouted. “Is Mrs. McKinley around?”
“She’s cooking dinner right now,” Connor said. “This really isn’t the best--”
“Boys, hello!” Grandma said in a voice that was kinder than Connor had ever heard from her before.
“Hello, Mrs. McKinley!” Both of the missionaries said in unison.
“Do you need help with anything around the house today?” Elder Thomas asked.
“Would you boys be willing to pull the weeds from my garden?” She asked. “Dinner’s almost ready, if you care to join my grandson and I.”
“He looks just like you, Mrs. McKinley,” Thomas said with a smile. “And we’d be happy to weed your garden.”
“And join you for dinner!” Cunningham added.
“Come inside, you boys can chit-chat and I’ll finish up cooking,” She said, gesturing for them to come in.
Connor spent the whole exchange staring skeptically at his grandma.
The three young men went to the living room. Connor reclaimed his spot on the couch.
“How are you this fine day?” Elder Thomas asked Connor.
“Good,” Connor replied with a tight-lipped smile.
“And what did you say your name was?” Elder Thomas asked.
“Uh, Connor,” he said.
“Wonderful to meet you!” Elder thomas beamed with ridiculously white teeth. “Mrs. McKinley’s been talking about your visit for a while now! She was very excited for you to come visit.”
“Uh… Cool.” Connor suspected that was an exaggeration.
“Have you heard of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints?” Elder Cunningham asked.
“I have,” Connor said. His hometown was chock full of Mormons, and he got missionaries trying to shove books in his face about once a week.
Elder Thomas put an arm on Elder Cunningham’s shoulder, giving him a look. He then turned to Connor. “Well, if you ever have any questions, we stop by here about once a week. Plus there are usually missionaries and missionaries-in-training around town.”
“Thanks,” Connor said with a nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Dinner, boys,” Grandma McKinley called from the kitchen. The three filed in there, Connor leading the way.
The meal was… Uncomfortable, to say the least. Connor had no idea what his grandma’s deal with these Mormons was, but figured it had something to do with their willingness to help her do household chores. He spent the meal mainly watching the three converse. He didn’t pay much attention to what they were saying until…
“This weekend, we’re getting together with Kevin after he’s done lifeguarding to watch Star Wars!” Elder Cunningham said. “This time, we’re watching them newest to oldest.”
“That sounds fun!” Connor found himself saying. He didn’t think it through at all; what if Kevin was a different lifeguard than the beautiful one and he was stuck in some strange kid’s house watching freaking Star Wars?
“You should totally come!” Elder Thomas said. “If that’s okay with your grandmother, that is.”
“Of course,” Grandma McKinley said. “I’ll make some cookies for him to bring over.”
After dinner came dessert, then the two missionaries went outside to pull weeds out of Grandma McKinley’s garden. Connor watched for a bit, still dumbfounded that his grandmother was using these poor boys for their labor. He was also dumbfounded by the fact that he invited himself to a Star Wars marathon with weird Mormons he barely knew on the off-chance he could get some dick out of it.
From someone who called him "kid"...
4. PJ Pals
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Connor goes to Arnold's house for a Star Wars marathon, and hopefully to see the hot lifeguard again.
The days leading up to the weekend were agonizingly slow. Connor had to take his grandmother shopping, to the rec center, and to play Bingo. Unfortunately for him, the beautiful lifeguard who may or may not be named Kevin was not on duty when he was at the rec center. |
3590bff47ea14ebc97732c45d3361372 | ['0613ad639b934d9585eb31fb4242a38f'] | “ _Kyaa~! Choke me harder, daddy! Knock the fuckin’ air out of me until I pass out or away! No hard feelings at all!_ ” Had the Dollars gave her an opportunity to say her last words, they’ll be nothing but words of gratitude for this one-of-a-kind experience. Thanking him for releasing her from this pitiful coil into a fun-filled afterlife. She closed her eyes and smiled for what possibly was the last time she did any of these things…
“Last goddamn chance, bitch! Pay us our due or he’ll snap, crackle, and pop her shiny neck!” He then turned to Mukuro, his eyes searing red. “You move or do anything funny; forget snapping, he’ll rip her neck in two! You hear it; _two_!”
This was Hotaka’s moment. Gone would be the days of butt shoves and “Kick Me” signs in class. Gone would be the days of pranks and dislikes he received online on a daily basis. He will no longer be Hot Garbage Hotaka.
Hotaka saw himself in his mind’s eye sitting on the couch on Monday Night. Arisawa enthralled with his bold story of forcing gang bosses to lick his boots and hand him a million yen. His girlfriend, Sayaka Maizono, entrancing the crowd with her group Crane Generation’s hit song, _Sky Blue Canvas_. The first bouts of his newfound infamy built on the tears of the Junkommittee.
Mukuro stood frozen, unable to raise a fist or a gun. The Dollars weren’t bluffing this time around; she knew they would make good on their threat once they saw a muscle twitch. While she remained in place, unbridled rage mixed with the fear inside of her, the anger spewing out visions of these monsters beaten and battered until no one would recognize their remains.
Acting out these impulses would’ve meant separation between them for good, and she refused to risk that. She could commence nuclear option, but it would’ve been impossible to hold herself back and do more collateral damage. Shame. Left with little moves, she raised her hands. There’s still another day for fighting and eating. But her unwavering glare for the four men never subsided, and she made it clear that her surrender was not for her own sake or theirs’. It was all for who she took the metaphorical bullet for.
Me.
* * *
LINK Why jump in front of the grenade to save your comrades, when you can throw it back to a cadet you hated? At least you won’t be alone on your trip to the afterlife if there is one.
Not to get sidetracked, the Dollars doofuses threw Morton’s fork right in our faces. Your fingers budge ever so slightly, and off I go to oblivion! I try to gouge his eyes out, same damn thing! But if you lay yourself bare for them and hand them all your money, our self-respect will kick us in the teeth and these four schmucks could do whatever they want. Damned if you did and didn’t, my kind of style.
_(“I… I knew no tactics left, how could I know that pistol had only one bullet?”)_
_Kurobuta_ -chan, remember the first rule of gun safety, “treat all guns as loaded”? You forgot rule 1.5: “...unless the person willing to destroy you gives his.” Nah, just made that up. Not that you’d know it.
Chikao’s chokehold, oooh, alliteration; I remember it fondly. A huge, sweaty arm around your windpipe like a snake, your lungs’ air fleeing your body but unable to breathe in more, your mouth gurgling attempting to catch your breath… I felt heaven’s arms hugging me! My _saudade_ problem finally answered!
_(“Were you satisfied? You could’ve died and I would never, ever forgive myself for it.”)_
Too bad for both of us.
_(*sigh*)_
Try using a napkin next time, you slob. Your sauce stains knocked me out of my story.
_(“Sure, sis.”)_
Where was I again… hmmm?
* * *
“You have us.” Clearing her breath, Mukuro’s arms stood up. “Are you satisfied?”
“I’m grinning my face off, you black-haired bitch!” Hotaka responded with the one-finger salute. “All you had to do was pay the damn toll, and none of this would happen!”
The soldier swallowed her rage. “Hold on. I want to make one request: release Junko from your grasp. Do so much as pinch her and I cancel the deal.”
“What just happened…” Daiji mumbled, staring at his surroundings before trying to raise himself. “Did we win? Where’s Sadao? Does Tanaka know?...”
“We just won, you dumb sleeper!” Chikao exclaimed, dropping Junko. Almost a black blur, Mukuro rushed into her side to catch her. Noticing the bluish hued around her face, she pushed and pushed at her chest hard for a whole minute. She pressed her mouth into hers and blew into her airways after a hundred pushes. “So you’ll give us all your money? Not just the tiny purse for desperate folks.”
While doing so, faint rage remained in her eyes. “Agreed.”
The two huddled together. Their whispers did not escape the soldier’s earshot, as she picked up on their hushed talking. Hotaka mentioned something about Daiji’s phone running out of batteries, and how Sadao took the only functioning phone with him. Chikao sighed at a ‘wasted opportunity’ with Mukuro and requested a fair, one-bout hand-to-hand fight to bring more color to this night.
Hotaka declining his request saved his life, but Chikao didn’t know it and kept demanding combat until he gave up. Once they finished their conversation, the two approached the sisters and made their demands.
“You said you’ll hand us both of your wallets.” Mukuro concurred and gave them what they want.
“Spare change, too.” Hotaka relished the jingles the coins made when Mukuro’s gloved hands dug deep in their pockets. Chikao stood guard, his fist raised against a surprise attack. | f8fff3142dfd4a02b7f016fbbd9244a4 | ['0613ad639b934d9585eb31fb4242a38f'] |
1. Prologue A: Pavlov
**Author's Note:**
> I had these ideas for months now: what if Shinsou was a Danganronpa protagonist? How would a DR x BNHA crossover function?
>
> Here is my attempt to answer these questions.
"You almost had it in the bag, Shinsou."
"You got beat that easily? That's weak!"
"Don't listen to them! If I was in that ring with that Deku guy, I wouldn't have lasted a second!"
"Who knows, a few companies might seek you once we graduate!"
_How the hell do they view you? _The hero with a villainous quirk or the villain with a heroic quirk?__ Which is it?
This hasn't been the first time I dreaded others' opinions. Izuku slamming my body to the ground has only bolstered the opinions that I'd be no good as a hero, I'd be eventually be consumed by his quirk, and be a villain at the end of it all. Those who fear that they would lose their sense of control simply by just greeting me. Those that doubted my sincere desire to do good.
_But the other crowds... some actually cheered for you, an outcast? I_ heard a few voices praise my quirk. To think, Brainwashing would be handy in convincing the villains to surrender. In hostage negotiation. In interrogation. The wonders of my persuasive abilities, and all it takes is for the target would do is to answer back at me.
_They'd be cheering harder if you forced Deku to punch himself with that quirk_. Now, now, he was a mere competitor. He did nothing to warrant that kind of command. _Yet._
Would anyone from the Hero Course even want me in Class 1-B? C? Perhaps F? A few reps and push-ups for the last two month got me unceremoniously beaten, now I think that I would survive without breaking a few of my bones? If it hadn't been night, and I haven't been watching cat videos in my bedroom, I'd probably skip class this day and tomorrow and head straight to the gym if I want to make it.
Of course, there's... this other option of... brass knuckles... armor made... from a manhole... _You're getting... sleepy._
Again.
\-----
Welp, no classes.
Sleep is an alien concept for Dad, fresh from working his 150th night shift. He never missed work, except when we went at Hanamura's to celebrate my victory at the Second Event. Their sun-fried steak, most delicious.
Mom hasn't talked to me, or Dad. _Like anyone would do it to you._
Not verbally, at least.
She insists on communicating through sign language; wouldn't want to risk activating her quirk inadvertently. Spent hundreds of yen in buying JSL tutorial books just to know that breakfast is ready.
So, when she told us over the kitchen that we're being mugged, I knew it almost immediately.
\-----
Mom is considerably scared at the sight in front of her eyes. Black jacket with worm symbol, biker boots, a helicopter hat of all things - those could give someone away in a crowd. Wearing those is a giant worm with legs and arms, holding a bucket containing more worms, of all shapes and sizes. _How could he fit that jacket in that body shape?_
"Give me your money, you purple-haired freaks! Or this bitch gets it!" That thug was more worm than man than he is more man than worm, holding a mass of worms directly in Mom's mouth. _Now's the time, Shinsou. Do it._
"How much, exactly?" I replied.
"500 yen!" _So demanding._
"Alright, then. **Put down the bucket.** " I ordered him.
He stands still, seemingly dazed. The bucket drops on the floor, spilling its contents. Worms wriggling all over the kitchen floor. It'll take Mom hours to clean up this mess.
**"Get out of our house. Now."**
The worm-man did just that.
**"And never come back."**
_Would be fun if you made him eat his own worms, though._
Sure.
\-----
"What did I tell you about using your quirk in my house?" Hours later, mom sat down to talk with me, moving her arms furiously. Dad was away at work.
"Mom, if I didn't brainwash him", I replied in JSL. "We'd be vomiting worms."
"You could've just call the pros on him, didn't you know? What if I got out of this house and never came back? In fact, what if _I_ told you to get out and never return, huh?"
Well, you definitely won't come back, Shinsou.
I could not answer back.
After a few seconds, Mom cooled down a bit.
Now I can answer back - a bit.
"Son, are you listening?" Mom takes Quirk talk really seriously. "What we've got, this Quirk we've got... if anyone else were to have this, they'd be running around town making men give up money. I don't even have to tell you what they'd do to women."
"I'm not and won't be like these people, Mom. You can be sure of that." She watched my bout against Deku, right? Making him walk away from the arena is the kindest command I can give to him.
"Toshi, the last time you did that to a mugger, you made him trip himself!"
"Mom, I'm sure you found that funny as well." Couldn't help but chuckle a little bit right there.
_Did she?_
"You just proved my point, son. If you laugh at people hurting themselves, what's stopping you from doing worse?"
No answer from me.
"Now, I've got worms to pick up and throw out. No more use of that Quirk around here, alright?"
"Alright, mom." was the only words I can communicate back. _Guess that mugger wasn't the only one who's opened up a can of worms today.._
\-----
Back to the Internet for me.
The bulk of my circle of friends have always been online. In fact, I find it more refreshing to chat with them, and I've never even met them in real life. _Good for them._ |
a6ba691829a84387afc7fcf6b9aec396 | ['06244b5206374309bd942c2395499d8c'] | _"What news do you have for me?" Voldemort asked in a low voice, curious to know just what had made the young Malfoy heir search for him by going back in time to do so. They both certainly knew the repercussions something such as it could have and what it meant for the time they came from. After all, when it was over and the whirl brought the traveler back, the future mightn't have been the same anymore but drastically different. Littlelest things made up how human behaved, the littlest bird could change many, many things and none would be the wiser of the distraction it caused. None of this mattered to Lord Voldemort while sitting in front of his traveler. It was something from the future brought to **his** knowledge. It could only mean something preferential to him. Those who knew, those who used their information, they flourished and were powerful._
_It was there again. That slight indecision, which was hastily showed back by a flash of determination. Curious._
_"I come from the future"; Draco told him with a slight furrow in his brow, "The reason.. is that there is something I must tell you. It is extremely relevant. But first, I must have you promise not to hurt me once I tell you."_
_Voldemort wanted to scoff and ridicule the man. Why would **he** have to promise him anything? If it was something he wanted, he could take it._
_Draco seemed to know this as he spoke again hastily, having probably seen the vicious glint flash in scarlet._
_"I have practiced occlumency to another level, one that can hold you off. I know because I had Snape test them uninterruptedly. I have an antidote of veritaserum with me, in my body right now. And torture... Would you really want to wait so long? To test whether you could get anything from me and if the information was still intact by the time I cracked? I promise I'll tell you the truth, I'll take a vow of my own for that. And I promise I won't harm you - if I even could."_
_He fell silent, waiting for his Lord to speak. But Voldemort would not indulge the man's wish so soon. He had to think this through. Would it be worth it, to take something as frivolous as a vow to get this information? He loathed the idea of submitting to something, anything. It was against everything he worked for, being powerful, unattainable, the ruler of all weaker than him because they were not worthy. But this man.. this boy before him, his boy that didn't fear him but avoided his touch, was telling him there was something in the future he would want to know. And that indecision.. He wanted to know. It could be grave. It could even mean something had gone wrong.. It always did until he fixed it. Maybe it had something to do with Potter, even?_
_"I swear on my magic to not hurt you over the knowledge you hold", Voldemort said, resigned, but nonetheless the words were valuable and his magic tightened around his core before flaring briefly. Draco nodded in thanks, gravely, relaxing more to the softness of the chair._
_The reason, quite a good one for this vow, came soon after the man made his own vow, in the form of the words that next fell from his lips:_
_"Thank you, My Lord, for trusting in me. The reason I'm here is because in the future I come from.. you are not there. You will die in half a year."_
_Draco lifted his face to meet his when he delivered his crushing news. It was blank and solemn, but full of conviction._
_Voldemort's breath hitched. It had not happened in years, if ever. He was always collected, if not angry and killing men left and right, but even then, he was in control of his body. But this... he, Lord Voldemort, dead? In half a year, no less? It couldn't possibly be true, but both the vow and the boy's eyes told him it was. Fear, something he had shoved far away in his chest, raised its head and cooed in wonder as it was free again after so long._
_"How?" he breathed the question, red eyes flashing something vulnerable as he stared at the boy, his boy, in front of him, telling him of everything falling into nothingness._
A sharp pinch in his magic rose Voldemort out from his memories, having perceived them once again after the appearance of future-Draco. He was planning for a future where he would not be dead, no matter what it took. And the blonde man had made some things especially clear to him, making him vow things he didn't wish to. But now was not the time for dreading the things he'd had to do to keep alive.
The tinge meant something.
His Draco, young Draco, had finally left his room.
Voldemort smiled.
He would keep his normalcy and take more to it, too. Despite not hurting the boys.. He didn't have to, he _had_ them in his grasp, ready for his... future-Draco's and apparently his, bidding. A fast apparition a few stories down brought him to meet the boy who he regarded with mixed feelings. He was not the man he would grow to be in another future, the one Voldemort had met and not quite liked, although he had to admit he found him a respectful figure. Not many could have pulled out blackmailing him into what Draco had. No one had, to be more precise. No one but his Draco..
The boy before him now was something ripe, something to groom. Voldemort was sure to do it right this time around.
* * * | 3538e190a1544acc93a588a5b39859eb | ['06244b5206374309bd942c2395499d8c'] | Another voice sounded by the door and Harry's head turned to look at the new arrival. Impeccably groomed pale-blonde hair and clear light blue eyes made his stomach turn in discomfort. The man looked like Draco far too much to be an accident. It had to be a Malfoy.. one who wore Hogwarts'school robes. A sick feeling settled itself in Harry's belly, twisting and turning as his mind came to a conclusion he didn't like one bit.
There was only one use for Time Turners after all..
So, somehow, his curse had taken them to the past, to a time when... _Tom_ was still a student. A manipulating, powerful student. One who was saving Malfoy's life right about now. Harry didn't know should he feel thankful or angry. So he went with worried and stood up, looking at Draco's disheveled body that wasn't thankfully bleeding anymore and said: "We gotta take him to the hospital wing."
His words gained the attention of dark brown eyes that lifted to meet his.
"Yes, we should", Riddle said slowly, now looking Harry up and down with eyes that Harry didn't like. They were distrustful and wary. "Who are you, though? I've never seen either of you."
Harry swallowed and answered with a haphazard: "You can't know everyone, I'm sure.." And went to lift Draco's body up with a spell Hermione had taught him not long ago. God bless small mercies..
Riddle would have no doubt said something had the other blonde not exclaimed in shock when he stepped further into the bathroom. Harry turned to him to find the young man's eyes on Draco's face rather than his body as Harry had first thought would be the case. _Oh damn.. This was going better by the minute.._
_"_ How- Whoa! What happened here?" the Draco lookalike asked, finally taking in the state the other boy was in.
"An accident-I really gotta run to the hospital wing now", Harry said and prepared to run from the scene when he turned to look the young Dark Lord in the eye and smiled as brightly as one could when escorting an unconscious.. not-friend.. to be treated, "Thank you, Tom? Wasn’t it? I owe you one!"
The words took a lot from Harry but were something he had to say. Because he was grateful. Without Tom here today, Harry would have become a killer. The mere thought sent a nasty feeling down his body and he shivered while running the familiar corrridors with Draco Malfoy of all people with him. Together the two of them had travelled back in time and - according to Harry's knowledge of those dangerous little things - one was needed to go back, too.
Pity theirs was first smashed to bits and later vanished...
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I had a sudden desire to add something... more to this little fic of mine. At first I was sure it was just going to be another 'normal' time travel thingy but then... dear Harry just might've cursed a little bit more with his sectumsembra. It sure goes along with his.. good good luck...
>
> *Evil laughter*
>
> I'll tag when the time comes~
>
> Riza xx
It wasn't the gentle sunlight streaming in from the big windows of the hospital wing that woke Harry up - no - it was the soft whimper coming from Malfoy, stirring up on his bed, the one next to Harry's.
Tired green eyes zeroed in on the blonde, happy he was alive and well... ..as well as one can be, given everything...
Yesterday had been _hectic._ Firstly, Harry hardly remembered anything from the hurried trip to the current Matron of Hogwarts hospital wing. She was a gray haired older woman still full of energy and vigor, taking it to be her mission to heal and parch them up (Harry was in _shock_ , apparently. Not that _he_ noticed, but the matron was sure of her diagnosis.. So a round of potions it was, from Calming Draught to Sleepless Dream.)
Secondly, there had been a plethora of questions, which made it a good thing Malfoy was still inebriated and unable to start yelling at Harry when all of their past was up and hearing what was to be in half a century. And it sure wasn't his area of expertise, Harry knew, but the frantic rules Hermione had trilled into his head about time travel ( _never let anyone know anything_ or something along those lines..) in third year were enough to make him stop telling everyone just how they'd appeared out of thin air into the school warded so tight not even Voldemort was capable of easily waltzing in. (In _their_ time, of course. Now he was quite cozy peering down at Harry and Draco.)
The Matron came in handy then, when there was a ginger haired and bearded man with half-moon glasses staring with light blue eyes at Harry and resembling a certain headmaster _a bit too much_ to be an accident - not to mention the blossoming Dark Lord edged at the peperiphery of the commotion downing hungrily every word they got out of Harry. (Not much, thank Merlin..) She, the raging angel she was, took it as her mission to threaten every bit of personnel and student _OUT!! Out you meddling idiots! Don't you see the boys are in need of rest and healing!_ Which gave Harry the precious time to figure out he had to speak with Malfoy _asap_ before anyone else got to them and noticed how the blonde thought it was still 1997.
Harry really wanted to cry.
Exactly how was he supposed to survive this? With Draco fucking Malfoy with him?
And the peachiest part?
When they had ran along the corridors last evening, Harry had seen-
"Potter? What happened?" A groggy, disoriented voice asked with a sad attempt of a drawl. |
85c3b74574274dcd95d94ef1f68b2214 | ['062931f14a204fe6aab3592bb361dab6'] |
Break Me
**Author's Note:**
> A continuation of LINK . I'm really sorry this took so long. I'm also really sorry for all the things I did to Loki. Definitely read Make Me first.
Thor’s visits became less frequent after his appointment as general in command of Asgard’s forces. For routine tasks and smaller disturbances, Loki remained half-forgotten in his cell, only to be taken out and dusted off when a true threat loomed.
They called him Thor’s secret weapon. In murmured jibes behind his back, they called him something far less complimentary.
He despised the arrangement, yet a part of him yearned for it, felt at peace when he could be unleashed as the stolen relic he was, put to use for the good of all those he loved—of whom he still, somehow, required approval.
The first time Thor had asked, Loki had taunted him.
“You must be truly desperate, to come to me for help. I had come to believe you had no need of your dog, now that his obedience has been proven to the masses,” he snarled.
The thunderer’s incorrigible smile was nowhere to be found that day. Loki couldn’t remember when he had last been graced with it. Certainly Thor’s radiance had eluded him since the abyss, but before then? Was the rope frayed even before the fall?
Thor responded with a weary stare cast as he opened the door to the crystal prison. Frigga’s words from the previous night echoed in Loki’s head: _Your brother loves you,_ and his own mental response, _Then why hasn’t he come before now? Why does he come only when he has use of me?_
“Loki, Asgard needs you. I—the Svartalfar have magic that we cannot comprehend. We need you to—“
“To take the brunt of their attacks so that Odin’s cherished son makes it back home alive and with his pride intact?”
“—to decipher their methods and help us plan a counter-attack,” Thor finished, anger rising beneath a darkened visage.
“Why do you do this, brother? When you know I am more than capable of holding my own, why do you goad me?”
Loki rose and closed the space between them swiftly, hot breath uncomfortably close to Thor’s stubbled cheek as he leaned into his not-brother.
“Because, my _dear_ brother, I so enjoy seeing you squirm, caught like a cornered animal between Odin’s disapproval and my own transgressions.”
Swallowing his rage for the battlefield, Thor grimaced at the lie-smith and clapped a hand to his own neck. His palm slid back down to his side and he turned, leading the way from the musty dungeon.
~*~
The battle raged below them, if it could even properly be called a battle. More of a skirmish, the Svartalfar’s only advantage being their use of seidr. The elves were grossly outnumbered, but cunning and desperation lent them strength.
Loki stood statuesque on the knoll, assessing the fray with Thor impatiently fidgeting beside him. The enemy moved with a grace the einherjar simply did not possess, dancing away from thrusts and swipes as if the battlefield were but a ballroom. Their offensive maneuvers were quite simple flame attacks, permeating straight through the warrior’s aegises.
“Thor, your warriors seem to have two left feet,” Loki observed. “See how the elves caper about your men? They resist attacks simply on account of being in the right place at the right time. The spells are base enough, just well-timed.”
Loki brought his palms together before his chest, bowing his head and whispering chants the blonde could not decipher. He disengaged his hands, flicking tiny blue orbs from them like water droplets. The orbs landed on the einherjars’ shields, each one flattening and spreading upon impact to cover the surface in a protective film.
As the thunderer watched, each spell hurled at his men reflected back upon the caster, engulfing the Svartalfar in smoking pillars. Within minutes, the elves’ advantage had been demolished. Their charred bodies dotted the valley in a gruesome mockery of the wildflower blooms from the previous morning.
Shuffling down the hill, Thor nudged the first body he came to and leaned over to rummage for answers, eyes focused on the remains as he directed his queries to Loki.
“Where did they come from? Do you think they were a scouting team, or just a band of stragglers?”
No reply graced his questions and his eyes roamed the battlefield as he waited for his brother’s thoughts to come together. He stood, accounting the damage to his own unit.
“Loki?” he said, turning back to the knoll, but Loki had crept down the other side of it and was even now sprinting for freedom.
With an irritated grunt, Thor hoisted Mjolnir and launched himself into the atmosphere, landing just before the trickster. Loki collided with the brawny blonde and they both fell, Thor’s arms wrapping around his brother and twisting him to his back in the grass beneath the thunderer.
“You _must_ know that Father has eyes on you at all times,” he warned. “Why do you persist?”
Loki cackled in his face, a mad glint crossing swift as a hawk through emerald eyes.
“You can’t blame me for trying, Thor,” he teased. “If I were to just lay in my cage until you brought me out to play, and responded to every command from my master, what would be the fun in that? For either of us?”
“We are finished for the day,” Thor growled as he rose, heavy steps falling back toward the palace. Loki followed, feeling the watch of a hundred pairs of eyes that would just as soon rip him apart as haul him back to his cell. But the thunderer did not descend to the recesses of the prison, instead turning up to his quarters. | 1428bd4c99e34f9fb382c1ed981315c6 | ['062931f14a204fe6aab3592bb361dab6'] | “After… after all this time… you come before me, brother? W-Why? To mock?”
The pained expression Thor had become so fond of captured his face as he watched his beloved sibling skittering around the room and barely aware of his own surroundings. Loki’s eyes and mouth all formed the comically round shapes of a sheet ghost and he stepped back, knees buckling as they hit the edge of the bed. His head knocked to the wall without eliciting so much as a wince, and he slouched against the tarnished stone.
“Are you real, then? Every other time you have disappeared, but now you stay? Is this some new level of madness? Are you real? What have they done to you?” he gibbered, barely intelligible and mostly to himself though his eyes never left Thor.
Dismissing the guards, Thor opened the door to the cell and knelt before Loki, covering the pale hands with his own. He stared at the contrast of eggshell white and glowing tan, restless fingers twitching and scratching within his palms. Loki’s half-smile held no mischief now, only nervous uncertainty as unfocusing eyes stared right through his blonde head.
Squeezing his fingers, Thor whispered, “Loki? I’m here, Loki.”
He leaned in, wrapping his great arms around his brother and holding him as Loki hummed a melancholy tune from their childhood and swayed back and forth, a toddler on an invisible swing in the path of an imaginary breeze. Thor’s hands petted the soft waves and pallid cheeks and his lips alit on Loki’s blood-encrusted mouth.
When he pulled back, brushing a tear away with the heel of his hand, Loki stared at him, as lucid and attentive as a hunting falcon. The trickster’s body was tense and still. A terrible hatred radiated from his eyes and voice.
“You let me fall again.”
A violent shove and Thor flailed on his back, mouth agape while his eyebrows strove desperately to unite. He pushed to his feet, blocking the door bodily while Loki lounged on the mattress, spindly fingers reaching up to fondle his stiffening package. Mischief incarnate possessed his lopsided grin as Thor shifted and glanced away.
Voice barely a growl, he breathed, “What did you come here for, dear brother?”
Thor concentrated on the stones just to the left of Loki’s head as his report echoed in the dungeon.
“Malekith has brought the war to us. Asgard needs you, Loki.”
“And what will Asgard give its bastard son in return?” he sighed, hands now full of throbbing cock barely concealed beneath forest green dress.
“Freedom. Pardon for all your crimes. The chance to start anew. But, Loki, you should know that when you betray me, I will kill you.” Thor’s gaze returned to his brother’s face, an image of paradox perfection undaunted by the thunderer’s idle threats and resolute visage.
Loki’s back arched away from the wall, teeth biting down on ulcerated lips as he stroked himself to completion, fucking into his own hand as he once thrust into Thor’s stretched depths. He slumped casually back, reveling in the arousal evident on Thor’s cheeks.
Voice drunk and low, he murmured, “When do we start?”
~*~
Shrilling battle cries pierced the air, the brothers crouched back to back amid the ringing clash of metal and grunts of the fallen. Each knife thrown found its mark, each swing of the hammer brought down another foe, and the lust of battle lent a mad glint to eyes green and blue.
They moved as one, a four-legged sentient beast with deadly intent, as they waded deeper, picking over bodies of ally and enemy. Always close by, Sif and the Warriors Three found their own glory, a path of elven corpses their breadcrumbs back to the gates. The six of them traversed towards Malekith’s silhouette upon the knoll, each glimpse afforded them quickly banished by flashing blade or whistling mace.
It was Sif who felt first the gathering of power foreign to Asgard. The edges of a coruscating vortex transparent before Malekith, she followed the beam as it swept the battlefield, a searchlight for victims of the elf’s master plan. Paralysis settled upon her like a blanket soaked in melting ice while her comrades encircled her protectively against the Svartalfar. She could just move her eyes enough to notice Thor and Loki equally enthralled, and equally surrounded by einherjar.
“Loooookiiiiiiiii,” the Voice rumbled, emanating from all around and within them, yet captivating only the two princes and warrior maiden.
She felt, more than heard, Loki’s silken reply reverberate along the fraying edges of her mind. _Malekith_
“Leave your brother and come to me. Together we will have our vengeance upon these parasitic Asgardians who would crush the spirits of our people.”
_Our people?_ His face was numb, but a smirk shone through in his tone. _I have no people, elf. Do not think me a mewling babe too naïve to see through your honeyed lies. You forget to whom you speak._
“I know exactly to whom I speak! Loki, lie-smith. Loki, silvertongue. Loki, the trickster. Loki, the only one whose presence or absence deals the fatal blow to the almighty Thor!” Malekith mocked.
Shimmering dread overtook Loki and lifted him, limp and unresisting, through the air. As the vortex receded, Sif and Thor fell to their knees heaving. Two words echoed in the thunderer’s head, over and over in a frantic, commanding chant: _Say it._
The blood of his enemies plastered his face in macabre abstract art. He hefted to his feet, turning full-face to the elven leader and his brother’s ragdoll form helplessly floating above the din. His hands lifted to funnel around his mouth, though he knew it was unneeded.
“Tulipan!” he shouted, and the slumbering enchantment roared to life within Loki. |
7937d5e74633445c9b3a2115d3070a17 | ['063390b8e49248ad91f23ee3a4c266c2'] | Gage sighed. It was a profoundly bad idea, but so was letting Elena become hysterical. “Tell you what. You stay here and I’ll go see what they’re doing. If the baby’s asleep, you can walk back real quick. Okay? But if she’s not, you have to wait. You know what will happen if she sees you.”
“Why can’t she sit with me, anyhow?”
“Once we clear the border she can.” Harley stood up, caught the back of his seat for balance. “Stay here.”
He glanced across the aisle and back two seats, to where one of Shelby’s men was sitting. He gave him a brief nod, then made his way to the back of the car, crossed over, and entered the other car.
The minute the door shut, the baby’s squeal hit him. He could see them, all the way in the back of the car. The girl wasn’t screaming, for a change; she was laughing. They had snagged two facing seats, and the child was sitting on Lily’s lap, giggling at Kostmayer, who was sitting opposite them, playing peek with her. Harley shook his head and made his way back past them to the head. When he came out, Mickey was standing by the door, apparently waiting in line.
“Everything okay?” Mickey muttered.
“Mama’s worried.”
“Keep her out of here. We’re fine.”
“You got it.”
Harley went back to his car and sat down. “The baby’s fine,” he said softly. She’s playing peek-a-boo with Kostmayer. But she’s wide awake.”
“I want to see her.”
“Not right now. Later, if she falls asleep.”
“I think you’re lying to me. I think she’s not on the train.” Elena’s voice edged upwards again.
“Elena. Elena, look at me.” She turned away, so Harley caught her face gently with his hand and turned her. “Elena, I would never lie to you. Your daughter is fine. You’ve trusted me this far. Trust me now. Everything is fine.”
Her eyes wavered between fear and trust. “I barely know you,” she whispered. “This morning was just another day, and now my father’s out of prison and you’re here and I’m running for my life, and my daughter is … I didn’t expect any of this. I wasn’t … I wasn’t ready for this.”
“I know,” Harley answered sincerely. “I know. You’re doing wonderfully. Just keep it together for a few more hours. I promise you, everything will be fine. In a day or two, we’ll be shopping at Harrods. You’ll see.”
“But … but …”
A single tear trickled down her frightened face. Harley drew her closer and caught it with his lips, then moved to kiss her mouth, gently, tenderly. Her hands came up, not to push him away but to draw him closer.
Gage closed his eyes and let the kiss deepen. McCall was definitely going to kill him, but at least, he reasoned, he was keeping her calm. Or at least distracted.
***
McCall drove the van around the block, checking the exterior of the new safe house. Roelen’s team had moved the old man while the authorities were busy chasing Robert around the city. He didn’t like this house as well; the clearance was too tight, the approaches a little too easy. Six for ten, Lily had rated it, and he agreed with that assessment. But they couldn’t sit in one place, nor rely too heavily on the hospitality of their allies.
It would do.
He dropped Roelen off two blocks away, parked the van on a side street, and walked up. As he’d hoped, they were alert to him before he got within fifty yards.
He went inside. “My daughter!” Gustav shouted before he’d even shut the door. “My daughter is safe?”
“They’re fine,” Robert assured him. “They are on a train bound for Vienna even as we speak. Now we will think about how we’re getting you out of here, shall we?”
“I will not leave this country until I’m sure they are safe.”
McCall glared at him. “You have my word, Gustav, they are on their way to safety, and everything that can be done to protect them has been done. And unlike you, my word is actually good for something.”
“You don’t understand, Robert.”
“I understand that you put millions of lives at risk.”
“I loved her. If you had ever loved a woman like her …”
“Don’t,” McCall barked. “Don’t presume to lecture me about love. Don’t presume that you know anything about me, Gustav. And don’t presume that we’re still friends.”
An uneasy silence fell over the safe house. The men settled in to wait for news.
***
Kostmayer tried to appear relaxed. Lily and the child were sitting across from him, so it was easy to watch the front of the car without being too obvious about it. There were a couple of men in suits in the first row that made him uneasy. Maybe they were just traveling businessmen. Maybe they were Soviet agents, looking for Elena.
They hadn’t given him or Lily a second look, but they probably had a picture of Gustav’s daughter. He hoped Harley could keep her occupied. In a bit, he’d wander up to the other car and pass his thoughts along.
It might just be paranoia. But, as the t-shirt said, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.
He glanced at Romanov again. She was perfectly at ease, leaving the watching to him, playing peek with the little girl, and then ‘what’s that,’ pointing at facial features and body parts. The child seemed happy enough, though she was looking a bit sleepy now.
“You’re not happy,” Lily said quietly.
Kostmayer nodded. “The suits in the front row. I don’t like them.”
“You don’t like anybody in suits.”
“I’m having a vision.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m picturing Elena deciding that she has to come back and check on us, and this little one jumping up and screaming, ‘Mommy, mommy!’” | 8d8075df20b743919a7eb48d5080b4f0 | ['063390b8e49248ad91f23ee3a4c266c2'] | "I know. Where are you?"
"At the airport. Are you with himself?" Her voice was also quiet; there was a lot of noise in the background.
"I am. But not exclusively," he warned.
"Kendall Werner is here."
"What?" Robert exclaimed aloud. Simms and Control both stared, but he no longer cared. "Are you sure it’s him?"
"I’m positive."
"What’s he doing?"
"Waiting for his luggage."
"Bloody hell. Hold on." He held the phone away from his mouth. "It’s Romanov," he told Control. "She’s at the airport. She’s just encountered Kendall Werner."
"What? What the hell is he doing here?"
"I might hazard a guess," Robert said.
"Kendall Werner is a known terrorist," Simms said. "He couldn’t possibly get a visa –" He stopped as the senior spies both looked at him. "You want to roll a team?"
Control took the phone. "Romanov? Are you sure it’s him?" He listened for a moment, nodding. "All right. Hold on." He looked to Simms. "No time for a team. Call Customs at La Guardia. Tell them we have a known wanted at Baggage Three, description to follow. Give them his name. Tell them to consider him armed and extremely dangerous."
"Right away." Simms had his own phone out. After a two-second pause, he hit the single button that would link him to the Company switchboard and began to relay the information.
***
Even while she was staring at a killer, Lily found it tremendously comforting to hear her lover’s voice on the phone. He wasn’t dead. He sounded as brusque and terse as ever.
She hung on the phone, apparently chit-chatting. When the conveyor finally came on, she moved to the far side of the carousel, jostling just a bit through the crowd, politely impatient for her luggage. She had given a complete description to be passed on to Customs. Bless the traveling hat, she thought. Rumor was that the assassin was going bald, and that he was ungraciously sensitive about it. In any case, the hat made him damn easy to spot.
Werner had the constantly-moving gaze of a seasoned agent. He never looked at one thing for more than a few seconds; he noticed everyone around him. He looked over his shoulder, scanning the concourse. When he turned back, he noticed Lily, recognized her as the woman who had bumped into him a few minutes earlier. She saw it register, and then she saw him dismiss it. It was the airport. They were all waiting for their bags. Nothing alarming about her continued presence, or her bored casual stare.
The first bags came down the chute to Lily’s right. She glanced at them, then back at Werner. They weren’t his.
Behind him, a hundred yards down the concourse, she saw two cops talk into a single radio, then look her direction. Werner had his back to them, his attention still on the bags.
A dozen more bags spilled out. The cops moved towards the baggage claim. Two men in suits swung into the corridor ahead of them, and then two more. They were all trotting. They all had their hands on their guns.
They were as subtle as a herd of elephants.
Werner was still focused on the bags. But by instinct or habit, his shoulders turned. He was about to look back again. A golf bag came down the chute and he paused.
His, Lily knew at once. She studied it as it came closer. It had a custom travel cover over the whole bag, black leather, zipped tight and locked with a small padlock. Because of course it wouldn’t do to have your assault rifle spill out in the baggage hold of a commercial airliner.
Werner waited for his bag, but his shoulder was still turned; he still had time to check behind him before the bag was close enough to pick up. They were close, six men, armed and running. A big crowd, room to escape, to take a hostage …
She needed to keep his attention for five more seconds.
The bag was in front of her. Lily Romanov tucked her phone into her pocket, reached down and pulled the golf bag off the conveyor.
Werner looked at her, startled. "Hey!" he said.
She slung the bag over her shoulder.
"Hey, that’s mine!" he shouted.
She backed into the crowd. Werner pushed towards the end of the conveyor, coming after her. He shoved his way right into the arms of the waiting Customs agents.
They took him firmly, politely, one on each arm. Werner said something like, "There must be some mistake." Then he flung one into the other and ran.
"Lily!" the phone in her pocket called.
Romanov shifted the weight of the bag across her shoulders and brought the phone out again. "They had him. He’s running."
"Don’t chase him," Control said sharply. "You’re not armed."
"I know." She shrugged her way out the crowd and walked swiftly the direction the chase had gone.
"I mean it, Lily."
"I know." It wasn’t hard to track them; they left a wide swath in the crowded concourse, confused, annoyed people looking the way they’d gone. She moved up to a trot, taking advantage of their wake. Whatever was in the golf bag did not shift or bounce.
Ahead was the cab stand. Through the windows, she could see a crowd gathering in the curb lane. There was a cab, stopped. The agents were looking down. She slid along the window and peered out.
"Lily?" her phone barked.
"Mr. Werner is dead," she reported.
"Are you sure?"
She looked again. Given the quantity of pink-gray matter smeared behind the cab’s front tire, there wasn’t much doubt. "I’m sure. But I do have some good news."
"What’s that?" Control said tightly.
"I have his golf bag."
"His … oh." There was a brief pause. "Bring it to me."
"Where are you?"
"The place where you met young Alexander."
"Ah. Nice choice." |
36100b7553024364a8ee3bc784a1d330 | ['064af70426ff4267bc1794a71226652d'] | He tried to tell himself to be grateful that the talent management company, small as it was, could still get him bookings for other events which helped him scrape by. Hoseok was a good dancer and sometimes ended up being in background dance acts for the fashion shows if he was lucky, or as a background dancer in TV spot ads, or occasionally (more times than one could imagine) wearing an animal mascot costume for a kid’s birthday party. For the sake of paying the bills he was willing to do almost any gig within the realm of legality.
However, that didn’t stop Hoseok from feeling another piece of him die every time his fellow talents in the company got confirmed for a modelling gig, while he got asked to be a door usher for the same event.
Hoseok saved up what he could during peak seasonal periods, for the times in between holidays where there would be a dry spell of events. He didn’t spend much on himself. The financial struggle on top of being emotionally drained was tough, but he managed to keep himself in the black.
Park Jimin was in the same agency and could relate well. He had come from Busan to pursue a similar dream as Hoseok, as there weren’t any opportunities to be found in a sleepy seaside town whose main export was seafood. Jimin was often told he was too short right away and dismissed by clients quickly. The pair ended up bonding over who could sneakily eat more hor d’oeuvres while serving as waitstaff (it was Hoseok with a record of 23 in one night), or who could get the most “interesting” gig for the week (Jimin will never talk about it again).
The agency, small and struggling, finally decided to drop Jimin when his contract expired. By chance, Jimin was spotted by Jin and his manager while serving his final cocktail event. The duo convinced Jimin that he should move to Seoul and join their agency which could help him snag better opportunities for his “pretty face”. And it was true; Jimin was pretty. _Really_ pretty. It was a face that belonged to the shining capital city, not underappreciated in the provincial areas. Jin and his manager were right and eventually, Jimin’s face made an impact as a unique new look for the more open-minded city clients and he quickly became a darling for CFs. Meanwhile Jin was already ruling as a popular runway model with his broad shoulders and handsome looks.
And that left Hoseok, who had nothing.
It wasn’t that Jin didn’t invite him to Seoul as well, but more of the fact that Hoseok’s contract with the Gwangju based agency wasn’t due to expire for another year. During that time, he struggled on whether to renew for another two years of the same miserable life which was at least _safe_ to an extent.
Or, he could give up and take a risk on design school.
Hoseok had learnt a lot being backstage observing his fellow agency mates being fussed over by designers for the past few years. He had assisted in many fitting sessions and was also often the onsite errand boy. Somewhere along the way, he had grown a new dream. He researched online for hours about Seoul, design school, and how to draw designs.
Jin and Jimin called him often, and during their talks they encouraged Hoseok over and over to take a chance on something new.
One year later, Hoseok found himself stepping into the lobby of BIG HEIGHTS with his lime green luggage bag.
Was something new a good thing? Hoseok didn’t know yet but he was willing to give it a try.
_[End of Flashback]_
\--
_They were lying down on the bed._
_Large hands cupped his face, black hair tickling his forehead. Intense eyes met his as those lips slowly pressed to his own—_
The loud beeps from the garbage truck reversing into the back alley startled Hoseok enough to open his eyes.
He stared blankly at the peeling white paint of his bedroom ceiling and groaned in frustration.
He couldn’t believe he had yet another wet dream about his _roommate_. A man for whom he felt something more than just _friendly cohabitation appreciation_. Hoseok didn’t know when the feelings really started. He only knew that he was plagued some nights with dreams of him. Some dreams were sweet, other dreams were more… _passionate_.
He forced himself to sit up, groggily gathering his thoughts. What time was it? How long had he been asleep?
His hand clumsily grabbed at his phone from the bedside table, nearly dropping it on the floor. 6.02pm. The events of the morning came back to him in a rush. He remembered how he had made a disaster of the recording, his endless tears, and the comforting hand through his hair.
Hoseok sighed.
The gnawing sensation in his stomach drew his attention. Maybe he could make some ramen.
Shuffling out of his room, Hoseok was slightly surprised to find his roommate sitting on the sofa, the TV switched to a documentary rerun.
Yoongi turned his head upon sensing the other’s presence.
“Hoseokie, you’re awake.”
He nodded in response, shifting his weight nervously as Yoongi stood up from the sofa to make his way over to where he was standing.
“Hyung, I—"
A loud growl from his stomach interrupted his words. Hoseok couldn’t help an embarrassed smile forming as Yoongi’s mouth twitched in amusement. The tension he had been feeling seemed to disappear right at that moment.
“It’s ok, I guess we should get dinner first yah? My treat,” Yoongi said, placing a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder. “I also have some stuff to tell you. Let’s talk about it later.”
Hoseok nodded, a small but genuine smile taking over now.
“Thanks Hyung. Sounds like a plan.”
\-- | d1c1d85757134840a7f2de7350588a82 | ['064af70426ff4267bc1794a71226652d'] |
Ghost
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK, LINK.
> Thanks to Kay and Kenzie for the idea triggers (ha, a gun pun!)
>
> (Any names of minor OCs are random and not referring to anyone in particular)
The man smiled at his reflection in the mirror, satisfied. His hair was currently a sensible black, and he was dressed with a neat full-black suit to match. Although he personally preferred brighter colours, he wouldn’t complain because the new assignment required him to project a boring image this time.
Besides, he knew it would only be a matter of time before the next job when he could change his skin and be a different person again. He enjoyed coming up with new looks each time; some sort of cheap thrill that served as job motivation. On top of the money of course.
“It’s time to go.” He turned at the voice, seeing one of his colleagues standing near the room door.
_Colleague_ was an unusual term to use really, given the nature of their…work. But he wouldn’t exactly call the people he worked with _friends_ either.
Everything was just business.
“What name are you using this time?” The other asked casually as they both exited the room, as if he had been merely asking about the weather. It was a question of necessity though, because they would be working together on this assignment. As little information as possible was put on file because of the nature of their work. No one knew anything more than they needed to. Any plans made were discussed verbally or the physical form destroyed upon receipt.
A few people passed them in the white corridor. Each person was nothing more than a vaguely familiar shadow, or maybe even completely unrecognisable. No one looked at another; no one else spoke.
_Ghosts._ That’s what they were supposed to be like. Complete your assignment successfully, get your money, and then vanish – only to reappear as a totally different person, with a brand-new identity. The company would back you up where needed with their resources and network.
The man waited till they were both in the safety and privacy of the elevator alone.
“I’m going to go with boring ol’ Jay.” The man checked the time on his watch, a mid-range brand with seasoned leather straps and even a small scratch on the watch-face for effect.
The other nodded.
“Chris.”
“Chris?”
“What can I say, I watched a movie last night.”
The man chuckled a little in spite of himself at the other’s confession. It wasn’t something the other was supposed to reveal, and it wasn’t something for the man to know. Then again, not that it really mattered. You couldn’t really call themselves _colleagues_ nor _friends_ after all.
“I won’t ask which Chris.”
“I wouldn’t have told you anyway.”
They both shared a smile at the inside joke, the kind that only neither colleagues nor friends could share.
\--
_Client:
Confidential_
_Assignment:
Infiltrate the gang known as [Bulletproof]_
_Objective(s):
Get information on organisational structure, identify key members and leadership_
_Identity:
New bodyguard of high ranking member [Min Yoongi]_
_Exit / Cover:
Fake own death, dispose of [Min Yoongi] discreetly_
_Deadline:
3 months_
Jay heard the front door of the apartment opening. He snapped his eyes open from where he had been lying on the bed asleep.
He could hear footsteps moving quietly in the living room. There was only one other room in this tiny shoebox apartment – that being the bedroom he was currently in.
He retrieved the gun that he always kept under his pillow and waited behind the bedroom door. Jay pressed an ear to the wood and listened carefully. One pair of footsteps only. Good.
The door swung open midway and Jay was quick to knock the intruder to the ground. He stuck the metal barrel to the intruder’s forehead. He expected to see shock, surprise, maybe even fear in the other person’s eyes.
But the man pinned underneath him simply _laughed_.
“Well done, I see you’re more than up to the job.”
Jay pressed the barrel harder into the intruder’s forehead.
“You’ve got 5 seconds to explain before I kill you.”
The man cocked an eyebrow.
“I’m just testing my new hire. Yoongi is a little picky, you see. I had to check whether you’re good enough to protect him.”
Jay removed the gun and detached himself from the other as realisation hit him. The man stood up and drew himself to his full height, and he was _tall_. He brushed himself off and then took on a serious air.
“Hello Jay. I’m trusting you to do a good job.”
The man pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled on it before handing it to him.
“Be there at 8am. If anyone asks, just tell them you passed Namjoon’s interview.”
The tall man left the apartment with an easy-going smile. Jay briefly glanced at the paper to see a hand-written address.
This is it. He had successfully infiltrated the gang.
The moment Jay entered the abandoned building, a deep voice growled at him.
“Take one more step and I’ll shoot you.”
Jay already knew the man would be there; he had scouted out the whole building before entering and saw the platinum blonde hair through a window. He played along.
“I passed Namjoon’s interview.” Jay said calmly, looking into the blonde man’s eyes without hesitation.
The blonde snorted and put his gun away.
“So you’re my babysitter, I presume.”
“Bodyguard. I assume you must be my new boss Min Yoongi.” Jay replied, putting on his professional posture.
The other rolled his eyes.
“Just Yoongi. I’m not the boss around here. And I don’t know why you’re even here.”
“Because there have been way too many people trying to murder you recently, and until we can keep the Black Snakes under control, you’re getting a bodyguard.” Another voice interrupted. Jay turned to see the intruder from yesterday. |
2955c46657c24b4a95e13846990bcdbb | ['06546e7ec33e431da68ec1fd894e2909'] | Suddenly there was a shout which was inscribed in Viktor’s mind as ‘fuck Yakov is pissed’, or more simply, ‘shit is coming’. Chris was looking at him with a bemused smile.
“You did something again?”
“No time to chat my dear friend, farewell!”
* * *
Chris watched as his best friend ran away to escape from his raging coach. At his rate, he was convinced that Viktor would be amazing at track and field too, with him getting so much regular practice.
“Psst.”
He really would have jumped. It was natural to be surprised when a random voice called you out of nowhere, like a shady drug dealer. Unfortunately, he was long since immune. Association with the Russian skaters did that to a person.
( He wasn’t saying he was not crazy himself, because oh dear lord, he was. It adds the fun in life. )
He turned around calmly, and came face to face with a...plant. A plant behind which a certain Thai skater was emerging slowly.
Chris grinned. Things were always more entertaining with Phichit around.
“Ahem, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation.”
He laughed and rolled his eyes at that. ‘Couldn’t help but hear’ his ass, if that was not deliberate eavesdropping he didn’t know what was. “Yes Phichit, nice to see you too.”
Phichit waved his hand in a dismissing manner. “Formalities, formalities. Let's get to the core of the matter, yeah?”
The Swiss cocked an eyebrow curiously. “Oh?”
“Yep! So as I said, I accidentally heard what you both were talking about, and I have got some good news for you! Yuuri is going to confess soon, so you'd be free!”
“Hold on, is this why Viktor made that sudden decision of going to Detroit right after the Worlds?”, Chris asked disbelievingly. He had thought that he was the more impulsive romantic of the two, but apparently Viktor beat him to it.
Well, this was one thing he didn't mind losing to Viktor in, at least he would get some much needed peace and quiet.
( He was beginning to understand why Yuri Plisetsky was angry all the time. )
Phichit’s face suddenly darkened. “You sure I can trust Viktor with Yuuri? Because if he does something Yuuri doesn't like…”
“Oh don't worry, I will be right there with you to beat up Viktor if he tries anything like that. I trust him though, it won't come to that.”
A hint of amusement seeped into Phichit’s voice. “Aren't you supposed to take Viktor's side in this?”
“You know more than anyone the urge to protect Yuuri, why are you even asking?”, Chris answered, laughing.
“Touché.”
The seriousness finally left Phichit, and Chris was glad. It was highly disconcerting seeing such a person making a face _that_ scary. He sent a silent prayer for Viktor, hoping he did nothing that would set… this force of nature against him.
* * *
Yakov’s frowned deeper as his mind went over to his oldest student. He seemed...different. It was something he had noticed at the Grand Prix finals as well, and it only seemed to increase day by day.
Oh, it was a good change. After seeing the bright young boy losing the joy in the sport after years and years of winning, it was immensely relieving to finally see some life back in his skating.
He just hoped that this did not result in him doing something extremely stupid and get kicked out of the competition, or be over excited and break a bone. The boy had a penchant for that.
At least the short programme is done and over with safely, with Viktor in top condition and top rank. Let the free skate finish in that manner too, and then Yakov would have a few months of relaxation. Well, as much relaxation he could afford with students like that, that is.
( He silently prayed that Georgi’s taste in women and judgment of character would improve. )
* * *
“SEUNG GIIIIIL!” Phichit waved like a madman at the Korean, who was giving him his patented ‘I am unimpressed by your bullshit’ expression. No matter, he was surely warming up to him!
“What do you want, Chulanont?”
Phichit pouted, but there was no change in Seung Gil’s stare. Was his charm fading? Because it didn't even work on Yuuri!
( Or maybe he was just immune after extended exposure to Viktor MyWinkCanKill Nikiforov. )
“Aww I thought we were on a first name basis! Chulanont sounds like what a teacher would call me.”
The Korean only raised an eyebrow.
“Anyways I was wondering if you want to go sit on the bleachers to watch the others?”
Phichit shuffled his feet as Seung Gil stared at him, as if trying to analyze any hidden meaning behind his words. He met his gaze resolutely. Let him see that Phichit had no hidden cards.
After a few minutes, Seung Gil nodded.
( Victory! )
Phichit chatted the whole way to the seats, even though Seung Gil only responded with hums and grunts sometimes.
“You're such a good listener!”
The other skater’s eyes widened minutely. “People usually”, he paused, taking his time to choose his words, “people usually say that I should be less...stoic.”
Phichit smiled at him. “You're fine just the way you are, Seung Gil.”
And Seung Gil hesitantly, almost shyly, smiled back.
Oh my god, is that what Yuuri felt when he saw Viktor? He cursed his past self that laughed at him being flustered, karma sure could be a bitch. He was so glad that Yuuri was back home and not here with him, because if anyone could pick up the faint blush on his cheeks, it would be the Japanese.
And a cinnamon bun he may be, but Phichit had no doubts that Yuuri would tease him mercilessly. | bf911ad69463447fa468962e3966d06c | ['06546e7ec33e431da68ec1fd894e2909'] | What if it was not what he thought it was? What if it was just his own arrogance ( yes, he knew he was prideful, but that's neither here nor there ) speaking? As much as he wanted to believe that Yuuri loved him back too, he had to accept that there was a chance that this was not a confession after all.
“A-ah! Viktor!”
Viktor was jolted out his thoughts by Yuuri’s sweet voice. He waved energetically at him and rushed forward to hug him. He had expected the raven haired man to be surprised, but Yuuri only laughed and hugged back.
Viktor mentally pouted. Although he was glad that Yuuri was getting used to him, his flustered reactions were so cute! He would miss those.
They separated from the hug and Yuuri moved to stand beside him.
“Shall we go then? Phichit would be eagerly waiting. Our apartment is a bit far, but we can take in the taxi!”
Viktor smiled and nodded.
“One more thing Viktor! Please lean down.”
Curious, he bent down a little. Did Yuuri have something to whisper in his ear? Ooo~what could it be? Maybe it was about- WAIT.
Viktor rubbed his cheek and binked stupidly at the Japanese skater who was now a few steps ahead of him. D-did he just?
Yuuri looked back and grinned. “Come on Viktor!”
Viktor hurried his face, screaming inwardly. He was convinced that this time, he would not survive. Yuuri’s charm seemed to have shot up to the sky, because the model had just kissed his cheek.
How was he going to survive a whole week in Detroit!? Yuuri just landed a critical hit in the first hour after landing a foot in the city!
* * *
_ “Phichit! What do I do!? Viktor will arrive in exactly 14 hours and 20 minutes and I am so nervous!” _
_ Phichit got up, stood in front of Yuuri, and put both hands on his shoulder. _
_ “Yuuri my friend, I have the best piece of advice for you.” _
_ He looked at him straight in the eye and said one glorious word. _
_ “Chill.” _
_ But like always, his best friend ignored his perfectly sound advice and instead DID THE OPPOSITE DAMN IT YUURI HE'S JUST AN OVERGROWN RUSSIAN PUPPY! _
_ Calm. Calm. It won't do for him to lose his chill too. His future nieces or nephews – honestly if those two don't get married and adopt 3 dogs and a kid then he was going to kill someone – depend on this. _
_ Yuuri looked at him warily. “Any other ideas? Because you have your ‘This is insane but I swear it's gonna work’ face.” _
_ Phichit beamed. “Yep! Yuuri, you just have to seduce him!” _
_ “WHAT!?” _
_ “Uh-hm! It's brilliant! Just bring out some of that Eros and I swear he'll be a mushy mess on the ground!” _
_ ( Phichit decided not to mention that Viktor was already a mushy mess on the ground. He knew how to pick his battles, and convincing Yuuri that Viktor already loved him was a losing one. ) _
_ Yuuri looked unsure and ready to protest, but slowly a glint of determination entered his eyes. Phichit smiled to himself. His job was done. _
* * *
Viktor looked around the house, marveling at the sheer amount of...homeliness it exuded. It was slightly messy, but had a personal and cozy feel.
There was a soft looking beige sofa in the center, with an armchair near it that had the most adorable dog plushie Viktor had ever seen ( It looked suspiciously like Makkachin ). There were a few random items scattered around ( was that a neon pink mug on the coffee table? ), and numerous pictures on the wall.
It could not have been more different from Viktor's own apartment. He loved it.
Yuuri spread out his arms. “Well, welcome to mi casa.”
Phichit emerged from the kitchen at that very moment. “You mean _ our _ home, Yuuri,” he said teasingly.
Yuuri laughed, a sound Viktor swore he would cherish no matter how many times he heard it. “You know it's just a saying Phichit.”
The Thai grinned and turned to Viktor. “Now just don't stand there, come on in! I cooked my super special chilli! Not as good as katsudon though. Both literally and figuratively.” He winked at them and sauntered back into the kitchen.
Viktor had enough of experience with innuendos ( he _ did _ have Christophe as his best friend ), but he still had to fight hard to quell down a blush because he? And Yuuri? Not like he hadn't thought about it but...it made a difference because it was Phichit who said it. It was basically the equivalent of asking the family.
Oh, and also because it was Yuuri who was the person in question. Everything was an exception when it came to him. Said person, on the other hand, was not even trying to control his blush judging from his cute red cheeks.
Yuuri turned towards him and smiled awkwardly. “Uh you can relax for today and catch up with the jet lag, and I'll show you around tomorrow?”
Viktor wisely didn't comment on the abrupt change of subject, and nodded instead. “That sounds lovely! I would love to explore Detroit with you!”
The smile changed from awkward to affectionate, and Viktor would take whatever small win he gets.
* * *
_Vellhell_
Okay guys so like many others I have too researched Viktor Nikiforov and here's what I have found. Those who don't know the basics allow me to educate you dingus. So this dude is an ice skater, yeah like those fact glide glide on ice in sparkly costumes you sometimes see when you switch to the sports channel randomly. Yeah, remember? This.
[ picture of teenage Viktor skating ] |
9ad35d4c32ed4161aa39a3700e57dc12 | ['065a2bcb6b4f4615b923331658f0075e'] | “Can I see your outfit?” I asked.
He blinked, his face blank.
“Didn’t you order your tuxedo at the same time? I wouldn’t want my maid of honor to wear something off the _rack_. ” I pretended to wince in horror.
He threw his arms around my waist. “Thank you, Bella!”
“How could you not see that one coming?” I teased, kissing his spiky hair. “Some psychic you are!”
Archie danced back, and his face was bright with fresh enthusiasm. “I’ve got so much to do! Go play with Edythe. I have to get to work.”
He dashed out of the room, yelling, “Earnest!” as he disappeared.
I followed at my own pace. Edythe was waiting for me in the hallway, leaning against the wood-paneled wall.
“That was very, very nice of you,” she told me.
“He seems happy,” I agreed.
She touched my face; her eyes—too dark, it had been so long since she’d left me—searched my expression minutely.
“Let’s get out of here,” she suddenly suggested. “Let’s go to our meadow.”
It sounded very appealing. “I guess I don’t have to hide out anymore, do I?”
“No. The danger is behind us.”
She was quiet, thoughtful, as she ran. The wind blew on my face, warmer now that the storm had really passed. The clouds covered the sky, the way they usually did.
The meadow was a peaceful, happy place today. Patches of summer daisies interrupted the grass with splashes of white and yellow. I lay back, ignoring the slight dampness of the ground, and looked for pictures in the clouds. They were too even, too smooth. No pictures, just a soft, gray blanket.
Edythe lay next to me and held my hand.
“August thirteenth?” she asked casually after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
“That gives me a month till my birthday. I didn’t want to cut it too close.”
She sighed. “Earnest is three years older than Carlisle—technically. Did you know that?”
I shook my head.
“It hasn’t made any difference to them.”
My voice was serene, a counterpoint to his anxiety. “My age is not really that important. Edythe, I’m ready. I’ve chosen my life—now I want to start living it.”
She stroked my hair. “The guest list veto?”
“I don’t care really, but I…” I hesitated, not wanting to explain this one. Best to get it over with. “I’m not sure if Archie would feel the need to invite… a few werewolves. I don’t know if… Jules would feel like… like she _should_ come. Like that’s the right thing to do, or that I’d get my feelings hurt if she didn’t. She shouldn’t have to go through that.”
Edythe was quiet for a minute. I stared at the tips of the treetops, almost black against the light gray of the sky.
Suddenly, Edythe grabbed me around the waist and pulled me onto her chest.
“Tell me why you’re doing this, Bella. Why did you decide, now, to give Archie free reign?”
I repeated for her the conversation I had with Charlie last night before I’d gone to see Julie.
“It wouldn’t be fair to keep Charlie out of this,” I concluded. “And that means Renée and Phil. I might as well let Archie have his fun, too. Maybe it will make the whole thing easier for Charlie if he gets his proper goodbye. Even if he thinks it’s much too early, I wouldn’t want to cheat him out of the chance to walk me down the aisle.” I grimaced at the words, then took another deep breath. “At least my mom and dad and my friends will know the best part of my choice, the most I’m allowed to tell them. They’ll know I chose you, and they’ll know we’re together. They’ll know I’m happy, wherever I am. I think that’s the best I can do for them.”
Edythe held my face, searching it for a brief time.
“Deal’s off,” she said abruptly.
“ _What_?” I gasped. “You’re backing out? No!”
“I’m not backing out, Bella. I’ll still keep my side of the bargain. But you’re off the hook. Whatever you want, no strings attached.”
“Why?”
“Bella, I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to make everyone else happy. And I don’t care about anyone else’s feelings. I only need _you_ to be happy. Don’t worry about breaking the news to Archie. I’ll take care of it. I promise he won’t make you feel guilty.”
“But I—”
“No. We’re doing this your way. Because my way doesn’t work. I call you stubborn, but look at what I’ve done. I’ve clung with such idiotic obstinacy to my idea of what’s best for you, though it’s only hurt you. Hurt you so deeply, time and time again. I don’t trust myself anymore. You can have happiness your way. My way is always wrong. So.” She shifted under me, squaring her shoulders. “We’re doing it _your_ way, Bella. Tonight. Today. The sooner the better. I’ll speak to Carlisle. I was thinking that maybe if we gave you enough morphine, it wouldn’t be so bad. It’s worth a try.” She gritted her teeth.
“Edythe, no—”
She put her finger to my lips. “Don’t worry, Bella, love. I haven’t forgotten the rest of your demands.”
Her hands were in my hair, her lips moving softly—but very seriously—against mine, before I realized what she was saying. What she was doing.
There wasn’t much time to act. If I waited too long, I wouldn’t be able to remember why I needed to stop her. Already, I couldn’t breathe right. My hands were gripping her arms, pulling myself tighter to her, my mouth glued to hers and answering every unspoken question hers asked.
I tried to clear my head, to find a way to speak.
She rolled gently, pressing me into the cool grass.
_Oh, never mind!_ my less noble side exulted. My head was full of the sweetness of her breath. | 2813e4de15b24a9f888bb7ef97e54873 | ['065a2bcb6b4f4615b923331658f0075e'] | “I wish you wouldn’t try.” She was serious again.
“Because…?”
“What if I’m not a superhero? What if I’m the bad guy?” She smiled playfully, but her eyes were impenetrable.
“Oh,” I said, as several things she’d hinted fell suddenly into place. “I see.”
“Do you?” Her face was abruptly severe, as if she were afraid that she’d accidentally said too much.
“You’re dangerous?” I guessed, my pulse quickening as I intuitively realized the truth of my own words. She _was_ dangerous. She’d been trying to tell me that all along.
She just looked at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn’t comprehend.
“But not bad,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, I don’t believe that you’re bad.”
“You’re wrong.” Her voice was almost inaudible. She looked down, stealing my bottle lid and then spinning it on its side between her fingers. I stared at her, wondering why I didn’t feel afraid. She meant what she was saying—that was obvious. But I just felt anxious, on edge… and, more than anything else, fascinated. The same way I always felt when I was near her.
The silence lasted until I noticed that the cafeteria was almost empty.
I jumped to my feet. “We’re going to be late.”
“I’m not going to class today,” she said, twirling the lid so fast it was just a blur.
“Why not?”
“It’s healthy to ditch class now and then.” She smiled up at me, but her eyes were still troubled.
“Well, I’m going,” I told her. I was far too big a coward to risk getting caught.
She turned her attention back to her makeshift top. “I’ll see you later, then.”
I hesitated, torn, but then the first bell sent me hurrying out the door—with a last glance confirming that she hadn’t moved a centimeter.
As I half-ran to class, my head was spinning faster than the bottle cap. So few questions had been answered in comparison to how many new questions had been raised. At least the rain had stopped.
I was lucky; Mr. Banner wasn’t in the room yet when I arrived. I settled quickly into my seat, aware that both Mike and Angela were staring at me. Mike looked resentful; Angela looked surprised, and slightly awed.
Mr. Banner came in the room then, calling the class to order. He was juggling a few small cardboard boxes in his arms. He put them down on Mike’s table, telling him to start passing them around the class.
“Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box,” he said as he produced a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of his lab jacket and pulled them on. The sharp sound as the gloves snapped into place against his wrists seemed ominous to me. “The first should be an indicator card,” he went on, grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it and displaying it. “The second is a four-pronged applicator—” he held up something that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick “—and the third is a sterile micro-lancet.” He held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was invisible from this distance, but my stomach flipped.
“I’ll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don’t start until I get to you.” He began at Mike’s table again, carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares. “Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet.…” He grabbed Mike’s hand and jabbed the spike into the tip of Mike’s middle finger. Oh no. Clammy moisture broke out across my forehead.
“Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs.” He demonstrated, squeezing Mike’s finger till the blood flowed. I swallowed convulsively, my stomach heaving.
“And then apply it to the card,” he finished, holding up the dripping red card for us to see. I closed my eyes, trying to hear through the ringing in my ears.
“The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles next weekend, so I thought you should all know your blood type.” He sounded proud of himself. “Those of you who aren’t eighteen yet will need a parent’s permission—I have slips at my desk.”
He continued through the room with his water drops. I put my cheek against the cool black tabletop and tried to hold on to my consciousness. All around me I could hear squeals, complaints, and giggles as my classmates skewered their fingers. I breathed slowly in and out through my mouth.
“Bella, are you all right?” Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to my head, and it sounded alarmed.
“I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner,” I said in a weak voice. I was afraid to raise my head.
“Are you feeling faint?”
“Yes, sir,” I muttered, internally kicking myself for not ditching when I had the chance.
“Can someone take Bella to the nurse, please?” he called.
I didn’t have to look up to know that it would be Mike who volunteered.
“Can you walk?” Mr. Banner asked.
“Yes,” I whispered. _Just let me get out of here,_ I thought. _I’ll crawl._
Mike seemed eager as he put his arm around my waist and pulled my arm over his shoulder. I leaned against him heavily on the way out of the classroom.
Mike towed me slowly across campus. When we were around the edge of the cafeteria, out of sight of building four in case Mr. Banner was watching, I stopped.
“Just let me sit for a minute, please?” I begged.
He helped me sit on the edge of the walk.
“And whatever you do, keep your hand in your pocket,” I warned. I was still so dizzy. I slumped over on my side, putting my cheek against the freezing, damp cement of the sidewalk, closing my eyes. That seemed to help a little.
“Wow, you’re green, Bella,” Mike said nervously. |
aa5acfe0264a43439aba2616b5327fe2 | ['067e7110460f439c9ddbaa4fc5ae3471'] | Fancy a shave?
The blade glinted, its edge pressed delicately against skin.
“Now Sebastian. I ate to have to do this. But you understand.”
“Yes boss,” Sebastian’s breathing was ragged, his body still, focusing on the metal held at his neck. He could feel the thin fingers threaded through his hair, the nails digging into his scalp, forcing his head back. Jim rested his chin on the other man’s head, his eyes glinting.
“You mustn’t do this again, Sebastian,” he grinned, his teeth gritted. “Alright?”
With that, his grip tightened, forcing the other man’s head farther back. He peered down at Sebastian.
“Of course, boss,” Sebastian breathed, quieter than before.
The pressure on his neck lessened as Jim withdrew the blade. His fingers still gripped Sebastian’s hair.
“Such a lovely head you’ve got, Seb. Shame to lose it. Although this hair,” Jim’s fingers tugged sharply eliciting a wince from Sebastian. “Doesn’t do your lovely face much credit.”
The hand previously entwined in Sebastian’s hair now moved down to grasp his jaw, thumb moving in circles over stubble. Jim’s focus now drifted to his hair. The blade scraped against the back of Sebastian’s neck, making him shiver involuntarily.
Jim shifted, sighing and tilting his head to look the reflection in the mirror in front of them.
“Hmm. I suppose it’s fine,” he let the blade fall, turned on his heels and walked out of the room.
“Changeable, eh?” Sebastian muttered under his breath. | e71bc4d5783943468b24755cede2231b | ['067e7110460f439c9ddbaa4fc5ae3471'] | When the cab finally pulled up to the DI’s flat, Sherlock was quick to pull out Greg’s wallet and pay, Greg swearing internally and planning to nick Sherlock’s wallet sometime in the future. Trailing after the consulting detective, Greg fumbled in his pocket for his keys for a minute before giving up, only to look at Sherlock holding them out to him and smirking.
“I’m being taken advantage of,” he complained, frowning at the smug look on Sherlock’s face. Oh what he’d do to wipe that look off the handsome bastard’s face.
By the time Greg sorted his thoughts out and turned his attention back to Sherlock, the other man had waltzed into the flat and was poking around the kitchen. The DI shuffled inside and slammed the door, collapsing on the sofa.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“For what?” came a voice from the kitchen.
“Asking why you cared. You’re allowed to, it’s just...” he paused, considering his words carefully. “Usually seems as though you...don’t.”
“Of course I do. Look at you. You’re miserable. You’re deluding yourself into thinking your marriage isn’t a complete failure,” the other man replied, emerging from kitchen holding a packet of biscuits and proceeding to settle on the sofa next to Greg.
“It’s not that simple,” Greg scowled for a moment. “Can I...biscuits?”
He made a pass for the biscuits, knocking them to the ground before sinking back into the sofa, a defeated look on his face. Sherlock bent down to pick them up and unwrap the package. He offered one to Greg, who stuck out his tongue. Sherlock seemed to take that as a cue to shove the biscuit into Greg’s open mouth.
“Mmmph,” Greg mumbled, crumbs dribbling from the corners of his mouth.
He chewed slowly, concentrating on keeping everything down. Before he had finished, Sherlock was holding out another one. Greg leaned forward, nibbling gingerly at it. If he were sober, he might think it strange that Sherlock Holmes was sitting on his sofa feeding him biscuits. But in his current state of intoxication, he couldn’t give a damn.
Three biscuits later and Greg had slumped on Sherlock’s shoulder again.
“God, Sherlock. Where the fuck did I go wrong?” he groaned.
Sherlock brought his hand to Greg’s chin and tilted it up so the other man was looking at him. Before Greg could question him, Sherlock was pressing his lips to Greg’s, tongue pushing in, exploring Greg’s mouth. They groaned in unison, Sherlock’s one of pleasure and Greg’s one of surprise. But...it was a good kind of surprise. God, he hadn’t known how much he’d wanted this, Sherlock’s mouth against his, tongue exploring needily, hand threaded through Greg’s hair, gripping tightly. Yes. Wait. No, he shouldn’t be enjoying this. Oh, fuck logic. None of this made any sense, but he didn’t really care at this point. What was much more pressing was that Sherlock’s hands were now migrating downwards. He shuddered and Sherlock seemed to pick up that, smiling against his mouth.
Now that he’d gotten this far, there seemed no reason to stop. He was enjoying this. At least, that was what his body was telling him -- he was starting to get hard and Sherlock’s hand undoing his trousers and brushing lightly over his groin wasn’t doing anything to stop that from happening.
Sherlock’s mouth suddenly disconnected from his and he let out a heavy breath.
“No...I...” he muttered, tasting the remnants of biscuit in his mouth as he spoke. “Not now. Not yet.”
Sherlock leaned back, face blank, if slightly flushed.
Greg looked at him apologetically.
“Not tonight,” he explained. “Want to make sure this isn’t just the booze...y’know...”
Sherlock nodded. Greg’s breathing had managed to find normality once again and he was hit suddenly by how fucking tired he was.
“You should rest,” Sherlock remarked, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him from the sofa through the nearby door.
Greg sat down on the bed and looked up at Sherlock, who only glanced at him for a moment before turning on his heels and walking out the door. He laid down slowly, closing his eyes and smiling as he heard the vague sound of a door slamming shut outside. |
27232343f1c044a39d8e97178c00c7d8 | ['068956568ad54adb9eea86134c6d0118'] | It was a song that I knew all the words too. It was a popular song when the Millennials were still kids. So about a generation and a half ago. I still heard it on the oldies stations.
"Yesterday I died, tomorrow's bleeding, fall into your sunlight. The future's open wide, beyond believing. To know why, hope dies. Losing what was found, a world so hollow, suspended in a compromise, yeah. The silence of this sound, is soon to follow. Somehow, sundown," I found myself singing. I don't know why, but I connected to these lyrics.
"And finding answers is forgetting all of the questions we called home, passing the graves of the unknown. As reason clouds my eyes, with splendor fading. Illusions of the sunlight. And a reflection of a lie, will keep me waiting with love gone, for so long," I didn't know if my eyes were stinging from the soap or from tears. But at the moment, I only cared about lyrics flowing from my mouth into the empty room.
"And this day's ending is the proof of time killing, all the faith I know, knowing that faith, is all I hold," I paused to catch my breath before the chorus came.
"And I've lost who I am, and I can't understand why my heart is so broken, rejecting your love. Without, love gone wrong, lifeless words carry on, but I know, all I know, is that the end's beginning. Who I am from the start, take me home to my heart. Let me go and I will run, I will not be silent. All this time spent in vain, wasted years, wasted gain. All is lost, hope remains, and this war's not over. There's a light, there's the sun, taking all shattered ones, to the place we belong, and his love will conquer all," I cried as I sang the chorus again, louder this time, not caring if someone heard.
"And I've lost who I am, and I can't understand why my heart is so broken, rejecting your love.Without, love gone wrong, lifeless words carry on. But I know, all I know, is that the end's beginning. Who I am from the start, take me home to my heart. Let me go and I will run, I will not be silent. All this time spent in vain, wasted years, wasted gain. All is lost, hope remains, and this war's not over. There's a light, there's the sun, taking all shattered ones to the place we belong, and his love will conquer all," I quieted my voice as I finished the last few lines.
"Yesterday I died, tomorrow's bleeding, fall into your sunlight," I finished as I rinsed the soap out of my hair and shut of the water. I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my body, just underneath my armpits. I turned and looked to see Lance standing there, his eyes wide, face flushed and clutching his hygiene bag to his robe clad chest.
"Lance!" I squeaked. Literally squeaked.
I cleared my voice and triedata it again. "Lance, what are you doing here!? Watching me shower!? You fucking pervert!" I said, trying to push him out of the way. But he just pulled me against him.
"I didn't know you could sing like that," He said. "Especially with that much emotion." And it's awkward.
I tried to pull away, definitely not flushing at the smell of his Altean cologne.
"Yeah, it's not a big deal, Lance, so what? I can sing. Lots of people can," I said. "Now let me go so I can get dressed," I said, pushing at his chest again. I could feel it when he hesitated to release me from the vice that was his arms.
He wouldn't budge. I digged abs let my arms fall to my sides. "Lance, let go before I knee you in the balls," I threatened. That for him to let go in an instant. I smirked. "Now please lace so I can get dressed."
Man this boy is annoying. But, for some reason is not bothering me as much as it used to.
I wonder why.
9. Diplomacy Comes to Town, Er... Space
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Allura tells the Paladins that they are going to be meeting with A'llidea, the Queen of the Galitetreans.
Chapter 8:
After I was finally dressed in Pidge's clothes, I made it to breakfast. The others were already eating. Except Lance wasn't even there. He might in the shower now.
That boy takes forever to do anything. I say down in my usual spot and started eating the Goo provided to us. I sighed as I took my first bite, not really hungry. But I knew I needed the strength to carry on throughout the day.
When Lance finally graced is with his presence and sat down next to me, Allura addressed us.
"I know that it's been a rough couple of days, and that we are all tired and confused, but late last night we received a beacon from a planet that claim they have yet to be under Zarkon's control," She said. We all looked a chance other, confused.
"How far out are they?" Shiro asked her.
"Meet me in the Bridge and I'll show you," She says as she stood and walked out of the room.
I quickly finished eating, not wanting to be here longer than I needed to be. Especially with Lance so close. I don't know what the fuck was wrong with me lately, but it needed to stop. | febd4d622b2944b4a29dfdb1fe534871 | ['068956568ad54adb9eea86134c6d0118'] | It was barely lighter than his natural skin tone, and you'd have to really look for it.
I leaned down and kissed between his shoulder blades. "We need to get up anyway, I can't keep blaming my heat for staying in bed all day. We are still needed. Zarkon doesn't stop just because of something as stupid as a Paladin in heat."
Lance snorted and sat up, lifting his sleeping mask. When he put that on, I have no fucking clue.
"Fine, I'm up," He said. I smiled.
"Great, I'm going to go take shower and maybe train a bit," I told him as I stood up. He nodded before noticing the nest. He looked at it confused, but didn't say anything. I'm glad he didn't because I wouldn't have known what to say to him.
I'd have to ask Lotor about it.
* * *
We went through bonding exercises today. Mainly the ones where we formed Voltron with our minds through head sets. But it had quickly grown awkward when Lance and I started thinking about the last couple nights.
Pidge shrieked and threw the head set off. "Never ever! Never let me see that shit again!" She was as red as a tomato and my face burned just as bright. I couldn't even look Shiro in the face. But I knew the look that would don his face.
Embarrassment. Pride maybe. Anger over this situation. This was a forced heat and he probably hated it as much as, if not more than me.
I just stood and walked out. Ignoring both Lance and Allura. I needed some space. I needed... I don't know what I needed. I just kept walking. I walked even with no destination in mind. Eventually I found myself in front of Lotor's room. I heard his chuckle.
"Did you need something?" His voice was muffled through the door. I took a deep breath. I didn't open the door, but I needed answers.
"Yeah, I have a question about this whole mating thing," I said. He chuckled again. "I made something last night that resembled a nest. Why?" I asked. He didn't answer for a long time. I was starting to get worried.
"Fuck." Was the only answer I received. I stood there for a good five minutes after that and finally sighed. I walked away. I saw Pidge walk down the hall towards Lotor's room.
"Keith?" She asked. "Why did you come here?" She asked. I bit my lip.
Her glasses slid down her nose. She looked confused. "I could ask you the same thing."
She crossed her arms. She clearly didn't want to answer that, but as the genius that she was, she knew that she couldn't avoid it. She pushed her glasses up her nose and looked at Lotor's door. She bit her lip. "I... don't know. Something... something brought me here. Instinct maybe..." A girl like her didn't rely on instinct. She relied on intelligence. On patterns. Science. Math. She didn't have time for instinct. She barely has time for sleep.
So if she was going on instincts right now. That was a very bad thing. A 15 year old girl coming to the very hall that she was told not to come to without her bayard active at all times. That was bad. Very, very bad. And it didn't help that it was confusing her.
I put my hand on her small shoulder and led her out of the hall. "Pidge, you're a smart kid. Smarter than probably everyone on this ship. You know that is dangerous to come here. So if your instincts are telling you to come here... you do the math." Her eyes widened. She nodded and chewed her nail on her first finger.
"We have to talk to Coran. He knew Zarkon better than anyone on this ship. He may know somethings about Galra that we don't. By the way, you never did answer my question." She looked at me. I smiled.
"I needed an answer about Galra but he just clammed up and didn't answer me." She nodded.
Coran it is then, it seemed.
* * *
Coran played with his mustache as Pidge and I explained out predicament. He didn't interrupt. He just listened.
He sighed when we both finished. "I see. Well, Zarkon and Alfor were very good friends. Haggar was as well. She was... we worked closely. Remember that Weblum video I gave you and Hunk? She was the in inside the Weblum costume." He laughed at the fond memory. I smiled. I may know what kind of people that fucked up family was, but they were once good people.
"I remember when Lotor was just a wee Zholcou! That would be child for you, Pidge since I know your learning Altean still." She smiled. "Anyway, he was a very sweet young boy. Picked flowers with Allura. They are the same age after all. The equivalent to a teenager on your planet, maybe your age, maybe a year or two older." He looked at me.
"So, anywhere from 17 to 19?" I asked. He nodded.
"Quite right, number two!" He said with a cheery smile. "So not that much older than the lot of you by technicalities. She was frozen for ten thousand years and Lotor I don't know how he's managed to stay the same as he was the last time I saw him." He rubbed his chin, deep in though.
I looked at Pidge. "So, what does this have to do with our problems?" I asked. He sighed, suddenly serious. The age lines around his eyes nearly doubled with worry and stress. "Coran?" |
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