#(I simply do not have it in me to undo all these rows again for the fifth time)

[cultivating-wildflowers]

my brother today: so, uh...what's the word on that crochet basket my wife asked you about? she's started her nesting phase...

me, looking between said basket and the blisters on my hands: it's coming along great! it'll absolutely be done in time for Mom to deliver it!

[babyspacebatclone]

Picked up a yarn project again today, immediately found a mistake, and it make me think about how some people complain about fan terms.

Like, the entire “Why do you think you’re so special you get to just make up words to mean things that have words already?”

Which is of course silly, ask anyone getting a Masters degree in any specialization and there’s a ton of field-specific terminology and phrases that mean something exceptionally specific to them but are confusing to others.

Me? I was giggling at the terms knitters and crocheters use, simply because we can.

Case in point? Frog and Tink, both verbs, both meaning something everyday but with specific meaning to people who know what they are.

“To Frog” is to yank on your yarn of a crochet or knit project and unravel however many stitches - you “rip it, rip it!!”

“To Tink” is a more controlled form of unraveling exclusive to knitting, which is literally knitting in reverse (k.n.i.t. -> t.i.n.k.).

“Well, why not just say rip it out or unravel?”

First of all, you tink and frog in different situations: tinking is safer but takes a ton of time and effort, while frogging runs the risk of ruining a work if you’re not careful but is the only practical way to undo multiple rows.

Secondly, these terms are fun! Going backwards in a project because you made a mistake is a pain no one actually wants to do, so croaking out “rip it, rip it!” while you watch an hour’s worth of work dissolve into a tangle of kinked yarn helps.

Thirdly, it’s a sign of community. You know someone has spent time in knitting or crocheting culture to have encountered these terms - a badge of honor, of having committed to a project enough to being willing to redo to that extent.

So have your slang. Have your fun little phrases that have nuance.

It’s literally English.

Unless you happen to think the terms “To hit someone” and “To hit on someone” mean the same thing.

Edit: Forgot to include this! A link to a page with instructions on how to best safely Frog and Tink, where I took those pictures.

[chernabogs]

I saw in your tags for the scenario promts that you're accepting requests👀 How about “you will always follow the trail in the wood, and it will guide you on the same path, to the same cottage, the same witch. it will always be your undoing” with Yuu? or, if you don't write for them, “names are not like currency here; they are more precious than diamonds and legacies” with Malleus?

I'll give u both xoxo

The Woodcutter and The Prince

Inc: Malleus Draconia, Reader/Yuu, Sebek Zigvolt, Silver, Lilia Vanrouge, Grim Warnings: None for once LMAO WC: 4.3k Summary: A fairy tale of a woodcutter, a beast, three knights, and a lonely prince.

It feels appropriate to begin the story with ‘once upon a time,’ the token element, as that’s what all tales of magic and monsters begin with.

So, once upon a time, there was a woodcutter. 

You, or Yuu, as many called you, were somewhat of a respectable member of your village. As one of the few people who was brave enough to go trekking into the darkened woods beyond the boundaries for the needs of the villagers, they often turned to you for aid when times grew dire, and winter began its inevitable descent. You had grown up in these woods. You had seen many of the things that the shadows and the soil had to offer, and so you had come to settle into this life alone, becoming quite content in your role as a provider. 

One day, when you are deep within the bowels of nature that never seemed sated, the sharp blade of your axe biting into an oak as you sought to fill your quota, a great beast steps onto the path before you. Fire laps in its ears, and it has a tail like a trident, which twitches and sways in irritation. It holds its head low to meet your gaze, and it’s with that stare that you find your arm stilling, the axe soon held limply by your side. When you cease your cutting, the beast gives a low rumble from within its chest before speaking. 

“Woodcutter, there is a beast in this forest that cannot stop devouring. If you can satisfy him, you will be rewarded.” 

You take a wary step back then, your gaze uncertain as you observed the power rippling beneath the great cat's skin. Its toothy smile contrasts the softer tone it uses to share with you its plea. Yet, despite all these aspects, you feel no malice in its presence. So you heft your axe onto your shoulder and fix the beast with a frown. 

“How can I be of help? I come out here to cut the woods, not satisfy the monsters they house.” 

The beast's tail flicks again as it settles on its haunches. Reptile-like claws dig into the soil of the earth as a shuddering sigh leaves its form. “The beast is a prince who, despite having all the possessions in the world, still carries an emptiness in his core. He is guarded by three knights who let him do as he pleases. Open their eyes, and your reward shall be even greater.”

“How can I even find this prince, or beast, or whatever he may be? The woods are so grand you can hardly expect me to know every corner.” You gesture to the thick trunks and towering leaves around you. “I know only what is close to my home, as that’s all I’ve ever needed. These woods have been more than giving.” 

“You know where he is already. You have walked that path before��though you may need to dig into your dreams to see it. You will always follow the trail in the woods, and it will guide you on the same path, to the same cottage, the same beast. It will always be your undoing—or, in this case, his.” The beast smiles a great grin that showed its many rows of shard-like teeth. “Do you not love your home? Do you not love your kin? If you leave him be, he will come upon your doorsteps in time like a starving wraith. He will claw his way into your homes and feed you sweet dreams until you rot to dust in your beds. Then, he will simply move on.”

“He sounds horrid,” you sputter, your grip on the axe tightening. The beast nods. 

“In a sense, he is. But even the most horrid can change with the right prompting. So tell me—are you good at carving?” 

You find your curiosity soon outweighing your fright over the beast and the tales that he spins. His warnings of what will happen to your home, should this prince be left unchecked, sends shivers up your spine and you find yourself nodding at his words. The beast almost looks satisfied as he rises again with another rumbling purr. He slips back into the brush that he emerged from, the foliage swallowing his form, until all that is left for you to see is a pair of burning blue eyes. 

“Good luck, woodcutter. The forest now rests in your hands.” 

And with that, he leaves you alone once more, with nothing more than an axe and a marred tree as your companions. 

________________________

You do not remember your dreams very well. You never have, even in your youth. They seem to dissipate out of your mind as soon as you wake, leaving you grasping at the vaguest of visions to piece together what tapestry your mind wove. Still, your feet carry you forward into the woods with sure steps, the axe still held on your shoulder as you walk. It feels as though you travelled for many hours until you came upon the first of the three the beast warned you of—a man with green hair, and armour of iron. 

“Today, we will enter the valley,” the man declares, unaware of your presence at the edges of the meadow, “and my prince shall find his companionship there.” 

You watch on as the knight looks back along the path, as though expecting someone else, before he moves to a stream close to your hiding position. You lower yourself closer to the twigs and branches below before clearing your throat to speak in a low murmur. 

“Fine knight,” you coo, throwing your voice to make it sound far different than it is, “do you truly intend to let your prince enter the valley?” 

The green knight stands sharply, his hand touching his sword hilt as his eyes flash with anger. “Who goes there?” He demands, his voice like a booming of thunder across the meadow. You remain concealed as you speak again. 

“Fine knight, do you truly think your prince will find a companion in the valley? What will he do if he does not? He will become more despondent, more enraged, and he will pull you into a dreamless sleep as he has so many others. Will you let him do that?” Your nails tap the handle of your axe as you watch the knight's expression. “Will you let him steal your dreams too?” 

The knight doesn’t seem too fond of the idea as he stands by the stream, a conflicted look upon his face. His hand clenches and unclenches on his sword hilt before he looks back to the path once more. “I do not wish… to see my prince despondent anymore,” he murmurs, his voice now less fierce than before. 

“Then find me a piece of yew and bring it to where your prince lay. I shall make it so that he may never feel alone again.” You urge. The knight seems uncertain still. 

“Who are you? How can I trust you?” He demands again. You hum quietly from your hiding place. 

“I am Yuu, and I swear that I will not lay a hand on your prince. If I do, you may guide the waters that fill this stream to fill my lungs instead.”

Well, this satisfies the knight, and with a huff and a nod he goes stomping into the forest to search for a yew tree. Once he’s gone, you creep out of your hiding place to continue down the path from your dream, pleased that the first obstacle is now done. 

________________________

You find yourself disheartened as the walk carries on and the sun creeps further across the sky. It was dawn when you began, and now it is midday. Still, your mind remains focused as the beast's warnings play over, allowing you to be alert enough to hear humming before the figure emerges. The second knight is a creature in himself—a fae, wearing the clothes of a travelling merchant instead of the armour the first knight adorned.  

He does not give you a chance to hide. His red eyes are locking with yours before you can even move, and the grin he offers shows a pair of brilliant white canines in his mouth. “Fine day, is it not?” 

You pause, your axe on your shoulder as you open your mouth to respond before falling silent again. The knight and you observe each other for a moment before he speaks once more. “What brings you so deep in these woods? You are of the valley.” 

“I am.” You answer deftly as you squeeze your axe handle again. “I am here to complete a task.”

“And what task might bring a woodcutter out here?” The knight prompts, taking a seat on a nearby stump to prop his chin in his hands. His smile does not waver as he watches you, and you know that trying to lie about your purpose to him will be a folly on your end. 

“Do you truly intend to let your prince enter the valley?” You instead ask, lowering your axe as you shift your weight on your feet. The knight raises one dark eyebrow. 

“Why should we not?” He replies easily. “He is our prince, after all. He wishes to find companionship, among others.”

“But dearest knight, do you truly think your prince will find a companion in the valley? What will he do if he does not? He will become more despondent, more enraged, and he will pull you into a dreamless sleep as he has so many others. Will you let him do that?” Your nails tap the handle of your axe as you watch the knight's expression. “Will you let him steal your dreams too?”

“I have no dreams left to steal!” The knight laughs as he leans back on the stump. “My nights are as empty as an abyss.”

“Then what of the others? When he steals away dreams and leaves everyone asleep, he will simply move on to another village. He will still be utterly alone. Do you wish to see him like that?” You pause to gesture to the silent woods around you. “Will you let him continue to hurt as well?” 

The knight seems less fond of this idea as his smile wavers. Perhaps you are misjudging it, but this knight has an almost fatherly look about him when it comes to matters regarding his prince. His black nails tap his leg before speaking. “What do you offer him in turn, then?” 

“Find me a smooth carving stone and bring it to where your prince lay. I shall make it so that he may never feel alone again.” You urge. The knight tilts his head in consideration.  

“Who are you, and how can I trust you?” He muses. “We take great offence to lies, you know.” 

“I am Yuu, and I swear that I will not lay a hand on your prince. If I do, you may urge the roots that tether these trees to tether my body instead.”

Well, this satisfies the knight, who rises from the stump with a soft laugh before stepping towards you. He touches your arm lightly and looks up at you with a mischievous grin, which does little to hide the wariness in his eyes. “Be kind to him, hm?”

Once he’s gone, you hoist your axe back upon your shoulder and continue down the path, the knights parting words now playing alongside the beasts in your mind. 

________________________

Once more, you become disheartened as the midday sun soon shifts onto afternoon. You thought you’d find the prince faster and perhaps bypass the final knight, but it doesn’t seem that the world is willing to give you this break. When you come across the third obstacle, you do not see him as much as you do trip over his form. A stuttered gasp passes your lips as you regain your footing before looking down, where a pair of aurelian eyes are blearily looking up at you. 

“Hm?” Languidly, the third knight sits up from his position beneath the tree. His silver hair nearly blinds you in the sunlight, but this still doesn’t stop you from seeing the peculiar army of animals hovering around his form. Squirrels, chipmunks, birds—it’s as though the entire forest rests by his side. “Who might you be?” 

“Yuu.” You answer immediately, blinking your confusion away as you shift to face the odd man. He seems unbothered by both your presence and your axe as he remains sitting on the forest floor. “Are you… a knight?” 

“Mhm.” The man hums back as he rubs his eyes before rising to his feet. The act sends the animals scurrying away in a tizzy as his attention drifts to you. “Are you in need of aid? You’re quite far from where the village lay in the valley.” 

“I’m on a quest of sorts.” You watch the animals hovering on the edge of the treeline in interest before looking back to the knight. Despite his sleepy gait, there’s an alertness in his eyes that warns you off from trying any form of deception. “Do you intend to let your prince enter the valley?” 

The silver knight looks surprised for a moment before he crosses his arms, a frown touching his lips. “... if he wishes to, yes.” 

“But do you wish him to, knowing all that he will do if his desires fall through?” You decide a more honest conversation is best with this knight, who seems apprehensive of the plan to begin with. The silver knight looks past you to the pathway beyond for a moment before exhaling a soft sigh.

“I do not wish to see him hurt. I care for him dearly, for he is family to me, but…” the knight trails off, leaving you to pick up his sentence. “I also do not wish to see him so alone anymore. My father, my friend, and I—we have always been here for him, but he seems unable to see that.”

His father and his friend must have been the other two knights. You brave a step closer to the silver knight. “Do you think your prince will find a companion in the valley? What will he do if he does not? He will become more despondent, more enraged, and he will pull you into a dreamless sleep as he has so many others. Will you let him do that?”

“I can travel in dreams, so it is of no worry to me. But my father and my friend cannot.” The silver knight seems torn for a moment, standing on the precipice of loyalty and love, before his brilliant gaze looks to you again. “What are you offering, Yuu?” 

“Find me clay—primed for creating—and bring it to where your prince lay. I shall make it so that he may never feel alone again.” You promise. He looks unsure for a moment. 

“How can I trust you?” He asks, his voice soft and full of genuine concern. 

“I swear that I will not lay a hand on your prince. If I do, you may take the stones that lay on this forest floor and lay them upon my body instead.”

Well, this satisfies the knight, who nods his head somberly before turning away. A wave of his hand sends the birds fluttering, the squirrels skittering, and many of the animals into a frenzy as he steps into the woods. You watch him until he vanishes before turning back to the path. 

___________________________________

When the sun dips below the horizon and the sky above the woods is a blaze of golds and reds, that is when you see the home where the prince resides.

True to the beast's words, it is not a grand palace you encounter, but a cottage nestled deep within the woods. A garden surrounds the home, which is built of stone and oak, and a fence guards the path to the front door. You push it open with some trepidation before following the stones to the entrance. A part of you seeks to take your axe within, but another part protests, leaving you to set it aside instead. 

The door gives in to your push with little protest. When you pass through the threshold, you are enveloped in a warmth that seems unnatural, making your skin prickle beneath the wool clothing that keeps you safe in the woods. You tug on your collar as you look around the room—carvings and trinkets decorate the space, each one hand-crafted by someone who resides here. 

And this is when your gaze comes to rest on him. 

He’s observing you as you observe the space. He is a tall man—of this you can tell, even from where he sits—with sharp green eyes and dark lips which are twisted into a frown. Two black horns rise from his head into sharpened points, which are where your eyes go to immediately even as he speaks. 

“Yuu.” Your name rolls off his tongue with such ease that it sends a chill down your spine. You look at him in surprise, wondering how he knows your name already, which he then goes to answer with his next few words. “Names are not like currency here; they are more precious than diamonds and legacies. You give yours far too freely to expect it not to spread.” 

“Was it your knights?” You query as you move closer, drawing a chair out to sit across from him. The act momentarily surprises him as his expression shifts. This is a victory you take. “They all asked me for my name before I passed.”

“No, not the knights. Nature is a most noisy companion. Every breeze, every leaf, and every insect are buzzing about your venture. Dearest woodcutter, what is it that you seek from me?” The words are spoken with an undercurrent of distrust as the prince’s lip curls, showing teeth similar to those of the second knight. You take note of his pointed ears as well. A fae—not a monster like the beast said. Not even close, in fact. The guardedness in his gaze is not born of hostility. “You left your axe outside.”

“I haven’t used it at all on my walk. And I seek nothing more than a conversation.” You lean back in your chair as you glance out the nearby window. This position will let you see when the three knights make their return. 

“You do not seek congenial conversation. I sense an interrogation is on the horizon.” He gives a harsh scoff as he crosses his arms. The temperature in the room seems to rise with his frustrations. “What is it you want, woodcutter?” 

“Are you going to the valley?” You bend to his demands and ask your questions as you meet his eye again. There is no cowering or simpering in your seat—you match his gaze steadfast with your own resilience. 

“What if I am?” He counters with all the haughtiness a young prince may possess. The act makes him seem more human and prompts a quirk of amusement in your lips. 

“What is it you desire?” 

“Why does what I desire concern you?” 

“Because I have been warned of what may happen if you cannot find it.” A moment of silence passes at your statement as the prince’s stubbornness remains. Then he sneers. 

“Did the beast offer you a prize? Is that what you want? A pretty reward for stopping me?” He hisses. You consider his words carefully. At first you did want a reward, in addition to aiding your fellow villagers. The three knights you’ve met have altered this perception, however. The first one with his unwavering loyalty showed you what the prince could be. The second one with his paternal concern showed you what the prince has been. The third knight with his uninhibited care to both the prince and his family showed you what the prince is. 

This is not a monster. This is a man in a cottage who has, in some way, been put in a role he isn’t sure he wants to fulfill. He has fallen into content monotony—precisely like you. 

So you shake your head because you know this is the truthful thing to do. “I did want the reward, but not anymore. I would rather talk to you for a while.”

Another flash of surprise sparks another twinge of victory in your chest as the prince leans back in his seat. “... talk to me?” 

“Mhm.” You gesture to the room. “Did you make these?” 

“I?” The prince then looks around as well, as though noticing the carvings himself for the first time, before clearing his throat. “Some, yes. Others were aided by my knights. It is somewhat of a stress reliever for us.” 

“They are quite nice.” You praise, which eases the tension in his body a little more, opening the opportunity for more. “How did you get into such a hobby?” 

________________________

When the three knights return, night has fallen, and you have managed to coax the fearsome prince into quite the drawn-out conversation. You note that he becomes far more vibrant in his speech when speaking of things he’s passionate about, to the point that he hardly notices the three knights nudging open the door until you pause the conversation yourself. 

“Hello again.” You greet them, noting the materials they carry in their arms. The green knight seems guarded still as he looks between you and the prince, while the other two knights merely offer brief, knowing smiles before setting the materials on the counter. 

A piece of yew, a stone, and an excess of clay held in a makeshift bucket. The prince’s eagerness is replaced by curiosity as he leans forward to stare at the items. 

“Did you go foraging?” He asks the second knight incredulously. A tittering laugh is his response as the knight drifts to your side. 

“Lilia.” Malleus shoots back with a narrowed gaze, which only prompts Lilia’s entertainment over this matter further. “You, Silver, and Sebek are all obliging to a woodcutters orders, hm?” 

“Well, Yuu. You’ve seemed to have made yourself quite at home here,” he muses, the amusement never leaving him as glances at the prince. “Malleus, to not have even offered our guest a drink. Have I taught you nothing?"

A wave of his hand has a steaming mug of... something, appear before you. You eye it for a moment before lightly taking the mugs handle. You don'r drink it, though.  

“Oh, our dear Yuu was persuasive. They told me I could feed them to trees, told Sebek he could feed them to the river, and told Silver he could stone them if they put a hand on you—so we were not overly concerned.” Lilia pinches your arm lightly before looking at the supplies you asked. “I wager I have an idea of what these were gathered for, but please Yuu, do enlighten us.” 

“Well, it’s far too late to do anything now—at least for me,” you quickly add as you glance at the quartet, “but I understand, Prince Malleus, that it’s companionship you’re seeking?” 

Malleus seems slightly displeased at your read of him as he glowers at you—a sharp contrast from his previous joy. It’s Silver’s light nudging to his arm that finally draws a curt nod out of the prince. 

“I know it may not be apparent to you, but companionship is already something that you have. Are you not accompanied by people who care for you in your daily life already?” You gesture to the three knights before continuing your points. “It may be hard to hear but promises of dreams and endless sleep are not ways to earn more people by your side. I began this thinking I was hunting a monster, but now I sit here across from you knowing that you and I are more alike than we think.” 

Malleus seems ready to speak, but you shake your head, which causes his mouth to close once more. You then point to the items that the knights collected. “Each of those items are capable of being crafted and changed in some manner. What tools would you use for them, Malleus?” 

“A blade for wood, a chisel for stone, and my hands for the clay.” Malleus answers immediately. 

“Those are all tools you have on hand. Tools that can allow you to craft wonderful things if used right and if taught correctly.” You then look back to the prince. “Speaking with your knights has shown me that you are someone worthy of being cared for, of being around. You don’t need to go storming into villages—you have tools to earn their care. You just need someone to show you how to use them.” 

You then sink back in your chair with a sigh. “I’m just a woodcutter, yes, but I’m also someone who knows my village well. If you let me, I can introduce you to them—without the sleep part.” 

A pause fills the room as Malleus seems to consider your offer. The three knights remain silent near the door, but you can see by the looks being exchanged and the shifting on their feet that they, too, are hoping he concurs. 

“... you give a rather valiant speech.” Malleus finally hums as his fingers go to touch his chin thoughtfully. “If you are willing, then perhaps… yes. I think I would quite like that, dearest woodcutter.” 

If the room could heave a collective sigh, you’re sure that it would as you rest your elbows on the table with a small laugh. You do not know what the beast’s reward was meant to be, and the curiosity about it fades as you offer the cautious prince a reassuring smile. 

You haven’t the heart to tell the man that you’ve never carved a single thing in your life, and that your entire speech was winged on the spot—but that’s an issue for another day.

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Ooh I’m torn but 1 simply because I was rewatching Rocky and the thought of Jane the boxer sounds too good to pass up

Boxer AU with a twist! I know nothing about boxing except that it is fun to watch! I am shaming my army boxer grandfather right now, but here we go.

“Listen to me,” Barry Frost starts the conversation like a father, cutting the engine of his Buick and turning to Maura with a large hand to her shoulder. It’s a scorcher outside, and turning off the car means turning off the air conditioning, which Maura regrets almost as much as the kind look in his brown eyes. The worried look. “I know the elbow’s set you back, and we’re graspin’ at straws here.” 

“So you’ve brought me to the one gym in Boston to which I’ve vowed never to return? By tricking me into it? You can’t just tell me we’re going to Hannah Grisham’s office. She’s one of the best physical therapists on the eastern seaboard, Barry. You don’t dangle a carrot like that in front of a fellow doctor. Especially when its a lie.”

“I’m sorry, but desperate times, Maura. The scans are clear - the inflammation is pretty much gone, the pain is…”

“Psychosomatic,” Maura admits, possibly for the first time. She leans said elbow on the windowsill and lets her gaze drift to the bright blue sky above them. She thinks of the missed punch that hyperextended the elbow, which handed her her first loss. 

She got hurt and she lost the fight.

The line from point A, failure, to point B, the mental block preventing her from getting back in the ring, seems clear now. Repetitive hyperextension trauma has been with her since she’d abandoned her medical practice to fight full time. Perhaps it makes sense that such a banal boxer’s reality would be the thing to undo her. 

“I was gonna say elusive, hard to pin down, but yeah,” Frost says quietly. He rubs his chest, hand in a circle against the ribbed tank under his cream-colored guayabera, an unconscious thinking habit he’s had since Maura’s known him. “It sure as hell is eluding me.”

“But you’re my trainer. Why do I have to be… here?” Maura succumbs to a wave of petulance. She knows why she’s here. She just hates that here is the best place to get her… what does Barry call it? Mojo? To get her mojo back.

“Because I’m stumped, Doctor Isles,” he confesses. “I’m stumped and maybe a fresh pair of eyes’ll help us get you back into fighting shape.”

“Jane’s eyes are not fresh,” Maura, now drowning in waves of childish defiance, breathes. That’s all she can do, because she’s not sure she wants to be an adult about this. She’s not sure she wants to be friendly, even if… christ. Even if Jane might be the best thing for her at the moment. “Jane’s eyes are the opposite of fresh.”

“Might as well be, for how long you’ve iced each other out,” Barry grumbles. “I got you a session. She agreed to clear the gym for you. I’ll even circle the block, or go get a drink or somethin’, so you two can hash it out in private. But this is a big ask of her, after all the shit you two went through. I owe her big. I’d at least like to get something out of it.”

“And you didn’t think to consult me before asking for this favor?” Maura counters.

Barry laughs. “I knew you woulda said ‘hell no.’ C’mon. Let’s get this over with.” He steps out of the car with one last smack to her shoulder, and she shakes her head. He’s right. She would have definitely said hell no. But the only thing she wants less than seeing Jane again is losing her career.

So she steps out into the oppressive July sun and approaches the storefront of North End Boxing with trepidation.

“Hey Jane!” Barry shouts into the gym space, leading Maura in. 

Maura adjusts her duffel higher on her shoulder, taking in her surroundings. The ring sits in the middle of the floor plan, Jane’s crown jewel- some things never change. There is some updated strength training equipment in the back, and the bags to the left side boast some replacements. The treadmills and rowing machines mock her from her right, conjuring up times Jane punished her with cardio before sparring. “I shouldn’t be here,” Maura whispers to Barry.

“The hell you don’t,” Barry counters. “You used to run this place.”

“The Rizzolis have always run this place,” Maura says. She nods to the giant banner of Frankie Rizzoli, Junior holding up a championship belt with a shiner and an exhausted smile on his face. Action posters of Jane in title matches, just as victorious, twice as vicious, hang on the back wall on either side of a trophy case. That trophy case also contains a framed, signed picture of their father delivering the knockout blow to an opponent already halfway to his knees.

Jane herself comes from around the corner where the private owners’ area. “Been a long time, Frost,” she says. Her face is still handsome. Even more so when she smirks at him and shows her perfect teeth. She’s got her usual training look on: black Nike sports bra, black running shorts with compression leggings sewn in. There is one glaring difference: she wears white training Nikes, instead of her high ankle boxing shoes. The stretch of Jane’s crew socks over her too-thin legs, halfway to her calves, has always captivated Maura, but this time it’s out of place. 

Jane catches her staring. “You’re boxin’ today, not me,” she says, reading Maura’s mind. She holds one foot out to put her shoe on display. 

“No one’s boxing, not yet,” Maura refuses to smile. Jane’s effervescence hasn’t faltered, and it shines despite the darkness of her features. 

“Maura-” Frost tries.

“No no, she’s right. You got her in the door, but she’s gotta wanna be here if this little plan is gonna work,” Jane crosses her arms. Maura detests the challenge leveled at her in Jane’s brown eyes, though her belly flips when she glowers right back. Barry stands to the side of them with a hesitant little half-grin, like he doesn’t quite know what to offer to the conversation. 

He shrugs his broad shoulders. “She’s not wrong, Maura. Work the pain out on her. Punish her,” he motions toward Jane.

“That’s not the temptation you think it is, Barry,” Maura tells him. 

“Yeah, she already did all that,” Jane teases. “A year ago.”

That sours Maura’s mood again. “You know what? Maybe a little sparring would do me some good,” she responds. She gets close, fingers still tight against the strap of her bag, and even though she has to look up at Jane, it’s still one of defiance. 

“Frost? Get out,” barks Jane. 

“Jane, I drove Maura here. She’s-”

“You can go,” sighs Maura. She walks over to the ring and sets her bag down, rolling her neck. It’s the first stretch that signals the beginning of an entire routine and Barry looks excited enough to wet himself. 

“You got it. There’s a salami sandwich over at Graziano’s that’s callin’ my name. You just text me when you need me to come get you, a’right?” He says with his hand already on the front door, whole demeanor altered. “Have a good workout.”

He leaves the two women alone, and they’ve already begun to pace around each other in routine. Maura ties her honey hair up in a pony tail, unzips her windbreaker meant more to guard her fair skin from the sun than to keep her warm. When she straightens up, Jane already holds a jump rope in her hand, outstretched towards Maura.

Maura narrows her gaze again. “Where’s the other one?”

“This is your workout, not mine,” Jane says. “I already got cardio in. At five. This mornin’. Like I always do - I didn’t think you’d forget.”

Maura breaks the icy exterior for just a moment of whining. She might even stamp her foot. She hates the rope. “I didn’t forget, but you know how I feel about jumping rope and so you should have saved yours to do with me in miserable solidarity.”

Jane guffaws, her belly laugh deep and booming. Maura rubs her lips together so she doesn’t join in. “I can’t argue with that except that Frost didn’t call me until like nine.”

“Meaning Frankie had already worked you out and served you your breakfast of raw eggs,” Maura gags for show.

“I don’t do that anymore,” Jane tells her with a tinge of red on her cheeks. “Now stop stallin.” 

Maura snatches the rope with disdain and drops it on the floor while she runs through her stretches. She sits and pulls one foot against the opposite thigh, leaning forward to get a nice, strong tug in her calves. She runs through it for both legs, and then stands to do some hip rotations, and Jane watches quietly. “What?” Maura asks to break the silence.

“Legs feel good?” Jane answers, sort of. She leans one elbow on the closest ring post and stares at the legs in question. 

Probably Jane’s favorite part of her, if Maura had to guess. Jane had always praised Maura’s footwork, but with the way Jane looks at her legs now, in skin tight yoga leggings, she’s not thinking about footwork. She’s thinking about they feel wrapped around her waist, the only clothes on either athlete the layer of sweat built up from a workout between the sheets.

And now, Maura’s thinking about it. She starts with the rope just to send all that noxious sexual energy somewhere. “Legs feel fine,” she says as she starts slow, reacquainting herself with the whistle of the rope, with the jumpstart of her heart when her feet start to dance.

There is art in the torture, she’ll concede. 

“Legs’ve always been fine, legs’ve never been the problem.” Maura likes how the rope makes her normally verbose speech choppy and efficient. She likes how it makes her sound like Jane. 

“It’s the elbow,” Jane says that part for her. “I’ve dealt with it before. The dead arm is fuckin’ demoralizin’.” She talks while she backs away from Maura, and goes to the lockers toward the back of the gym. She pulls out a pair of white pads and slams the locker shut. “You bring your own gloves?”

“Of course,” Maura calls out, and the volume of it burns her lungs. Jane is annoying for having made her do it. 

“Well leave ‘em in your bag. You’re usin’ some of mine,” Jane says, and she grabs those from another cubby area.

“I like my gloves,” Maura huffs. “I want my gloves.”

“Too damn bad. They’re all wrapped up in your psychobabble bullshit right now,” Jane argues. She drops the gloves on the side of the ring and adjusts the pads until they’ll fit just right. 

Maura wants to snark back but she catches sight of Jane’s hands. Those capable, deadly hands, with a scar in the middle of each one. They didn’t talk about the obsessed fan, about Hoyt, before they got together, when Frank Senior was training both Jane and Maura. They didn’t talk about him after, either, when they dominated their respective classes. They didn’t even talk about him following the blow to the head that ended Jane’s career, when they said awful things to each other and devolved into an ugly type of resentment.

And now, they haven’t talked at all since Jane drank herself into a stupor and climbed drunk into a car with her brother. They haven’t talked since Maura walked out with statistics about concussions and alcohol on her lips, love mysteriously absent. A year ago. “Psychosomatic,” Maura corrects weakly, her own voice quiet in the face of the flood of memory washing over her. 

Soon enough, Jane’s scarred hands disappear in to the curved focus pads. “You got two more minutes,” says Jane, busy again with preparation.

“We’re doing padwork already?” Maura asks.

“Yeah,” Jane says. She thumps the pads together and rolls her own neck. “You get all mixed up when you’re punchin’, accordin’ to Frost. So, while I would normally send you straight to the weight rack, punchin’ is the only way we’re gonna break you outta this.”

Maura is pleased with the words coming out of Jane’s mouth for the first time today. “Ok then,” she says. She wants nothing more than to throw fists at her ex. “You won’t get any argument from me.”

“Didn’t think so,” Jane says. She grins to let Maura know she’s seen the saucy glint in Maura’s eyes. “Ok, enough of that. Get some water and let’s go.”

Maura, thankful for the reprieve, drops the rope and throws her head back. She puts her hands on her hips, sweat already dripping from her neck to her chest, already staining the front and back of her gray tank. After she squeezes water into her mouth from her bottle, she realizes Jane is studying. She licks her lips just to be a tease.

Whether consciously or not, Jane bites her own lip. 

“You know I’ve never been fond of Everlast,” Maura grumbles like she can’t be pleased when she grabs the gloves waiting for her.

“How can you be a boxer and not like Everlast? You have never made sense, Princess,” Jane tells her, holding up the pads.

“It’s the limited weight-”

“Aht! Save it,” Jane interrupts. “I don’t wanna argue before you even get started. Now c’mon. Show me what you got.”

Maura takes a deep, eyes-closed kind of breath to clear her mind. Instead, she smells Jane, lavender perfume and gym equipment. Her mind races. 

“Quit overthinkin’ it,” Jane goads. “Hit me.”

Maura throws her first punch. She barely registers that she does it, but the pad sings and Jane whistles. “You asked,” Maura says.

“And you delivered,” Jane replies. She takes Maura’s slow combos with some grace. “But stop pussyfootin’ around. It’s me. You know I can take it.”

“I don’t want to reinjure myself, Jane,” Maura chides, and continues her methodical warmup.

“Bullshit. Timid and tender is what got you here. Time to get a little messy. A little mean,” Jane blocks, finding the rhythm of Maura’s work quickly. 

“That’s your style,” Maura responds. 

“So? Try it on,” Jane says. Each hit on the pad, Jane catching them dead center, reminds Maura how lucky she is she never had to fight Jane. It’d be the hardest fight of her life. Jane knows it, too, which makes her insufferable. “Won’t kill ya.”

“It just might,” Maura quips, but she adds a little more power. Imagines being Jane, controlling Jane’s arms, what that would feel like. The dissociation lessens the tingle in her elbow and she slips into a 1, 2, 3 combo. Huh. “Faster,” she demands.

“Been awhile since you said that to me,” Jane chuckles, winking when Maura glances up at her. 

Maura speeds up, glancing a blow on Jane’s forearm as a warning shot, but she smirks. “And it’ll be a lot longer yet,” she says, “especially in that context.”

“But not never again, huh?” Jane gives her that pretty boy smile that she knows is Maura’s weakness. Well, one of them. Another is when she talks shop. “Remind me to work in some dumbbell shadowboxing next time. Get your speed back up.”

“Am I telegraphing the hook?” Maura asks.

“Little bit,” Jane answers. “But maybe I’m just good at reading your body.”

That pesters Maura. The innuendo is unprovoked, more pointed. “Watch yourself,” she growls. She punches harder.

“I’ve been takin’ care of myself in the time you’ve been away. After you bailed,” Jane says. “You ever need to blow off some steam, you know, the old fashioned way, I’m around.” Maura lands a vicious jab from which Jane should recoil, given its force. Jane doesn’t. She leans instead, steps forward. “That was never the problem between us, huh?”

“You didn’t hear me say ‘watch it?’”

Jane continues. “Not a drop to drink in a year. I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you,” she leads. “Who could?”

“You’d need… a lot more than sobriety,” Maura cuts. 

Jane doesn’t seem to mind. “I thought about you so much, I watched your last fight. Gotta tell ya, you stank it up. No guts in that performance.” Maura’s pulse pounds in her temple, her body so worked up that she didn’t realize how fast she’s been fighting. Jane’s faster, though. “No speed, either,” Jane says, and she proves it by smacking Maura in the face with one of the pads. 

Maura’s right hand thunders in from the side, already in motion before Jane could even finish the taunt. Glove connects with Jane’s cheek, and another blow explodes against her ribs just before Maura lands the next face punch that flattens Jane on her back. 

“Jane!” Maura calls out when the anger dissipates with the sickening thwack of Jane’s body on the hard floor. She tosses her gloves off and straddles Jane’s torso, stabilizing Jane’s head between her hands.

Jane smirks, however, gaze alight and alert. “For someone who was so worried about my concussion, you sure got no qualms about a blow to the head.”

“You provoked-! You provoked me on purpose,” Maura realizes mid-utterance. “From the gloves to the comment about the guts.” She stills holds Jane’s face, and of their own accord, her thumbs stroke the crow’s feet just starting to come in around Jane’s eyes. 

“Any pain?” Jane presses, cocky as ever.

Maura blinks, and then gasps. “No. None.”

“Hatin’ me’s a good look on you,” Jane tells her, nodding to Maura’s figure. “It’s pretty good for your fightin’, too, apparently.”

“Do you think you can get me to feel like this all the time?” Maura asks, serious.

“Pissed off? Murderous? I think we’ve established I’m pretty good at that,” says Jane. 

“No. Well, maybe. Pain-free,” Maura pleads.

“No guarantees,” Jane replies. She puts a hand on Maura’s thigh and pats softly. Maura lets her. “But if you wanna try it, wanna try fightin’ pissed, this is the gym for you.”

Maura chuckles and is shocked to find that it’s wet, that she’s crying. “I’ll say.”

“Missed you, kid,” Jane tells her. Her voice trembles with its own wave of emotion, but her eyes stay dry. Maura’s thumb trails to Jane’s lower lip, and rubs the plumpest part of it.

“Is this going to work? Are we going to kill each other? Are you going to resent me for doing what you can’t?” Maura asks, one after the other. 

“Don’t tell anyone that works here,” Jane begins with a theatrical whisper, “but takin’ care of myself might include seein’ a shrink. From time to time. And I think that trainin’ you would be the honor of my life.” Jane finishes. Maura hiccups with new tears. And the broadest smile she’s sported in weeks. “So I’ll do it for free - on one condition.”

“For free, hmm?” Maura asks, buys herself some time to wipe her face, “what’s the condition?”

“You go on a date with me,” Jane says with a smirk.

“Absolutely not,” Maura, assured of Jane’s well-being, smacks her shoulder. 

“One date. C’mon,” Jane pleads. “Anywhere you wanna go.”

Maura sighs. “Just one? After that I don’t have to go on any more?”

“Well, after one you’re gonna wanna go on a lot more, but sure, I’ll keep my word. One date,” Jane answers.

“Then we go to Maison de la Mer,” Maura asserts. Jane glowers. “And you eat what I order for you, and then we never speak of it ever again.”

“Really? The fancy French place with the plate of oysters that costs a rent payment?” Jane gripes, but then she props herself up on her elbows. “Y’know what? Deal. Now let’s seal it with a kiss.”

Maura scoffs and pushes her back down before getting up. “You’re intolerable.”

“Whatever. Still pickin’ you up at seven tomorrow,” Jane sits up while Maura throws her things in her bag.

“It takes weeks to get a reservation,” says Maura as she zips and tosses it on her shoulder.

“I know a guy who knows a guy. Who would love a Frankie Rizzoli, Junior autograph. You don’t think I called that in as soon as I knew you were comin’?” Jane retorts.

Maura’s jaw drops for a split second, and then she throws the towel she’d just used to wipe her face at Jane’s. “In. tolerable,” she repeats.

“And I better see your ass here at four thirty tomorrow morning!” Jane yells, and Maura chuckles quietly now that she knows her face can’t be seen. She pushes out into the rippling heat without another word, and pulls her phone out to call Barry. She can’t believe she’s looking forward to getting her ass kicked in the morning. By Jane fucking Rizzoli.

[arihi]

prompt: patchwork

hope the writing is enjoyable!

It was a rare day off for Heather. Her job, and... particular hobbies didn't leave a lot of free time to just be, or to work on other personal projects. Though, she was hoping to fix that soon - work wasn't the pressing priority it used to be lately, and she was already looking forward to the extra time in her day.

It was a good thing she'd focused on outsourcing working and income to others. As if on command, her phone beeped three times in a row. Status reports -- checking out of work, and checking in with their Mistress. Such sweet little dolls.

That meant it was already 5 PM. Where had the day gone? Heather knew the answer. A figure knelt in front of her, eyes blank and unseeing. She stroked its cheek with a tenderness not often shown around others. She couldn't help but think about how blissful the world was through its eyes. No sense of time, or obligations, simply existing.

Though, she thought wistfully, she had no right to envy anything about its current state. It was her fault, after all.

Light footsteps made themselves known from the doorway. "Mistress, it's--"

Heather lifted her head without turning towards the voice. "I know the time. How's dinner preparations?"

"On schedule, Mistress."

"Good. I'll be down shortly."

No further questions or reports meant the conversation was over. She focused her attention back on the thrall kneeling by her legs, and the small grasp the fingers had on her shirt.

She knelt down beside it, her eyes widened. "Yes? Were you asking for me?"

Silence.

"Smile for me."

It smiled.

"Look into my eyes."

It did.

"Speak for me."

Silence.

Heather smiled softly. Of course. She needed to temper her expectations more.

Early on, much earlier on - her very first, in fact - she'd been reckless and power hungry, thought herself to be infallible. She pushed too hard, went too far. The human brain was only so flexible. It was natural for it to break eventually.

She was much stronger now, and much more in control. It'd be impossible for her to make a similar mistake these days. But for however easy it was to shatter a person's psyche, it was infinitely more difficult to put it back together.

She was a wreck, back then. Vowed never to do it again, until things got tight, and she was so busy trying to undo an irreversible error, and eventually it was easier to just have a little outside help. A little, then some, then a lot more. Comforts made life easier. A means to an end.

The guilt had long since faded. Somewhere along the line of enslaving so many others, she couldn't continue to be hung up on her very first, could she? It was more an intellectual curiosity than anything these days. She'd made progress, little by little, adding in small triggers and programming in its brain, adding and removing certain attempts, seeing which didn't work together and which worked best. Little pieces of programming fabric sewn together into a quilt of human behaviors. It could move, now. Listen to direct commands. That was the extent, so far.

But, still. She'd never call it a soft spot, but it still had its own room in the manor. Several dolls whose main priority was to feed and bathe it. And every day, no matter how brief, Heather would visit.

Soon, she hoped to be able to spend more time in a day by its side.

[conretewings]

Two words: Body shots.........I need Vander to take body shots off of me/reader. Like a rowdy bachelorette party is in the last drop and wanna do some off of you and then they hype Vander into doing one off of you too.

Request granted my thirsty friend! Thanks as always!

-The jukebox was cranked as high as it could go, the whoops and shrieking laughter of a group of women enjoying their bachelorette party adding to the ruckus as they drank and partied.

Vander was resting his elbow on the counter, rubbing his temple and asking himself for the probably at least the dozenth time why he'd agreed to this. The group was loud, obnoxious, had annoyed nearly all the other customers out, and one of them had already tried to slap his ass. Only one person was allowed to do that, and he saw that person now as they made their way to him.

You walk up, glitter and bits of confetti in your hair with an empty tray and a weary smile, "Another round please."

He glances up at you, "I think they've 'ad enough. Why we doin' this again?"

You drop a bulging pouch of coins in front of him alongside the tray, raising a knowing eyebrow and he clears his throat as he turns around to fill the mugs, "Ah. Right."

"Heeeey! A round of shots too please!" calls one of the women, another clapping her hands together rapidly and gasping, "Oooh! We should do body shots!"

They all start a gleeful chorus of 'body shots!' and you throw Vander a hapless shrug, to which he dutifully sighs and reaches for a row of shot glasses and appropriate accompaniments, then walking to one of the tables they'd taken over filling and arranging them as you also place the restocked tray.

One of the group suddenly claps you on the back and exclaims, "You should join in! C'mon it'll be fun you've been working hard to take care of us!"

"I uh...I don't know I'm not sure..." you stammer with a blush, but the same woman waves a hand dismissively and adds, "Oh please! Don't be shy we'll go easy on you!"

"Mostly!" another chimes in with a devious chuckle.

You pause for a moment to consider; you've never done body shots but maybe...it'd be interesting to try. Besides, the entire group was now gazing at you with 'puppy dog eyes' in hopeful anticipation. You catch Vander's eye, who has gone back to his post and shoot him a questioning look, to which he simply rolls his broad shoulders in a vague shrug to say 'your call.'

Turning back to the group you relent, "Alright fine."

They all break out in joyful, if somewhat maniacal, squeals, as the one guides you to lay on the table and undoes the bottom few buttons of your shirt, yanking the tails out of your belt to expose your stomach up to your ribs. You roll your eyes, still not believing you're doing this but it was making the customers very happy; and happy customers meant more coin.

"We'll go easy mode on you since you're a body shot virgin," the same woman says, placing a shot glass on your stomach and a tiny pile of salt above it, "Ready?!"

Barely do you get a 'sure' out of your mouth before she stoops to first lap the salt off you then grabs the glass with her mouth and knocks it back while the rest cheer and pump their fists in the air. She does another, then a couple of the others join in. You find it oddly kind of fun after a few times, finding yourself laughing along.

Abruptly though, the bride-to-be stomps one foot on a chair and calls out, "Hold on hold on...I have a great idea..." she slowly turns and looks at Vander, one hand thoughtfully stroking her chin, "I think our handsome host should get a turn as well."

He snaps his head up while nearly dropping the mug he'd been cleaning, "Beg your pardon?"

"I said, I think you should get a turn too! Come oooon Vander you're always so serious! You should let loose a little! And I know our lovely victim here won't mind!"

He stares at her sourly, eyebrow raised, "I'm here to get you drinks and make sure ya don't wreck the place, not be your pet monkey doing tricks."

At this point you're flying on the adrenaline and infectious excitement of the group, not to mention the couple shots you'd had yourself and with your own, though more subdued laugh chime in, "Awww, it's okay! I understand if you don't want to or if..." you know this is a dangerous play but in this state you don't care, "You're afraid!"

A burst of 'oooh!'s emanate from the group, and you see Vander's expression shift, the glint of challenge in his grey-blue eyes and realize you've made either a brilliant move, or a mistake. Without a word at first he comes around the counter and strides toward you, the gaggle of women backing away as he reaches you and places his hands on the table, bending toward you a degree.

"A'right then love. Just remember, you started this." he murmurs in a low rumble, that gleam in his eyes and smirk downright devilish and you feel your entire core heat up; so it seems this was both.

Without breaking eye contact, a move he always did when he was taking things seriously, he carefully balances a shot glass not on your belly, but your chest. Then he quickly dips a fingertip in the liquor, using that to pick up a small amount of salt from it's dish, reaching and swiping it across your lips. Your hands clench, your body already on edge from the intensity in his gaze and now his touch and the realization of what his next move would be, your already-fluttering heart skipping a beat.

He notices your reaction and clicks his tongue, "Ah, ah...don't spill it now..."

Before you can think of a comeback he leans over you, capturing your mouth in a brief but intense kiss, his lips moving against yours as his tongue laps up every bit of salt there. Your back involuntary arches, one hand darting to hold the back of his head and for a moment nothing else exists; gods he was amazing at this. Miraculously you manage to not spill the shot glass, as far too quickly he breaks the kiss to pull away, occupying his mouth with grasping and tipping it back to drain it's contents.

Smacking it on the table, he commands your gaze one more time, licking a few stray grains from his lip with a wink. Your breathing is notably more rapid and your face is about two shades redder than before, not to mention the heat pooling in your belly; the look you two exchanged was a silent agreement of more to come. Oh, that wonderful bastard. He held out a hand, helping you to sit up before looking up at the party who stare in stunned muteness.

"'Ave a good time, ladies. I'll keep the drinks comin'."

[thesunicarusfellfor]

THE FUCKIN YANDERE GODS OMFG AWOOGA YOU DID SUCH A GOOD JOB THE FIC IS GOOD AS HELL!!!!

Is there any chance youd write a part 2 in the future? Its absolutely cool if you dont want to but WOW this concept? Solid gold (no pun intended)

I honestly love how people reacted to this story. It was so fun to write and became my most popular story to date. I'm such a sucker for the gods and mortals forbidden romance trope is just chefs kiss. Also, puns are always intended. Hand em over.

This chapter doesn't really involve the reader much, it's kinda more of a filler but I want this story to become a series, which means shorter chapters to separate the story. This is just simply a lore filler chapter.

TW: Mention of amnesia, memories being altered

Send me a message via inbox if you wanna be added to a general or series tag list. Make sure to turn off anon, please.

Mortal of Gold (Yandere!C!Techno x GN!Shy!Reader x Yandere!C!Philza) Part 2

It was quiet, for once, but there was a soft wind blowing through the curtain-covered doorway that prevented most light from seeping through. Two figures stood in the other corner of the room, staring into the bronze bowl filled with liquid, watching the destruction they caused spread across the village of L'Manberg with darkened eyes narrowed into glares.

"They deserved it..." Philza murmured, likely to Chat who was resting on his striped hat, giving the odd little squawk or chirp every so often. He gave a sigh and popped a piece of bread he tore off into his mouth, giving a small piece to his whining bird afterwards.

"I don't think the mortals have ever seen you lash out at them in person... Usually, you just send your crows to destroy their crops when they annoy you." Techno chuckled softly as he stole a piece of bread from Philza which caused him to give an annoyed scoff and bat his hand away, "But-"

"YOU SUMMONED 10 WITHERS?" A voice boomed through the palace, causing Phil and Techno to sigh and back away from the dish displaying their destruction proudly, "AND KIDNAPPED A MORTAL?"

The blond rubbed his face and Techno took off his glasses while they both walked out the door. Walking down the polished quartz stairs, the two gods quickly came into eye contact with the source of the voice, as well as a few other visitors.

"You're just mad because we tried to kill your high priest, XD, don't pretend like you follow the rules either." Technoblade sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before putting his glasses back on, "And the mortal is none of your concern. We just did something about it, unlike you fawning from a distance over your mushroom boy."

Despite the cracked mask covering the god's face, everyone around him knew he was irked from Techno's statement. The three other gods behind him snickered into their hands until DreamXD snapped his head in their direction, the thin golden ring halos around his head gained a red glow to them.

The two brunets behind him immediately snapped their mouths shut, but the blond kept snickering away to himself, causing him to get smacked upside the head by one of XD's floating hands before he turned and stormed out the door.

"Ow! Bloody dickhead!" The blond groaned and rubbed the side of his head. The God of Mischief and Determination, Tommyinnit, scowled in the direction of the maniacal god before turning back to his father and Techno, "Ay Dad. Didn't take you for the destructive type! I hear you pulled a Techno and wiped out a village with Withers!"

"Yeah! The explosions shook the entire Upperlands!" Tubbo, the God of Bees and Chess, cheered a bit as his bee buzzed around him, getting specs of pollen in his fluffy hair and decorating his small horns.

Chuckling to himself, the God of Music and Insanity looked behind him at the sandy ground covered in a faint black fog, "XD was throwin' a tantrum. It was honestly the funniest thing to watch," Wilbur adjusted with the guitar on his back, "So where's the little mortal you kidnapped?"

"They're under a sleeping spell at the moment while the amnesia spell sets in," Phil gave each of his sons a brief hug as a greeting, "Then we'll have to alter their memory so they don't panic, but they'll have to stay up here permanently, their mind could be shattered if they do return to the mortal world."

"Shattered?" Tommy repeated, reeling back slightly as Wilbur summoned a leather book in his hand, opening it and scanning through the words, "That sounds like a pretty violent backlash..."

Phil and Techno avoided Wilbur's suspicious glare as subtly as possible, pretending not to see it, "Well... Remember, they're a mortal. Plus the strain of their home being destroyed, getting robbed, then getting kidnapped by gods and being brought to the Upperlands... Who wouldn't go absolutely mental? Then if they see the remains of their old village, it could undo all the magic that was placed upon them."

"Makes sense to me!" Tubbo chirped, his small goat ears wiggling as he held Chat in his hands, "Can we at least see them now and visit them when they wake up?"

Techno tensed up a bit but realized quickly that two of the three of the gods visiting them were too young to consider dating, and the third one was married to a human that he was trying to turn into a merling. "I... Suppose so. Just don't be too loud or the spell will break."

Tommy rolled his eyes dramatically, but the feathers behind his ears ruffled slightly to give away his excitement. Although, he was much better at hiding it than Chat, Tubbo's bee TC (Twitch Chat if you're wondering), and Tubbo, despite the fact that Chat actively visited (Y/n). Wilbur didn't seem to care much, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Or that was his insanity kicking in.

The avian nodded and began leading his biological and adopted sons through Techno's palace, Chat chirping away in his mind. 'Gods, that bird doesn't shut up...' Phil rolled his eyes up to the sky for a moment before smiling a bit to himself, 'Better than everything being dead silent I suppose...'

"In here. Now shut up. The spell won't work twice in a row." Techno hissed quietly before moving aside the crimson satin curtains to allow his old friend's sons into his rarely touched bedroom. The quartz room was kept dark via similarly coloured curtains blocking the majority of the light from coming into the room, while still allowing enough so they could see. A canopy bed stood proudly in the center of the room with golden posts and pure white chiffon silk curtains swaying lightly with the blowing winds.

Phil and Techno couldn't help but smile softly to themselves at the thought of seeing you again, even if you were asleep and, at the moment, void of memories and personality. Techno led the way inside and gently hooked his fingers around the fabric and moved it aside to let the younger gods see the mortal they had saved from the cruelties of the Earth.

The three gods carefully took their time studying you, trying to find what had their father and the anarchist totally entranced. Their eyes carefully took the time to study your soft (h/l) (h/c) hair, your beautiful (s/t) skin, and your silk robes that were ombre from red to white, accented with the very golden accessories that the high priest had tried to steal. (They used magic to put you in the new outfit. They're yanderes not creeps.)

"Oh... They truly are stunning. Are you sure they're a mortal?" Tubbo frowned for a moment, straightening up and pulling Chat away from your motionless figure so the crow would stop trying to peck at your jewellery.

"What do you mean?" Wilbur frowned at the younger god, his adopted brother. This had also caught the attention of the other gods

"I mean... Don't think they're a mortal, or at least they weren't born one..."

[starrconch]

FALLING ASLEEP ON S/O

★ Includes: Zhongli, Diluc, GN reader, fluff

★ Word Count: 1213

★ Master List

ZHONGLI

★ The sun was setting in Liyue Harbour as you arrived back at your house. It had been a long day for you, full of several commissions that had drained your energy completely save for some that you had reserved to trudge through your front door.

★ As you fell onto your couch, giving your aching muscles a well-earned rest, you heard someone approach you from behind.

“Ah, Y/N, I thought I heard you. Welcome home,” Zhongli greeted, reaching forward to help you take off your shoes. “Were your commissions today quite challenging? I wish I could have come with you.”

As he went to undo your laces, you quickly turned around and leapt into his arms instead, nearly knocking the two of you off balance. “They were,” you whined, nuzzling into his chest.

“My, my. You appear to be very tired, my dear.” He held you tight as he knew you loved that. “Shall I make you some tea to help ease the tension here?” Your partner moved his hands up to your shoulders and massaged them gently.

When you nodded, he slipped out of your embrace and made his way to your kitchen. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll have this ready for the both of us?” He called back to you as he noticed you were once again face-first on your couch.

★ While you changed, the aroma of lavender and vanilla trailed its way from the sitting room, luring you back out as if he were baiting a fish to the surface of its river.

★ Zhongli had taken the courtesy to also prepare you a light meal in the time while you changed for you to replenish your strength. It wasn’t anything too fancy as he didn’t have too much time, but it still made your chest tighten with admiration nonetheless.

★ You adored how much he knew about food (and simply a lot of things in general) and how good he was at making it too. It was thrilling to learn a new piece of information every time you were with him.

“Thank you so much, Zhongli.” You sunk next to him in your seat, resting your head against his shoulder as you sipped away at the warm beverage.

“Of course.” He wrapped his arm around your waist. “Would you like me to continue the story I was telling you last night?” His head rested against your own.

You perked up at the sound of that. For three nights in a row, your partner had been describing Captain Beidou’s story of how she took down a three-headed hydra called Haishan. The battle had gone on for four days, including the captain’s long ceaseless ten-hour battle with the beast. It was even where the incredible woman had gotten her vision.

As he continued to speak, occasionally rubbing his hands in circles on the small of your back, you felt yourself begin to doze off. You couldn’t help it. As much as you wanted to hear the rest of the story, the effect of both the tea and Zhongli’s calming voice soothed you and had you falling into the claim of sleep.

★ When your partner noticed you had drifted off, he smiled, marked in his mind where he had gotten to in the story and continued to speak for a little while so the sudden lack of his voice didn’t wake you again.

★ He knew you found comfort in the sound of his voice, and it pleased him. The mere fact that you enjoyed any part of his presence made him happier than you or anyone could comprehend.

★ After a while, and once he was sure you were in a deep enough sleep, Zhongli carried you to the bed that you both shared, cuddling you tight.

DILUC

★ Your partner had been busy all day, tending to business deals in and around Mondstadt in the morning and then burying himself in mountains of paperwork all afternoon. You knew this was his job, so you couldn’t exactly criticize him for it, but you were lonely.

★ He was still in his office now as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving you to wonder if he even remembered the promise he’d made to have dinner with you tonight.

You knocked lightly on the door to Diluc’s office, carrying a glass of water for him. He had been shut in there all day and you were certain he wasn’t taking care of himself. If it weren’t for you and his maids, he would have run himself into the ground already.

When you heard a faint response, you pushed the door open. The large stack of papers you had spied earlier had been halved, but his focus was still as strong.

“Diluc? You’ve been at this for hours, maybe you should take a break?” You proposed, placed the glass on a coaster by his side.

He looked up for a moment and smiled. “Y/N, thank you for bringing me water but I cannot rest now. A few more hours and I should be finished.” Despite his words, he dropped his pen for a short while to stretch his arms before continuing.

You pouted and crossed your arms. He would be breaking his promise but you knew this work had to be done no matter what. If you suggested eating together downstairs he’d either bring his documents down with him or suggest bringing the food up to him.

Being careful not to jog your partner, you walked around him so his writing arm wasn’t in the way and climbed on top of him to sit in his lap. Your head instinctively buried itself in his crimson hair.

Diluc paused in his signing. “My love, what’s the matter? Who wronged you.”

You. You wanted to say, but you held back your tongue. “Nothing.” You shook your head. “I just wanted a hug.”

His arms tightened around you for a second until he resumed his work again. “All you need to do is ask, I’m here to provide for whatever you need.”

★ Diluc had in fact calculated the time correctly and you stayed snuggled into him for a few hours. The constant rising and falling of his chest lulling you to sleep with its calming rhythm.

When your partner was finally finished with his work, it was very late into the night, so much so that he swore he could hear the maids saying good night to each other before heading off to sleep themselves. He internally cursed himself and looked down at you, finding you asleep on his shoulder.

★ Holding onto you tightly and praying none of the maids saw him like this (they would tease him and gossip about it for months), he lifted you as he stood, making his way to your shared bedroom.

★ He tucked you into the sheets, placing a kiss on your forehead before trying to move away. However, he found that you wouldn’t let go of him, clinging to him as if he would leave and never return.

★ With a roll of his eyes and a smile, he joined you. The heat that radiated off of him subconsciously drew you to snuggle in closer.

★ Before he fell asleep too, Diluc made a mental note to make sure he attended dinner with you tomorrow.

[jer3miah]

there’s familiarity in his upright stature, shoulder heavily inclined against a bark just off beach parameters as he watches kenneth scour the earth.     he encounters solace in this setting, the salt air laminating his skin, the sea breeze ruffling his golden curls.     there’s a recurrent ease he finds in being by the water, predominantly at cousins, but he supposes he can find it anywhere, and at anytime.     really cousins is unparalleled, but it evokes quietude in instances as turbulent as the present — when his recollections and thoughts are at war with those of a literal goddess.     she overthrows his tenfold, and yet he puts forth his best efforts, albeit futile.     pushing against her memories deplete him both mentally and emotionally, and he finds himself swaying on the spot as the other, for lack of a better word, torments him.     he’s still up against the tree, the very one that’s keeping him from slipping into the sand below.

❝     if i had a dollar for every time i’m sure you've chosen to be a dick since you met me, you’d have made bank by now.     ❞     he affirms, brows slightly hiking up his forehead as his gaze flickers toward the man before him.     he mutters as the apricot’s plucked from his grasp, petulantly reaching for it and failing to snatch it back.     he sighs despite the accruing indignation, a small, acceding nod offered.     ❝     but you’re right, i’m just tired of all this.     i don’t know how long this quest is gonna take, so i don’t know how long it'll be until i can get back home.     ❞     jeremiah and hope are typically well acquainted, optimism an unchallenging positive expectation he leans into.... for the most part.     oh, sunshine boy dreaming of ideals, that was once your undoing.     when his mom was sick, he chased away nearly every thought of tomorrow, intent on bills and finishing the senior year, all while having a front row seat to her slipping away.

he recognized her decline, she'd been different that time around, yet he let himself have everyday as if he’d see her again the following. if only he’d admitted then that that wouldn’t be the healthiest way to cope. he learns from his errors now, in lieu of allowing himself to fall into over-optimism, perhaps he simply needs to be as he once was. not too much to disillusion, but not too little to surrender.     should be easy enough, right?     he takes the split apricot into one of his hands, lips pursing as eyes trail kenneth’s movements, fruit briskly overlooked.     a map extracted, a clot of blood swirling within the other’s palm, bargain proposed.     ❝     i already know better than the ask what the hell this is for, i’m guessing it’s like a.... blood oath?     to make sure we find you your treasure as you lead me to the answers i need?     ❞     he’s gazing down at the other's hand and blinks, then ocean eyes snap up to search those before his own — another blink. insight dawns on him and he openly grimaces.    ❝     do we really have to shake hands?     ❞

the scenery had shifted at the port. berkeley's rolling hills had replaced squawking seagulls and yatchts stripped down to their bare, dormant bones as people bustled to and fro across the bay. by sunset lightbulbs had ignited along the beach to the far side where two demigods had taken up post to quest for a map. when he had returned from his prodding through the mist into their world, a trek had finally revealed itself; but more vexing than monsters and danger along the way was the calculation it took to catch the attention of calypso's borderline amnesiac spawn.

❛❛    question,    ❜❜ he offered this thoughtfully, and with more practiced simplicity that one might suspect he was capable of, before kenneth snagged the apricot back from jeremiah's decidedly ungrateful hands to keep for himself. ❛❛    i look like your fuckin' therapist? you sop.    ❜❜ he had the other demigod's undisputed attention now, which was relatively good for him, but having kenneth's was normally pockmarked with regret. he tapped two fingers to the side of his temple just above the cheek, a gesture that was more rigidly serious than playful. ❛❛    less doom, more mettle. try to be more optimistic: will a lobotomy make this better? you'd actually be surprised.    ❜❜

he'd cut the apricot down with a nail to emphasise this procedure, where the fruit fell apart in two and an almond-shaped seed sprang out like minerva herself. with his dented brows and unfriendly scowl, he pressed the procedure back into jeremiah's ungrateful hands. ❛❛    don't ask stupid questions.    ❜❜ more practically, he retrieved what they had been searching for from his pocket; it was a map that revealed an entirely different world for the divine-blooded. x marked the spot where a memory had shown itself, supposedly a trove for more clues. ❛❛    you wanted a map, here it is. i get you across, you get me that treasure. bargain?    ❜❜ a final word meant an oath to bind, which jeremiah had yet to commit; the tempting offer lied in the palm of the hand kenneth now held out to him, with a clot of ink swirling at his palm in anticipation of the rune that would take shape.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Superman's Dishcloth

A small cute headcannon thats been sitting on my tablet?

Summary: some people use pick up lines to get a womans number, henry uses a crochet lesson.

Warnings: Fluff?

Your fingers twisted the yarn around the hook automatically looping and pulling untill you made another double crochet stitch that the pattern required.

To be honest you wasnt paying that much attention as you worked your project, which was stupid really because you were making a new pattern, a bobble popcorn style head band.

You couldnt concentrate for two reasons

One. You were on a goddamned plane soaring across the Atlantic ocean. And if things went tits up you cant swim.

And two? You were seated next to none oher then mr henry cavill himself.

Not that you made a thing about it or even dared to look at him.

He he was watching you, eyes frowning as your fingers twisted the yarn into an intricate looking yet fairly simple pattern.

Youhad to stifle a laugh as his fingers twitched tryig to follow the moves and figure out what you were doing.

You growled missing count again. One, two, three three, skip three. A crochet, half double crochet, two double crochet in one stitch then skip three stitches and repeat untill the end.

Normally youd have no problems but your audience was putting you off.

You dropped the project in your lap as you miscounted again and realised you had to undo the last twelve stitches otherwise you'd be a set out on the end.

You closed your eyes grunting before slipping the hook out and began to tug the working yarn slowly before pinching it and slipping the hook into the loop catching it before it all unraveled.

"Why'd you undo it?" You jumped a little as the huge man beside you spoke up after watching you quietly since take off.

"Huh?... oh i misscounted i skipped four instead of three so it'd be out of line on the end and curl round..."

"How'd you know?" He frowned now leaning over even more curious then before.

You chewed your lip trying not to freak out as he peered over your little project.

"Err well i just counted the stiches i had left on the row, see i was up to here and there was five left not six, so i pulled it taught to spot the odd one out" you explained pulling more yarn through so you could point out the stitches to him with the hook.

"It looks complicated, you twist it so many times?" He said as your fingers began moving once more creating the repetitive pattern.

"Yeah... its not too difficult, Im doing a few different stitches is all, once you know a single crochet stitch and a chain stitch your good to go" You muttered with a smile.

"I doubt its that simple" he replied trying to keep up with watching your fingers guiding the hook jthought the piece making the fabric grow.

"It really is, here you see the little v on top?" You said slowing deciding to show him just how simple it was.

"Yeah?" He hummed quietly watching keenly.

"Thats the row before, so you slip your hook under both strands like this and loop your yarn over then pull through under that v so you have one loop on your hook" you said moving slowly and loosened the stitch with a light wiggle so he could see properly.

"Then loop the yarn over again so you have two loops, and pull the second one through the first... and thats a single crochet stitch" You explained showing him slowly.

"So you make lots of tiny loops and pull them through one another and it some how becomes fabric?" He asked fascinated by it, watching as you began to work on the next stitch.

"Yeah pretty much"

"But that one you pulled the wool over before you did anything at all?" You paused impressed he had noticed the slight difference... he had been watchkn that closely?

"So that was a half double, when you do a half double or double you yarn over first, then you just keep yarning over and pulling through until your left with one loop on the hook" you tried explaining as simply as you could.

"... it still sounds hard" he uttered still focusing on your hands that had been creating stitches.

"Honestly its not, i taught myself in about an hour and a half? Here try it? I've got extra yarn in my carry on if you want to give it a go?" You offered and instantly flushed you did not just offer to teach superman how to crochet like a fucking granny!

Before you could take it back and apologise he beamed.

"Really? That would be fun, i've never tried anything like this before" he said eagerly.

"Err yeah sure lemme just get you started, i'll give you a 5 hook... here" you said surprized digging about pulling the small ergonomic crochet hook out and some mustard yellow yarn.

"So you start with a slipknot... and then a few chain stitches" you began guiding him through it slowly teaching him the steps.

"So do you always crochet on long flights?" He asked pokeing his tongue out as he tried concentrating on the stitches he was doing.

"Yeah, im not good with confined spaces... especially confide spaces that are a good few miles in the air over the open ocean" you chuckled nervously chaining a stitch then turning begining your next row.

"Honestly im not either, usually i have kal- my dog but... not this time... this is good though, its helping take my mind off it thank you" he said sincerly.

"Dont mention it"

"Oh... i think ive done it wrong?" He said andnheld it out to you, you prodded it and to be honest you were impressed, it was neat, not a dropped stitch in sight... just a few loose stitches here and there, but he was finding a good tension.

"No, thats not wrong... just your tension thats all it comes with practice" you said handing it back to him.

"Tension?" He said making you pause. Oh yeah, he wouldnt knpw what that is yet.

"Yeah, how tight you hold the yarn and hook determies how tight your stitches are... mines pretty bad, i have to always use a size bigger hook" you expalined simply

"Really?"

"Yep, i do it too tight- even snapped a metal hook in my hand before" you chuckled remebering the way the hook had just... snapped mid project.

"Wow that sounds painfull?" He huffed eeingnyour hand curiously as if expecting you to snap a hook then and there.

"Yeah, i will admit i was frustrated with the project so it probably didnt help" you chuckled sheepishly.

"Frustrated? Was it complicated like that one?" He asked nodding to your growing head band.

"No, i kept loosing count on a pattern of 78 stitches" you said trying to wave it off but in actual fact that project had been murder.

"So what are you making?" He finally asked eyeingnyour work that had grown wider.

"A little headband, and hopefully i will widen it at the ears to keep em warm" you giggled wrapping it around pinchingnthe ends together proudly presenting it to him.

He grinned and looked down at his little square fiddling with it.

"And im making a... mess?" He laughed holding up the uneven square cheeks tinted pink when you giggled again.

"... Dishcloth?" You offered prodding it gently.

"Perfect, im making a dishcloth!" He bellowed nodding proud of his new diy dish cloth.

"I'm henry by the way. But from the way you were shaking in your seat im guessing you knew?" He finally introduced himself holding out a hand.

You smiled shyly and took it shakingnhands trying not to fawn over how huge hot and soft the palm was.

"Yeah... sorry i was nervous and you probably dont want to be bugged. Im y/n" you tried explaining nervously but he chuckled.

"I wouldnt mind being bugged by such a cutie~" he uttered quietly smirking at you tipping his head down a little too make sure you heard him despite his voice being quiet.

"Oh stop it" you flushed quickly looking down at your headband noticing your stitches werent as even as they could have been, but it couldnt be helped you had handsome distraction.

A very distracting handsome distraction.

"Its true. Besides i think it was me bugging you... and i have managed to plunder through your wool" he grinned sheepishly holding up his little dishcloth.

"Its fine, it not expensive, this is left over yarn from other projects" you waved him off. It was true ou had lots of odd ends and half skeins of woll from other projects.

"Well still i appreciate it, i hate flying" he said sincerly.

"Well now you have something to practice. Youll leave the plane with a new skill to stick on your cv" you added with a grin nudging him playfully.

"Indeed... And perhaps i can leave the p,ane with err...maybe your number to? You know to replace the wool and erm swap err instructions?" He said nervously jumbling his words.

You paused and looked at him shocked blinking. Did he just?

You blinked again watching as his face grew red and he chuckled nerously plucking at the woll on his dishcloth.

"Well i suppose every student needs to be able to contact theor teacher~ and these instructions are called patterns" you smiled to him nodding slowly.

"Right right i knew that of course they're patterns" he chuckled grinning ear to ear relived you hadnt turned him down.

"Well we have a good few hours, perhaps a few more lessons for my little student?" You teased picking up the pattern to show him some of the abbreviations. Mostly to try and concentrate on somthing other then the fact superman had just asked for your number... and was taking crochet lessons.

"Of course" he said excited eyes glittering with glee whilst looking at the small page.

[brainmaniaman]

PERHAPS YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE (ERWIN SMITH/READER)

TAGS: sugar daddy erwin, smut, brat tamer erwin, oral (male receiving), lazy fucking? , praise kink? very light degradation? idk i am just writing things that i feel like was included DESCRPTION: my brain absolutely rots for brat tamer sugar daddy erwin who finds a creative way to punish his baby for making a fool out of him i am going to cry idk why i just see erwin a brat tamer but one that goes very slow. idk this is just how i see him in my head don't @ me. idk how i feel about this but it definitely exists. WORD COUNT: 3,521

It was no secret that Erwin Smith like young women.

Specifically, young smart men and women - men and women with a good head on their shoulders and aspirations. It made conversating enjoyable, as he liked to hear about what made them tick, what brought them joy, what they wanted to do in their lives. Provided their aspirations were noble enough for his liking, he liked to fund their passions, lifestyles, and hobbies. After all, his pockets were deep and no mister, misses, or family of his own and things got boring - so since he didn't have kids or a life partner to pour into, he liked to pour into his fleeting partners.

He also liked to see them unravel before him, tongue hanging out of the side of their mouths, toes curling against the mattress, and eyes rolling into the back of their head as he fucked the mercilessly stupid - reducing them to nothing but a babbling mess of incoherent thoughts and words, drunk on the feeling of his massive cock sliding in and out of them.

But Erwin Smith, a gentleman, would never admit to that.

Sprawled out on his back, Erwin rested his right hand behind his head, looking up at you as you straddled his waist, his left hand idly playing with the small, silver, ring dangling from the front of the black choker adorning your neck.

A pout twisted on your lips as he pushed the ring back and forth, eyes focusing on your throat instead of you.

Your hands pawed at his waist before moving to his belt buckle, beginning to slide it through.

"Ah -" Erwin moved his right arm out from behind his head, resting his large hand over yours - keeping you from undoing his belt. "What do you think you're doing?"

Your lips curled downwards into a scowl.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Something you shouldn't."

"And why . . ." You tapped your free hand, the one that wasn't trapped under his own, on his - impatiently. "Is that?"

"Do you recall the events that unfolded tonight?"

"Hm . . ." You tapped your index finger against your chin. "No. Not particularly."

Had this been anyone else, their temper would have been lost. Hell, your attitude was strong enough to crack most people who tried to reign it under control. Erwin ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his eyebrows furrowed together. If anything, Erwin liked the challenge. If there was anything Erwin was known for, it was his seemingly infinite patience.

"You can't recall?"

"No."

"Would you like to recall before I give you a reason to recall?"

You squirmed with excitement. Threats excited you - threats with others usually ended in spankings, and you liked those.

"No - I don't think so."

Erwin hooked his right finger into the silver ringlet dangling at your neck, giving it a slight tug forward - bringing your head down so that your lips ghosted his own.

"Very well then." Erwin breathed against your lips, "Take of your stockings."

Excitedly, you began to roll off your black stockings - those $300 dollar pair he had bought you on a whim, because you had pointed at them and told him you thought they looked nice.

You shifted on him patiently, dropping your weight down onto his cock, squirming with anticipation - waiting for him to flip you onto your stomach, press your head into the pillows, and strike his hand against your ass.

That time never came.

In fact, he was starring intently into your own eyes - and now you weren't squirming with anticipation but, rather, nervousness.

"Ride me."

"What -"

"You heard me."

"You can't be serious -"

"I am."

"Suddenly, I remember what I did -" You were starting to, essentially, plead with him, "We were at the party and -"

Erwin reached up, pressing his finger to your lips.

"You can finish the story when my cock is inside of you."

You sucked in your lower lip, tears biting the corner of your eyes.

He removed his large hand from your own.

"Go on - take my belt off . . . since you were previously so eager to take it off."

Your face was hot with humiliation and frustration as your fingers fumbled with his belt, starting to pull it through its loops.

"Maybe I shouldn't have told you to get your own drink when you asked me to grab the punch . . ."

"Mmm . . ." Erwin responded, lifting his hips slightly as you slid the belt off of his hips. "Perhaps you shouldn't have. It doesn't change the prognosis of your situation, though. Continue with what you were doing." Erwin now stretched both of his arms back, his abs rippling and flexing underneath his shirt as he cradled his hands underneath his head, eyes still trained on you.

Your fingers shook a bit as you began to unbutton his pants, pushing his boxers down, pulling his cock out. It was big, long, and girthy - the holy trifecta, as you called it - and was currently semi-hard. You ran your tongue over your top row of teeth. You couldn't help but imagine how great it would feel for his big hands to press your head down into the mattress and fill you up from behind before fucking you into the bed.

"Be a dear and help me out, use your mouth."

Your heart was pounding in your chest.

"I shouldn't have embarrassed you in front of your friends -"

"Mmm . . ." Erwin hummed again, "Perhaps you shouldn't have. Continue on."

"And if I don't?"

He raised an eyebrow at you, reaching his hand out and pressing the palm of his hand against the hot side of your face.

"You know me, I'm not going to force you to do anything you're not willing to do."

"Alright, seems like we have a mutual understanding -" You leaned him into his warm hand, body tensing at the feeling of his touch.

"- but do you think I'll just forget about tonight? At some point, you'll have to face the music. Do you think I'll just forget by tomorrow and then by the next day, roll you over and fuck you? You should know me better by now."

You crinkled your nose.

Running your tongue over your bottom lip, you hesitantly leaned your head down. Truthfully, this isn't how you expected the night to end. You had hoped in your playfulness - in openly defying him and saying no in front of his friends - he'd lose his temper at home and bring out the crop whip.

"Are you sure you don't want to just use the crop whip and call it even?"

Erwin's arms now stretched behind his head again, he tilted his head down. The sight of your hand gripped around the base of his cock, looking up at him with those doe eyes - it made him want to roll you onto your stomach, press your cheek to the headboard, and thrust into you mercilessly.

But this wasn't about seeking his own pleasure - it was about teaching you a lesson - and patience was key.

"Whips are for good girls and boys." Erwin drawled lazily, "Do you think you've been good?"

You hummed in response. He really wasn't going to let up, was he?

"And if I comply, what do I get?" You puffed out your cheeks.

"You think making amends should end in a reward?"

"I don't see why not."

"We'll see."

We'll see.

That maybe was enough to convince you it might be worth your time to comply. You lowered your head, running your tongue around his tip. You could feel his legs tense at the feeling. You used his tongue to continue to tease around the tip of his cock.

Two could play at this game.

You had planned on continuing to do this until you felt Erwin's hand come against the back of your head. It wasn't heavy, it didn't push down on your head, but simply rested there.

"Go on."

If you were going to lower your head, he wanted you to do it out of your own volition.

He wanted the satisfaction of your compliance.

There was a moment of hesitation as you continued to tease the tip of his cock - which was big. You hadn't taken him in your mouth before - usually, by now, he would bury himself to you to his hilt and thrust mercilessly. You hadn't had him in your mouth before. Hell, you weren't sure if it was capable. Even so, you widened your mouth - slowly taking him into your mouth - your tongue sliding along the length of his big cock, which stretched your mouth beyond what was normal. He kept his hand on the back of your head, fingers curling into the strands of your hair.

Slowly, you began to slide your bob your head up and down on his cock. Pride swelled in you as he let out a breathy sigh, his abdomen flexing slightly. Positioned between his legs, you gripped at his thighs - fingernails digging into the large muscles of his thighs. Erwin's thighs clenched as your sides as you continued to bob your head up and down his cock slowly - your hands gripping at the base of his cock to steady yourself. You had only managed to make it half of the way down before you could feel your eyes water, close to triggering your gag reflex. Your neck began to flex upwards but his hand became heavy on the back of your head, pushing your head back down slowly.

"Your little mouth looks so pretty around my dick-" Erwin breathed out, "Much better than it looks when you're spewing defiant vulgarities against me."

You grew wet at the comment, drenching you panties. You fidgeted, rubbing your thighs together with arousal as his fingers curled tightly in the strands.

Pink lipstick smudged at his dick as he pulled your head upwards, starting to guide you up and down the length of his cock.

"Don't you think?"

Saliva dripped from the edges of your lips as your mouth continued to slide up and down his dick, his breath becoming shaking and unstable - only driving you to perform better. Perhaps if you had him like putty your hands, he'd be more willing to forgive and forget.

"So pretty -" Erwin praised, his sharp blue eyes looking lazily down at you, clearly pleased with the way you struggled to take the entirety of his cock between your lips, the way saliva dripped from the edges of your lips, and the muffled mmfs and hhns you gagged out - rumbling against his skin. "Pretty little things like you shouldn't waste your time spewing such hateful and bratty things. Don't you agree?"

"Hmmm" You hummed against his cock, looking up at him through your eyelashes. His breath was becoming more erratic as he continued to guide your head up and down the length of his cock, though maintained eye contact with you.

"- wanna look into your eyes when I cum in your mouth" Erwin choked out, his chest rising and falling more rapidly, "- and see it spill over that smart mouth of yours"

Your pussy now throbbing and aching as his tip pressed the back of your throat, coming dangerously close to triggering your gag reflex.

He didn't move his hips to aide you, simply guided your head.

Despite his light moans and groans, he remains miraculously quiet. Unlike you, he's never been quite loud. There's a moment as your lips and tongue drag up from the base of his cock, dragging to his tip, and he for a moment he thinks he may just see stars as he unloads into your mouth. If you think about pulling back, you can't, as his hand holds you in place even as cum starts to drip from the corners of your mouth, spilling and dribbling onto your chin.

His fingers uncurl from your hair and drop to move strands of hair from your eyes before wiping at the corner of your mouth - though the movement of his thumb doesn't do anything to clean you up in the slightest. It's more of gentle gesture than anything else.

"I've done my part -" You go to sputter out, but he only laughs and shakes his head.

Erwin's hand slips between your legs, gently grabbing at your pussy with his big hand. "You're already wet - and from just that? Dirty little thing. You want my cock in you, right?"

"Yes -"

The hand between your thighs presses up against your pussy and his left hand grips at your hips, lifting you to your knees so that you're properly straddling him again. He's working of your lacy panties now, tossing them to the side.

"Go ahead -" He motions to himself, "Fill yourself."

You furrow your eyebrows, expression clearly displeased. You feel more and more control slipping away from you and suddenly, you feel increasingly more self-conscious. By now, anyone else would have simply had their way with you - the way you liked it. But this man was making you work for it - and honestly, it was punishment enough.

"I think I've learned my lesson by now -" You sputter out, not too keen on doing the rest of the work.

"Maybe you have." Erwin responds lazily, "But if I were to end the punishment here, you wouldn't learn your lesson - would you? But surely, if you want - we can stop here." He pressed his hand in between your thighs, his fingers rubbing lazily at your slit before running around your clit. Your legs were shaking as you let out small whines and moans. "Do you want to end here?"

"N-No!" You sputter out as his fingers continue to slide slickly up and down your pussy. Erwin's fingers teased the entrance of your cunt, pressing in slightly as his thumb pressed itself into your clit - but didn't go much further.

"Then I suggest -" Erwin arched his back up, bringing his lips to ghost over yours as his free hand wiped some of the frustrated tears dripping at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill down the sides of your cheeks, "- you put in the work to show me just how sorry you are . . . and maybe I'll consider rewarding you for your effort."

He really wasn't going to relent.

You placed your hands on his fully erect cock again, lining the tip of his dick up against your entrance. Both of his hands rested against the side of your face reassuringly, admiring how your chin glistened with his cum.

"Go on." He encouraged you.

Slowly, you lowered yourself down onto his cock - carefully taking it agonizingly slow as his dick stretched you out uncomfortably; it was clearly taking you a while to adjust. For the moment, he let you take your sweet time - besides, the punishment itself wasn't about not seeking pleasure. It was about making you put in the work to seek out your own pleasure. Perhaps after this, you'd be less likely to make a fool out of him in front of his friends.

Your legs shifted as you sat still, practically warming his cock as you sat there.

"Well?" He asked patiently, "Work for it."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Hesitantly, you raised yourself up a bit - sliding yourself upwards. At the feeling of your tight cunt sliding against his big cock, he couldn't help but groan. Slowly, you lowered yourself down again. For a second, you waited - hoping that if you took it slow and steady, he'd get impatient, grab you by the hips, and fuck you himself.

"You're smart enough to know I'm not stupid," Erwin said, tapping your temple with his index finger, "I know the game you're playing. Keep going."

You pouted but he simply drug his thumb over your lip, puling it down before hooking his thumb into your mouth - pressing the pad of his thumb into your gums.

You continued to slide slowly up and down against his cock, groaning as his tip pressed into that sweet spot he knew how to reach every time. However, given that you were tasked with handling it yourself - it was much different.

Your body ached for him to grab at you - your breasts, your ass, your thighs - something. But instead, Erwin moved his hands from your mouth and linked his fingers behind his head, propping his head up so he could see your little mouth contort into different expressions as you bounced up and down on his dick, clearly humiliated by the fact that you were even having to put in this much work to begin with.

"Very good." He cooed as you placed the palms of your hands on his clothed chest, working at the buttons of his shirt. "Ah - no." Erwin corrected you, grabbing your hands and removing them from his shirt. "I don't think you deserve it. Unbutton your own shirt."

Your ears grew hot as you continued to bounce up and down on his cock, his tip hitting your sweet spot over and over again. Your eyes were watering and legs were shaking - clearly already tired, as this was obviously something you didn't ever do.

Your shaky fingers unbuttoned the front of your shirt as you continued to bounce on his cock, tight black skirt clinging to your thighs as he looked lazily up at you, once more moving his hands behind his head.

"Take it off."

You slid the shirt off your shoulders, letting it drop at the edge of the bed.

"Now your bra, dear."

Still bouncing, this time more relentlessly, you twisted your arms behind your back - struggling to unclasp your bra but, after a few long seconds of struggling, freed your breasts from its restraints.

"Touch me -" You breathed out as you dropped your bra at the end of the bed with your shirt, "P-Please" You pleaded.

"Hmm . . ." Erwin looked pensive. "No. I don't think you're sorry enough yet." His own breath was becoming labored again, his abdomen flexing and legs twitching as pleasure began to pool in him. The sight of you helplessly bouncing up and down on him, your ass pressing against his pelvis, breasts bouncing up and down as you struggled to keep up the pace that was most pleasurable for you, was absolutely magnificent. "Since you want to touch yourself so bad, why don't you do it yourself? Go ahead, pinch your nipples."

Hesitantly, you gripped at your right breast, letting your thumb roll over your nipple gently and couldn't help but moan as you pinched and pulled at it - desperately trying to receive pleasure from yourself as you continued to rock your hips back and forth - sweat rolling down the back of your neck as you bring your other hand to fondle at your left breast, gripping and squishing at the skin - closing your eyes and pretending it was him playing with your nipples.

Your bouncing became more desperate, frantic even, and a pool of pleasure was beginning to build at your abdomen.

"H-Help . . ." You sputtered out, but Erwin didn't seem to be particularly interested in helping you out, his own breath ragged and shaking. More than anything, he wanted to grab your hips and snap his upwards into yours - but reminded himself that it wasn't about his pleasure but, instead, teaching you a lesson.

"You seem to -" Erwin groaned a bit, "You seem to -" He repeated himself, "Be handling it just fine -"

You bounced more desperately against his cock, his tip smashing easily into your sweet spot as you slid up and down against him with ease, clearly exhausted but still desperate to get something out of this entire punishment.

Before you knew it, the tension in the pit of your stomach had broke and you were gushing all over his dick and your own thighs, your body tensing and shaking as you orgasmed.

Erwin himself hadn't orgasmed - though he came close. In truth, the only times he could orgasm was when he took control himself. But his pleasure hadn't come from the sex itself, but instead watching you desperately and tiredly fuck yourself stupid on his cock, rocking back and forth pathetically as you tried to work for some kind of release.

Besides, bad little playthings that misbehaved didn't deserve to have their pussy dripping with his cum - no matter how desperately they wanted to.

Very gently, he raised you off his cock and helped you lay down beside him.

Slowly, he zipped himself up and leaned himself over on his arms, pressing a very gentle kiss to your forehead.

"I think you've redeemed yourself."

He had half a mind to roll you over onto your stomach and fuck you to sleep - but punishments were punishments for a reason.

Instead, he stood up and grabbed your clothes from the end of the bed, putting them in the hamper before changing into his own pajamas and crawling back under the sheets himself.

Erwin leaned over, placing one more gentle kiss to your cheek before turning over to turn off the lamp at his bedside.

"If you decide to behave, then tomorrow will be a better day."

With that blunt, yet cheeky, comment - he turned the silver finial on the lamp, shutting off the light with a gentle click.

[greensaplinggrace]

What Is There To Celebrate About the Darkling? (Part 4)

1 2 3 4

He’s calculating but impulsive. Gentle yet firm. Stubborn and adaptive. Just a real mess of contradictions that makes him all the more interesting.

He loves nature. He loves the forest.

Fond of luxuries and nice things. After growing up as he did, I think he deserves them.

Very socially awkward. Introvert just trying his best. Anything that isn’t manipulation and therefore something he’s planned in his head is just a social train wreck waiting to happen.

The way he pushes up Alina’s sleeve when they first meet. This man had zero compunctions about acting completely unprofessionally in front of his soldiers and I think that’s very sexy of him.

He’s constantly tired and exasperated with the people around him.

The way he says “quiet” with the softest voice imaginable and a room full of laughter instantly goes silent.

He had no interest in Elizaveta even though she was utterly obsessed with him and I think that’s hilarious.

Elizaveta: I have a plan to resurrect the Darkling Everybody Else: Oh the Darkling is so evil for trying to come back! The Darkling, who just wants a nap and is sick of this mortal bullshit: Why am I even here? This is such a pain in the ass. I should have killed Elizaveta when I had the chance.

How he asks if Alina “will have” his name like a man proposing.

Has his bedroom attached to the war room.

Constantly checking up on Alina just to know how she’s doing. Never pushing her beyond her limits as she’s training.

Very creative with his shadows and the extent of their abilities. So many of the ways he uses his powers are genius.

His ending in RoW is a tragedy and an injustice. He deserves better.

This old man pouting at Alina in episode seven as he says “please, I just want to talk to you 🥺”

There is a black kefta made for Alina after like two days in the Little Palace. He really was already planning their entire immortal futures together as Mr. and Mrs. Starkov wasn’t he?

His bed is covered in maps and notes when he’s plotting how to find Alina. Also before that, the way he’s poring over the notes at his desk and giving orders is 👌🥵

Him acting like a real General at all is simply amazing.

The fact that he trusts Luda with his life. That they have a whole intimidation routine set up around him purposefully getting himself fatally injured knowing she’ll heal him.

He looks like a vampire in the show and a fae in the books.

His favorite ABBA song is probably “Lay All Your Love On Me.”

Looks composed but that’s only a façade. Is actually an unhinged feral terror of pain and misery.

That scene where he tells the king she will remain in the Little Palace to train undisturbed and he puts his foot down. ON THE RED CARPET. the king’s carpet. and uses a commanding voice that’s just on the edge of an order…I’m surprised he didn’t get flogged for that. IMO nothing conveys the fine line he walks with those in power while wielding his own like this scene. Literally he should just be celebrated for this alone.

“‘Why won’t you leave me alone?’ I whispered one night as he hovered behind me while I tried to work at my desk. Long minutes passed. I didn’t think he would answer. I even had time to hope he might have gone, until I felt his hand on my shoulder. “Then I’d be alone, too,” he said, and he stayed the whole night through, till the lamps burned down to nothing.

Trapped a bunch of Saints in the Shadow Fold like a true amoral disaster villain. What an icon.

His barely concealed amusement and half hidden smile when Alina comes to put his kefta on. The way he finds Alina utterly hilarious and tries so hard to act like he doesn’t.

That small amused smile when Alina jokes about finding Volcra hilarious. Please he’s so adorable 😭

“‘I know what you feel when you’re with the tracker,’ he said. ‘I doubt that’ He gave a dismissive wave.” - My Malarklina obsessed self, vibrating at the edge of my seat: but what does it mean?!?

Mal and the Darkling’s entire fight in the Fold: dumbass on dumbass violence.

The way he stands with his back turned to Alina when she enters his tent the first time they meet and then does the slowest Godfather turn in history. 1999/10 - points removed for a criminal lack of cat petting.

“I may lead the second army, but the king is still the king.” - the delivery of that line. the implications, the history behind it and also the foreshadowing for his plans.

That slow turn face reveal in episode one though. Like okay we get it you’re pretty alkjsdflkj

Confused Old Man Face™ whenever Mal or Alina do anything remotely defiant in his presence.

How he tells Alina to come closer and she only takes the tiniest step and he doesn’t even react.

His little head cock whenever someone says or does something that just doesn’t vibe with him.

Darklina tumblr has now convinced me that the Darkling is a cat in human form.

“You’re an amplifier,” she said. He glanced at where Sylvi was pouncing on another helpless tree, oblivious, and gave a single, frightened nod. How could he have been so stupid? He would have to tell his mother now, and she would insist that they leave right away. If word got out, they’d both be in danger. Amplifiers were rare, hard to find, harder to hunt. Their lives would be forfeit. Even if they got away, word would spread. He could already hear his mother’s voice: Foolish, careless, callous. If you don’t value your own life, show some concern for mine. Annika touched his sleeve. “It’s okay,” she said. “I won’t tell.” Panic crowded in. He shook his head. She slid her hand into his. It was hard not to pull away. He should. He was breaking his mother’s fundamental rule for keeping them both alive. Never let them touch you, she’d warned him. - 😥 I just want to give him a hug all the time.

His strangled shout when Mal tackles him off of the skiff.

His smile when he’s summoning the sun. The expression on his face when he does so. Like I know I’ve mentioned this before but damn. If you ever needed a reason to celebrate him, this would be it.

“Shame, I’ll have to give that speech again now.”

The way he flips Mal over his shoulder in the Fold after Mal attempts to strangle him.

His little lecture on the Small Science to Alina when they’re going to meet the King. Info dump.

“You make it sound so easy.” “A bird makes flight look easy. But it was born to do so.”

When Alina looks at him for guidance on whether or not to remove her veil and he gives her a small nod.

The handhold in the throne room after Alina’s demonstration is absolutely precious, but it’s in a room full of people he should be keeping up a façade for and it’s so unwarranted and yet he does it anyway, I’m-

The way he says “welcome home, Ms. Starkov,” in the most tender voice I’ve ever heard and then goes “ok that’s enough emotions for one day” and then just straight up leaves without even a goodbye.

He has his symbol?? Sewn into Alina’s kefta??? bRo???!?!

Disaster Simp never gets tired of introducing Alina to other people or talking about how she’s the best thing that ever walked this earth.

The Darkling lying: honestly

“I have devoted my life to undoing the great sin of my forebearer, but I am never seen as the solution. Only as a reminder of the problem.” Sasha you were literally the problem. What a manipulative little shit. We love to see it.

The way he closes his eyes and kisses the coin before he makes a wish at the wishing well.

“I think the Grand Palace is the ugliest building I’ve ever seen.” - I love him your honor.

This man has the most intense lines for Alina. Like straight up I would have booked it when he said “you and I are going to change the world”. But then the head grab?! “I’ve been waiting a long time for you.” He’s so intense like sir can you tone it down a bit please I am begging you.

“I shall be right by your side.” / “We can do anything. Together.” / “For us.” / “You cannot do this on your own. And neither can I” / “I want you to know my name. The name I was given, not the title I took for myself. Will you have it, Alina?” - WEDDING VOWS

That scene in the war room when Alina comes to find him and he instantly drops his guard and lowers his arms and welcomes her with a soft voice.

“Am I bothering you?” “Not at all.” - girl you could be stabbing him in the chest and you still wouldn’t be bothering him.

This whipped disaster sounds like the proudest man on the planet when he talks about how much more his enemies fear Alina over him.

His shadows react to his emotions.

“YoUr’E nOt IvAn.” asjlkdfjs god he’s so embarrassing.

Local Dark Lord Sasha offering Alina the throne after she literally tries to kill him.

He gets so jealous of Mal.

Has a great relationship with his soldiers and his men. His men trust him implicitly and believe him to be an amazing general.

When he turns around after Alina puts the kefta on him and looks flustered/has to take a breath because she’s a lot closer than he expected. The way he’s breathless and literally can’t string a sentence together because he’s so distracted by her closeness.

His jokes are absolutely terrible.

GF: *jokes about throwing herself down the stairs to get out of an event* Sasha “no thoughts head empty only Alina” Morozova: haha I’d just have my healers heal you right back up again.

How genuinely touched he is by Alina admitting to wanting to help Grisha and Ravkans.

That scene in Demon in the Woods when he notices the intricate details of the politics in the Grisha camp after one meeting with the Elders. He has the Ulle pegged almost instantly.

Born to be a leader. Born to take care of others. Born to protect. Even in Demon in the Woods he’s protecting people. Even in Demon in the Woods he’s leading them and caring for them.

The way he cups his hands around Alina’s face when they’re kissing.

This man gets so starstruck by Alina walking into the Fete that he doesn’t even excuse himself from the King’s side to go to her.

Long haired Aleksander rights!

Ok I know the wig was kind of ugly but he looks pretty with long hair and I think it would look very good on him naturally.

The way he slams his hands together in the Winter Fete scene and instantly turns the room pitch black.

Literally any times he summons shadows is a blessing and we should all celebrate him for it. They are so beautiful. On god if I ever saw his shadows in real life I would be awestruck.

He asks Mal if he’s okay when they first meet.

The pure, barely contained fury directed at the Conductor for daring to harm Alina and kidnap his Grisha.

He always has to make a grand entrance.

This man is like a bloodhound when it comes to Nina. He is very invested in finding her and I feel like that’s never really talked about.

“I know exactly how she felt. The King’s soldiers treated me the same way. Because they knew- they knew that I was more important than any of them.” - the way he says it, like it’s something he has to remind himself of in his head constantly. a justification for the way he’s been treated, the fear he evokes in others. a way to protect himself from the hurt of being ostracized and reviled. arrogance and conceit as a defense against emotional harm.

Also the way his face instantly changes after that, like he’s said too much. vulnerability. lowering his eyes. shifting his eyes. literally just everything about this scene makes me love him all the more.

Dark carriage rides up to the Crows’ hiding place. Grisha circle the area as Aleksander steps from the carriage slowly, dressed all in black, floofy cloak high on his shoulders. Villain Entrance™

Him slowly pulling a knife out of his chest like it shouldn’t have killed him is hot as fuck and also totally badass. Big dick energy.

“I’ve had enough of your lies.” “And what lies are those?” - Alina, pulling out a fifty mile long scroll of grievances: Well, for starters-

This man is literally just an Alina Starkov compliments machine.

He cares so much about the Grisha and their protection. He loves Ravka and his people so much.

He had an entire cult dedicated to him.

“They would approach him. They always did. But he felt more anxious than usual. He’d stopped trying to make friends in the places he and his mother visited—there was no point when they moved on so quickly. Now he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.”

Save a Villain. Murder the King.

Openly admits to staging a coup like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He speaks so slowly. He moves so slowly. Everything he does has to have Purpose and Gravitas.

Theater Nerd™

He knew Nikolai for years and yet couldn’t recognize him as Sturmhond. We do stan an oblivious icon 💕

The Darkling after he gets his ass whooped in Siege and Storm: Mom can you please come pick me up? I’m scared!

He’s here to manipulate sun summoners and murder cities. And unfortunately he’s all out of sun summoners.

Would absolutely get drunk on real alcohol. This man thinks kvas is strong liquor.

Has his wrists exposed exactly one time in the most skin he’s shown all season and it’s when Alina visits him at night in the war room. WHORE!

Was too emotionally slutty and fell for Alina. RIP.

He’s passionate and cold and beautiful and hurt and twisted up in ways nobody could ever hope to understand and he’s stunning.

I would literally kill for this man 🖤✨

[i-know-you-can]

I posted 2,041 times in 2022

422 posts created (21%)

1,619 posts reblogged (79%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@stillhidden

@sprousehart-x

@thestaredown

@lurker-no-more

@happilyshanghaied

I tagged 1,196 of my posts in 2022

Only 41% of my posts had no tags

#0 - 41 posts

#riverdale - 536 posts

#jughead jones - 326 posts

#betty cooper - 318 posts

#bughead - 284 posts

#deluded anon - 119 posts

#the lunar chronicles - 32 posts

#lili reinhart - 26 posts

#fic recs - 25 posts

#cole sprouse - 24 posts

Longest Tag: 128 characters

#the only difference between this and what we're already doing is that we'd get to influence them before they make those mistakes

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Ras posted a BA still where Betty smile at Archie like she never did to Jughead but yeah it's an AU 😂 And they both don't want to build a life together and they don't want their baby. LOL

I could find 10+ scenes where she smiles at Jughead more than she's smiling here but why bother? You're embarrassing, please stop, we're all cringing around here.

62 notes - Posted March 26, 2022

#4

If we can go to the 50s, have the characters become teenagers again and forget stuff (except for Jug who is now a 26 year old stuck in a 16 year old’s body) then we may as well just go back to 4x17 and undo the thing that lead to all of this crumbling. There are no rules of what can and can’t be done at this point.

63 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

#3

One of the (many) things that annoy me this season is how they tease us with Bughead crumbs to keep us invested but never more than one episode in a  row. They give us Tabitha in Rivervale being jealous of Betty and then nothing, they give us Bughead making out to save the universe and everyone forgets what happened and we go back to Riverdale. They give us Bughead working together for an episode and Jughead getting a flash of their “best of” moments but it’s never followed up on. Now in this last ep we have Ethel yell at writer!Jughead about still loving Betty and again I suppose next ep we get nothing (though at least this was Jughead in a different universe who may need to face Ethel’s wrath there).

I have no doubts of Bughead being endgame and I’m not oppose to these crumbs but it’s annoying that they keep giving us these hints just to then pretend they didn’t.

79 notes - Posted July 19, 2022

#2

Do any savvy tumblr users have a graph to show ratings from season one through now? I would simply love to see it in visual form!

Anyone up for this?

89 notes - Posted April 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Oh didn't you hear, according to b/as you can tell bughead wasn't in the same room from that last still😭

Are we back to the "Lili and Cole can't film in the same room" bullshit? Or is it like one of them hallucinating the other?

90 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (06)

word count; 11,884

summary; after a startling experience, you seek and receive comfort from the last person you would’ve expected to turn to.

notes; I will literally be taking the stairs for the rest of my life.

warnings; reference to injury, reference to panic attacks.

Placing your foot up on the dashboard, your body swerved to the side as Newt flung around a corner, and you cursed loudly, turning to look at him as you held onto the laces of your shoes. “You know, for an ambulance driver, you drive like you’re trying to kill me.”

“I would never.” He gasped falsely, and you continued trying to tie up your laces, before swapping over to the other foot, and doing that one too. “I promise, I would never hurt you.”

The tone in his voice made you groan, rolling your eyes at the snickering boy beside you as he chuckled away to himself, and you reached out to flick at him roughly on his side. He yelped, swerving a little as he drove, before he was chastising you for your behaviour and following the bright red fire trucks ahead of you.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re seriously going to keep pretending like something wasn’t happening there?”

“I’m not pretending, because nothing was happening!” You huffed your words out a little, placing your foot back onto the ground of the van and adjusting yourself in the seat. The inner city was beginning to grow around you, shorter buildings that formed houses growing in size and stature, towering over you now in a concrete jungle as you approached the large city building you’d been called to.

“I know my best friend, okay? And I like to think that I’m getting to know you, too.” His words held a slightly teasing air to them, woven into his tone subtly, and you sighed at him.

“You’ve been saying this for a week now, but nothing happened!” He shot you a look, taking his eyes off of the road for only a second, but one of his brows was raised, and there was a smirk on his face that made your head fall back into your seat, and you realised you were fighting a losing battle. “We were talking about the argument, and agreeing to start over, without bitching at one another, I thought you’d be happy about it!”

“So, where did holding hands factor into that equation?”

“We weren’t holding hands! We were shaking hands!” A laugh left him, disbelieving and unconvinced and he began to slow down, pulling up in front of a very professional looking building, a large logo printed across the glass of the lower few floors, all of which were blacked out and reflected the light of the sun brightly. “It was just some stupid thing we did. Like, reintroducing ourselves, or whatever. Starting again.”

“And you just happened to be backed up into the kitchen counter, huh? I have a pair of eyes in my damn head, love, I saw those longing glances and the whispered conversation, and the holding of hands between you both.” He scoffed, pulling the truck up into park, and turning to look at you for only a second, speaking his next words before hopping out of the van; “Shaking hands, my arse.”

Hopping down front heaven yourself, Newt grabbed his go-bag, swinging it onto his shoulders and so you left yours where it was, simply grabbing your jacket and pulling it up your shoulders as it got a little cooler. Taking place beside him on the pavement, you nudged Newt with your elbow, before crossing your arms. “The only things you were seeing is what you’ve made up inside your head.”

He hummed under his breath, seeming to accept the statement for now, and you watched as the teams both began to unload from the fire trucks. They grouped on the pavements, staring up at the building, not bothering with any equipment except for their coats themselves, names printed across the bottoms as you all stared up at the height of the skyscraper.

The call had stated a broken elevator shaft, three people trapped inside, and in need of rescue, and so you and Newt weren’t facing much of a task. It was simply a challenge to the teams, you and Newt would patch up a few cuts on bumped heads and be there to check for concussions, but you didn’t face much of a task.

Glancing over the group, you caught honey-brown eyes, offering the man a smile in return when his lips flicked up at the sides for you, his head tipping as he offered you a soft nod of acknowledgement. The stare lingering for only a moment longer, before he was turning to check over his team, and you turned back to your partner. Newt was already staring at you, a single brow arched and a smirk on his face. “Oh, yeah, I’m totally seeing things.”

“It was just a smile. Will you drop it? We’re friends.” You scoffed, and he shook his head but let it go for now, and you set off to follow the firemen as they headed into the building. Following them inside, there was already a  group of people beginning to gather, the elevator doors being pried open and pinned that way with a chair, the purpose of which, you weren’t exactly sure, because if the elevator was on the ground floor, it wasn’t exactly an emergency, and you really hoped nobody was stupid enough to stick their head inside and take a look.

As you approached, a man came forwards, an older gentleman with a receding hairline that was shining with a layer of sweat, stress you presumed, and you made a mental note to check over him as his hand trembled while he came forwards, a hand pressed over his heart, and Newt shuffled beside you, tugging his bag a little further up on his shoulder.

“Oh, God, I’m so glad you’re here.” He sighed, voice more like a wheeze, and you winced, taking another scan around the crowd and relaxing just how angry they all looked, minorly put out of their way as they were forced to take the stairs or be turned away, and there was an angry group of less formally dressed citizens around the reception desk, the phone to the room echoing front he marble floors and glass walls, and you realised they must all be being turned away for appointments.

The elevator on the other side of the lobby seemed to be working perfectly, the sign above signalling for staff only, and there was a scanner beside the door, flashing from red to green as you watched a woman in a smart pencil skirt and matching blazer swipe her ID across it, before stepping inside.

“The elevator itself is stuck at the twelfth floor.”

“It’s not a problem, we can just pry the door open and bring everyone out.” Thomas shrugged, and the man let out a sigh, shaking his head a little, and wiping a hand over his forehead, and you glanced over at your partner, your brow raising a little as you subtly dipped your head towards the panicked man who’d greeted you all, and he nodded in response, agreeing that he could do with taking a quick time out to catch his breath and take his heart rate back down. “That’s the problem, you can’t get at the elevator from the twelfth floor.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“This is a block of private offices. Only certain floors are open to the public, you have to have an ID for the elevator to get to the others, that elevator only stops and opens at certain floors.” He looked like he might collapse at any moment, and you wandered away from the group, searching for a chair around the room, and finding a row of neatly set, leather-lined seats on the opposite wall, a coffee table with magazines stacked on in a makeshift waiting room, and you picked one up.

As you made your way back over, to him, placing the chair down behind him, the firefighters were grouped up, and Newt was knelt on one knee before the man, checking over him carefully, with two fingers recessed over his wrist and the other two to his neck.

“What’s happening?”

The blond looked up at you, a frown on his lips, and he rolled them together, considering his words carefully, and glancing at the manager who was practising deep breaths and counting along upon your partner’s instructions to bring his heart rate back down. “The elevator is trapped on the twelfth floor, but the closest entrance to it is the twenty-fifth?”

“Did you just say the twenty-fifth floor?” A strike of cold fear ran through you, the math being done in your mind within an instance, and you swallowed thickly. “How far did it drop from?”

“It got stuck around about the fifteenth floor and dropped about three floors, not too bad, coulda’ been worse. The brakes kicked in, but they’re not holding up so good.” Newt stood to his feet, brushing dust from his knees, and tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The firemen you worked with were already beginning to separate into groups, and Thomas was twirling an ID card in his hand anxiously,  a hand rubbing over his jaw as he continued to divide up the squad team, Gally already having headed back outside to start finding equipment.  “We should head outside, we probably want to grab some emergency stuff, a board, maybe, the stretcher for sure. Three neck braces, and a monitor.”

“We can call it in while we’re out there, just in case they need to head over to Med.”

“Okay.” You rubbed a hand over your forehead, your mind spinning a little as you hung on the situation, and you let out a sigh, shaking your mind clear and nodding. “Yeah. You’re right. Boards, stretcher, all that, let’s go.”

His eyes narrowed on you for a second, before you were following after him, trailing back out to the ambulance, and you were biting on your lower lip until it was raw once again, finding yourself getting lost in a spiral of your own thoughts once again.

Gally passed you by, a lazy wink to tease you with as he held up the ropes slung over his shoulder, and your stomach churned a little as you looked at it, knowing that he was trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t help at all. Newt opened the back of the van, the ramp folding down and clanging against the road as he unclipped the bolts on the wheels, rolling the stretcher down towards you for you to receive, and you positioned it in front of you, turning it longways and beginning to undo the straps that held the cushioned padding down, to be able to thread on the blackboard for security too.

“Seriously, what’s up with you?”

You turned to look at your partner, realising you’d drifted again, grabbing onto the solid yellow plastic board he was holding to you, balancing it on the stretcher to create a table to place everything else on top of. “Nothing, just a bit apprehensive, I suppose.”

“For what?”

You pulled a face at him, moving to grab your own go-bag and pull it up your shoulders, making sure it was comfortably settled onto both arms this time, and beginning to unload equipment with him as you forced your mind to be occupied. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the abseiling down into the abyss of an elevator shaft that’s freaking me out.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to do it then, huh?” You paused, turning to look up at him, confusion evident on his features, and he hopped down onto the tarmac before you, hair flopping into his face for a second, before he was blowing it away, and reaching for the ramp once again. “It’s my turn, right? You took the plunge last time, so it’s only fair I go this time.”

His tone was light, making a joke out of the situation you were both looking at, but the truth was resting strong between you in a thick layer of tension as he locked up the van, hands locking on either side of the head at the top of the stretcher, ready to push it along, and waiting for you to take the feet, but you placed a hand on his forearm gently, bringing his attention back to yours. His gaze was curious, sparkling a little as he stared at you, before the gaze was softening, flickering between remorse and pity, before finally settling on acceptance.

“It’s my turn.”

He whispered the words, and you shook your head a little, your gaze flicking down, the toes of his shoes touching against yours as he turned to face you a little more, and his shoulders slumped as he looked back up. “We both know I’m the one going down there.”

“It’s not fair, it shouldn’t have to be you. My physiotherapist cleared me; I can do it.” He sighed, flexing the knee of his injured leg subconsciously, and you chuckled a little, squeezing his arm softly.

“Just because you can do it, doesn't mean you should have to. I know that it makes your leg ache when you hold heavyweights for too long, and just because you can take the pain, you shouldn't have to. I wouldn't be a very good partner, if I let you do that, would I?”

He sighed, staring at you for a moment longer, before the edges of his lips were flicking up in a smile, and he gave in, something like disappointment making itself known on his face as he tried to hide it. “You know I love you, right?”

“You’ve known me for, like, four months.”

“Ouch, the harsh sting of rejection.” He gasped, holding a hand over his heart as he faked a wound, before stepping forwards and knocking the trolley into action, prompting you to take the foot of it and guide the way. You stepped ahead of him, a hand finding the cool metal and beginning to lift it up and over the curb to the sidewalk, heading back inside of the building. There was an ache on the inside of your cheek, your teeth biting down to contain your smile, the affection shown to you by your coworker making you heart race a little, and you glanced back at him over your shoulder.

You didn’t have to say it back, you hoped it was evident simply in the actions you took, the texts you shared and the jokes that were given in hushed laughter between you both, that you did love him too. You weren’t ready to say that to anyone yet, even if it was just a friend.

Jeff was holding the door open for you both in the staff elevator, helping you to gather everything inside, and as soon as the door clicked shut, you swallowed thickly, the numbers on the panel above the door beginning to click up. It felt wrong, to be riding in a contraption that on the other side of the building was broken, and endangering the lives of three people. Your fingers messed nervously with the straps of your backpack, listening to the men behind you shuffle as they sorted through the belongings on the stretcher, and as the box dinged and the doors laid open, you were walking through them and onto solid flooring one again, a somewhat relieved breath slipping from you.

Glancing around the scene, it had all already been commandeered, and you barely had time to process it all over the noise that was being made by the bustling teams. Gally was anchoring weights into the ground, the marble flooring cracking a little as the metal was drilled into place, before he was pushing his feet against it to test the weight, and ropes were being threaded around the beams of the upper ceiling. It was impressive, it truly was, but none of it was making you feel any better.

A collection of harnesses was laid out on the floor, an even more complex pair abandoned on the floor by the doors that were being held open by a thick rod of metal, denting from the clams wrapped around them, and you sighed, nails digging into your palms from the fists you were holding just to contain the shaking of your hands.

Staring down at the straps and bondings on the floor, you were completely lost, nudging it a little with the toe of your sneakers as you took it all in, and a deep chuckle sounded in your ear, making you jump, before you were watching a familiar head of dark brown hair dip down, picking up one of the harnesses, and picking it up, showing it to you.

“You’re gonna’ want to lose the backpack, for now, we’re wearing full-body harnesses.”

It made more sense, there hadn't been nearly this many clips and straps on the one you'd worn last time, and you let your bag slide down your arms clattering on the floor loudly. Picking it up and mimicking the way the lieutenant before you was holding it, he crouched won, spreading it out on the ground before himself, waiting for you to mimic the actions, and it began to look less like a pile of fabric scars and more like something slightly reassuring the more you adjusted it.

Four circles became evident, adjustable straps on them, and a belt that would clip around your waist with a set of match straps that would all connect elsewhere over your body. He stepped into the first two, and you took a deep breath, every action taking you closer into literally throwing yourself down into an elevator shaft with nothing but a rope to keep you alive.

Matching him, you placed your feet inside of the circles, before reaching down to the ground behind yourself to find the other two circles, holding onto them tightly and beginning to inch the contraception up your body The gem of your trousers caught for a second, and you shook your leg, adjusting it all back down comfortably, before you were hooking your first arm through the strap, the band on your right coming up to sit on your shoulder, and the buttons of your shirt were catching on the fabric, stiff and uncomfortable work shirt, and you cursed a little under your breath at the restriction of movement that ti wall offered you.

Dropping the edge of the harness, it hung loosely at your waist, and you were thankful that you’d chosen to wear more than just a tank top under your shirt today, the chill in your apartment having promoted a long sleeve shirt, and you undid the buttons on your uniform shirt, dropping the crisp material to the ground, and trying again to adjust the harness on your arms.

Once it was on both, it was hanging limply on your body, unadjusted and unfastened, but the thick strap of material running up your back and pressed between your shoulder blades did feel strong, and make you feel a little more secure, and you tried to let your worries go, watching Thomas’ fingers fly smoothly over his front as he did up all of the clips and straps, no struggle as he was trained to do the equipment up, and you lifted each side of the belt, clipping it over your stomach, and struggling to tug the loose material through to tighten it around your waist to hold tight and secure.

“Struggling a little, there?”

“Just a bit.” You mumbled, and he grinned, lifting a hand up to take a hold of the straps on your shoulders, adjusting it better on your arms to sit comfortably and not dig into you, yet holding snugly to your skin as he fastened it all up, fingers flying over the bolts to tighten them. Hands smoothed down over your sides, checking each point of weakness, and your breath hitched a little in your throat as he did, before the backs of his fingers were smoothing over your hips, downs the fronts of your thighs, and he took a hold of each strap, the final material sitting loosely.

Gripping one in each hand, he tugged harshly, your body jerking forwards a little closer to him, a gasp as you did, before the material was tight along your thighs, and he smirked a little, eyes finding yours as his gaze trailed along the harness to make sure it was all done up correctly. “Tight enough?”

“Mhm..” You swallowed thickly, head nodding on a second’s delay, and he grinned, taking a step away from you as he reached away for the first rope. Looping or through both of the hooks on the front of your body, sealed over your ribs as he brought it all together, hooking it into the carabiner and screwing the clip up tightly. Giving it a test tug for security, you huffed a little as your body was jerked forwards towards him again, and you glared up at him weakly as he simply grinned in response to you tripping over your feet, a cheeky look on his features. “You did that on purpose.”

“What can I say? You’re just falling for me already.”

“I think I want to go back to hating you.” You grouched, and he laughed a little, doing up his own ropes, and firemen around you were putting their kit on. You knew he was distracting you, and you appreciated it, but as he pulled on a piece of headgear and adjusted the torch on top, it only made it all a little more real. Nearing the edge of the elevator shaft, you peered inside, unable to even see the box that had fallen, it was so far down, and you let out a shaky breath. “I’m not feeling so good about this whole height thing.”

“You’ve already down this once, you’ve got it this time, too.”

It was supposed to be reassuring, and you felt him come up to stand beside you, but you only scoffed, shaking your head. “Thomas, that was, like, fifteen feet down. This is more like one hundred feet.”

“It’s one hundred and thirty, actually.” You turned to look at him, a grimace passing over his features as pale skin over his cheeks turned a little pink, and he shook his head at himself. “I don’t know why I said that, it didn’t help, at all.

“No, it didn’t.”

“I admire you, though.” He turns you around, the two of you standing only a couple of metres away from the gap, backs to the gap as you watched the team finally be prepared, and while you knew only a few minutes had passed in this whole amount of time, with your stress, it somehow managed to feel like both seconds and hours all in one. “I know you’re scared, and you’re doing this for Newt to save him the pain. I think that’s really brave.”

“I suppose so..” Your words were whispered, and he nodded his head, adjusting your hands on the rope attached to your waist as it no longer lay slack on the ground. Brenda was anchored to the ground before you, holding onto your rope as she wore her own harness, feet pressing to the metal on the ground as she took a seat. Behind her was Gally the two offering you and Thomas a nod, and Minho and Fry took up place on his side, the signal telling you that it was time to go. You grabbed your bag, lifting it onto your shoulder as Thomas pulled on his backpack, and with that, you were holding the breath your lungs as nerves took over.

“They won’t let anything happen to you, alright?” Your attention was drawn back to Thomas, and as you looked up at him, he offered a smile. “Just keep your eyes on me, alright? We’re just going to walk backwards slowly, keep your eyes on me, and as we go over the edge, keep your feet on the ground.”

You nodded your head, nothing but honesty and compassion in his eyes as he made you a silent promise to keep you safe, and your hand twitched a little as you felt fingers smooth over your palm. His hand took yours, squeezing tightly as his fingers wrapped over the back of your hand, and you held onto him tightly, before following his guidance, and taking a step back.

You did as told, keeping your eyes locked with his, slow and cautious steps, and your breathing only picked up in rent as the feeling dragging your body down changed.

Your feet were teetering on the precipice of the shaft, wobbling a little, and you snapped back to look at Brenda, everything suddenly feeling unsafe again, and you froze up. “Hey, hey, c’mon! Look at me, eyes on me, remember?”

You choked up, feeling the squeezing around our hand, and you looked down, fingers wrapped warmly around your hand, and you wondered if he could feel how hard your blood was pumping through your veins and how fast your heart was racing right now. Looking back up to him, honey-coloured eyes were fixed on you, and he squeezed again, nodding his head.

“Just look at me, okay? You’ve got this.”

His brows raised a little, and you force yourself to take a breath, following after him and lifting one foot, placing it at an unusual angle as your leg bent, foot pressing flat to the wall on the inside of the elevator shaft, and as your other followed, you let out a soft sound, something between fear and relief at taking the first step.

“You’re doing so good.” His words were whispered, a few more steps being taken as you began to inch your way down into the darkness, slowly gaining a pace as you began to gain confidence in your movements.

The further down you got, the darker it got, surrounding you as you began to lose your vision. Slowly, it all faded away, until you could barely even see the rope in front of your face, and you couldn't hold the gaze of the man beside you anymore, the darkness shrouded around you. The elevator shaft above you that was the only thing that now connected you to everyone else was simply a sliver of light, and the temperature had dropped rapidly within the cold metal tunnel, making you shiver a little as only your undershirt remained on your body.

The hand wrapped around yours loosened, and you held on for a second, before he was tugging it back, your movements coming to a halt for a second as you hesitated, before releasing him, and your hands fumbled to find the rope in front of your body, wobbling a little bit as you searched for something else to hold onto, your breath hitching in your throat as your food scraped a little against the wall, and you fell forward.

Catching yourself against the wall before you smashed into it too solidly, you grunted, a slight spark of pain running along your wrist, and you winced as bright light filled your vision, Thomas messing with the head torch on his forehead, lighting up the small bubble of air around the two of you.

“Whoa, whoa, relax. It’s alright, just needed some light.” The radio on his shoulder crackled, checking whether he was okay as the two ropes stopped lowering you both down, and he looked below himself, the metal of the elevator reflecting back to you, only thirty feet or so from you now, and he looked back up, raising his brows. “Look how close we are, you’ve come so far, look at that.”

You swallowed thickly, not daring to look down, shaking your head adamantly as you hung in the air, gripping onto the rope, lips pursed and blood running cold. The radio crackled again, and he lifted his hand, pressing the button on the side to continue lowering you down slowly, and you opened your mouth to protest, fear washing over your once again as the ropes jerked, but you were being shushed slowly.

“Do you remember what you said to me the day you ran into that burning building?”

“Not really. I remember a lot of yelling, that's about it.” You mumbled, a tremor in your voice, and Thomas chuckled, his hands finding your ankles and lifting them up, placing your feet flat against the wall, and forcing you to take the proper stance once again.

“Well, I remember. I was yelling at you, being scary, and you told me that we saved a life. You didn't take any of my shit, and then you called me out on it all, but you made me look past our actions to the life we saved. Sometimes I forget to do that, and you made me realise.” You huffed, the joke he’d slipped in there making you roll your eyes, and you took a step with one foot, regaining your momentum again as one of his hands smoothed over your clasped palms, holding onto your hands tightly as he used one on his own rope. “We’re going to go and save some lives, you’re going to save some lives, and I’m just here to help you. You need to be brave for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, the sparkle in his eyes coming back as you dared to look up at him, catching his gaze in the brought light for only a second, before he was nodding his head. “When we get down there, it’s going to be a little scary again, alright? I need you to stand on the top of the box while I open the hatch, and I’ll go down first. I’ll help you inside, but the rope is going to go slack, because they’re going to give you enough space to move around. You think you can handle that?”

“I can do it. I’ll be okay.” You took a deep breath, not quite having faith in yourself yet, but forcing your heart rate to calm down with every deep breath to steady your nerves, before you were finally beginning to trust yourself. The elevator became clearer, the staining on the wall of an old set of numbers, a faded ‘12’ on the wall, before you were stretching your legs out underneath yourself and finding the metal of the elevator to land on.

Just as Thomas promised, he gave your hands a final squeeze, before he was stepping back and tugging on the rope to let them know that you’d both landed. Just like that, the pressure of the pull holding you up went slack, extra rope pooling around your feet, and it only looked to be around ten foot worth of material.

“Not a lot to work with.”

He glanced up, looking at the rope that had gone spare as you were suddenly dependent on your own two feet without support, and he indeed his head. “Ropes are one hundred and fifty feet, but they need at least ten foot of rope to work with up there, and we’re close to a hundred and fifty feet down.”

You shuddered a little, that fact along bringing panic surging back, and your arms wrapped around yourself. The torchlight was overwhelmed by the flickering light on the inside of the elevator when the hatch came loose, the panicked crying of a young girl and the shushing from her mother sounding out, before Thomas was switching off his headlight.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s alright. We’re going to get you out of here, okay?” You watched, the ay her face peeled back form recessed into her mother’s shoulder, tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, but the badge on Thomas’ uniform and the smile on his face made her trust him, the soft nod she gave him being enough to get them to step back towards the edges as he lowered his feet inside.

The cage shook as he landed, a sharp intake of breath that made your head spin as you panicked for just a second, before Thomas was calling out to you, and you were taking tentative steps over to the edge of the hatch. The lieutenant was staring up at you, nodding his head, and reaching up to tap at the edge of the hatch.

“Legs first, I’ve got you, just drop down.”

Choking down the lump in your throat, you tried to blink away the thin line of tears you held, knowing you needed to be brave for the people on the inside of the elevator. This was your job, you were saving lives, you were inspiring a young girl, and you were damn well going to be proud of yourself for it.

Taking a seat carefully, your legs swung over the edge, shuffling a little until your hands were pressed to the opposite side, and his hands were wrapping gently around your calves, stopping your legs from the swinging motions they’d been taking. You focused on that, on the touch of his fingertips into your muscle instead, the way he was holding onto you tightly, reassurance, instead of the way you were risking dropping down into a metal deathtrap over a hundred feet down from where you were being held up by just two people and a metal anchor.

Inching forwards again, you lowered yourself over as the metal under yourself slipped away, those same hands smoothing a little further up your body, until you were lowering yourself down by your upper arms. Smoothing over your hips, his hands found your waist, burning hot through the thin material of your shirt, and lowering you down until your feet found the ground, a small sigh slipping from you as you took a minute to control your fears.

“I told you, I got you.”

Your eyes cracked open, looking up to find honey-brown eyes fixed on you, and you offered him a small smile, taking a deep and calming breath, before turning to face the family before you, and his touch fell away. “Okay, let's get you all checked out, huh?”

The little girl nodded, and you peeled your backpack from your arms, placing it down and crouching beside it to open it up, watching as the child, who couldn't be any older than ten sank to her knees before you. As she did, the front of the mother was relieved to you, large and swollen, a pregnancy that was early third trimester or late second, and your actions paused as you tried to assess the next course of action.

Thomas had brought spare harnesses, and yet there were no spare ropes, you could hear him behind you as he worked, setting up the next set to be equipped, but there was no way that you would be able to carry a woman that far along in a tandem harness without posing a risk to the child. Turning back to look at him as you snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, his brows raised at you, pausing what he was doing for a second to look over, and his jaw dropped a little, the anticipated addition clearly bringing his mind to a short-circuited halt.

Your focus went back to the young girl, the mother now with a hand resting over her stomach, and the father was sitting in the corner, popped up against the wall, eyes a little half-lidded and a cut on his forehead, but he was lucid, and so you knew he’d be alright to wait until his family was checked out.

“Okay, this light is going to be a little bright okay, I just need you to follow it with your eyes for me, can you do that?” She nodded, and you put on the best smile that you could, before clicking the light on the end of the torch and lifting it up. Dragging it slowly from left to right across her vision, you monitored the speed at which her pupils flexed, and how capable she was of tracking the source. Returning it the other way, you watched for the same signs. Up, and down, she was alright, and you ran your fingers gently over her head for signs of bleeding or bruising, feeling under her hair for swelling. “You’re doing so good! You’re even braver than I am!”

“I cried a lot, I’m not brave.”

She sighed sadly, her mother reaching out to place a comforting hand on her head and brush her hair out of her face gently, and you leaned in a little closer, offering her a smile. “That’s okay, I wanted to cry on the way down here, too. But, you see the firefighter behind me?” She glanced over your shoulder, her eyes flicking over him for a second, before she nodded. “He’s great at this, he’s the bravest, and he’s going to get you back up to the top, okay? He’ll help you put a harness on, and then you’re going to do some climbing, think you can do that?”

She hesitated, before a look of determination was passing over her face, and she stood on weak and unsteady legs, before rounding to him. His voice faded into the background, deep and soothing as he began to get the young girl roped up, and she would undoubtedly be fastened to his chest, so that he could climb back up with her, brushing your knees off a little as you stood to talk to the mother.

“How are you feeling? Any unusual headaches, blurred vision, whiplash?” She shook her head whispering her ‘no’ on a hoarse through, and you felt awful for what she’d had to endure today, the rhythmic pattern of her hand rubbing circles over her stomach, soothing you both, and she traced the flashlight with her eyes just as commanded, and there was no delayed reaction in her responses either, all showing up with a good sign. “How about the baby, anything you want to ask?”

“No, I know my little one is alright.” She cracked a smile now, and you raised a brow at her, the hand on her stomach leaving her bump to take your wrist, pushing her cardigan out of the way until just a cotton t-shirt was covering her, and she placed your palm flat over her skin. You waited for a second, before a sharp jolt pressed to your palm, and she winced a little, the hard kick from within making you chuckle. “He’s doing just fine. If anything, he’s mad he didn’t get his lunch yet, we had reservations that we’ve missed.”

“Well, you’ve got a little fighter in there, huh?”

“You can say that again.” She teased, wrapping herself back up warmly, and you did a quick scan over what of her you could see.

“My boy is going to be a football star with energy like that.” The father grinned, wheezing a little on his words as he pushed himself up to sit a little straighter, and your attention turned to him. Before you could move onto him, though, a hand was wrapping around your forearm, tugging you back slightly, and you turned to face Thomas. He pulled you aside, to the edge of the elevator, as much privacy as you were going to get, but his back was to the family, leaning down low, and voice barely a whisper;

“We’re not going to be able to get her in a harness. You’re going to have to climb back up on your own with the mother and the girl, and come back to me with the harnesses.”

It was a reasonable decision, but the longer you waited, the more at risk of a concussion the father was growing to, the cut on his had needing attending to as blood beaded along his hairline and dripped in a single steady path along his skin, a red trail left in its wake before it was sliding down his neck and into the fabric of his shirt, his head leaning a little to the side.

“No, I think you have to be the one to go.”

He shook his head, a frown taking over his lips. “No, no, absolutely not. I can’t leave you down here witho-” Your hand found his wrist, wrapping around it delicately and squeezing a little, bringing him to silence as he glanced down, before his eyes were searching through yours as he tried to understand. “You’re terrified, though.”

“I know, but I’m saving lives, remember?” The edges of his lips flicked up a little, a sigh through his nose as his jaw clenched, before he was looking over his shoulder to the father as you nodded your head a little. “He needs medical attention, and you need to take the girl and the mother back up. I’ll wait right here, and you just get back to me as soon as you can.”

“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine, I swear.” He didn’t look convinced, watching as your hands went to the straps of your harness, beginning to undo them as you looked down, trying to work them all out. He sighed, his own hands moving to begin undoing the clips and seals quickly, helping you to loosen the safety equipment, until it could drop down your arms and pool at the floor. Stepping out of it, you gave a final squeeze to his arm, nodding your head. “I got this.”

“I know you do, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

You grinned a little, stepping away from him, and the mother looked between you both, worry in her eyes, and you let Thomas do the explaining once again, as he loosened all of the straps and adjusted the harness to be able to take her weight securely without harming the baby she was growing.

As soon as she was fastened into it, he was pulling on her rope, fastening his hands and crouching down to be able to give her a boost, lifting her up to be able to climb out from the hatch and onto the roof of the elevator. Her footsteps were loud and clanging for a moment, before they were gone, and she was clearly on her way of climbing up back to safety, taking your only escape route with her, and you felt like you were going to suffocate on your fears.

Thomas’ gaze caught yours, worried and unsure, his jaw dropping, but there was nothing he could say, knowing that this was the best way to go about it, and instead, he dropped his head in a single nod.

“I’ll be back for you real soon, alright?”

You gave him the most convincing smile you could muster, before he was telling the little girl to jump up, lifting her until she could sit on the edge of the box, and he followed as soon as she was clear, her legs out of the way. As he jumped, the box creaked a little, the force of his movements making it shake, and your eyes went wide, body tensing up, fear once again surging through your system, before Thomas was disappearing too.

The pair lingered for an extra few moments, and you knew that he was making sure the girl was properly attached to him, all secures done up tightly, before their footsteps faded too, and you were left alone, nobody to catch you this time.

Taking a seat on the floor beside the father, his eyes studied you for a tense moment, before he was offering you a supportive smile. “Don’t worry, kiddo, I’m just as scared as you are.”

You offered him the most reassuring look you could, trying to use it for your own relaxation too, and you started by running your hand gently along the back of his neck, a hiss leaving his lips as you did, and you paused all movements.

“Sorry, your hands are cold.”

“You’re lethal, do you know that?” You mumbled, lips quirking up at the sides, and you shook your head, your fingers twitching against his neck as you got back to work, and he let out a weak chuckle. “No more noises like that unless you’re in pain, or you know something wrong, alright?”

He closed his eyes, head barely moving in a nod, but it was enough to secure his confirmation, and you began the movement of your fingers along his neck once again. He didn’t make those sounds, keeping his promise, but he did wince and pull the occasional faces as you moved, the swelling frowning around the tissue and the tense feeling under the tips of your fingers being slightly concerning, but not enough to be an immediate concern. When you were finished, you placed a palm on the back of his neck, cupping carefully and lifting your thumb to press into the back of his head.

Pulling his head forwards, you placed the softly cushioned support of the neck brace behind his head, the plastic holding strong as you lay his head back into it and as you released him, finding it holding secure, you brought the front around carefully. The straps hung loose, and you adjusted it under his chin, holding his head up at the correct angle, and just like it always did with patients, a small sigh of relief left him he was no longer tasked with holding up the weight of his own head.

Placing it over his shoulders, you tightened the straps, fastening them correctly, and letting out a little sigh as one job was checked off of your list. You moved onto testing his reactions next, and bringing up the flashlight to look into his eyes, studying him. His reactions were slower than you would have liked, his pupils dilating with a paused reaction and it was sluggish in his movements, but he was able to clearly react to the light, tracing it in all dimensions, and to read the title of the notice on the other side of the elevator clearly, no blurring present.

Lifting your gaze to the cut across his forehead, you pushed back the slightly blood-matted hair of his fringe, dirty-blonde hair going a murky red-brown at the tips, and you lifted it out of the way, tucking it back in hopes that it would stay, the strands sticking up unevenly.

Pressing around the edges, and watching the consistency and speed of the blood flow, it wasn’t too bad, slow and somewhat clotted as it tried to repair itself, darker in colour as the fresh blood under the surface began to flow the way it should, and it was simply a laceration.

“Skin wound, nothing too serious. I’ll get it cleaned up for you, won’t even need stitches. Looks way worse than it is.”

“Stings like a bitch, though.”

“Well, you’re not going to like this, then.” You warned him, holding up the small foil packet with an antiseptic wipe sealed inside of it, and tearing it open. Letting the wrapper flutter away to the floor, a loud groan left his lips, ones that tails of into a whiny noise as you wiped over his skin, his hands becoming fists by his sides, before he bit down on his tongue to try and contain the noises, lips sealing shut, and a grunt rounding it out. “I’m sorry, Mr, uh..”

“You can just call me Clint.”

“I’m sorry, Clint. It’s not all that fun, but it’s a hell of a lot worse than a skin infection, that’s for sure. You’d hate it if this thing got gross and had to be scraped clean.” He grimaced a little at the idea, and you knew the feeling. On more than one occasion, you’d been called out to a call for a person who hadn't called for an original injury, and were now at risk of collapsing, passing out and omitting and sometimes even spasming when the infection got too bad. You hated those trips, when you arrived and tried to work out what was wrong, only to find a finger on one hand completely discoloured and flowing with pus from a simple cooking accident, or a scratch from a pet that hadn't been cared for and was now oozing and bruised. “All done, now, okay?”

You cleared down along his skin, doing the best you could to wipe the dried blood away from his skin and help him to feel a little bit cleaner, and he mumbled a ‘thanks’ as you did. Putting down the wipe and searching through the small plastic box on the floor that you had open, you found the half-empty and folded tube of cream to apply to it, squeezing some onto the tip of your finger, and warming it by rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger to warm it, before smoothing the healing solution over his skin.

Just as you were screwing the top back on, you flinched, pausing for a second as you tried to listen out to see whether you’d heard correctly, and much more clearly this time, your name was bouncing from the walls of the elevator shaft.

Peeling your gloves from your hands and dropping them down to the floor in a ball, you studio up, brushing the dust staining your pants away from your knees, and moving to stand underneath the hatch in the elevator roof.

“Thomas?”

“Yep, that’s me.” You squinted as bright light flashed in your eyes, the light swinging a little from side to side as Thomas moved, but as you peered out into the darkness, you couldn't see anything except for the swinging little spot of the torch. “How’s he lookin’ in there? He going to be able to get in a harness?”

“It’s not ideal, but I think if we climb carefully, we’ll be just fine.” Your voice cracked a little with the sudden shout, but you offered the man a small smile, turning to look at him. “We’re good, right. Clint?”

“We’re great, kiddo.” He mumbled, holding up a weak hand with a thumb stuck up, and you grinned, a reassuring nod for both of you.

“Glad to hear it.” The torch disappeared from your sight once again, and you figured he was looking up, back to the elevator shaft entrance that was obscured from your view, and you twisted your head away as he looked back, the light catching your eyes again, stinging at your retinas. “You’ve both done real good today, we’re almost through with it all. I just need you to come out and grab the harness that Brenda is lowering down beside me, so you can drop it through the hatch.”

“Uh, come out as in on top of the elevator?”

“Can you handle that? I’m only two or three floors away, but if you can get yourself roped up first, it’ll save a lot of time.” It made sense, it was logical, and you didn’t want to be down here any longer than necessary, because, despite the bravery taking you over, you were still in a broken metal box that was hanging precariously at thirteen floors above where it should be, with no safety measures in operation.

“I can do it.”

He gave some kind of reply, something you didn’t catch as you stared up at the entrance of the hatch, the sighs around you becoming clearer as you began to notice the grungy grey walls that were coming into clarity as Thomas’ silhouette got closer and closer to you. Lifting your hands up, you were only a few inches shy of the roof, and pushing off of the floor, the elevator creaked a little in a way that made your stomach twist, but you gripped onto the edge, and you were able to hold on.

As you swung in the air, it wasn’t too much to handle, but your arms trembled as you tried to pull yourself up, not having enough strength to do so, and you dropped back down, the box around you rattling as you did, a grunt leaving your lips as a shock ran along your leg, a jolt of pain at landing on it awkwardly, a flash of heat following it.

“What did you just do?”

“I tried to climb out?” You shouted back, not understanding the rushed sound to his voice, before there was a loud screeching sounding out, and the ground beneath you moved by a few inches, before coming to another solid stop, your arms flying out around you in a panic.

“Don’t move, okay? Don’t move even a step!”

“I’m not! I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to at this point!” There was a shake in your voice, nausea filling you once again and your entire body was tensed painfully tight, fear taking over again. “What’s happening?”

“It shifted. The movements made it come loose, but it's alright.” He was closer, voice no longer needing to shout as much as he near you, and you could now pick out the colours on the logo of his shirt, and the outlines of his features, close enough now that you could speak without shouting. “Just stay real still, and it’s going to be just fine.”

“Okay.” You took a shaky breath, running your breathing routines in your head as you tried to calm yourself down, and you turned on your spot, slowly and carefully to face your patient. “We’re okay. We’ll be fine.”

“Yes, we will.” He sounded just as scared as you, but the fatherly-instinct within him was prompting him to calm you, even though that was what you should be doing for him, and you hummed.

What couldn't have been anything longer than a minute passed you by, before the box you were in was creaking again, a shudder running under your feet that travelled along your spine, chilling your blood instantly in your veins, and your head snapped up. “Thomas?”

“It’s moving again, I’m ri-”

The box shifted, dropping once again, and you felt bile rise in your throat as your feet left the ground for a moment, feeling the air whipping around you.

There was no sound, you couldn't even muster a scream, the entire event happening so quickly that you barely even had time to process it as the fear in your body made you feel like you were blacking out. Your grip on everything slipped away, the lights inside of the box flashing, and then, just like that, you were finding gravity once again.

You collided with the floor roughly, the side of your body aching as you hit against it, the side of your head throbbing angrily only a split second later, and your vision was spotting. It was like a weight sitting on your chest, unable to breathe, fingertips digging into the floor as you tried to support yourself, and push yourself up to sitting up. Your ears were ringing a little, your hand coming up to smack at the side of your head as you knocked yourself back to consciousness and forced your senses to realign, shaking off the dizziness to look around.

Clint had keeled over, eyes wide as he now lay on the floor, his eyes searching for yours, and a groan left you as you rolled over onto your hands and knees, gasping and spluttering for breath as your head spun, an array of different aches raising along your body, and you made your way over to him. Kneeling back and sitting on your heels, you adjusted him carefully, laying him on his back and thank your earlier self that you’d already applied a neck brace to the man, keeping him safe there, and he lay out, staring up at the dimly flickering lights.

“Thomas?” Words came out croaky, your throat sore and dry, the pain of holding in tears as you tried to be the strong one making it painful to talk, and you cleared your throat, trying again to call out to him. “Lieutenant?”

“Oh, thank fucking God. Are you okay?” There was a panicked rush to his voice, and you patted yourself down a little, running your gaze over the man before you, and licking at dry lips to stop them from cracking.

“We’re both still in one piece.” He was far away once again, the light dimmer and his voice more distant, and it only scared you more, making you feel alone, and like you were sitting on a ticking time bomb. “How far did we drop?”

“Uh..” He paused, the lights flashing around the tunnel for a moment, before it was disappearing again. “You’re somewhere between the sixth and seventh floor.”

“Okay, how long until you get to us?”

“I can’t.” The silence was thick between you, the tone in his voice conveying exactly how he felt, and it matched your own mood exactly. Helpless, scared, alone, frustrated, the list could go on, and you pressed down roughly with your nails into your palms, hands shaking as you tried to hold it together. “The ropes can’t get that far down. “Minho and Fry are going to pull me back up, Newt is on his way to the sixth floor, and so are the rest of the truck and squad team. We’re going to have to pull down the wall, okay? They’re already on their way.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Just hold on, and be brave. Can you do that? For me?” You absolutely could not, everything inside of you was rattled and terrified, and you were barely holding it together, but you didn’t want him panicking either, and so you held the trembling in your body off long enough to give him a smooth response;

“Yeah. I’ll manage. Just hurry, okay?”

There was a soft chuckle, empty and weak but it was there, and he agreed, the sound barely reaching your ears as it made its way down the dark elevator shaft. “I’m already on my way to come and get you, I promise.”

Looking back down and around you, the possessions from your bag were scattered around, and you lowered yourself down to the hands and knees, inching your way down slowly until you could reach out around yourself, scarcely crawling at all when you needed to, until you were beginning to gather up the possessions that belonged there. Packing away the kit, you sealed it all up, making sure you didn’t construct any sudden movements, and beginning to pack up your bag.

There were muffled voices on the other side of the wall, what you assumed would be loud shouts was almost a whisper through the layers of metal, concrete and scaffolding, but the cracking and splintering of drywall soon followed it, and you let out a sigh of relief. Packing away the various containers and boxes inside of your bag, you zipped it up, pushing it over to sit in the corner beside where the doors would open, and rocking back to sit with your legs folded before you, hands holding you up.

A hand felt out along the floor, a calloused palm patting the back of your hand gently, before settling over it to squeeze, and the dam inside of you broke. A sob left you, loud and freeing as the tears you’d been blinking away finally formed fully, and leaked along your cheeks in large droplets, a shake moving along your entire body as you did.

He squeezed once again, sitting with you quietly as you gasped for breath, letting out the terrifying mixture of emotions with you. He was shushing you quietly, and you wanted to laugh at how the roles had been reversed, how it as supposed to be you comforting and helping him, but you couldn't help him, breaking down with the overwhelming terror of the situation you were trapped in.

The sounds outside of the elevator were getting louder, voices becoming clearer, and you could hear the clattering made by chunks of the wall being ripped away and scattered across the tiled flooring of the executive building, but you didn’t care, because you had been keeping everything bottled up for so long that you were unable to hold it back any longer, and your body shook with the intensity of your emotions.

Your lungs were once again burning for breath, head spinning and heart racing and you took gasping intakes of air, swallowing down only to splutter and hiccup as you tried to exhale, and the man beside you never said a word, his hand rubbing soothingly over yours beside you on the floor as he tried to remain steady, much in the same way you were.

“I’m so sorry.” Your words were broken up and stuttered, and you tried to get a grip on yourself, wiping at your cheeks and hating how your eyes were stinging, throat raw, feeling like you’d swallowed a ball of fire from the burning within, and you felt like claustrophobia might be a fear you now had to add onto your list, the walls of the box seeming to get smaller and smaller.

Like some kind of blessed relief, there was banging against the doors of the elevator, a tap of a knock, and Chuck’s voice was ringing through to you loud and clear, asking if you were alright. Leaning forwards and pressing your hand to the cold metal, a chuckle of ecstatic relief was released.

“We’re okay, Chuck. You guys planning to get these doors open for us soon?”

There was no verbal response, but instead, a second later, the doors were cracking open, the slight humming of the set of spreaders as it was cracked open, a sliver of natural light piercing through from the lobby, and you caught sight of is flushed cheeks and darker brown curls, a worried face that was trying to ease you by smiling. “Soon enough for you?”

You nodded your head, before he was being pushed aside, blonde coming into view, and as the gap widened enough, you could make him out. His brows were furrowed, a guilty look on his face as he met your gaze, and you shook your head. “Don’t do that to yourself, Newt.”

You could see the cogs turning in his head, one of his hands slipping up to rest on the edge of the elevator, his head at the same height as yours when you leaned down, only the bottom third of the elevator actually making it onto the sixth floor, the rest still raised above. Reaching down and resting your hand over his, he frowned even further, the gap almost wide enough for you to get to work, but the elevator was shuddering a little again at the action, and you pushed Newt’s hand away, just in case, squeezing it before letting go.

“Just so you know, I love you, too. You’re the best friend, like, ever. Even if sometimes I hate it.” His lips flicked up at that, and he nodded his head, before you were glancing away just for a second, he whispered conversation only needing to be shared between the two of you. Grabbing your med-bag and pushing it through the door gap, he took it, accepting it and dropping or down. “I’m going to need the board, and you need to be ready to go. As soon as he’s out, get to the ambo’, okay?”

“You’ll call once you’re out too, right? So I know you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I will.” You swore it, and he backed away, preparing the blackboard to be slid up to you, holding it over his head as the gap finally became wide enough, and you backed out of the space to be able to receive it. As you rolled out of the way, the elevator creaked again, dropping a couple more centimetres, and you swallowed thickly, annoying the straps as quickly as you could.

There was so much commotion going on outside of the elevator, your mind spinning as you tried to focus, and you heard Brenda and Gally arriving, clearly having pulled out their anchor and received their ropes, and you laid the plastic board out carefully beside Clint.

“Okay, there’s normally two of us for this, so I’m going to need your help here, okay?” He hummed, his eyes finding yours, a look flashing through that told you he understood, and you placed a hand flat under his shoulder and hip. “I’m going to roll you, and I need you to tense up, hold it for as long as you can, and I’ll push the board under you, then, when you roll back, try to shuffle onto it, okay?”

He did as told, his body going tense, despite the pain it caused as he winced, and you rolled him over onto his side as much as you could alone. Freeing one hand from his body, you pushed the board under him, and as he rolled back down, he groaned, but the shuffle had worked, because he sat squarely in the middle of the bard where he should be, and you wasted no time.

Pulling the first strap over his waist tightly, you did it up, sealing him down, and moving to the one over his chest. Once there were secure, you wrapped one over the top of his head grinning a little as he stared up at you, holding his head still, before you were tracing along his feet and arms, doing up every fasten you could think of for his safety. “You ever been crowd surfing, Clint?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” Your joke was well-received, barely a second of silence before he was letting out a pained chuckle, and you looked back to the door. Gally and Winston were first, stood on either side and ready to receive the board, lifting him carefully above their heads to lower him down, and Newt had raised the trolley up as high as it could go in order to collect him.

You held in your grunt of pain at the exertion of sliding the board across the floor, hearing the scraping of the plastic along the ground, before the elevator was shaking again. Their hands sealed around the end, and the pressure was taken off of you as it began to inch out further and further again, letting them pull it as more bodied came to join, more hands stabilising the mix, and the movement at the end of the hall caught your attention.

The opposite elevator opened up, carrying the final three bodies; Minho, Frypan and Thomas. You could at least breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that the rest of your team were all safe, with their feet flat on the ground and not dangling precariously hundreds of feet off the ground. The former two raced forwards, each hooking onto the stretcher board and helping to pull it the rest of the way out, and then, he was disappearing from your sights, strapped to the stretcher and ready to be wheeled away.

A final glance from Newt, a nod of your head, and then honey-coloured eyes were filling your vision as Thomas popped up in front of you. The sudden change it weight and all the added movement was making it unstable once again, his jaw dropping, mind seemingly going blank, and you gripped onto the edges of the doors as it trembled, tipping a little to one side as metal ground against concrete, the ropes on one side of the elevator beginning to give way and snap, the subtle sounds of the metal fraying sounding in your ears as small cables began to tinker on the metal roof as they fell free.

“You need to get out, like, now.”

You could only nod, trying to adjust yourself on the tilted angle to swing your legs through the gap, and you got one out, before the lift was jerking again, dropping down to become even, and the metal was caving under its own weight. “Oh, fuck it.”

A large hand found your ankle, tugging you forwards, your body jerking at the motion and the lift moved too, but before it could drop away, another hand was finding your waist, tugging you free, and you tumbled forwards enough to stumble as you dropped down the gap, but you never landed on the ground. That same hand dragged along your body as he fell back a little from the impact, holding you up the hand from your calf found your back and the hand from your hip was circling under your arms to hold onto you tightly, staggering backwards and away from the danger.

When your feet found the floor again, your toes were brushing against it, before your entire body was sagging into Thomas’, knees going weak, and you were relying upon him to hold you up everything seemed to go numb all at once. Your head fell forwards, too heavy to even hold up as your eyes fluttered closed, and your forehead pressed into his shoulder as you let him support you entirely, legs buckling underneath you.

The arms around you only tightened, the one under your arms relaxing to simply hold you, fingers spreading as his hands sat between your shoulder blades, and he rubbed slowly, the hug unexpected, but exactly what you needed, and your hands moving around him too, bunching in the back of his shirt as you took a shuddering breath and held on for dear life.

“Told you I was coming to get you.”

You could only laugh, a pathetic sound that barely made itself known in response to the words he’d whispered in your ears, but it didn’t matter, because you were soon being pulled back, Thomas’ hold on your dropping down to simply having a hand settled on your lower back as Brenda cupped your cheeks, wiping away any residual wetness sphere with her thumbs, before shaking her head.

“You scared the shit outta’ me.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t all that fond of the experience, either.” You muttered, a wave of laughter going up around you, from the other team members, and you jumped a little at the creaking of metal once again, the box dropping a foot or so further down. Reaching behind your back, to the hand that was still rubbing motions that were barely detectable into your skin, you took his wrist, pulling it away from you as he paused upon the contact.

You couldn’t keep up with the conversation around you, questions and observations about it all being thrown at you, but you could focus on the way Thomas had been able to calm you down so well before, and how you needed a little more of that now. Taking his hand in your own, just like he had done when you’d still been in your harness, you breathed a sigh of relief as his fingers wrapped around your palm in welcome return.

There was still a lot to be done, the job here was far from over, but right now, you were taking a pause to let yourself calm down, and as Thomas squeezed your hand in comfort, you squeezed back.

[59writes]

SEVENTEEN- SCENARIO: HAVING AN ALT PARTNER (PERFORMANCE UNIT)

VOCAL • HIP HOP • PERFORMANCE

Last but most definitely not least, the boys with the moves 🙌🙌

again! don’t be shy, feel free to reach out or request!! I’d love to have some anon buddies lol. I promise I’m nice haha!!

also hi Jun’s is about kandi I had to self indulge a little lol (which is why it’s so long omg) I make kandi and it’s literally the best pastime and the culture around it is super cool too so I had to add it in haha!!

🌈🌈🌈!!!PLUR!!! 🌈🌈🌈

tw: food maybe (?)

JUN

• you guys met on complete accident

• he was walking to the company, you on your way home

• and he bumps into you and one of your bracelets hooks onto his bag and it snaps

• you’re both shocked by the sound, watching the beads bounce into the street while people shoved past you both, glaring at you both for blocking the way

• and even though Junhui is late he stoops down to pick up the beads

• you stop him quickly

• “don’t worry, I have more beads at home”

• and he’s like “wait woah you made this” because it’s intricate and pretty and a little pixel art cat that he accidentally ruined ):

• but he feels so bad, and wants to pay you back somehow cuz the bracelets are so cute and he broke one!!! he cannot get over it!!!

• even when you assure him it’s fine he looks so concerned you have to give in

• so you give him your number, telling him to text you when he can and you can work something out

• and at the company he considers it all day

• he, an idol, just got a number from someone on the street. all because he messed up and then insisted to be in your life

• was this a good idea?

• Seungcheol hears about it eventually, and says to give it a chance

• “your friends are in another country, Jun. make some here too. plus you’re stressed, and it’s probably best to get any weight off your shoulders you can.”

• and so he texts you

• and plan to go to a cat cafe (his treat) on his next day off

• when he walks into the cafe you greet him with a beaming smile

• “I have a gift for you.” You grin, pulling something out of your bag

• and like, Jun almost disagrees, like “no I’m supposed to be apologizing to you” but then be sees what you’re offering

• a little cat bracelet just like the one he broke the other day

• he reaches out for it but you shake your head

• “there’s a special way to do it, here.”

• you give him a rundown on the style of bracelet, called kandi

• and you explain they’re meant to be traded

• “and there’s a secret handshake to trade with, ok? just do what I do.”

• peace, love, unity…

• and he’s suddenly holding your hand

• you slip the bracelet onto his wrist before letting go, grinning as he examines his new accessory

• “I’m y/n, by the way.”

• “Junhui.”

• you chat and play with the cats that come to visit your table

• you take off one of your kandi rings at one point and gently loop it around one of the kittens’ paws

• Jun hasn’t had this much fun in a while, much less been in such a positive environment

• as you were bright and cheery as you made kissy noises at the cats to offer them snacks

• always had something new to say or observe

• and when it was time to leave he really didn’t want to go

• you don’t either, but you have an appointment you can’t miss

• so you promise to do it again soon, giving Jun a quick hug and a wave before dashing off

• Jun can’t keep his eyes off the bracelet as he goes back to the company, running his fingers along the peyote weave

• he spends the rest of the night reading about kandi and kandi kid culture

• and everyone involved is so happy, and their bracelets?? like holy shit.

• he thought yours was good but some of these people had massive and intricate kandi

• the next time you meet, he asks if you can teach him how to make kandi

• and your face lights up!!

• the next few meetups he learns, little by little

• passing the bracelet to you if he can’t get part of it right

• and he just keeps getting surprised by your patience when you have to undo rows, your bubbly spirit calming a bit as you focus on a pattern

• and one day you invite him to a rave

• and yo he’s so nervous ??? but he wants to go so bad ???

• you promise him you guys can leave it early, because eventually you get overwhelmed too

• so he agrees

• you meet at your apartment, Jun shy as you flit around and drape him with more kandi

• you ask him to sit still as you paint a tiny design on his face in UV paint, hand resting on his jaw to keep him still

• and when you gleefully spin him around to look at himself in the mirror he’s just. wow.

• a line of heart stickers on his cheek, a necklace made from kid toys draped around his neck, and of course, endless bracelets

• this was so cool.

• the rave was even better.

• Jun got used to the flashing lights and eccentric music very quickly, mostly following behind as you greeted people and traded bracelets

• and then you turn and pull him out to the dance floor

• and that shit is like a fever dream.

• adrenaline, glitter, and neon lights fill your veins as you both dance for hours

• eventually too tired to keep up, you fall into Jun’s arms, laughing

• and he’s grinning too (:

• you leave shortly after that, walking home in the dark

• you stop to sit at a park bench, and Jun says he has a surprise

• he holds out his hand

• peace, love, unity, respect

• and slips a bracelet onto your arm

• he did it completely himself, as you’d never seen the design before

• it’s of a cat with a rainbow tail, along with his name spelled out in pixels

• and you look up at Jun, whose eyes are filled with anticipation

• and you give him a huge hug

• and he thanks you for showing him this diverse underground world full of color in the night; a way to break out of his shell a little

• and damn I guess you can’t help but hold back an “I love you”

• and he feels the glitter surge back into his veins

• and the feeling never leaves again (:

HOSHI

• Soonyoung always thought photographers were more likely to stay out of the lens’ view, but you proved him wrong

• when you introduced yourself as his photographer for the magazine shoot you were working on, he couldn’t help but feel like you should be in front of the camera, not him

• like holy shit. the beads and chains that engulfed your arm and shimmered in the dim lights. the clips nestled in your hair that were shaped like cartoon spiders. the patches for bands he’d never heard of on every square inch of your camera bag.

• he’s polite and energetic the whole shoot, and to be honest maybe you take a little longer than usual to line up closeups of his face

• after all he deserves the best photos (:

• once you’re finished you agree to meet again at Pledis the next day, just to review the photos

• and Soonyoung spends the whole night hyping himself up lol

• you look just as cool as the day before, if not better, and he manages to compliment you without a problem (practice pays off!!)

• he wants to see more of your photos, and you offer him a ticket to a portfolio viewing you’re having

• he shows up without telling you, taking his time to walk through the gallery and examine each photo

• and they’re so dynamic, perfectly balanced, mysterious. he can’t help but get lost in each one, not even noticing you staring at him

• you, heart warm from his wonder and genuine interest

• he was soon a common subject and reviewer of your photography

• and you were soon a common staple of his, Soonyoung trying to be with you at every opportunity

• he invites you over for movie nights with the other guys

• if you show up in your usual outfits he whines about how you’re all pokey and he can’t lay on your arm without getting stabbed ):<

• luckily you own soft sweatshirts that still look super cool so it’s a win/win

• he’s so adoring of everything you do omg

• every interest of yours is now his interest too

• and he’ll always be by your side, curious and wide-eyed, always ready for the next adventure with you

• whether it be through clothes, or photos, or even just the park

• you’re what makes it special (:

MINGHAO

• dude. he’d lose his shit in the best way possible.

• have you seen this man??? his sense of style??? he’d be drooling in seconds lol

• you’d catch him watching you as you intern at Pledis, sketching up scenes in the corner

• finishing your degree required film to turn in, and you managed to snag an internship with the production crew for Seventeen

• a successful music video for a major group would definitely save your grade lol

• every dance practice, you’d be in the corner, wedged against the mirrors, huddled over your sketchbook as you designed

• and of course you watched them dance, you had to encapsulate the emotion somehow

• during a water break, one of the members plops down next to you and introduces himself as Minghao

• his hair is damp with sweat, sleeveless shirt clinging to his chest

• and he asks to see your ideas

• the concept is focused on the ideas of identity, and your current plan was sketches of each member as the background

• you could animate them slowly turning into each member, and you explain the idea to Minghao as he very gently flips through the pages, fingers hardly touching the pages

• he lingers on his own page

• “you didn’t sketch anyone else’s face this detailed.”

• “you’re pretty.” You say simply, reaching for the book back

• he grins at his lap.

• he sits next to you every day now, always eager to see your designs

• but more often he wants to see your other works

• and when you tell him you and your friends made most of your clothes he’s dumbstruck

• “can you make some for me?”

• you laugh and he apologizes for being so straightforward

• but the next day you bring in a trench coat you’ve been illustrating

• cutting diamonds into the sleeves and lining them with neon thread

• the half-finished painting on the back your friend started working on

• and as you proudly explain the coat’s background Minghao can’t help but want to join in too

• the way your face lights up when you speak about it, how gently you fold the fabric, how you adjust the collar on him so it looks just right

• eventually you begin to hang out outside of the company

• and you take him to craft stores when you need supplies or new clothes to ruin

• and he has such a good eye oh my god

• and his long fingers pick up sewing so easily

• and many hours are spent on your apartment floor quietly snipping, painting, lacing

• minghao wears his clothes with pride, especially the ones you make for him

• you go out one day, both of you completely dressed in your own designs

• and Minghao has never felt this beautiful before

• and when he sees your outfit he can’t help but wrap you in a huge hug

• he’s proud: of himself, of you, of the creativity and passion and hours put into these clothes

• and he admits he’d like to keep that feeling around a lot more

• and so your time in the city becomes a date

• and behind the music video sets becomes a spot to hide and snuggle

• you still sketch him sometimes

• when he doesn’t notice

• when he’s too focused on choreo, or reading a book, or laughing at the other boys goofing around

• because you’re proud of him, too

• and when he sheepishly admits he’s been doing the same, pushing over his own sketchbooks filled with endless drawings, improving page by page

• you know he’s your other half.

DINO

• Dude he’d be so flustered

• he straight up would just. not know what to say and would probably be defensive whenever you talk to him so he might come off as rude ):

• it would take time for him to warm up to you

• but when he does it’s clear he can’t get you out of his head

• as a choreographer, you had to spend a lot of time with the performance line

• and in this case, specifically Chan, as he has a solo

• and just seeing you look so damn rad even when you’re slowly walking him through potential choreo,,,, homeboy is gonna break down and try and defend himself

• the first few days are awkward because he’s drawn back and a little hostile

• but you force him to get lunch with you after a particularly rough morning, just to try to have a better relationship

• you guys didn’t finish the choreo that afternoon, choosing to sit on the studio floor and talk

• the next day he’s still quiet, but shyly rather than defensively

• and he can’t seem to get his arms right, and you have to go over there and straighten his arms for him, rings digging into his biceps

• and even though he tries to hide his grin you know it’s what he wanted

• eventually your job is done and you’re ready to head to the next performer, or go plan choreo for another group

• and Chan shuffles up and even though his cheeks are red he manages to ask you out

• and how could you say no?

[oneshotnewbie]

Second part of the Argument Oneshot with Kara and Baby Danvers? 😍😍😍

A/N: So.. I usually had something else planned (a third and an angsty open ending) but I know how much you love fluff and hate open angsty ending so I had to back off with my idea to give you what you wanted. Since this ending was not intended, I don't think it's great, but I hope you like it anyway :)

---

"Alex, can we talk for a minute?"

After the supposed attempt that Kara tried to talk to you, you had jumped on the treadmill to let things go through your head that you never thought would occupy your mind. Usually that was always the best way to let it all out and rethink something but today, it was different.

You still hadn't found a crucial point to stay on, so you hoped inside that Alex would agree with you and help you make a decision. So after your training you went straight back up to the center of the whole organization where you knew she would be.

"Of course, go ahead."

The oldest Danvers was standing at the console table with Kara and J'onn, completely absent from her surroundings, probably just preparing for the next mission. When you got upstairs, you jumped up the last three small steps to the computers and stopped beside her.

Kara, who was standing opposite, looked up after she recognized whose voice it was. A small, almost shy smile fell on her lips but you couldn't return it. Instead, you just looked at her coldly and turned your gaze back to the redhead. "Somewhere alone where we can talk in private?"

Immediately her attention was turned to you. With a smile, she looked you in the eyes and put the tablet aside. One hand on your lower back, she led you down from the pedestal and left Kara with Winn & J'onn.

"Is everything ok?" she asked you after the door of her laboratory closed behind you. Reluctantly, you made the last steps to the chairs that had been neatly placed at the table and pulled one out of his row to sit down. "Can you sit down?"

She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. She stayed behind you, almost hovering you for a while before she decided to take a seat next to you. "It seems serious, is it about Kara?"

Lowering your head and playing with your sweatshirts arms that you pulled over your thumbs, you first thought about how to start before you started to express your feelings to her. "I've been thinking about Kara and me, about this work.."

"Woah.." she interrupted you, her hand in front of her body to indicate that you shouldn't go on in your sentence. "Listen, I talked to Kara, she's sorry for what she said."

"Alex.." you smiled a little at that sentence. No matter how angry she was with on of you when you argued, the redhead still wanted to be a center between you and settle the dispute, bring you back together. "I don't care if she is sorry, she said it and there is no time reel to undo it."

She was visible tattered, on your stubborn head and your persistence she was always on the verge of despair.

"But she may have been right about what she said."

Squinting her eyes together with a questioning look, she leaned back and watched your proceeding and perked up her ears to listen to you. She didn't know exactly what you were getting at and what this conversation was all about.

"I really like this job, that the DEO saves the world from aliens, and also working with my siblings is good for me and my mental space. It also gives me a lot of time with you both. But maybe Kara was right and I am just not meant for this kind of work..." you spoke carefully, taking a deep breath as you watched your sisters reaction before continuing. "I will take a few days off, of course only with your approval for this 'compulsory leave' to come to my senses and find out whether this is the right way I want to go."

Shocked by the quick yet unexpected decision, she jumped up from her position so that she was sitting with her back straight, put her arms on the table with her hands clasped and bit her lip.

She knew that Kara's words would limit you in some way, since you have always been a person who had a fragile self-confidence, but she had not expected such a large form that you might want to get out of this business.

"Are you sure about that?"

"I don't know, but I will figure it out."

A brief pause with an almost uncomfortable silence enveloped the room. You didn't know exactly how to match her facial expressions, whether she was angry or she understood you. Nor did you know what she was thinking at the moment, whether she would try to stop you or stand by your side.

"I mean.. If that is what you need and want, I don't want to put any obstacles in your way," she continued, her voice turned down a little. "You should just know that we all think that you are doing a great job and that we need you here, I need you here. You are a great help and bring me joy whenever this work sucks."

You laughed out loud and put one hand on her, now flat on the glass surface laying hands. The redhead couldn't help but laugh too. You both got up after a while and you walked around the table to hug her.

"Thank you, Alex."

---

With a pizza, a few potstickers and a beer on the little dresser next to the couch, you sat there and watched the new episodes of your favorite show while you thought back over the argument.

"You are too soft for this kind of game."

Since then, this sentence has only been buzzing around in your head and has taken a large place in there. On the one hand, you asked yoursel why your sister simply didn't tell you that beforehand or even voted against it when you talked to them instead of immediately saying yes, beaming with joy when it was said that you wanted to work at the DEO. On the other hand, you were happy that it finally came out what she really felt about it.

A knock on the door of the apartment you and Alex shared tore you out of your thoughts. At first you didn't want to open up, you wanted to be alone and just get this decision behind you but you answered it anyway, not expecting to meet this person.

Kara.

Immediately she stormed into the apartment and you rolled your eyes. Alex must have told her everything. You kicked the door into the lock and walked after her until she stopped in the living room and turned around to face you. "You quit?!"

"No, not really. Just taken a few days off to think about things."

You walked past her and sat down again in your established place that you hadn't left for several hours. You didn't feel like fighting anymore, it hurt your soul to see how she suffered from the fact that you didn't talk to each other. It hurt you too, without her stupid jokes and her closeness, you didn't feel well. You needed your sister no matter how much she hurt you, even if unconsciously.

"Would you like to sit down with me? I still have a few potsickers left."

She turned around quickly and looked at you in disbelief. She thought that you were still mad at her and that you would like not to see her here. The fact that you asked her if she could join you and you even offered her your favorite meal told her that now was the time to settle the argument and brush it aside.

You, on the other hand, looked at her with sad eyes and knocked a few times on the free space next to you.

She sat down next to you and put a hand on your knee, just this warmth and touch almost made you cry, you missed her so much. "Kara.."

"Wait, let me begin," she interrupted you and took a sharp breath while filtering the thoughts in her head and forming them into complete, reasonable sentences. "I know I made a big mistake. I know that I should never had say this to you, but please, please know that I definitely didn't mean that. I was just so panicked because if I lost you, life would be inconceivable."

"I know Kara, and I can understand exactly, but it still hurt to hear something like that coming out of your mouth."

"Please, forgive me." she begged you. Sadly and with tears in her eyes, she looked at you desperately. You could see how serious she was and how done she was with this situation.

Hesitantly, you thought about it shortly before you threw yourself around her neck and held her tightly against you. She too held you tighter than ever and could no longer hold back her tears. With loud sobs, she buried her face in your neck and literally clung to you.

You stayed in this position for a while before she calmed down and you broke away from her. "Still, I will use this time out to find out if hunting aliens and arresting them is right for me."

She laughed and you wiped the last tears from her face. "It's okay, but please rethink it clearly. I would love to still work with you. You are a really good agent."