#// not when the trees are alive and want you to get off their lawn

[warhammer-fantasy-muses]

"Aah, you are so alike Ashiiq's own kin! See-see, she told you so!" she chitters again in amusement as he talks about having to kill his own kind. But, she clears her throat. "Ah'rm! Of course, Ashiiq has to kill-kill her own because they try and get in her way! You, on the other hand... sounds more like you kill-kill your own kin to survive-live." she said, taking mental note of the whole "Asrai" and "Eonir" thing he mentioned.

Soon enough, they would reach a rather large, dug-out hole in a nearby hillside, which Ashiiq indicated was her little burrow away from home. Approaching it, however, she'd hold a paw out to halt Immaranhu. "Halt-wait! Ashiiq just has to-" and she walks up to the edge of the entrance, placing her paw upon a rune inscribed upon the opening's left hand side, and muttering a quick incantation. Suddenly, the opening lights up a baleful green, creating a 'tunnel' of energy that leads into a rather cozy-looking den within.

"Ashiiq has to keep her lair-warren filled with Death Magic when she's away-gone, otherwise the forest will destroy-devour it! Has happened before when Ashiiq first came here! Almost got crush-buried by living tree roots!" she spoke with a huff, shaking her hand off after removing it from the rune, flecks of green dust shaking off her paw, before she steps inside, showing it was safe. "Death Magic is kept at bay now! Will let us step-walk inside!"

Immaranhu gave a small chuckle at her joke, feeling his heart rate slowly go back to a steady pace. She was...interesting, to say the least. Now that his nerves weren't too distracting, he was able to get a better look at her.

The bones that decorated her small but nimble frame carried an air of odd familiarity. He was reminded of the healers and magic users of his own kith, decorating themselves with animal bones to honour their slain souls.

"Hey, can't fault ya." he replied, sighing. "I've killed enough of my own to understand. Coincidentally, you are the first skaven to not immediately stab me." he said lightheartedly.

"It seems you've ran into a few Asrai though. Those're some mean sons o' bitches." he then said once he thought about her statement more. "I'm what the elves call Eonir. We're...a bit more reasonable, at least with most others. A lot more curious."

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 47

part 1 | part 46 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking; fatal levels of fluffy idiocy

They make their way over to the kitchen, where Eddie snags them two cans of beer off the counter — warm, but unopened, which is really as much as you can hope for at a house party by this time of night.

Steve doesn't mind, anyway. Doesn't want Eddie's hands to be cold.

"You think you're good to step outside for a few minutes?" he asks, tugging at the hem of Eddie's leather jacket. The black hoodie he has layered underneath. They're not nearly thick enough for an extended stroll through the two-inch blanket of snow outside, but he's hoping it'll do for just a few minutes.

Eddie cracks his beer with a grin. "Why? You wanna have a snowball fight?"

"Something like that."

Eddie follows him out back, down the slope of the lawn toward the property's edge. Away from the rest of the party until theirs are the only footprints in the powdery sheet of fresh snow.

It's bright out tonight. Moonlight bounces so fully off the white canvas that Steve doesn't even need to use a flashlight, and Eddie's pale skin shines; dazzles in the moonglow, all shimmer and sparkle and so utterly alive, his limbs in constant motion to keep the cold out of his bones. He's taking these big exaggerated hop-steps, shaking the snow from his shoes with each lift, compressing the fluff beneath his feet with each heavy stomp down so it doesn't creep into the eyelets of his boots and wet his socks.

Steve's gonna thrift him a new jacket. A big, puffy one, he decides. New boots, too, next chance he gets; gonna wrap him up in a big knitted scarf and crocheted mittens and a hat with a silly little pompom on top. He'd look cute like that, all bundled up. Warm and safe.

"What are you smiling so big for?"

"No reason," Steve smiles wider with a shrug. He doesn't bother trying to explain himself, 'cause he never sounds half as eloquent out loud as he thinks he does in his head; shit gets all jumbled up on the way out of his mouth, but he just thinks, "You look cute."

Eddie stops short. "Excuse you!" he squawks, one foot still hovering in the air. Arms out wide to keep his balance on one leg. "I am not cute."

"Uh huh," Steve licks his lip. Your eyes are bigger than the moon and your cheeks get all pink when you're offended, but sure. You're not cute. "Whatever you say."

"That's right," Eddie insists. He sticks his nose up in the air with a little hmph! noise. "I'm mean and big and scary, and you like doing what I say."

"Also true," Steve agrees.

Eddie's face comes back down, expression softening into something sickeningly sweet; desperately so, almost unbearable to look at.

Steve's heart squeezes hard enough in his chest to bruise his lungs.

"Where are you taking us, anyway?"

"Not much further," Steve says. The party’s on a cul-de-sac that backs up to Maple, to Tommy’s old street — weird, considering how much newer and nicer this neighborhood is compared to Tommy's, but that's how all of Hawkins is. The zones stacked on top of each other, new money swooping in and taking over them like kudzu.

In between the neighborhoods there’s a stretch of untouched woods: old trees and tall grass, brambles and dark mulch and the remains of reedy stalks, and through the center of it all runs a massive, winding storm drain. Like the bones of a concrete snake, blanketed by moss and leaves and snow.

Steve and Tommy used to play here. Used to perch where the drain pipe let out to a shallow open groove; dangle their legs over the edge and pretend they were sitting on a lake dock instead of sweating their asses off in the woods beyond Tommy’s yard.

“This one year,” Steve says as he leads Eddie toward the spot, pausing to hold a branch back so it doesn't pop them in the face. “There was this, like- this crazy flood, and the water got so high that we could almost splash our feet in it from the top of the pipe.”

He points out the drain in question. It’s smaller than he remembers; comes up to maybe shoulder height, but it used to be huge. Used to be that he could stand up in the opening and spread his arms out wide and only just scrape the tips of his fingers against the gritty walls.

Now it looks like he’d tweak his back trying to hunch over to crawl in. Guess he was a lot smaller than he remembers then, too.

"Okay..." Eddie says as he takes wide steps toward it, eyeing the curve of snowy concrete. "I can't tell if this is secluded in a romantic way, or if this is just some creepy Stephen King shit."

Before Steve can so much as roll his eyes, Eddie gasps and spins on his heel; snow spraying under his feet, eyes impossibly wide. "Oh, my fucking god," he breathes.

It puts Steve on high alert. "What is it?" he asks as he steps in close; gets Eddie by the elbows, backs him up against the side of the pipe and uses himself as a shield so he can look over his shoulder and scan the undergrowth. Is there an animal out here? Something worse? Did Eddie see something? "What-?"

When he turns back around, Eddie's clamping his lips shut so tight it looks like it hurts. "I just realized..."

His nostrils flare as a snort escapes him.

Oh, goddammit. Steve thought it was something serious! He slouches in relief, letting his hands slip around Eddie's waist; underneath his jacket, to the dip at the small of his back. "Yes?" he sighs, prompting Eddie to spill whatever's got him trying so hard not to laugh.

"Your- your name is Stephen."

Uh. "Yeah?" What the hell...? "I mean, it's Steven with a V, but- yeah?"

Another giggle breaks free. "And- and you're The King."

"...Oh, my god."

He's so stupid. He is so fucking stupid. Eddie's snickering so hard it's making his nose wrinkle up, his whole face flushed a brilliant pink, and there are fireworks going off in the neighborhoods all around them; Steve can hear the countdowns starting, the muted chorus over the hills, people shouting 'ten! nine! eight!' and Eddie's so fucking tickled he can barely get his words out.

"Baby," he gasps as the crowds chant four! and three! "You're Stephen King."

Two!

Steve has to kiss him.

One!

Has to kiss him and never stop.

"You're an idiot, Eddie Munson," he smiles against laughing lips, and their tongues meet in the middle as they ring the new year in.

—

part 48

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[veritas-scribblings]

improve - @jegulus-microfic - words: 848

James was just a naive twelve-year-old boy the first time the feeling consciously struck him. It was a feeling that could only be described as wonder with the slightest undercurrent of pure desire. He’d been on the football field at the time and he’d noticed Frank Longbottom, the captain of the sixth form Gryffindor football team. Of course he’d seen Frank before, but this time he actually saw him. Sweaty. A bit muddy.

For months afterwards, he’d been preoccupied with thoughts of Frank Longbottom, watching him practise almost daily, marvelling at the way his football uniform fit his strong, muscular form. Only he was still at the time frighteningly on the cusp of adolescence, old enough to have the thoughts and feelings and the strange sensations in his body, and still young enough to not be able to understand them well.

And so he’d passed it off as admiration for an older student, one who many students at school desired. His football idol. The almost-man he wanted to be (not the almost-man he clearly wanted to have).

It’s only, years later, while watching Regulus Black cross the South Lawn for the third time, flanked by Crouch and Rosier, that James starts to realise that there’s something more to the feelings and thoughts that have been plaguing him as of late. The ones he now associates with Regulus Black. That maybe the warm, flushed feeling in his stomach, the way he feels just a bit breathless at the sight of Regulus Black ought to be examined with a little bit more scrutiny.

‘Fucks sake, James, you’re drooling,’ Marlene hisses, tugging on James’s arm.

James looks around hastily and does his best to appear entirely innocent and unassuming. ‘What? No, I’m not. Drooling over what? Don’t be an idiot.’ 

Marlene rolls her eyes and plops down onto the lawn, staring up at James like he’s the simplest creature alive. Only Regulus is still across the way, now sitting underneath a tree with Crouch and Rosier, and he’s taken off his coattails so James can see the way his white shirt and the green-black of his prefect waistcoat fits his form perfectly. The way his black hair falls loosely, catching the light autumn breeze. The silver of the rings on his slender, elegant fingers, which gleam in the sunlight every once in a while.

‘What!’ When Marlene pulls on James’s arm, James goes down gracelessly, falling in a heap on the grass beside her. 

‘Quit staring, you fool. You’re going to look like a creep.’

‘I’m not—’

Marlene leans forwards, narrowing her gaze disbelievingly. ‘You’re not making lusty eyes at little Regulus Black? Please. You’ve been undressing him with your eyes for weeks. It’s so obvious a blind person could see it.’ She pauses, and a little bit gentler, uncharacteristically so, ‘It’s okay, you know. Liking guys. It’s perfectly normal.’ 

‘I know it’s normal! That’s not it.’ A warm flush fills James’s cheeks. He ducks his head and looks away sheepishly. ‘I have not been “undressing him with my eyes”! I’ve been entirely honourable in my looking. I’m just…observing how beautiful he is.’

‘Right.’ Marlene snorts in laughter and pats him on the shoulder sympathetically. ‘All right, Mr. Honourable. Stop “observing his beauty” and ask the boy out already. You’re making me sick with the constant googly eyes.’

‘Shhh!’ James waves his arms frantically, glancing over her shoulder to where Regulus is still lounging under the huge fig tree with his friends. ‘Quiet! I can’t!’

Marlene raises an eyebrow sceptically. ‘Because he’s a boy?’

‘No! Because he’s Sirius’s little brother, and he’s bloody Regulus Black! He’s got his own personal bodyguards. When are Crouch and Rosier ever not with him? They’re damned scary.’ 

Marlene grins. ‘Call me your wingman,’ she declares, sounding a little too excited as she scrambles to her feet. ‘I’ve got it under control! I’ll lure Crouch and Rosier away and you go get your boy.’

‘No! No wingman-ing!’ James reaches out and grabs her wrist to prevent her from bounding off towards Regulus and h his friends. ‘That’s Sirius’s little brother, I can’t! There’s an…unwritten code between best friends that you don’t develop feelings for their little brother, let alone try to date them.’ 

Across the grass, Regulus has taken out a copy of what looks like some Shakespearean text. He’s always so serious when he reads, James has noticed from the times when he’s…honourably observed Regulus’s beauty from afar. So focussed. And occasionally a loose curl falls into his eyes and sometimes he’s so serious and so focussed he doesn’t notice for a while. And James is sometimes overcome by the urge to reach out and tuck the lock of hair behind his ear for him and feel how soft and silky it must be.

‘That’s the stupidest unwritten code I’ve ever heard,’ Marlene says with a shake of her head. ‘When Sirius sees how pathetic you are right now, he’ll be begging you to ask Regulus out. Believe me.’

[more-than-tender-curiosity]

for those of you asking for the garden scene (tumblr's search function is off the shits) it's below the cut. remember, the Princeton draft is from 1924-25, and it came before Trimalchio. It's handwritten and I'm still. trying to transcribe it. while working a full time job and still providing fic. it's coming. i promise.

After that I watched for Gatsby, and found him several evenings later, coming across my own lawn. He had lost a little of his ruddy tan and his eyes were bright and tired. We sat down on a bench in the yard.

“Going away?” I asked.

“No, old man. Why do you ask me that?”

“I hear you fired all your servants.”

“I had to have somebody that could keep their mouths shut,” he replied after a minute. “These two towns are pretty close together.”

“Where’d you find these?” I inquired, a little startled by the romantic revelation.

“They’re some of Wolfshiem’s people.” He broke off. “Can you come to lunch at Daisy’s house next Saturday?”

“All right.”

We sat for a few minutes in silence. Then he asked me if he could tell me about something that was on his mind, something that had happened to him when he first knew Daisy several years ago.

“Will I bore you?” He looked up quickly. “For God’s sake tell me if it’ll bore you.”

“It won’t bore me.”

They had been walking together down the street one autumn night when the leaves were falling, and they came to a place where there were no trees and the sidewalk was white with moonlight. They stopped here and turned toward each other. Now it was a cool night with that mysterious excitement in it which comes at the two changes of the year and Gatsby became aware that everything was alive. The quiet lights in the houses were humming out into the darkness and there was a stir and a bustle among the stars. He took a step toward her, perceiving out of the corner of his eye that the blocks of the sidewalk formed a ladder and mounted to a roof garden above the trees where one could suck on the pap of life, gulp down the incomparable milk of wonder.

His heart beat faster and faster as Daisy’s white face came up to his own. He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the humming and the song. Then he kissed her. At his lips touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.

…He didn’t really say any of this. What he said was that she had been an “ideal” of his, and that he’d never have such ideals about things or girls anymore.

“Well, you have Daisy,” I said. “After all she ought to be a pretty satisfactory incarnation of anything.”

“She is,” he answered without conviction. “But it’s a little like loving a place where you’ve once been happy.”

“You don’t know what you want,” I told him impatiently. “You wait three years and then after three weeks you’re tired.”

“We all grow old,” I told him. “It seems to me you’ve come pretty close to getting all your desires.”

“I haven’t got anything,” he said simply. “I thought for a while I had a lot of things, my house—“ He looked up at it for an instant— “and things like that. But the truth is I’m empty and I guess people feel it. That must be why they keep on making up things about me, so I won’t be so empty. Why,— Daisy’s all I’ve got left of a world that was so wonderful that when I think of it I feel sick all over.” He looked around with wild regret. “Let me sing you a song—I want to sing you a song!”

He began to sing a song in a low unmusical baritone. The tune seemed to be a rough compendium of all the tunes of twenty years ago. It went about like this:

“We hear the tinkle of the gay guitars We see the shining Southern moon; Where the fire-flies flit And the June bugs sit Drones the cricket’s single tune. We hear the lapping of the wavelets Where the lonesome nightbirds sing And the soft warm breeze Tell the tall palm trees The Dreamy Song of Spring”

“I made it up when I was fourteen,” he said eagerly, “and the sound of it always makes me perfectly happy. But I don’t sing it often now because I’m afraid I’ll use it up.”

Through all he said, even through the doggerel of the song, I was reminded of something that I had heard somewhere a long time ago. For a moment a phrase tried to take shape in my mouth and my lips parted like a dumb man’s, as though there was more struggling upon them than a wisp of startled air. But they made no sound and what it was that I had almost remembered was incommunicable forever.

[tomatoluvr69]

Brief check in re: Helene. TLDR I’m alive but my world has been upended and I’ll be off this website for awhile, even if I wanted to we barely have communications in our flood ravaged city. Don’t read this if you have any sort of disaster trauma I guess, I probably should’ve kept this shorter but it kind of got away from me. I may delete/edit later but I don’t really have the capacity for self censorship At the moment, i guess it was good for me to get some of it out stream of consciousness style? Lol idk guess I’m just using my blog as a blog. Anyways I lived bitch

Hi guys, thanks to the couple people who messaged me checking if I was ok, I don’t really have capacity or time to reply to them all, but I’m doing ok all things considered. Basically I live in Western North Carolina and our city has been utterly shattered by flooding after Hurricane Helene. We made it safely to Durham but we are going back tonight with a car full of mutual aid supplies like childrens medicine and chainsaw fuel and cooking oil. I don’t really have the words to describe what I’ve been going through, being cut off from all communications and information for days and have no way to reach your loved ones, to walk through a friend’s house to try to reach their water and food stash and look up at the tree in the ceiling, to stand on a railroad bridge and look down at an entire neighborhood swept away, to know that your family back home hasn’t heard from you in four days and has no way to know if you’re dead. Five people with one degree of separation to me drowned in flash floods, including two children. A college friend had his entire home swept down the river. It’s just all so uncertain. I cry at nothing. Wandering around unscathed Durham and watching people mow their lawns and go to brunch has been a surreal dream and I can’t believe I am going back. But we got some clean underwear, our first shower, and I even got my favorite taqueria order, a torta de lengua and Jesus Christ you can’t imagine how good that tasted

We’ve been without power for 10 days and the water is likely to be out for weeks, the groundwater people are using to drink and bathe may be contaminated by chemicals from manufacturing plants and you just have no way of knowing, and because the city’s water and septic systems were obliterated there is going to be untold amounts of human waste and waste-borne diseases threatening public health, we just don’t know yet. My brain and body have been wracked by it all, there are times when I am somewhere safe and feel mentally calm but note with this weird sense of detachment that my body is trembling. It’s just indescribable to have your city be unrecognizable and underwater, I’m really shaken. Before we got some texting capacity back, if your roommate just failed to come home one night, you had no way to know that she wasn’t killed out there. We will be without drinking water for weeks when all this is over but that’s peanuts compared to the cars you pass by with the search and rescue symbol for “we found a body here” painted on them.

All of which is just to say I’m alive but things are still very bad and I’ll be without reliable communication for the foreseeable future, not to mention no water, and so obviously I’ll be off here awhile. I’ll be back soon enough complaining about mundane inconveniences but frankly it’s difficult to even talk to anyone outside of Helene’s destruction, I’m going to be reeling for a long time. Don’t reblog this because I won’t have the capacity to monitor this post but I guess donate to the Asheville Survival Project if you have the inclination, that’s a way for people like me who are relatively unscathed to get direct needs like formula, insulin, underwear, and shelf stable goods directly into people’s hands who fared worse, without jumping through the impossible hoops of things like FEMA. But I’ll probably be stepping back from mutual aid stuff to support my best friend who is now responsible for arranging the burials of a family of four, including his friend/coworker and her two boys, whose upcoming wedding he was going to will now be their combined funeral date. It’s really insane out here and leaving the stability of Durham with its electricity, grocery stores, toilets, and internet is honestly a bit devastating. But weirdly it will also be a relief to be back in a place where the grimness in your heart is not at odds with your surroundings and you talk to people without preface, with dirty hair and dirty clothes and break down in tears in any given conversation with a stranger, if that makes sense? I also can’t really imagine evacuating cause that’d be incredibly jarring in a different way. It’s so hard to explain. I’m so irritable and angry and numb all the time. I’m yelling at the person who loves me most in the world, so many of the emotional issues I had before this exploded to a boiling point in shocking and unpredictable ways. I go around floating in a daze.

But I’m very, very lucky to be alive and none of my loved ones killed, I just don’t really know what the next few weeks will hold and if, like, cholera is gonna break out, or people I know will die of things like food allergies because they can’t get a new epipen. There’s absolutely no way to convey what this survivor’s guilt is like, of having survived through sheer random luck of the draw. And the things I have seen with my own eyes will never leave me, and the gruesome phone calls I sat with my friend as he received, with the trauma unfolding in waves as the family’s bodies were identified one by one, and all the graphic details we absorbed of the eyewitness account of their panicked attempts to escape the floodwaters before they were swept to TN. I did not witness it but I cannot shake it. I can’t go more than a few minutes before the phrases ring through my head again. And I work at a school and I have no way of finding out if all my students survived, because they are children without their own contact info, until the school is able to contact me with any deaths. That uncertainty is weighing tremendously on my shoulders right now and I can’t believe I’m sitting in a cafe and I still don’t know the extent of the death toll or if the kids I’ve known and worked with every day for so long we’re able to escape their homes.

I guess just keep Western NC in your thoughts, the devastation is going to take years to crawl back from, but also keep paying attention to Gaza, the trauma and devastation there is so much more unimaginable and this has given me a new perspective on what it’s like to watch from afar as people continue their lives while yours is unrecognizable. Idk how much longer I’m gonna have the capacity for mutual aid stuff here but I’m going to try. I may yet decide to evac, but you must understand this is my home and my community, and I want to be here to support my closest friend through this unimaginable loss, and the fact that he is responsible for arranging all four of their burials. Unless the city orders non essential personnel to leave then I will probably stay.

And there are of course moments of levity and fun, especially before we found out about the people, like breaking into a NC state extension agricultural experiment field and stealing some veggies off the vine, or cooking up big giant feasts of whatever we could save from the fridge.

I’ll check back in when I can and if any of you guys also live in southern Appalachia and need to be put in touch with aid I’ll check my DMs here when I can, we can get people out to you with whatever you need. But yeah just keep us in your thoughts I guess, things are still really bad. I’m going back to shop for more mutual aid stuff but then we’re leaving again but I’ll check in when the internet’s back I suppose

Eat a nice hot meal for me, don’t take ice cubes or your shower for granted, and watch something pretentious. xoxoxoxoxox ur favorite natural disaster survivor, tomato lover sixty nine

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I'm been dreaming of the Trump Card of Hearts.

One card in a deck, and the world stacked against him. What can he hope to do by himself?

Simple: he'll be the one that trumps them all.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Card Soldiers mob the courtroom. The trial has reconvened, the verdict drawn up. Excited whispers--rumors, theories--swirl around the onlookers in the circular stands.

At the center, a single man snorts.

They've come for free entertainment; to witness his execution.

"Order, order! I will have order in this court."

A gavel sounds from up above. Each strike against a block, the toll calling for his head to roll.

The audience automatically quiets.

A throat clears.

At the judge's bench is the Three of Clubs, anxiously gazing down through his spectacles. He's complicit, another mouthpiece for the Queen. No guts, no will.

Lame, the one in the center of the case thinks.

“This court hereby finds the defendant, one Mister Ace Trappola, guilty of stealing the Queen’s tarts," the judge declares. "The sentence—”

“OFF WITH HIS HEAD!!” roars the royal from the side. He’s red in the face, the same color as his hair and the painted roses.

“… Yes, that," the Three of Clubs agrees. One more decisive swing of the gavel, and the defendant's fate is sealed. "Really sorry about this, but rules are rules."

The judge nods to the guards on standby, a battalion of Diamonds, all in a neat row. They nod back, registering the order, and flutter free, surrounding in their target. Each of them wears the same grim expression.

The jury clamors for a better view.

"Really sorry about this, but rules are rules," Ace repeats mockingly. "Do you hear yourself? How pretentious can you possibly be?"

Veins throb on the Queen's forehead. Steam pours out of his ears. He grips the railing of his perch, glaring from his throne.

The condescending tone, the bossy orders.

A familiar story.

"It'd be better if you don't talk back," the Three of Clubs advises. "That makes things easier for me. For us all."

"So just lie down and take it? Nah. I don't think you guys get it. You just hate that I'm telling the truth and you can't handle it."

"Ace--"

"Enough waiting. I've been patient enough. I want his head, and I want it NOW," the Queen bellows, driving their scepter into the ground.

"At once, your majesty," the Cards simper. Their voices overlap with one another, like a deck cut and then reshuffled into one.

There's so many of them now. Jurors climbing out of their seats, soldiers spilling in from the far wall.

"Whoa, hey! Fellas, fellas, let's calm down here." Ace holds up both hands. "All this over one, maybe two, measly pies? How about a trick to help smooth things over?"

He turns a hand over, revealing a single card in his grasp. Upon its face, the ace of hearts.

"Watch it dance!"

Ace sets the card into motion. It twirls, alive, around his fingers, orbiting his palm and then swapping to the other. Spinning, spinning--and then, the sudden drop.

The Card Soldiers descend on him.

His ace makes contact with the floor.

It's showtime.

He looks away.

BOOM!

The ace erupts into harsh beams of light and crackling colors. Fireworks consume the courtroom, loud and bright and disorienting. Alarmed shouts ring out, Card Soldiers shielding their eyes from the attack.

“Calm yourselves! It’s nothing more than cheap parlor tricks!” the Queen snarls. He searches in the crowd for the defendant—and catches a head of tangerine bolting up the stairs.

His temper flares.

“Don’t just STAND there!! Deploy all units! CAPTURE THE THEIF!!”

"Not today!" Ace retorts.

He throws open the doors, clearing the courthouse as he steps onto a checkered lawn.

The world opens before him, lush with tall trees and shrubs trimmed into the shape of hearts. White roses dribbling red poke out from the foliage, paint pooling like blood at the roots. It's beautiful and cruel in the same way that heartbreak is--but there isn't a moment to admire it.

Not when the maze awaits.

A stone drops in his stomach.

The hedge maze is massive, stretching out and taking up most of the garden. Too tall to climb, too wide to walk around. Too twisty and complex to power through on sheer will alone.

Stomp, stomp, stomp!

Militant footsteps come from behind.

There's no time to think. Just act.

He launches himself in, hears them in pursuit. Row after row of soldiers marching in unison, single-file.

Ace doesn't know where he's going, if the choices he's making are right. He relies on his instincts, the flightiness of his feet, to carry him away from the shouts, the spears pointed at him.

He's pulled deeper and deeper into the heart of the maze. Down the rabbit hole, to some unknown place.

All the leaves look the same, and so does the sky. The criss-crosses and zig-zags don't make sense. His vision spins.

Damn it, where's the exit?!

Ace's head swerves left, then right, surveying his surroundings. To his dismay, his gaze connects with a Two of Spades at the end of a corridor. Their eyes widen in realization.

The Spade is turning now, calling out for the others to come.

Ace looks the other way. He is greeted with a dead end, impossible to scale.

"Shoot!”

They're going to cage me in if I don't get out of this tight spot…!

Mustering all his strength, Ace throws his body into the Two of Spades. He slams into the pole of a spear, which pushes back against him. His head and his rival's connect.

"Outta my way!”

The Two of Spades grits his teeth. "You should surrender now and come back with us. If you sincerely say sorry, Rosehearts-senpai might show you mercy."

"And let him have the last laugh?" Ace scoffs. "I don't think you know me too well."

"I want you to be better. I know you can be.”

“That line, coming from you? That’s rich.”

“If you'd just listen to the dorm leader, to us—”

"--What, I'd be like you?" Ace taunts, his hands closing on the Spade's spear. They clench on so tightly, his bones threaten to tear through his skin. "I'd catch up with everyone else? Finally get my unique magic and get to do something flashy? Is that it?"

“What…!”

“You don’t need to nag me, I get it! I get that I’m behind, okay?!”

“That’s not what I…” He falters, and Ace draws out an exasperated sigh.

A Card Soldier doesn’t stick out.

A Card Soldier must conform.

Those are the rules, and always has been.

His annoyance twists with upset. A fire ignites in his chest.

“Aaah, dammit. I’m getting sick of everyone tellin’ me what to do all the time. The only one that gets to decide that for me… is me!”

That’s right, falling in line just doesn’t suit the trump card. I won’t be satisfied with this alone.

The warmth spreads from his torso to his limbs, as if propelled by his very veins. Sparks feeding into an inferno. His skin tingles, buzzing from head to toe.

The Spade stares, jaw agape.

What is this feeling…?

Ace stares at his hands. They feel molten, yet brimming with energy.

Is this what I think it is?

The buzzing reaches his ears, rattles his head. The magic begs to be unleashed.

Rise up, it urges him. Incite rebellion. Defy their will. You know what to do, what to say.

Do it.

Ace opens his mouth.

And recites his incantation.

[klbwriting]

Our Strange Duet

Chapter 5: One Step

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: none, unless shitty dad Bruce is a warning

Summary: YN confronts Bruce while Jason runs away

Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch

One step at a time - Anastasia

               YN avoided looking at the cast list Sunday, instead choosing to ignore the email she received.  Speaking with Bruce Wayne was more important at the moment.  She had so many questions.  Why her mother?  Why give them money and send them away?  Why not just talk to Jason?  He had to know that he was alive now, between the video and now Red Hood stalking the streets more openly, with Nightwing by his side most nights, he had to know that his older sons were working together, so why not approach them?  She was getting answers today, right from the source.  Well, she hoped so at least as she arrived at the gate, pressing the buzzer.  A voice cracked over the speaker asking for her name and if she had an appointment.  She gave her name only and waited. 

Just when she thought the gate wasn’t going to budge it creaked open and she climbed the hill, entering the grounds of Wayne Manor.  She looked around, trying to imagine what it must have been like for Jason, a ten-year-old, to be brought here to live.  He could play anywhere he wanted, run his energy off for hours on a beautiful lawn, there was probably a pool and tennis courts, maybe a full-fledged playground somewhere.  The woods surrounding the property contained hours of exploring potential and she almost laughed, thinking about Dick and Jason in the trees, doing flips and trying to show off for each other.  How strange it must have been for Jason to wake up and realize that this was all gone, that Bruce had pretty much abandoned him to his fate.  She wondered if Jason ever drove by the manor and remembered his childhood.  Were the memories nice?  Or sour in his stomach now?

The front door was already open when YN got there, the butler, Alfred, standing there to greet her.  He took her bag, setting it on a side table before leading her into a sitting room off the main hall.  Once again, she was struck by the home, imaging Jason there, getting into trouble.  She almost smiled a little, then became sad. The look in his eyes the few times he had talked about this place, he was ruined by this place, by what he had lost.  She was heartbroken until Bruce Wayne walked in, then she just felt anger.

“I see you have figured out who the donor was,” Bruce began, moving to sit in a chair, motioning for her to sit in another one.  She sat down, eyes narrowed at him.  “I wasn’t expecting you to be so angry.”

“I’m not angry about the money,” she said.  “But I will no longer accept it.  And the apartment, I have already packed and told them I will be breaking the lease.  You can cover the cost of that, I don’t want it.”  He looked surprised, then annoyed.

“You need a place to live while you study.  That grant will only cover tuition,” he said.  She shrugged. 

“I’ll move in with Jason and Dick then,” she said.  The name Jason seemed to slap Bruce in the face.  He went from looking displeased to haunted before masking again.  “I already lied to him about where the apartment came from, I’ll come clean now that I know that you were supplying it.  I don’t want your money, Bruce Wayne.  I have enough deadbeat dads in my life, I don’t want to be indebted to one.”

“I am not…” Bruce started but she held up a hand.

“Why haven’t you tried to talk to him?” she asked, one hand clenching on the arm of the chair, the other a fist in her lap.  She wanted to scream at Bruce, tell him how much damage he did, how much Jason hurt because of him, but she wouldn’t, let him explain himself. 

“If he wanted to see me, he would come to me,” Bruce answered as if that were the end of it.  YN scoffed.  How idiotic were rich men that they just expected everyone to bend to them.

“You’re the parent Bruce, not Jason.  You should seek him out, you should have sought him out when he died, like Dick did, brought him back, like Dick did,” she said.  “The more you avoid him, the more you ignore him, the less likely it is he will come to you.”

“He was supposed to be here today, not you,” Bruce said cooly.  YN glared at him.  “He would find out about me being the donor and then come confront me.  Not you.”  She stared; glad she had gotten out of that apartment now.  He must have bugged it, hoping to spy.  How boring his summer must have been as she had just sat in her room, spending the days either trying to distract herself or just letting herself sob.  YN stood and shook her head.

“I’ll let him know when I see him next,” she said, heading towards the door, grabbing her bag and storming out.  She waited until she was a few streets away before calling Jason.  He didn’t answer, so she messaged him instead, telling him she would visit Dick’s later.  She needed to clear her head and work on finding a new place to live before it got dark out.

Jason had waited for Dick to get home from the gym and lunch with Barbara before demanding they do something together.  Something that they could talk while doing, unplugged, just them.  Dick grabbed his stuff, loaded the car and they headed into the woods to the North of the city.  It was a good day for a hike, late August, so hot but having cooled off some in the last few days.  It would probably be scorching again tomorrow, but today they could spend the early afternoon climbing the small peaks and valleys of the forest.  Jason could talk and Dick could listen, and vice versa. 

“So, what is with the hike Jay?” Dick asked after a half an hour of walking in silence, leaving Jason to his thoughts.  They weren’t great thoughts.  He kept wondering why Bruce would just abandon him, not once, but twice it felt like.  Did Dick know?  Did Bruce call him often to get updates on him?  Or did they talk, and pretend Jason wasn’t there still? 

“Did you know Bruce was the donor for YN’s mom’s treatment?” he asked.  He had to know how much Dick was hiding from him.  He was behind his brother and nearly ran into him as Dick froze on the trail.

“He…WHAT?” Dick asked, turning around to stare at him.  The surprise in his eyes wasn’t fake, that much was easy to see.  Jason let out a relieved breath.  It would have been really annoying to have to leave Dick behind too, but he could only handle so many lies and half-truths at this point.  “I honestly thought it was Maroni trying to convince her to join him.”

“She thought that too at first, but Maroni apparently was livid she left the country, no, I went to see her last night and she showed me the bank statements, the company funneling the money for her.  Plostast Holdings.”  Dick sighed and looked down.

“Ah yes, Bruce and his anagrams,” he mumbled.  “Apparently letting me pick the company name was too boring so he’s forcing names on you lesser Robins.”  Jason cocked an eyebrow and let out a bark of unamused laughter.

“Lesser Robins?  Watch it I’ll cut you right now,” Jason said, pulling out a knife and dancing it between his fingers.  Dick rolled his eyes but pulled out a knife just in case his brother felt stabby.  “So, he didn’t tell you about his scheme?”

“No, he didn’t,” Dick admitted.  Jason couldn’t tell what bothered him more, not knowing or the scheme itself.  “He must have been trying to draw you out, probably thought if you found out about it that you’d confront him.” 

“Well, he’s wrong, I’m not going to him,” Jason said, moving now to keep walking.  He started running, wanting to feel the burn in his lungs.  He didn’t stop until they reached the overlook, and he could see the city below them.  He leaned on the railing, looking over everything and hating it.  But loving it.  The conflict warred in him.  Dick caught up to him and leaned on the railing, facing away from the city.

“What are you going to do if you’re not going to him?” Dick asked.  Jason shook his head.  “He won’t come to you, remember, that’s not how Bruce operates.”

“Well then I guess we’re at an impasse,” he answered.  “YN knows it was Bruce too.  She might confront him, but that’s her own thing.”  This time Dick let out a humorless laugh.

“You think that she is going to confront him for herself?  She is going for you, so that you don’t have to,” Dick said.  “Make sure when you see her next you do something special, if she’s going after Bruce, she’s going to deserve at least some flowers.”

“We should head back to the city, I’m sure the cast list is out by now,” Jason said, ignoring Dick’s implications.  Dick let the matter slide and they headed down the trail, driving back to the city. 

Once back home Jason checked his phone.  He had a missed call from YN and a message saying she would see him later, neither thing was concerning to him.  He checked him email and shook his head.  Phantom – Jason Todd.  She was right, he was a madman again, at least this time he got a mask.  Then he noticed her name.  Music Supervisor – YN YLN.  Wow, that was a big job for a freshman.  He was about to tell Dick the news when someone knocked on the door.  He knew it was YN, only the two brothers and their girlfriends knew the door entry code, but Barbara had a key to the place.  Jason opened the door to find YN carrying a couple bags.

“Congrats on Phantom, I moved out, can I stay here tonight until I find a new place?”

[upsidedownmvnson]

eddie munson x reader

eddie crawls his way out of the upside down, somehow still alive post s4. a mourning reader happens upon him, amazed that the boy she loves is still alive. the only thing? he doesn’t remember anything. not her, not himself, not dustin, only one name to which he knows he’s indebted: creel.

upsidedownmvnson's 1k followers blurb celebration &lt;3 request a 1k word blurb :) deadline is saturday <3

you didn't know what was drawing you here.

a trap probably. vecna probably luring you to your death, and not to be dramatic but... who cares? it's not what eddie would want for you, he'd want you to stay home, lock the doors, and stay out of harm's way. but he hadn't done that for you.

you were on steve's street. behind his house. there was just... something? you could feel something in your heart drawing you there. it was what made it so intriguing. there was only room for one person in your heart and he was gone.

you passed steve's house and tried to catch a glimpse of him. his car was in the driveway but no one else's. you wondered if he had a date over, and laughed thinking of his recent disaster - but something tugged your heart so hard you nearly fell off your bike. you stopped, looking into the trees and seeing nothing. what the hell was this?

against your better judgement, you go get backup before going into the creepy, whispering woods. you bike across steve's lawn and pound on his door, consistently and loudly until he answers. he answers angry and disheveled, wearing only sweatpants.

"can i help you?"

"there's something in the woods, i'm going after it." is all you say before you take off without him, barely giving a chance to put on his shoes and a coat before he's chasing you across his lawn. he's calling after you, really angry and really annoyed but you don't care. there's something happening, you feel like crying, and nothing makes sense.

you see someone laying in the trees ahead of you, completely still and unreactive to your shouting. you shout at them again. and you stop when you're over him. it can't be real. he can't be here right now.

"what the hell is that?" steve asks, running up beside you. you're both frozen for too long as you both process that you're looking at eddie.

you're both moving faster than you realize. steve has eddie's head, and you have his legs. he's not reacting to anything, but he's breathing. his wounds look really bad but you don't know if you can even take him to the hospital. so as long as he's breathing, steve is yelling that you should call hopper instead of 911 when you get back to his house.

"eddie?" you ask again, struggling to hold him up, but you guys were almost there. both of you had cuts on your arms and face from running through the woods, but no one cared. steve wasn't mad at you anymore.

when you guys stepped over the doorway to steve's house, eddie sprung to life, making you all scream.

eddie fought out of your grip and stepped back grabbing at his own body and looking around. he was so fucking confused, but so were you and steve.

"what the f-" eddie looked at you wide eyed. "what the fuck?"

"eddie? are you okay? you're standing," you say, looking at the bleeding wounds on his thigh.

"eddie?" he says, like he's tasting how it sounds. like he's checking to see if that belongs to him. "that's me?"

"yeah..." steve draws, closing the door, making sure that eddie doesn't make a break for it. "you know what's going on?"

"all i know is creel is gunna come back for a favour and i gotta deliver," eddie says casually, like the devil's name hadn't slipped off his tongue like they were long lost friends. "and i have a headache."

"eddie, it's me.," you say, eyes filling with tears. he doesn't have his memories. he didn't know who you are. you got him back and lost him again all in one afternoon. it was all too much. "call hopper," you whisper to steve, and he nods, leaving you alone with eddie. "can i look at your injuries?"

eddie looks at you apprehensively but nods. taking off his coat and shirt. and it's worse than you thought. they weren't bleeding wounds. they were scars. he was just covered in old blood. you bring him to steve's bathroom and help him set up a shower, and leave him to it. you brought him to a bathroom with no windows, because you didn't know what he would do.

"he'll be here in ten," steve whispers to you outside the bathroom. eddie is in the shower, and you can hear him rustling but he's not singing like he normally would be. "how did you know he was there?"

"i have no idea," you said, "i just felt it."

hopper gets there before eddie gets out of the shower. and he's short and gruff about the whole thing.

"look, i'm gunna take him somewhere safe. where we can figure out what's going on."

"well where are you taking him?" you ask. hopper doesn't look at you, just talks to steve.

"no one can know, especially him."

"what? you're not just taking him away," you say, laughing, but steve doesn't laugh with you, or crack a smile... or look at you... "steve?" you ask, "hopper can't take him and hide him, we just found him!"

"be quiet, you're gunna freak him out," hopper says. "get them outta here."

and you can't believe it, but steve complies. steve covers your mouth and brings you into the kitchen and holds you back while hopper goes into the bathroom, and knocks eddie out with something. steve lets you go when you bite him, but it's too late. hopper had stuck eddie with a needle that had made him unable to fight back, and with steve's help, hopper takes eddie away in his truck, leaving you to lose him again.

[monsterqueers]

Ok so I love all the tick awareness posts going around, but a lot of the advice is not feasible for everyone.

As someone who lives in a tick hotspot and works in the woods outside, ticks (and other biting insects) are a very normal and unavoidable part of life for some people.

For people who live like me and cannot simply do pitch perfect doctor recommended things always all the time, here is some harm reduction-esque advice;

Pants and lighter clothes are a great idea. They make ticks easier to spot and make them work harder to bite you. They aren't required, but they are useful.

Insect repellent does work. Use some on your lower legs/pants if its available. Its not as effective on ticks as it is on mosquitos, but it can help. Some repellents are great on ticks but not so much other bugs. Ive had luck with the usual 'off' brand name spray and a spray called cedarcide. Cedarcide did better than off for me, but it has a VERY strong nausea-inducing scent that not everyone can handle and you shouldn't go through wetlands with it on your boots. This isn't a rec just a report, do your own research, etc etc.

Avoid tall grass and brush, this often has ticks. They do not drop down from trees. If you avoid places ticks are likely to be it can help. Yes fuck lawn culture but theres a good reason some places mow the places people walk- less ticks. Consider doing that maybe.

Check for ticks periodically while outside, and do a more through check when you come inside. Hotspots are around the crotch, armpits, ankles, anywhere under clothes, any other 'folded over' parts of your body, and the scalp, but feel over as much of your body as you can. Changing out of your clothes when you are done being outside for the day is recommended.

Sometimes ticks manage to bite you. This is not the end of the world. Just get them off ASAP by pulling them off from the head. Don't do a twisting motion, just pull from as close to the skin as possible. Don't burn them off, pull them off still alive, THEN burn them or whathaveyou. Tweezers or the tick removers help but aren't strictly necessary. If its been on for less than 24 hours you are probably fine and don't really need to bother keeping the tick in most cases.

Treat tick bites with your preferred itch reducer if you want (calamine lotion, hydrocortisone, etc) and maybe some rubbing alcohol or other antiseptic if you're worried about infection. Watch the bite and your general state of being for a bit (~2 weeks) after.

A red raised bump from the bite is normal. Some people (hi!) react strongly to all insect bites and get inflamed and itchy at the site for days no matter what. This only becomes notable if the rash spreads strongly, makes a bull's eye shape, you exhibit other symptoms associated with tick borne illnesses or allergic reactions, or it seems to have become seriously infected. This is when you really want a doctor.

If you exhibit tick born illness symptoms, its also not the end of the world. Get to a doctor asap though- fast treatment is key. If you live in a high-risk state for certain diseases, better safe than sorry.

Tick bites happen, you usually don't need to panic about them. Keep an eye out and avoid them where possible, but if you can't just keep an eye out for symptoms and remove them asap.

[fizzyghosts]

Tag game by @arisenreborn :3c

❖ The Basics:

Name: Cecco

Age: ???

One good trait: Reliable

One bad trait: Blunt

❖ Habits:

One bad habit: Not caring about what happens to his own body. Neglecting his health, tattooing his magic research directly onto his skin because he ran out of paper, poisoning himself for science- they’re all things that he thinks are perfectly normal and doesn’t get why everyone’s so upset about it

One good habit: Very organized. Never lost a single assignment that his students turned in.

One habit they can’t break: Arguing over everything. Hywel has to step in quite often to keep them from getting kicked out of places. He wasn't fast enough to stop Cecco from getting them permanently banned from the expensive inn in Bakbattahl.

One they've broken: Never stopping to rest. Listening to Hywel talk about how peaceful it is to be in their home and how he never wants to leave has gotten Cecco to slow down and relax.

What they're afraid of: Loss. Losing control of your life when other people start making decisions for you. Losing people. He wants to hold on to everything and never let go.

❖ Family:

Their parents names: He doesn’t remember their names and has little interest in figuring it out

Their siblings names: He can’t remember his younger sisters actual name, but he does remember the name he gave her- Valeriana.

Other relations: None

Favorite childhood memory: Sneaking off when he was supposed to be doing chores to go look at fish in the pond. A small moment but it meant the world to him.

Favorite childhood toy: An “Archistaff” that was really just a cool stick he found. He used to hit the other kids with it when they didn’t play the way he wanted them to.

Embarrassing story: Cecco was a bossy kid who would only play with others if they played exactly how he wanted, going as far as to give them scripts of what to say and do. Seeing the kids at the Gracious Hand brought back this memory and he wishes it stayed gone.

Favorite family member: Valeriana

A story about that family member: One night Cecco shook her awake, telling her that a monster was outside and that they had to hunt it down. Arming her with his toy archistaff and grabbing his fathers sword – the two set out into woods behind the house to slay the beast. Spotting it in the trees, Cecco told her to stay back and cast a spell while he went to fight it. After wrestling with the beast- Cecco finally managed to cut off its head, proudly presented it to his sister, told her that now it couldn’t eat her. Even as she got older she remembered this moment fondly and would sometimes ask travelers passing through if they had seen a monster matching the description of the one they fought that night. Cecco never had the heart to tell her that he made the whole thing up to look cool and he was actually hitting a pile of sticks with a sword while making monster noises.

❖ What they prefer:

Coffee or tea? Coffee is his go-to drink but he much prefers the taste of tea

Showering in the day or night? Night. Everything’s much quieter at night and he likes to be able to relax.

Taking baths or taking showers? Baths

Writing or reading? Reading. He’s spent years researching magic and history and he’s not about to let being arisen stop him from reading those tomes. He used to write little stories for his sister when she was alive though and starts to do it again when he spots Hywel listening intently to a story at the tavern one night.

Platonic or romantic love? He is,,, not great with romantic love. You could confess your undying love to him and kiss him deeply under the moonlight and he Would Not Notice, as Ulrika unfortunately discovered, but I wouldn't say he prefers one over the other.

Iced tea or lemonade? Iced tea in hand, sitting in a rocking chair on his front porch telling kids(escort quests) to get off his lawn

Ice cream or smoothies? Both.

Cupcakes or cake? Cupcakes.

Beach or mountains? He thinks the sea is beautiful but nothing compares to the view of a mountain range

[whentommymetalfie]

Home to you chapter 35

-Wave-

Prologue//1//2//3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34

Pairing: Tommy/Alfie

Summary: Tommy’s disappearance is noticed. 

Warnings: violence, slurs,

Wordcount: 4,5 K

Alfie may be many things, but he’s not delusional: it’s fucking useless, of course, trying to keep the fire contained. Still, there he is, surrounded by his own men, staff members from Arrow house, a clan of gypsies and what feels like half of the Warwickshire countryside, hauling buckets of water at the roaring flames. Because as useless as it may be, it’s unthinkable, standing by and letting the house burn. Not the right thing, is it? Even though what Alfie actually needs is to sit with Tommy curled up on his lap and stroke his hair and feel that he’s alive and whole. Because how can he truly know that now, when he can’t listen to his quiet little breaths and feel his heartbeat flutter under his fingertips? Hold him and make sure he knows he’s safe. That’s where he ought to be. Instead he’s here, throwing buckets of water on a fire that only seems to grow, to keep it from devouring a building he despises. But whatever he might feel about it, it’s Tommy’s house, if not his home, and most of all it’s Lizzie’s home. Tommy’s kids’ home. He’d be a fucking bastard to just stand by. And he’s got a way with people, still, or at the very least a way of scaring them into obedience, so helping Lizzie organizing who needs to go where and keeping them in line is a role he easily falls into. And they all work tirelessly, despite the unyielding enemy.

When the firefighters finally show up, the loads become lighter, and with the spray of the hoses, the flames finally begin to retreat. For the first time that night, Alfie can take a step back and roll his aching shoulders, wiping his sweaty brow.

“Solomons!”

A call comes from behind him and he turns to see Arthur jogging towards him, gesturing for him to come. He drops the bucket and goes to meet him.

“Think you should go to Tommy,” Arthur says. “Have a word with him and convince him to go with Ada. Not sure he’s too keen on the idea.”

“And what makes you think can convince him to do something he doesn’t want to?”

Arthur simply snorts. Which… fair enough. Loathe as he is to admit it, he’s got a point, doesn’t he?

“Alright. I’ll talk to him,” he says. “Can’t be good for him to sit there in the cold grass. Frail little thing. I probably should’ve gotten him out of here sooner.”

Fucking hell it’s the first thing he should’ve done.

He sets off down the lawn with Arthur behind him, leaving the fire behind. There are other people working to save this godforsaken house. He’s got other priorities, doesn’t he? Arthur is unexpectedly quiet. He would’ve thought he’d relish in the opportunity to point out that Alfie’s fucked up. But perhaps dragging Tommy out of a burning building together has snuffed out the worst of their rivalry for now.

They reach the edge of the lawn and weave through the gathered people, some sitting in small groups on the grass staring at the house with glassy eyes, muttering amongst themselves, others distributing clothing and blankets. Ada appears before them, dressed in a mismatched ensemble of borrowed knitwear.  

“I was just about to fetch Tommy and the kids,” she says. “Figured the sooner we get them out of here the better. But you might have better luck talking him into that.”  

Alfie avoids looking at Arthur and simply grunts in response, taking the lead towards the tree line.  

When he reaches the spot where they left Tommy, he sees the kids sound asleep in the blanket, alone. Ada and Arthur stop by his side.

His limbs go suddenly cold, and his heart drops into the pit of his stomach.

“Tommy?” he calls out. Scans the darkness. Arthur turns on his heal and disappears into the crowd. Ada crouches before the kids and carefully shakes Charlie awake. He rubs his eyes.

“Charlie, love, did you see where your dad went?”

Charlie blinks and looks around, eyes half closed. Shakes his head. “He was here,” he yawns.

“And you didn’t see him go?”

Charlie shakes his head again, and Ada nods and smooths his hair back.  

“Okay. Okay. Go back to sleep. We’re going to my house soon, alright?”

Charlie has already dozed off next to his sister.

Alfie can’t feel his hands.

Something’s wrong. Something is fucking wrong.

“Tommy?” he calls out again, looking around as his mouth fills with saliva. He swallows thickly. Arthur emerges from the crowd, shaking his head.

Alfie clears his throat and shouts, “Oi, listen up, has anyone seen Tommy?” The ability to get a crowd to listen he’s always had, so they all freeze, but it’s nothing but shaking heads and lost looks. “Really? Fucking no one?”

His heart has traveled from the pit of his stomach and now thuds in his throat and his knees feel weak. Something’s wrong, something’s wrong-

Ada’s hand on his shoulder makes him flinch and he brushes it off.

“He could’ve gone looking for you,” she says. “Right?”

He shakes his head.

“No, no he’d never leave Ruby and Charlie.”

“But if he felt scared and alone, the most natural thing would’ve been to do that. He’s not thinking all that clearly, is he?”

“We shouldn’t have left him alone,” Arthur mutters, looking around the crowd as if Tommy will suddenly appear before him.

“No, no, something’s wrong,” Alfie says. “Something’s fucking wrong.”

The fire. The rapid spread. Fucking of course, of course, how could he not have seen it before? He swallows down the bile that rises in his throat. Everything around him feels distant, sounds echoing through a long tunnel and the edges of his vision blurred.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-“ he mutters rubs his hands over his face tries to slow his racing thoughts and find a course of action. He wasn’t gone for long, right, so Tommy can’t be too far away, but where the fuck could he have gone? Look for him, that’s what he needs to do, of course, why is he just fucking standing here? Alfie sets off towards the darkness beneath the trees -must be there, someone would’ve seen something otherwise…

A hand grabs his shoulder, he wrenches himself free and when Arthur appears before him, blocking his way, he nearly throws a punch.

“Alright, Solomons, talk to me here. Where could he have gone?” Arthur says and how can he sound so bloody calm? He’s the one always flying off the handle, foaming at the mouth, how can he be fucking calm when Tommy is missing?

“He wouldn’t fucking go anywhere!“ Because Alfie told him to stay, and Tommy does as he’s told. “Don’t you see, it’s- fuck- something must’ve happened.”

Arthur lays his hand on his shoulder, still blocking his way.

Alfie punches him in the face. Arthur stumbles back with a grunt

“You do that again and you’re dead, Shelby, you fucking hear that!?”

“Alfie, calm down,“ Ada pleads, appearing by his side but keeping her distance.

“I don’t know how fucking neither of you seem to grasp the gravity of the situation here, but Tommy is missing!” he shouts. “He’s gone!” He’s dead, he’s dead, Alfie can feel it in his stomach his chest his entire fucking body, like a missing limb, he’s gone, Alfie left him alone and whatever happened it’s his fault- His hands shake and he needs to rest them on his knees because the world is tilting around him.

Arthur appears before him again, rubbing his chin and brushing Ada off as she tries to keep them separate.

“Alfie. Alfie, listen,“ he says, grabs him by the shoulders and if he could get his arms to obey he would punch him again. Arthur’s face is stern. “Look over there. See all those people?” Yeah he’s not fucking blind is he? “Yeah? They’ll all be looking. We’re going to find him. Alright? Johnny Dogs got horses. We can get people driving down the road as well. We’re going to find him. And right now, you need to keep your head on. Tommy needs you, and you’re no good if you’re fucking spiraling. Yeah?”

Arthur nods, and Alfie nods along with him.

Arthur looks between Alfie and Ada, and Ada’s mouth draws into a tight line, eyes filling with worry. She nods, quickly and several times.

“Right. Right, we’ll- we’ll go looking for him and-“

Arthur grabs her arm.

“Ada, find Lizzie, and Johnny Dogs. We need more people. And torches.”

Ada keeps nodding as she turns, nearly crashing straight into Esther as she comes running through the crowd.

“Tommy’s missing?” she asks, looking to Alfie for answers. Because he’s supposed to have them. He was supposed to keep him safe.

“Look after the kids,” Arthur tells her. Alfie takes the opportunity to move past him and into the darkness beneath the trees. He can’t wait for fucking torches or people, for anything or anyone, because if he waits even another second and that second is what makes the difference, he’ll never forgive himself.

“Alfie, wait!” Ada calls and he ignores it. Branches crack behind him and he catches Arthur’s gangly frame out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t stop.

“You get in my way again I’m picking up one of these fucking branches and beating you to death.”

“I’m coming with you, you fucking idiot,” Arthur grunts and dodges a low hanging branch, coming up next to him. He’s got a gun. Fuck. Alfie should’ve made sure he was fucking armed…

“Sleep with that thing, do you?” he says.

“Since the war,” Arthur says.

They make their way through the forested area, eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. Sticks and old leaves crunch under their borrowed boots, and they have to weave through low hanging branches and between thorny bushes.

“Someone set the house on fire,” Arthur mutters between heavy breaths.

“Yeah. Should’ve realised it sooner. Think we both know who did it. Which is why we need to find Tommy right this fucking second.”

“Right,” Arthur says. And his voice sounds oddly thick.  

They’re silent after that. Listening for any sound, eyes scanning the dark, moving as quickly as they dare without risking missing something. With each passing minute, Alfie’s panic only grows. The area isn’t large. He’s seen it with his own eyes from the windows. A strip of bushes and trees before the river, a hundred yards or so. But in the dark, and without knowing which direction is the right one, it seems endless. Tommy might not even be here.

What if they’re in the entirely wrong fucking place?

What if it’s already too late?

He barely breathes. Hears Arthur do it all too loud.

No, he can’t allow himself to think like that. Tommy needs him. He keeps moving, and moving…  

“Alfie!”

At first, the bloodcurdling scream makes him freeze in place, heart stuttering in his throat. Then he runs, blindly in the dark, crashes through branches and leaves, Arthur by his side. Arthur is faster but the dark and the trees slow them down, putting them on almost equal footing.

“Tommy?” Alfie calls out.

“Alfie!” It’s worse, fucking worse, raspy and desperate and so full of fear that he screams too, a wordless, desperate sound.  

“Tommy!” Arthur yells. “Tommy, where are you?”

Their cries are met with silence and he curses the darkness and the fucking trees and himself for not bringing a weapon or a light, for leaving Tommy alone and unprotected.

Arthur runs before him and Alfie keeps his eyes on his back, using it as a guide whenever Arthur stumbles and has to catch himself. Up ahead, there’s faint light between the trees and Arthur stops, Alfie tears through thorny branches and stumbles out from the shadows into the moonlight. The river stretches before them, a broad, dark mirror of the night sky. Arthur looks around, frantic, and they see them at the same time, the distant figures struggling on the riverbank.

“Tommy!” Arthur yells again and runs. Alfie runs too, faster than he’s ever moved, but they’re too far away. One of the figures scrambles upright at Arthur’s shout, pulling the second from the ground. Alfie’s lungs burn and his back sends shooting pain down his legs but his body moves separate from all those sensations.

He can just about make out their features as Michael drags Tommy into the water, one arm around his chest and the other across his throat. Tommy hangs limply in his grip, head resting on his shoulder. Alfie can’t see if he’s breathing, he’s too far away, too fucking far away.  

Arthur is ahead, gun in hand.

“Don’t fucking move,” he roars. Michael releases Tommy’s neck, backs further into the water as he reaches for something, Arthur is about to leap into the river when he draws the knife.

“Stay there!” Michael shouts and presses the blade against Tommy’s throat. Arthur freezes. Aims the gun at Michael. As Alfie finally catches up to Arthur, a shiver runs through Tommy’s body and he begins to cough. His eyes flare open and there’s nothing but blind panic there as he begins to struggle against Michael’s hold.

“Stay still, stay fucking still or I’ll cut you,” Michael hisses in his ear but Tommy keeps squirming, drawing raspy, frantic breaths. The knife digs into his skin, fueling his panic.

“Don’t move. I’ll kill you, I fucking swear it,” Michael says through gritted teeth and Tommy lets out a whine, terrified, grasping at Michael’s arm to no avail.

“Tommy, Tommy, it’s okay,” Alfie calls. “Tommy, look at me. I’m here. Right here. You’ll be okay.”  

Tommy looks at him. At first his eyes are empty, but then they well with tears.

“Alfie-“

“Shut up, shut the fuck up,” Michael says and his face twists with anger. Tommy closes his mouth. But he keeps still, looking at Alfie.

“Drop the gun,” Michael tells Arthur. Arthur’s gaze is ice cold and focused, but the hands on the gun shake. Michael’s eyes are wide and manic.

“Drop the gun or I’ll kill him!”

“Let him go, Michael, this is over,” Arthur says, but snaps his mouth shut when Michael presses the knife harder against Tommy’s throat and droplets of blood seep from underneath the blade.

“Drop it, Arthur,” Alfie breathes, eyes fixed on Tommy’s. “Do as he fucking says.”

Arthur’s finger clench around the trigger, his jaw tight.

“You can’t get a clear shot from here. One inch wrong and that bullet is going into Tommy’s head.”

“Drop it,” Michael says.  

Tommy closes his eyes, his chest rising in a trembling breath.

Alfie tries to swallow his heart back down his throat.

Arthur raises his hands.

“Alright, alright, Michael. Whatever you say.” He crouches down slowly, eyes focused on Michael, and lays the weapon in the grass.

“Kick it into the water,” Michael says.

The gun disappears in the dark river.

A moment of stillness follow. They stand there: Arthur and Alfie on the riverbank, Michael with Tommy in the water. Michael’s bleeding from his nose. And even if Alfie had promised himself Tommy would never have to be strong again, never have to fucking fight again, because that is his job now, it still makes him proud. He’s a fighter, his Tommy. Even after everything. But Tommy himself is in a dreadful state. His face is an alarming shade of white in the parts where it isn’t blue or purple, or scraped bloodied. Red marks that are melting into bruises encircle his throat, and he’s trembling. But he’s alive, he’s still alive.

And even though Alfie can feel himself shaking with rage, and even though all he wants is to lunge at Michael, tear him away from Tommy and beat his face into a bloody pulp, he knows he can only afford to make the perfect moves. He digs his nails into his palm, sets his jaw and takes a slow breath through his nose.

“Right, what do you want Michael?” he asks. He can sense Arthur’s eyes on him and he glances quickly at him, hoping he’ll catch on. “You hold all the fucking cards. All we want, is Tommy. Simple as that, innit? There’s still an ending to this where you come out alive. But it entirely depends on what you decide to do now.”  

Michael laughs. It’s a shrill, awful sound.

“What makes you think I care? Maybe all I care about is seeing justice finally done.”

Arthur shifts at his side. Alfie bites his tongue.

“Would it be worth it?” he asks.  “That short fucking moment’s satisfaction, when you know the cost. I don’t think I have to give you any of the grisly details of just how high that cost would be. You’re already acquainted to my methods. The difference here is, with Tommy gone, I’d have nothing to lose. So I’m sure you can imagine how that would impact your fate.  You’re a smart lad. Make a smart decision.”

The crazed shine in Michael’s eye catches the moonlight. He hisses something in Tommy’s ear and Tommy squeezes his eyes shut. He moves the knife, enough to stop the edge from digging into Tommy’s skin.

“Fine, let’s make a deal, then,” he calls to them and smirks. Arrogant fucking bastard.  

“What do you want us to do?” Arthur asks with surprising calm. His hand his balled into a fist by his side.

“I want you, to get me a car. And park it upstream. By the bridge. I want the proper papers there, signed, that you’re giving up your shares in the company. All of you.”  

Alfie grits his teeth. Surely he can’t be that fucking delusional, thinking he’ll still end up with the company-

But the look in Michael’s eyes, the complete detachment, the manic fucking glee, the fact that he set fire to a fucking house… They’re not reasoning with a sane man.

“Fine, fine, we can do that,” Arthur says. “But we have to know Tommy will be safe while we get things sorted.”

“You don’t make demands, you hear me?” Michael roars and Tommy flinches as he tugs him closer, once again pushing the blade against his throat. His breathing picks up, raspy and shallow, and it agitates Michael, his face distorts in disgust, as if Tommy’s fear is a bloody nuisance. Tommy pales further, breaths catching in his throat.

“Michael, you need to let him breathe,” Alfie says. “He’s scared and hurt and you need him alive. Put the knife down and we can talk. Tommy, look at me, yeah? We’re here. You’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay.”

“Shut up, shut the fuck up, don’t talk to him!” Michael shrieks and pulls Tommy further back.

“Michael!” Arthur barks. “If he dies, you die.”

Alfie keeps his gaze steady on Tommy, who looks back, eyes full of terror.  

Alfie keeps his gaze steady and breathes slowly, in and out. Over and over. Tommy follows along. One slow breath and then another. He stops squirming, and Michael eases off. Out of the corner of his eye, Alfie sees Arthur’s shoulders fall.

“So. We’ll get you a car. And the paperwork,” Arthur says. “And you give us Tommy.”

“And I want ten thousand pounds. Cash. In the car.”

The fucking bastard.

Arthur glances at him.

“Can you manage that?” he asks under his breath. “I sure as fuck can’t. Maybe Liz-“

“ ‘Course I can fucking manage. But it’d take a few hours. We don’t have that kind of time,” Alfie whispers to him. But to Michael he calls, “Done.”

Michael smirks.

“Hear that, Tommy? You’re at least a pricy whore.”

Tommy ignores the jeer, but Arthur growls and Alfie imagines not for the first time how it’ll feel when he pushes his fucking thumbs through Michael’s eye sockets.

“Tommy!” A call comes from the woods. And through the trees, he sees faint lights. Along with them come more distant sounds of voices, calling Tommy’s name, and Michael’s eyes widen. He takes another step back, frantically scanning the shore. Alfie raises his hands. “Calm down, calm down, they’re looking for Tommy. Arthur will go talk to them. Yeah? He can talk to them and get you that car, alright? That was what you wanted.” The corner of Michael’s eye twitches and the hand on the knife shakes. Alfie’s mouth is dry. “He’d need to leave anyway, right, to get you that.”

“Tell them to stay back,” Michael spits.

Arthur nods. “Of course, of course. As long as Tommy’s safe.”

He sets off into the darkness and Michael looks around frantically. Alfie looks at Tommy, only at Tommy, keeps his gaze steady and tries to convey some sense of safety, even when there is none to be found. Michael’s body is taut like a bowstring and Alfie holds his breath. Michael’s stepped off the fucking edge of a cliff. Not tethering anymore, but freefalling. And he can just fucking stand here. Doesn’t even dare to say a word.

The wind makes the branches whistle. The dark water swirls slowly around them. Tommy seems to grow heavier in Michael’s grip, lashes fluttering. His lips have gone blue and his jaw trembles. When Michael’s hand slips, nicking his throat, he lets out a quiet whine, eyes welling with tears.

“Shut up, shut up shut up,” Michael hisses into his ear. “It’s your own fucking fault.”

“Michael!“  

“Your own fucking fault. You deserved worse, far worse.”

“Michael, you hurt him, and the deal’s off,” Alfie says, body pulsating with rage and fear.

His heart beats frantically. Michael is going to kill him.

“He took everything from me. I had everything!” Michael roars and tears roll down Tommy’s cheeks.

“And if you just wait for Arthur to come back, you’ll have the car and you’ll have the fucking company and the money and it’ll be as if none of this ever happened,” he says, and at least shifts Michael’s attention to him. “You can go to America, or wherever the fuck you please, and all you have to do in return is let Tommy go. You’ve gotten even. You’ve fucking won, alright. Not Tommy. Look at him. You’ve bloody wrecked him. He’s never going to recover, or have a normal life after everything you put him through. Isn’t that enough?”

Michael’s breathing is slower again. Alfie locks eyes with Tommy, hopes that he’ll understand, and Tommy blinks away the tears. Michael’s hand loosens around the knife, but he doesn’t move it.

“You fucking got it all,” Alfie says. “You got everything.”

A sudden rustling from the bushes makes Michael flinch like a skittish animal. Arthur emerges, both hands raised.

“They’ve turned back. And there’ll be a car ready soon.”

Michael glances towards the opposite riverbank and then back, looking between the trees.

“You’re lying.”

“No, no, we’d have nothing to gain,” Arthur tries but Michael keeps shaking his head, his eyes darting frantically around the dark. He pushes the knife harder to Tommy’s throat and Tommy presses his head back against his shoulder to get away, his breathing growing more and more frantic.

“Michael, look at me!” Alfie barks and Michael’s eyes snaps to him. “You want to get out of this alive, yeah? That’s it. But the second you hurt him, you’re a dead man. Do you understand?”

Michael only looks at Tommy, and it burns, the hatred in those eyes, and Alfie can see the gears turning, sees the shift and understands what it means. He hears himself scream, and he lunges forward without thought. Just as Michael’s hand moves, Tommy moves too, quicker than what should be possible, grasping Michael’s arm and ducking out of his hold. The unexpected shift in balance makes Michael fall backwards into the water. Tommy wades, swims, towards the shore, Alfie is already in the water running to meet him as Michael regains his footing and launches after Tommy, the knife grazing his back. Tommy falls, disappearing under the surface, Alfie is too far away and Tommy resurfaces, coughing and struggling to stay above water. Move forward, get between Tommy and that knife, it’s the only thought in his mind. Finally, Alfie reaches him, grabs Tommy’s arm and pulls him in behind his back, shoving him towards the shore and blocking Michael’s way. Michael might have that knife but he’s about to run into a solid fucking brick wall. Might be able to overpower Tommy, small and fragile as he is, but he’s got another thing coming, doesn’t he?

And if this still ends with that knife stuck somewhere in his fucking chest he’ll take it if it means keeping him away from Tommy.

Michael freezes, eyes wide. He takes a step back.

“Go ahead, Michael, put that fucking knife to use,” Alfie says, clenching his hands into fists, savoring the moment. “It’ll even things out. I’m a fair man.”

Michael lunges towards him.

A loud bang rings through the night.

Michael’s body jolts, a fraction of a second of stillness follows, and he falls.

Alfie stands there in the water, chest heaving, nails digging into his palms.  

Michael’s body floats on the surface, face down, a dark sheen of blood forming around the head.

He turns to see Arthur standing on the riverbank, with a gun in his hand, chest heaving. He lowers the weapon slowly.  

Tommy is between them, in knee deep water, staring with wide eyes at Michael’s body. A slow trickle of blood seeps between his fingers as he presses his hand against his neck. He blinks. Tremors wrack his thin frame and he wavers on the spot. Alfie regains his ability to move and wades towards him as Tommy reaches for him and finally this time he’s not too late to catch him as he falls into his arms. Alfie pries the hand away from his neck with trembling hands, but the wounds aren’t deep, thank God, and the slow trickle of blood means none of them run through a major artery.

Alfie moves to the riverbank, hauls himself and Tommy up onto the grass and there he can sink to his knees, pull him completely against his chest, bury his fingers in his hair, press his lips against his temple and breathe. Tommy sobs into the crook of his neck. Alfie pulls him up onto his lap and holds him so tightly his ribs may crack but it’s still not close enough. He rubs Tommy’s back, rocks him back and forth as he cries.

“It’s okay, love, it’s okay, I’ve got you now, you’re safe,” he mutters, voice thick with tears. “You were so brave, sweetheart. It’s over now. I’ve got you.”

Tommy is shaking like a leaf, clinging weakly to his shirtfront, and his breathing is still quick and uneven, sobs hacking up his throat. And despite that, all he can feel right then is relief. He’s back in Alfie’s arms where he belongs. And that’s enough. It’s all that fucking matters.

[speedydonutdaze]

Wisdom in Suffering - pt 1

This is my first fanfic in YEARS, this is also a slow burn so buckle up. This chapter is basically just an introductory of the MC

Word count: 2k

Pairing: Simon Riley x F!reader/OC

CW/TW : swearing, mentions of death, mdni

__________

15…16…17…

You landed on your knees roughly after jumping over the rock in your path, picking yourself back up to continue your run through the woods. The sun was beating down through the trees on you, sweat starting to prickle on your skin and a bird squawked in surprise as you hurried past and flew away, triggering two more birds to follow suit. You looked at your surroundings as you tried to get your bearings and find a suitable place to hide.

31…32…33…

Time was ticking, the voices from before were fading but you knew they were still close and that they would find you if you didn’t find cover and fast. You took to a quick jog until you found a large group of bushes, the branches thick with leaves and the area of it large enough to hide your frame. You quickly crawled underneath the large bushes and took to a crouching position. You looked around your hideout and let out a silent groan when you noticed that the backside was more open than you anticipated, you’ll be easily spotted if they decided to look around the bushes in their entirety.

It was too late to look for a new place to hide, though.

48…49…50

Time was up.

You slowed your breathing as you listened to the woods come to life with feet scurrying as they searched for you and your teammate. You didn’t see which way he went, but you hoped he found a place to lay low until they gave up their search. It was all a waiting game now. You watched a squirrel hop past, just a few feet from you, before scampering off at the noises of people approaching your position. You held your breath as the bodies ran by the bushes without so much as a glance and you shook your head to yourself as the sound of feet faded away.

You began to relax, so sure that you wouldn’t be found when a force slammed onto your back and you yelped as feet and arms wrapped around your body.

‘We found you, Aunt Maggie!!’

You let out a scream and fell to the ground, ‘No! Unhand me you creatures! You won’t take me alive!’ You laughed as another small body dog piled you, grabbing one of the kids and quickly unsticking yourself from the mess of children. ‘I’ll take this one as my hostage! Good luck now!’

You ran through the woods, one kid squealing over your shoulder and two more hot on your heels laughing as you all made it back to the clearing of the park. Spinning your body around, you looked at the small group of people sitting at some picnic tables before scanning the lawn and resting your eyes on the kids.

‘Have you guys found Uncle Mikey, yet?’ You faked a gasp, ‘Don’t tell me you let him get away! Whatever will you do now that I have one of your own in my clutches? Backup will be here before long!’ You lifted the boy off of your shoulders and laughed as he started trying to wriggle away from your grasp.

‘Sofie and Cam are looking for him! We split up to be faster!’ The little girl, Hope, beamed up at you as her twin brother, Cody, puffed out his chest.

‘It was my idea, Aunt Maggie!’ 

You laughed and set Joey onto his feet and ruffled Cody’s hair. ‘And what a wonderful idea that was, we’ll make a leader out of you yet!’

A roar and screams came from the woods on your right and you all turned to see a man with two giggling children underneath each arm bound out of the treeline, the kids around you laughing and yelling as they ran to meet with the trio, you walking lazily behind them.

‘I see they found you, too.’ You smiled at the brunette man as he set the kids down. He laughed as he pulled a twig out of his shaggy hair.

‘I went easy on them, didn’t want to be sitting out there all day ya know?’

‘Alright soldiers, burgers are done. Come get some before the grown ups get to it first!’ Your sister-in-law waved her hands at your group and the kids immediately started racing to their parents, leaving you two to follow at a slower pace.

Mikey shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked beside you. ‘I see why you always invite me over when the kids come through, I can’t imagine having the energy to keep up with all five of them by yourself.’

You shoved his arm playfully and laughed. ‘And here I thought you liked being around them after all these years.’

______________

You took a seat across from Mikey while all the kids squeezed in on either side of you on the picnic table, each of your plates piled with food. The rest of the adults were gathered around the second picnic table while your dad and brother got the burgers off the grill and passed them around to the hungry group. You and Mikey had been back for almost two months by now, and with school finally over your families took advantage of the nice weather to have a small get together while you still had time. The next mission always loomed overhead and none of you wanted to waste a minute of it if you could.

You took a bite of your burger and smiled. You missed these moments. While it wasn’t calm in any sense of the word when your nieces and nephews were around, you wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world. You could tell Mikey felt the same; this was the most relaxed you’d seen him since landing back in the States.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Joey tugging on your shirt. ‘Aunt Maggie, why’s that lady staring at us?’ He pointed over the table towards the parking lot. You squinted in the direction he was looking and sure enough, there was a woman standing on the sidewalk, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against a black SUV. You felt your stomach drop as you recognized who exactly it was.

Mikey turned his upper body around to get a look and sighed when he saw the woman. He turned to the adults and waved his hand ‘Hey, you guys got the kids? Julia and I need to step away for a sec.’

Your dad looked up from his conversation and his mouth set into a frown when he also saw the woman. He looked at you and nodded. ‘Yeah, you two take your time.’ There was a hint of disappointment in his tone that you felt all too well as you got up from the table with Mikey and made your way to the parking lot.

‘We haven’t been back all that long, what do you think this one is?’

You huffed. ‘Hopefully something that doesn’t need too much time.’

You gave a nod to the woman which she returned. ‘Mike, Julia. Good to see you two, you look well.’

‘Laswell,’ You forced a smile, ‘Something tells me you aren’t here to have lunch with us.’

Kate Laswell looked around the park before starting down the sidewalk. ‘Let’s take a walk you two.’

_____________

The three of you were sitting at a picnic bench furthest away from everyone with a file propped open in front of you and Mikey. Laswell said that there was a situation in South America where members from wealthy and influential families across varying regions in the area have started disappearing. Kids and teenagers weren’t coming home from school and adults were disappearing in broad daylight, bodies of those who have gone missing would show up tens of miles away.

‘Are they hostages for ransom or sending a message?’ You asked, scanning through the documents and pictures.

‘We aren’t sure. If demands have been sent to the targeted families, they haven’t been made known to us as of yet.’

‘Could they be trafficking them?’ Mikey took a paper from your hands and you shot your eyes up at Laswell.

‘Could it be them?’ Your voice tensed, Mikey placed his hand on your thigh and gave it a squeeze.

‘We don’t think so, but we’re keeping our contacts open just in case.’

You bit the inside of your cheek and rested your head on your head.

‘This is a big job, Laswell, but OT will have no issues with it.’

Laswell smiled before taking another file out of her bag and placing it in front of you and Mikey.. ‘I figured you would say that, but I have a team that I believe will expedite things.’

You scrunched your eyebrows and opened the file ‘SAS…141? The team that helped Alejandro and Rudy in Las Almas?’

Laswell nodded, ‘The very same. I know Olympus Team has worked closely with Los Vaqueros in the past so I felt the 141 would be a suitable choice to pair you with.’

Mikey flipped through the papers with pictures of the soldiers attached and snorted ‘Look Julia, this fucker has a skull mask.’

You took the paper he was pointing to, ‘Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.' you shook your head and smirked. 'Ya know Laswell, the amount of soldiers I’ve seen with masks like this weren’t exactly ones worth working with.’

She chuckled, ‘Lieutenant Riley is a skilled marksman and soldier, you’ll be lucky to have him.’

Your fingers froze over the picture on the next page, your heart dropping into your stomach as you recognized the face.

‘So Price is a captain now? Does he know he’ll be working with me?’

‘He will.’ Laswell gathered the files and stood from the table. ‘Your flight leaves at 0500 tomorrow, I trust you and the rest of your team will be there?’

You nodded and stood up, Mikey following suit. ‘We’ll make the calls today. Do you want to grab a burger on your way out?’

Laswell looked over at your family and shook her head with a small smile. ‘Unfortunately I have other business that needs my attention.’ She stuck her hand out to you. ‘It was good to see you again, ‘Aunt Maggie.’’

You rolled your eyes and shook her hand with a smile. ‘Middle name is Margaret. It was good to see you too.’

_______________

'Alright listen up men, Laswell needs us to head to South America in a few days.' Captain John Price walked into the meeting room immediately getting down to business, sliding six folders across the table. Two for each of the men sitting before him. 

'We're going to be working with an American team so I expect all of you to play nice. From what I've been told they're a strong team but are used to working alone.' 

Gaz opened the file containing the soldier's pictures and information. 'Olympus Team, I've heard stories about them. They're like a bloody machine on the field.' he flipped through the pictures. 'Never thought we'd ever work with them.'

Price nodded, grabbing his own file 'They've worked with Los Vaqueros too, so they come highly recommended.' he leaned back in his chair, throwing his feet up on the table. 'They'll be here today so make sure to make them feel at home.'

Ghost flipped through the file and read your team's names.

Michael Underwood - Achilles

Zachary Owens - Zeus

Alex Moore - Ares

Julia Whitfield - Kore

'Some fucking names they got' he muttered, eyeing your picture. Your shoulder length hair was pulled into a braid and your face was drawn into a frown while the men on your team all had smirks or more relaxed expressions. 

'She's a sniper, eh?'

Soap whistled 'among other things, it seems. She might give you a run for ya money, eh L.T?'

Ghost scoffed, 'not bloody likely.'

The room was quiet for a few moments before Price stood up quickly and threw a file down.

'She’s takin' the piss with me.' 

'all good, Cap?' 

He crumpled a paper in his hand as he stormed out of the room. 'I have a call to make, they'll be here at 1500. Don't muck around.'

Gaz raised his eyebrow at the closed door. 'What do you think that was all about?'

Ghost eyed the open file that Price left behind, noticing that your paper was missing from the group. 

'S'pose we'll find out soon.'

[number1villainstan]

episode 26. this time akio's targeting miki :(

akio no longer likes utena. or at least no longer likes that she's having An Effect on anthy

"which pawns will you use?" -shot cuts to miki- oh no

was kozue trying to rescue the bird's nest? or do something else with it?

oh so it WAS a rescue! cuz she heard they were cutting the tree down! and she wanted to save the bird's nest! unfortunately the eggs inside probably shattered on impact--oh no wait, they were baby birds, not eggs. maybe they're still alive then

THE BABIES ARE ALIVE

"your brother really worries about you" utena knows Nothing about what really goes down at this school

chu-chu became a balloon again. he keeps doing that

their parents??

also kozue has very little self-esteem doesn't she. "the sweet little sister will now politely disappear" okay but uh. you saved the birds. you should be included in this discussion. miki get over here and support your sister ffs

"I don't have parents." goddamn utena's just like...a total blank slate wrt to family huh. no parents no siblings no concept of what's healthy or normal or not to compare with what's going on around her

"we don't need parents." sure you don't. also the fact that kozue describes both her and miki as wild animals when it really only fits kozue--and besides, certain wild animals still need their parents, including the pair of baby birds she just rescued--

okay but what did the letter say

"do you think this is the sunlit garden? like from miki's song?" i don't think the sunlit garden is a real garden in this case utena

"am i interrupting some private brother-sister thing?" mmmmm the dramatic irony is strong

the way that utena and anthy are totally in sync during these little bedroom-talk scenes makes me very happy. this is how akio's hold will break

except. anthy's looking at utena but utena's looking up. utena's not looking at anthy. anthy is considering utena but utena's only considering herself and her own ideas. hey. hey utena. you should ask anthy what's on her mind sometime

...not that i was any better at that when i was fourteen though tbh

so many different kinds of chairs. miki in one of the round red chairs. juri in a wiry open-back white-and-blue lawn(?) chair. nanami in a massage chair lol

"Adults who tell you that something is 'for your own good' can never be trusted!" miki out here spitting absolute facts

ohohoho now miki's the one trying to walk out! unfortunately if we're following the same pattern as saionji. also I just realized, what does that proclamation mean about miki's thoughts on his own parents? did they ever "for your own good!" him? or kozue?

also. the fact that the other council members still don't know akio's End of the World. only the two most masculine/man-aligned members of the council know--touga because he seems to be akio's copy/protege, and saionji because he's tied to and tries to emulate touga (and because touga introduced him to akio as a way to keep him tied to the system of the duels and the Rose Bride)

juri wanting a turn in the massage chair...girl me too

okay so a) the kaoru parents are divorced and b) apparently anthy's seducing miki's dad. that's gonna be a fun time /sarcasm

kozue standing outside the room where miki is playing, just listening...she wants to be close to him but doesn't think she can

also how did i only just realize that the pull-a-sword-out-of-your-friend dueling mechanic here is directly paralleled in the black rose arc. except here they're doing it consensually i guess

"only student council members are allowed out of their dorms at night" yeah sure that makes so much sense. although i suppose it's just another facet of control that akio has over the place. unless that rule was made by someone else...but let's be real even if it was akio probably had a hand in it

uh. wait. fuck. "daddy long legs" and then she goes off to meet akio. oh fuck. oh god. kozue knows.

a wind-up chick, vs the actual baby birds kozue saved. is touga calling miki a fake? a fake what?

"beauty alone cannot preserve beauty forever" oh shit wasn't that the whole deal of the black rose arc? and mikage's character? him wanting to preserve mamiya?

oh and touga's summoning akio again. okay then. fuck.

except this time touga doesn't come with them. it's kozue in the front seat with akio.

"I just want you to be happy, Miki." so this is akio's plan? get other people to do the manipulating for him while they're in the Sexy Adult Car with him so he can step in if needed? he's slowly gonna turn every single character against utena, isn't he

"Akio said it's for your own good." MIKI THAT'S A RED FLAG YOU SAID IT YOURSELF GET OUT OF THE CAR! except the car's moving real fast and he'll injure himself if he jumps out--he can't escape--holy fuck another layer to the symbolism--

what's this talk of purity--is it the same kind of religious talk as Akio being Satan?

miki in the driver's seat (miki as an adult), anthy in the passenger seat (anthy as the person he's fucking, anthy as the person he's controlling), and of course the small blue rose in the corner

the ufo crashing again in the shadow girl play--and the play itself is about gambling (especially irresponsibly), someone who's never gambled before spending everything they have on trying to win...and the ball itself is against her

i'm saying that the new entering-the-duel sequence points to utena and anthy being much closer, much more of a team. and of course the car is back again because it's all akio's influence

kozue in a blue version of the rose bride dress, huh? in a miki blue version, no less. never mind that her hair is purple not blue. miki is using her as a pawn here, just like akio is using both of them

both of the "fem" partners of both partnerships are now in the car. is kozue trying to win the duel too by getting to anthy? neither of them are driving--it's just the car going around in circles really really fast

miki's getting distracted by kozue hitting on anthy. ended up being accidental(?) sabotage

oh motherfucker utena really was the one to hit saionji with a car. and i can tell because she just did it to miki too

"a child's sword" ouch

oh and miki and kozue are back to fighting/not liking each other

oh the empty movement song is also the new end credits! huh!

Oh also, along with writing the December 2023 Monthly Short Piece today, I finally watched the first episode of Revolutionary Girl Utena after days of seeing a moot post about it and--

"I am the Rose Bride. From this day forward, I belong to you."

i am going to murder everyone in this damn school for anthy

[btsmosphere]

autumn with: hobi

~pairing: hobi x reader ~word count: 2.5k (bullet fic!) ~genre: fluff fluff and more fluff, college au, friends to lovers ~rating: g (no warnings:))

a look at autumn and halloween with our beloved hobi! since I’m feeling very fall lately, I went on a hunt and found some lovely prompt lists from @crockettmarcel @flufftober and @lavenderotpprompts 💜I shook them all together to make a snippet of autumn for each of the boys- at the end, I’ll include the list I put together for hobi!

also a thank you to @moccahobi​ and @ssaboala​ for reading this and helping keep me in the autumn spirit!! I really appreciate it🥰

autumn with: masterlist

Everyone moves back into the dorm for the start of term in September

It’s not the dramatic reunion some might think, everyone turns up in dribs and drabs instead of all arriving at once

You chose to head back pretty early

In fact, so early that you aren’t sure anyone else is here yet

Well, someone has to be the first, right?

It feels a bit barren, but it’s quiet and there’s something nice in that too. You stop for a bit in the hallway between all the rooms, where there are big windows and you can see the trees, the ends of the leaves starting to curl and brown

A huge cacophony of what sounds like the kitchen falling down shakes you

After a moment frozen, you turn towards the sound

It definitely came from the kitchen

But the door is still standing there as if nothing happens

Is there a ghost in your dorm? Should you have stayed back and waited until there was safety in numbers? Is this the beginning of your very own horror movie??

A loud curse echoes from the kitchen and you laugh instead

Hobi.

When you enter the kitchen, you find flour splatted on the floor, upturned bowl and one Jung Hoseok with his hair sticking up- you’re pretty sure he’s run his floury fingers through it, unless he’s going for some reverse Guy Fieri look

Unable to control your laughter, you set to work together

Hobi wants to make cookies

Shouldn’t be too hard

He has a goal this year, he says. He’s going to take up baking as a hobby so he can feed everyone nice things

You have to admit, when he lists off the cinnamon buns, apple pies and chocolate brownies he wants to make, you find your mouth watering. So you’re going to help him make those darn cookies

Your intervention might be the only thing that gets them out alive, to be honest

But Hobi is grinning so widely when you finally get to bite into them that you encourage him to bake something else soon

It’s been a long time away, and the plate of cookies doesn’t make it to the morning, having been slowly eaten by you two as you stayed curled up over the kitchen table cradling hot chocolates and laughing at each other

The kitchen lights were warm while it was dark outside. Now the morning light is the opposite, cold and pale as it wakes to frostbitten lawns

Hobi crawls out of bed while you’re blearily snacking on cereal

The moment he sees you, he yells and pulls back, hiding behind the door with just his face and fluffy hair visible

Oh. He’s topless

“I got flour on my only top,” he complains, “I haven’t unpacked anything yet.”

You call him a lazybones, but still go to fish something out of your wardrobe

It’s on the bigger side, but cropped, and he looks a little funny wearing it. Your style is so different from his, but he doesn’t complain

He eats toast and looks thoroughly adorable, dammit

It’s October before he completely unpacks

It’s chaotic, but you turn a blind eye. At least he’s done it now, and won’t have to go rooting through a suitcase every time he wants something

You should have foreseen, though, that with one victory, that only leaves something else weird to happen instead

You can never escape the weird

Not with Hobi

Which is why you’re staring at him now, stuck between shock and laughter

He’s in the kitchen, having forcibly sat you down to watch his fashion show, and right now you don’t think he could physically be wearing any more jumpers

You fend off the laughter and go straight for incredulity

“What are you doing?”

“It’s sweater season!” he defends himself

“It’s not even that cold out! And we’re not even out!”

“Let’s change that, then”

He clearly ignored the first part of your argument, but here you are outside, winding between the trees away from your dorm

Okay, so maybe it is a little chilly out

But there’s no way you’ll give that to Hobi. He’s still wearing entirely too many sweaters, even after you made him take some off

Anyway, you bite your lip. He’s having fun- his cheeks are round and a bit red as he smiles, looking around. He breathes in, rubbing his hands together and looking like all is right with the world now autumn in on its way

Then a leaf smacks him in the face

He flails around for a split second, blowing little raspberries as a defense mechanism against the onslaught of the leaf

All the while, you howl with laughter until he turns to you with a pout

It only makes you laugh more

“Autumn loves you as much as you love it!” you giggle

Hobi folds his arms, as far as the sweater bundle will let him

“I bet you can’t catch a leaf”

So now you’re running around like a lunatic

How did it end up this way, with Hobi laughing at you?? He’s the weird one

Your weird friend is lying back on a leafy carpet when you skip over, triumphantly holding a bright red leaf above your head

He struggles to sit up, but claps and woops for you

He has to clap with his arms straight

To save him the trouble, you flop down next to him, panting little gusts into the air

They show up in front of your nose, ghostly and lingering in the air; is it really that cold already?

It probably has something to do with the fact it’s also getting dark now, but neither of you move

Clouds drift over, just as lazy as you

You’ve been there a while, and you aren’t out of breath any more. The air is cool as it fills your lungs

Whispering leaves announce Hobi rolling over to face you

“Are you cold?”

And you’ve been so busy feeling warm inside at the afternoon filled with giggles and the prospect of autumn setting in that you hadn’t noticed

But cold is a side effect of the season

You were only shivering a bit

He smothers your protests and denial, knowing it’s only a bid to keep up your disdain at his outfit

His smug grin won’t let you forget about it when he finally thrusts a woolly cardigan over you, practically lying on top of you now, the result of your scrambling playfight that, admittedly, may have defeated the need of a warm jumper

Now that you have it though, it’s not bad, though no substitute for his warmth which leaves as he slides off to sit on the ground beside you

You cuddle into the material like Hobi had earlier, and he glows

The rest of the day is warm, even as light leaks from the sky

You’re back in the warm kitchen with warm food and warm laughter

And all the way until Halloween you’re caught up in the whirlwind of Hobi

It’s a budget Halloween, of course. You’re students, after all

Luckily, as Hobi puts it, some of the trees nearby are apple trees, and he’s hell-bent on apple bobbing on Halloween

“It’s only right,” he’ll say

And of course you’ll go along with it. One look at his hopeful grin is always enough to get you agreeing to his hairbrained schemes

No one knows if it’s legal to take or eat the apples, being on public property

Or if they’re edible

But surely all apples are edible?

You hope so, you think gingerly as you place another one in your bag

It may have looked more picture-perfect with those cute baskets, or if you were in a meadow, but instead your friends are all clustered under a line of apple trees that grow along the road, putting the apples into your backpacks like it’s something shady, underhand

Just as you reach for another, Hobi shrieks, and from your position sitting on his shoulders you wobble perilously

Looking around in alarm, you grab at his bobble hat for stability, feeling him clutch tighter to your legs

Somehow, you both stay upright as Tae runs off giggling, being shooed by Jin

“What if yn dropped an apple on his head, you punk!” he was yelling, “we don’t need to re-discover the theory of gravity!”

“Got enough?” Hobi asks

Confirming, you let him crouch to put you down

You’re both a little breathless

“Let’s see”

He bends closer, pulling your backpack open to see the shining apples nestled there

“I’ll make a good pie with these,” he promises

You give him a look

“I really will this time!” he exclaims at that, “the brownies were an exception!”

Chuckling, you acquiesce

“Alright,” this is how it always goes, “I trust you”

In the end, the home-made Halloween is great

Everyone has decorated their doorway – though you wonder how many Hobi actually helped with – and you take turns rushing up and down, calling ‘trick or treat’ like little kids

Of course, you all have costumes, as well as little bags for sweets, which are only plastic bags from the supermarket, but Hobi glued little paper fangs onto the top

Hobi’s a witch, and his black cloak swooshes out behind him

Of course this means he won’t stop running up and down the hall even after the lot of you have squished together in a pile to eat sweets in the kitchen

“I’ll eat all of yours!” Jimin threatens

This brings Hobi dashing back again

The evening is fun and full of you and Hobi feeding each other sweets, pretending you aren’t giving him the ones you know he likes the most

“ugh, another one of these, I don’t like them that much”

You’re not sure if he believes you

The others certainly don’t, but you ignore the way they look at you as you hold another up to Hobi’s lips

Hobi swears off the horror film later, but you follow him to the kitchen

Honestly, it’s out of fear for the apple pie

And nothing else at all

You laugh together and steal some of the leftover sweets as he makes it through one failed batch of dough

Namjoon goes to bed

You’re pretty sure the others have fallen asleep in the living room

They can have some pie tomorrow, if it ever gets made. Or if it does, then if it isn’t all eaten before they can get to it

This time around, Hobi deems the batch successful and finally it’s in the oven, complete with strawberry jam leaking out of the sides

“It has to look spooky!”

Hobi falls into a chair beside you, covered in flour and fruit and looking much better than he has any right to

“Let’s go outside, the pie has to bake for a while”

You don’t question your enthusiasm to go with him

At this point, you get excited along with him, and after seeing how brilliant the stars look, you can only half concentrate

Staring at him instead is just as tempting

You know the joy you’ll find there

It’s darker as you pass under the trees, further from the building

Still you don’t look away

Did you see that?”

Hobi gasps, a hand flying out to catch your own

His fingers around soft around your wrist, and slip down to grasp your hand

Eventually, he brings his gaze back to earth, frowning around at you

Blinking, you realise he asked you something

“See what?”

Your voice is no more than a breath in the air

All he says is “look”

There are other things you would rather look at, but you turn your head to the sky

You’ve stopped walking at this point, just standing still among the leaves

The tree branches stretch into the sky, much thinner than they used to look

You breathe

Hobi’s hand is still holding yours, calling you back to earth, but you force your eyes to search the heavens a bit more

You’re about the ask Hobi what he’s on about when you see it, at last

A flicker, quick enough that you could have missed it in a blink

Satisfied, Hobi turns to you

This time, it’s his turn to admire your face as it transforms, disbelief to wonder

“Was that-?”

“A shooting star!”

You wonder if he really was a witch, and if so what kind of spell he cast to make this Halloween work out so well

He holds his hand out

Doesn’t even ask

Without knowing, you realise your trust has grown well enough, so firm within your chest, that you take it without a second thought

And now you’re dancing

He really loves this cape, and spins you around as an excuse to make it fly behind him

Almost losing your balance, you grab him harder, laughing

And he pulls you closer once you stand up

Your feet are scuffling in the broken leaves like so many times before as you messed around

You trip and lose the rhythm, and spin too many times that you should stop, but you end up dizzy with a wide grin

When he kisses you, it’s like you had done it a hundred times before

No questions in your mind, you lean in more, hands sliding into the warmth under his silly cloak. And you wonder if you’re really just dizzy from spinning

The apple pie burns

You and Hobi still eat it, and the inside is really very nice

Like you would have before, you share spoonfuls, eating the whole thing over gossip and laughter

Only this time, you curl in his lap, and then he in yours because it gets uncomfy

In the morning, Namjoon finds everyone out of bed, sleeping on the sofas or the kitchen table, as is your case

And no one is surprised, or seems to bat an eye beyond smiling at the two of you

You wrap up in each other’s clothes, and walk under the trees, and dance, and suffer the results of baking- which will get better, he promises every single time

And you trust him

Thank you for reading!! this was made with the following prompts: baking - back to school/university – “I bet you can’t catch a leaf” - wearing someone else’s clothes - trick or treating - apple picking – warmth - “it’s sweater season!” - “are you cold?” - “I trust you” - shooting stars - first dance

If you enjoyed this, a comment would be so appreciated, it makes it all worth it🥰🥰 find my other autumn drabbles here

taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine​ send me a message if you want to be tagged in my “autumn with” updates!!

[pandasized-crevice]

KinnPorsche fic ideas!!!

I present some KinnPorsche fic ideas i manically wrote out at 1am

The classic tattoo artist x florist au!!!BUT Porsche is the florist & Kinn is the tattoo artist; bonus fun if Kinn is the one who actually tattoos Porsche’s phoenix tattoo!!!OH AND Porsche at first gives Kinn flower bouquets that mean fuck you(yall know that post about flower language and the fuck you bouquet right?) but as time goes on the meaning of the bouquets change…..

MR. & MRS. SMITH AU  Y A LL

WING AU love me a wing au!!! KP grooming each others wings even though thats only for close family & loved ones???HELL YEAH

KP met when they were younger but due to circumstances they lost touch BUT MEET AGAIN AT YOKS BAR AHAHA ft. symbolic matching necklaces they gave each other so its basically the spider-man meme when they clock it on each other

Yall know that reddit post where the dude thinks he’s homophobic but he’s actually in love with his roommate? Porsche & Kinn come ON

Porsche works at this fancy restaurant bar where mafia boss Kinn goes for business meetings, porsche stops kinn from getting poisoned(drug in drink me thinks) and kinn(who already had a crush on the hot charming bartender who serves him the best drinks) falls harder

Porsche somehow ends up working for Vegas instead of Kinn and now Kinn must sit in lust every time the families meet because why is his cousin's bodyguard so hot?

Porsche meets Tankhun first & they become besties; porsche is giving my best friends brother by miss victoria justice

Magic mike-esque dancer!Porsche & mafia boss king!Kinn

Gardner/lawn worker!Porsche ft. Kinn staring lustfully from the windows & Kinn sitting by the pool to “read” aka to watch a shirtless porsche cut the grass

Porsche saves Kim and becomes his bodyguard instead; basically porsche becomes the watson to our kimlock holmes

University au! How could I forget!! Yall know those hazing things they do in bl? the specific activities they do?can yall imagine Porsche having to do the chicken dance to get kinn to sign his little book?

Mermaid au mermaid au MERMAID AU MY BELOVED so many possibilities with a mermaid au!!!!!!!!!

Maleficent-esque au with porsche as maleficent and porchay as aurora: porsche's uncle betrays porsche & cuts off his wings to give to the king(the king being vegas dad), porsche is like fuck yall fr & puts up the thorn wall to keep not only his brother but all the magical folk safe. But guess what little shithead mamages to get in?(tis prince kim!){the second & main fams are different kingdoms} Kinn goes looking for him,KP met,and idk plot happens...

Mamma mia au porchay invites porsche ex’s:kinn,vegas,pete to his birthday party

Zombie apocalypse au KP are separated and have to find each other again/ are strangers who join forces to stay alive & fall in love in the process

CORPSE BRIDE-ESQUE AU!!!!!Kinn as Emily(killed by his ex tawan ofc), Porsche as victor. Porsche is engaged to slimeball Vegas cuz his uncle owes them & he uses porsche to pay the debt. While in the forest Porsche rants about how he doesn’t wanna marry Vegas,he gets sad(he wants to marry for love),recites the vows his parents had for each other and places a ring on a “tree branch”. TIS KINN YUH hence Kinn taking porsche. {Spoiler alert: the rest of the theerpakyal fam is dead,vegas and his father killed them once kinn was killed}

All the theerapanyakul siblings have tigers (don’t question why they just do) and Kinns tiger adores Porsche to the point of physically harming Kinn/others if they do anything to Porsche. Not to mention,after they get over the incident of Porsche stepping on their tails and bonking them on the heads(he was scared guys you’d be to if you saw 2 fucking tigers outta no where),Tankhuns tigers,elizabeth & sebastian of course, like porsche too so most of the time you’ll see Porsche walk by with his trio of kitties

When Tankhun is kidnapped he manages to get away but passes out due to his injuries (amnesia anyone?)Our lovely parchara kittisawasd brothers find him and are like “neat a new brother!” but seriously tankhun gets the love he deserves 

If anyone wants to use any of these please go for it, i beg of you. if a fic is birthed PLEASE tag me i'd love to see it👀

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I Did Not Sign Up For This

For @whumptober2021 day nine: presumed dead | tears

Ladies, gents, and nonbinary friends... Speak Out.

CW: Referenced presumed death of a teen child in the past, grief, BBU, referenced pet whump, some references to past noncon and torture, sheer badassery from Kauri and Chris

“Hey, sweetie.” Jennifer Harker sits down on the little bench, leaning back, closing her eyes. “It’s been a rough week. We missed a deadline at work, thanks to Charles. You remember Charles? He started a few months before you went to college.”

The leaves rustle in the tree above her, a breeze moving through them. Sometimes she tries to see it as a sign that he hears her, that he's listening, wherever he is now.

She looks up, watching a robin who is looking right back at her, its red breast visible, in contrast to the green summer leaves. It takes off in a flurry of brownish-gray wings, and she sighs, looking back at the small stone marker she keeps in the yard off to the side of her house.

If the neighbors hear her talking out here, well, they get it. They’ve lived here since before Liam was born, they knew him as well as anyone else did.

It's not the first time Jennifer Harker has spoken to her dead son like this.

“In any case, well. I’ll just say I’m glad he’s going to retire soon. I’m not sure how much longer I can take his nonsense. Bullshit, you’d have said, I think. Keira’s home now, did you know that? She’s here to help me pack up-... pack up some stuff. Put it in storage or something. Honestly, so much of it’s… it’s not like anyone’s going to need your old books.” She gives a little laugh, maybe too breathy. “Keira always says I hold on to too much of you. That I don’t admit you’re gone, but you know, I do, it’s just… I liked having the pieces of you still here. Honestly, I think... I think she's having problems with that boyfriend again. I keep telling her, she deserves better, but she just-... she can't see it. I think she still blames herself for what happened to you."

She swallows, her throat tightening. This many years later and the tears still heat in her eyes. She has to close them tightly and breathe, in and out, until the feeling fades.

“Anyway-... I shouldn't think about it. I might just tell her I put it in storage and... not. If I never get r-rid of anything, Lee-Lee, it’s like you’re still here, right? Like you could come home on break from school any second now. Like maybe it’s just… all been the world’s longest fucking bad dream-”

She groans, rubbing her hand over her forehead, slowly leaning forward. Her throat closes against her grief, which slams into her like a body blow.

They say it gets easier, but they don't tell you that it only does that to lie in wait for the next time. The whole universe within her revolts at what she is, a mother with one missing child.

She looks with blurry teary eyes towards the stone. She'd ordered the little marker because she couldn’t find any reason for a tombstone or even a grave, but she wanted something to visit. It’s just a stone rectangle, vertical, and she has his name carved into it, and a line from a poem he wrote in high school.

LIAM HARKER Do you fear the lack of love Or the way love will burn you alive and leave nothing but ashes behind? Then, at the very bottom, her own words:

You were worth the burning, Liam.

Keira told her it was a morbid thing, but Jennifer had loved that poem so much when Liam showed it to her, and more importantly, he had loved it. She couldn’t imagine any other words for his memorial.

“I’m sorry,” She apologizes to her dead son, or to the tree or the bird she scared away. A squirrel chitters nearby. A lawn mower drones somewhere in the background in the small town. “It’s just been a week. The… the anniversary’s getting closer, that’s always rough for me. You’d only been at school a little while when-... when you went missing. July and August… oh, I hate July and August. You spent all of July out with your friends getting in those last hurrahs before college, we moved you in, and then… then y-you were gone.”

She exhales, slowly, looking at the tree. Memorizing, as she has a hundred times, the pattern of the bark.

“You’ve been gone so long,” She says, softly. “What will I do once you’ve been gone longer than you were here, Liam? What do I do then? Keira wants me to sell the house and move, go somewhere smaller, easier to care for. It’s just me most days rattling around in there, but I can’t-... you wrote your name on the wall of your closet when you were five and a half. How can I-... how can I leave everything that’s left of you behind?”

She shifts around, turning to pull her book out of her purse where it sits beside her.

“Well. I don’t have to make that decision today. I’m going to read for a bit, honey. Do you mind if I sit here?”

He doesn’t answer, but she likes to think he wouldn’t mind if he were still here. They used to sit near each other for hours, each with a nose buried in a book. When he was little he’d snuggle in against her side and fall asleep like that reading, his hands slowly going lax, eyes drifting shut. When he was older, he’d dogear a page or two and she’d pretend not to notice.

As it is, Jennifer sits and reads, enjoying the peace and quiet of the small-town afternoon.

The front door slams open suddenly, making her jump and turn to look over her shoulder. Keira stands on the front porch, leaning on the railing. Her hair is a wild riot of black curls around her face and down her back, and her skin is paper-white except for bright red blotches in her cheeks. “Mom!”

There’s a tone in her voice that rings every damn Mom-alarm in Jennifer’s body and she’s on her feet immediately, closing her book. “What’s up, Kee? Is something wrong?”

“The, the TV… television… Mom, please, you have to come now!”

Before she can ask for clarification, Keira’s already disappeared right back into the house, and Jennifer grabs her purse and book, walking quickly over the lawn. Her mind races - it could be something like a terrorist attack or something, maybe, but it’s unlike Keira to act like that. She’s bitter, Jennifer’s only living child, but she’s also strangely calm.

Jennifer asked, once, what had happened to her previously anxious little girl. Keira had looked at her with the same bright blue eyes Liam had and answered, the worst thing that I can imagine happened when I was eighteen, Mom. My brother was abducted right in front of me and murdered and they never even found a body. Nothing scares me anymore. Nothing could possibly happen to me that’s worse than seeing him get put in that van and not being able to stop it.

The worst part is, Jennifer knows what she means.

Once you’ve lost a child - or a twin brother, the other half of your identity from birth - there just isn’t anything worse than that when it comes to the wound it tears into your soul.

She opens the door and walks inside, veering to the right. “Keira, talk to me, honey. What’s wrong? What’s on TV?”

Keira, standing white-faced with her hands pressed over her mouth, turns to look at her. Her blue eyes are ringed in panicked white. “I, I saw him, Mom,” She says, her voice shaking, weak, barely-there. “I saw him!”

“Saw him?” Jennifer blinks. “Saw who?”

“I swear, I swear I saw him just a second ago, I know it was him, I know it, I-I know it was him, I know-”

“Keira, for God’s sake, who?”

Keira turns to look back at the screen. “Mom, look, look, just look!”

Jennifer follows her gaze, noting dimly that she can see the little symbol for the summer Olympics at the bottom right of the screen. There’s a redhead standing at a small podium, a young man a few years younger than her twins, with a wicked scar across his forehead.

He speaks, stammering through his words, while one of the Olympic athletes for the USA, one Jennifer vaguely recognizes as one of the gymnasts, holds onto one of his hands. There are others seated at the table, other athletes. A girl in a hijab with dark eyes that spit fire through the TV screen holds up a photo of a handsome young man with stubble and curly dark hair. A blond man holds a photo of a pretty girl smiling over one shoulder, what looks like a senior portrait for high school. Every single person at the table, she realizes, is holding a photo of someone.

Her eyes scan the uniforms - Canada, Iran, the UK, South Korea, Brazil, Australia, Mexico...

“We, we, we were stolen,” The young man at the podium says firmly, but even through the TV screen Jennifer can see his knuckles are white from how hard he’s holding onto his friend. “We were, so many of us were stolen. It’s, they lie. WRU lies. They, they, they lie. And, and I can prove it.”

There’s a screen behind him that lights up with a projected image.

On the screen is-

“Christ Almighty,” Jennifer breathes, and her heart hammers through her chest so hard she nearly feels life itself leave her.

It's Liam.

Her son, eighteen years old then, stares back at her in a black-and-white image, gagged and bound, glaring daggers at whoever took the photo. He has a bruise on his cheek and a heavy black collar around his neck, the white shirt and black shorts of the stereotypical WRU look from the movies.

Jennifer had always figured that bit was exaggerated.

Apparently not.

“Why-... why is he-”

“Mom, I saw him,” Keira whispers, and tears are running down her face. Jennifer slides her arms around her daughter, feels her head slowly move to lean against her mother. They stare at the screen together, memorizing this image of someone they haven’t seen in a decade, someone who died so, so long ago.

Or so they thought.

“I saw him in th-the crowd, I saw him,” Keira whimpers, her voice catching on a sob. “I saw him, I saw him, I saw-”

“Sssshhhh, it’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

“I, I, I can prove that WRU… lies,” The boy at the podium says again. “Because I, I, I can, I… can remember what happened to me.”

Another person steps out from behind the curtain that backs the table the athletes sit at. Short as she remembers, with a halo of wild black curls to rival Jennifer’s daughter, their father’s hair. She can see how blue his eyes are even through a screen and from a camera that isn’t anywhere close to him.

“My baby,” She whispers, and tightens her arms around Keira, who sobs beside her.

His voice has gotten deeper, but he still sounds like her son as Liam moves up to the microphone, stares into the screen, and says loudly, “And so can I.”

“Lee-Lee,” Keira whimpers. “It’s Liam, Mom, he’s-... I knew it, I knew i never felt him die, I knew it, I knew it I knew it I knew it!”

“My name is Kauri Grant,” He says at the podium. The redheaded boy holds his hand, now, while he speaks. The photo behind him changes to a later one, her son smiling in a pretty, placid sort of way next to a man Jennifer vaguely recognizes as some kind of movie bigwig, but not enough to place his name. “I was told I gave myself away, to be turned into the live-in lapdog for movie producer Owen Grant.”

The photo changes again. This time it’s a soundless video recording of the same WRU-uniformed version of Liam from before, fighting two of those WRU guards who forcefully subdue him. There’s no sound, sure, but Jennifer knows when the small screen body goes rigid and she sees his wide-open mouth that he’s screaming.

Back to another still photo, of Liam in a loose pair of black pants and a blue sweater with a white-gold jeweled collar around his neck, sitting in the lap of the celebrity - Owen Grant? - from before. Jennifer’s stomach turns in sudden disgust.

Her son was-

Had been living as-

“I escaped,” He keeps speaking, and Jennifer feels Keira beside her shivering as the two of them can’t take their eyes off the screen, off a ghost come back to life. “And I’ve been finding my way back from what they did to me ever since. I’m here today before WRU will tell you that I signed a contract, that I knew what I was doing, that I thought it was a better choice than whatever way I was living before. I’m here because WRU lies.”

“WRU lies,” The table full of athletes says in unison, some spitting, some nearly emotionless. All of them hold up the photos of the people in their hands.

“WRU, they, they lie,” The redhead says, tremulously, and Jennifer watches her son’s expression shift to tenderness, as he turns and whispers something to the redhead. The young man nods in return, and Liam smiles, soft and gentle. The two of them briefly lean in together, Liam’s forehead resting against the redhead’s.

He’s still whispering, although she can’t hear what he says.

His smile widens.

“That’s my baby,” Jennifer whispers. “That’s my baby’s smile.” She has a photo of a little boy with that exact brilliant shining smile, those sparkling blue eyes, holding up a wet leaf hanging off a stick while proudly declaring he'd been 'fishing' in mud puddles. When he was born, he and Keira, everyone had said their eyes would change color but no, they’d stayed that crystal blue. Both of them. And there he is, there’s his eyes, his smile, his expression, her dead son breathing and alive. “Please, please, please, Lee-Lee, please-”

He turns back and it’s like he’s looking directly at her through the screen, looking right at her, for the first time in ten years.

When she’d teared up hugging he and Keira after moving them into their dorms in college, he’d given her that look while saying, we’ll be okay, Mom. We’re going to be okay.

And then he wasn’t.

Then he wasn’t.

He wasn’t okay.

But God Almighty, he’s right there on TV and he’s okay now.

“WRU lied about everything,” He says, as the photo behind him changes to show him still wearing the clothes he’d gone missing in, lying insensible on the floor of some white featureless room. A man walks in, and again she doesn’t have to hear Liam to know he’s screaming as soon as the man grabs his wrists and forces them above his head, sitting heavily on his pelvis.

Keira, next to her, gasps. “Oh, my God,” She whispers. “Oh, my God. Oh, my god oh my god oh my god oh my god-”

Jennifer’s cell phone starts to ring. Then her home phone rings. Then Keira’s phone rings.

They don’t move.

They don’t even hear it.

The video shows the man slapping her son across the face, grinning like a demon down at his pain and fear. He twists free and throws a punch, connecting with the man’s cheek only to jerk his hand back and shake it out. Then he’s the one to take a punch, the back of his head smacking hard into tile before he goes still, dazed.

The video catches the WRU guard leaning slowly over him before it cuts out, back to the first photo with the bruising and the defiance in her son’s eyes.

“I am proof that WRU lies,” Her son says, strong and solid and god, he’s alive.

He pauses, and just like the first time when he was eight weeks old, Jennifer begins to cry at the sight of her son’s smile. Beside her, Keira is already crying, and they hold each other so tightly it would hurt if either of them could even begin to notice.

“I know exactly who I am,” He says, and his smile is brilliant and beautiful, his blue eyes sparkle, and Jennifer’s mind screams he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive. “I’m Kauri Grant, but I was someone else, before. My name was Liam Harker, and I did not sign up for this.”

The press conference, until now so silent a pin could drop, erupts in a sudden roar.

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @what-a-whump