#...yeah i am also arti what about it

[typicalcommondandelion]

any of the RW slugcats or iterators for the character bingo

if you need some to choose here's my faves hunter, artificer and five pebbles, moon

OKAY here's a 4 in one.

I'm surprised I actually ended up with a bingo.

Anyways I Don't have strong feelings for most of these! Because I haven't finished the game, and also because I think there's nuance to all of them (read: Pebbles).

But TL;DR: Moon is a cutie who's never done anything wrong, i haven't finished Hunter's route because I suck at gaming, and 5P is an angsty teenager (and therefore while his actions are not excusable, they are understandable)

HOWEVER. ARTI IS MY HOME GIRL and I will defend her until I die. She is my favourite scug, and also completely understandable. Fuck it, why not enact indiscriminate genocide after the death of your 2 children and when you have 0 support systems.

A friend has an AU about Arti (wherein she does get to meet her children again and the family has to be bonded back together because her grief has made her psychologically and also physically unrecognisable to her own 2 children) which I love, however. I love her canon behaviour and story even more. So I can't stamp that box for her.

[meme src]

[ghostgirl-22]

I know a little bit ago u said you'd be open to trying x reader so here's a prompt i randomly thought of! But ignore it if it's not ur vibe

Patrick sets art up w a girl (reader) who's like quiet and pretty normal, someone who wouldn't be too much for little artie to get out of his shell... and then when they start dating Patrick is in arts dorm snoopinh and finds a punch pf freaky polaroids of art being put in like full nelson or something LOL

Idk i need Patrick to make fun of him but be lowkey turned on and asking if his gf is up for a threesum n art gets all defensive but also very turned on

Thanks for the prompt, lovely!! I took a few liberties and changed it from Polaroids to video lol. Hope that’s okay <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Explicit

—-

Patrick doesn’t think anything of it. You’re pretty and shy and you seem like a good girl. Probably exactly what Art needs. Someone sweet to break him in. The last thing he wants is Art to leave high school without ever having had a girlfriend. Patrick’s proud of himself for the way that he gets you two together . It’s easy enough. At homecoming he pulls you away from the wall for a dance and when the song is over he leaves you with Art, convincing him to dance with you as he disappears to go flirt with one of the more popular girls.

You are a little shy. Most guys tend to overlook you because of your shyness, they think you’re a saint. But honestly you had been crushing on Art Donaldson since puberty and even though you were too nervous to approach him you’re not too nervous to take advantage of the opportunity.

Art is as sweet and adorable as everyone says and by the end of the night you lead him to an empty classroom… kiss him slowly and somehow convince him that it’s okay if he just slips one or two fingers inside you.

”Are you sure?” He whispers anxiously.

You giggle and kiss him. “Yes, please.”

Patrick doesn’t know any of that. He thinks the two of you are just so cute. “Two pretty little virgins,” He teases Art, when you guys start dating. He imagines you two going on walks, holding hands, cuddling, sitting quietly in the park or something like that. Sometimes he wonders if Art will be brave enough to take your virginity or if he’ll have to coax Art into doing that too.

Patrick is borrowing Art’s laptop late one night in a hectic attempt to review the slides for the history exam tomorrow because his computer is acting up. He clicks on a window accidentally and a video pops up. From the still he can see your face. He glances over at Art, snoring lightly in his bed while the tv plays quietly in the background.

He can’t help his curiosity so he presses play. “Please, lemme film it baby,” your voice sounds from the video.

Art appears then, half naked, only his boxers on. They’re in this bedroom. Patrick must’ve been in class or out at practice or something. “Okay, but just for me and you right?” He says, he’s grabbing at your waist.

“Yeah I want to watch it later,” you say grinning. Patrick swallows as he watches you preening for the camera in your panties, your bra is white lace and see through, your dark curls are falling messy into your eyes, it’s clear you and Art have been messing around before you started the video. Patrick can’t believe he didn’t realize how fucking hot you were.

Art pulls you closer. “Mm you’re so beautiful.”

“I am?” you wrap your arms around him and he lifts you up and gently tosses you on the bed. Patricks bed.

”Yeah,” Art smirks, “mm getting hard.” Patrick watches as Art tugs your bra straps down and starts licking at your tits. Pretty pink, lips and tongue sucking at them like he’s never been more hungry. It’s doing something to Patrick to watch Art and you like this. He’s so hard he feels dizzy.

“All yours baby, you’re such a good boy,” You moan, teasing your fingers through his golden hair.

Patrick’s forgotten completely about his history exam. He glances up from the computer again. Art is still fast asleep so Patrick eases his hand down his pajama pants, touching his aching cock while he watches the video of Art bending you in half, gripping your thighs and pumping his swollen dick inside you. Watching you squirm and moan as your pussy opens up for him again and again. The sound of your desperate moans mixed with his, the way you start squirting all over the sheets, giggling, as Art gasps out, “oh fuck baby oh fuck it’s so messy, gonna come inside baby, need to come inside you. I’m so sorry baby, oh fuck—” And then he’s spilling.

Sliding his dick out when he’s done and watching as the cum leaks slowly from your twitching cunt. “Sorry baby,” he whispers, flushed all over, hypnotized by your cunt as more semen spills out.

“Mm it’s okay, Artie. I know you couldn’t help it.” Your voice is pitched all high and soft.

”Yeah,” Art agrees, licking his lips. “You’re just so pretty. You drive me crazy.” Then he starts using his spend to finger your pussy till you come, squirting wet again all over Patricks sheets. Watching you shiver and moan, sucking on his fingers when he’s done.

Fuck.

Patrick’s coming hard in his hand. He didn’t know Art had that in him, had no idea that you were such a freaky little girl. He wants to get his own dick inside of you. Let you squirt all over it. Maybe get it inside of Art too while he’s at it.

The next day Patrick’s looking at his sheets and realizes Art must’ve changed them but the mattress is definitely stained with you. He can’t get it out of his head. Suddenly he’s asking Art about you everyday and Art realizes when he’s messing with his laptop, that Patrick’s seen the video.

“I didn’t mean to watch it. But holy shit, Art. You guys act so fucking innocent and the whole time you’re doing that… on my bed.”

“I’m sorry I used your bed but mine was already a—a mess and—and we cleaned up after… besides you're the one who acts like we’re so innocent,” Art says and that’s fair.

“Your bed was a mess? So she’s just….” Patrick takes a breath. “You can have her over when I’m here if you want.”

“Shut up man.”

“No seriously, I mean you think she’d be into a threesome?”

“Come on, Patrick,” Art says irritated.

“Im serious… I mean, imagine if we… you know… took turns or whatever. Imagine if me and you… kinda…if me and you fucked… or whatever.”

“God, you’re fucking crazy,” Art says, but he’s flushing even more than when he first confronted Patrick, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

And when Art tells you about it a few days later you’re both giggling about how crazy it sounds. But then he accidentally says Patrick’s name while you’re fucking and you both come almost immediately after that…both lost in individual fantasies about his best friend. And two weeks later Art invites you over with your camera and when both him and Patrick greet you. You can’t help but to smile.

[icyfox17]

I MISS THEM SO BAD OWL OHUFOHIFOGIFOGISOSHSOAHDODHHOHIOFHZK

8 years later and im brainrotting about young justice again.

[rw-ascension-au]

note: pieces of dialogue in [square brackets] are thoughts

next | previous | first

Greetings, Artificer.

What do you want?

I am here to ask some things in order for us to get to know you. It will allow our mission to proceed more easily due to the risk of--

You may not.

Why is that?

I just met you a few cycles ago! What do you think!? You keep pestering even your own group!

I don't believe "pester" is the correct word in this situation-

[Added a cut due to length. Before proceeding: CW- implied panic attack. Could be inaccurate, despite me having knowledge from my own experience. Also motion blur]

We don't want to answer your stupid questions, okay!? It's all - "May I ask something" this, "Can you please answer a few questions" that! You never hold a real conversation.

I apologise-

Do you!? Do you really!? I found hunter freaking out after your "information collection"! I'm not putting up with this!

I was simply concerned abou-

Concerned about your own mission going awry. If you're not asking questions, you're talking about the mission.

Artificer, you must calm down-

Oh right, that totally helps!

My intention was not to offend you.

I'm not humouring you anymore.

Artificer, please-

Don't pretend like you're worried! You gave me a choice. And I'm choosing to leave.

Artificer, if you stay, I promise I won't be an irritation again.

...

[She's gone.]

[What am I going to tell the others?]

[How did I fail my first mission?]

[How am I going to tell Invenot?]

...

[I ruined it for everyone.]

[Something's happening.]

[It's hard to breathe.]

[it feels as though I'm surrounded by lizards]

[I need to find Gourmand]

[They're the medic, if I remember correctly.]

[Do I remember it correctly?]

[What if something goes wrong again?]

[What if Gourmand leaves in a similar manner?]

[What if I'm merely pestering Gourmand, too?]

[what's happening?]

[what am I supposed to do?]

[what if invenot doesn't let me return to the void sea?]

[what if I'm banished somewhere?]

[what if I ended up locked at the lowest possible karma?]

[what if invenot punishes me for this?]

Saint?

May I- may I inquire about- did you see Artificer?

No, why?

She uh- I- I deeply apologise- she- she was upset with the way I've been inquiring about information. And-

...

May I ask something about- ...

Sure! But before that-

...

why?

It works with Spears.

I do not understand. But this does remind me, I think there might be something wrong.

Other than the fact that I found you all stressed out?

...

what?

You were panicking about something. Did Artificer leave?

...does Invenot punish failed missions?

Oh, this mission hasn't failed. We just have to be patient. Artificer usually comes back.

'Usually'? Does this happen on a regular basis?

Sometimes, yeah.

Would you please care to elaborate?

She's rather indecisive about the whole ascension thing. But the comes back after a little while. Though I'm not entirely sure why.

...very well then.

Let's go hang out at the shelter- I've already collected some plants and stuff. Arti will find us there.

...

[How did that happen? I'm supposed to be calm. I'm usually calm.]

[duchess-of-oldtown]

House of the Dragon Season 2, Episode 1 Thoughts

Just clarifying, these are my own thoughts, you don't like them, don't bother telling me so. Also, I'm not a book purist, I like adaptions taking putting their own spin on things - if it makes sense to do so. So, here were my thoughts. Obvs, this post is dark and full of spoilers.

I loved the opening, the whole callback to the White Walkers which cements the true arc of ASOIAF (and feels a fuck you to s8)

THEY CALLED VHAGAR THAT HOARY OLD BITCH, ONE OF MY FAVOURITE BOOK QUOTES

Rhaenys ate, she fucking ate, that's it girl you remind Daemon of your daughter and his place (you know that Daemon loved that shit)

And Daemon? The whole mother vs the Queen speech? What do you think YOUR mother would have done? Alyssa Targaryen would have done exactly the same if it were you torn apart and you goddamn know it.

Yes, Corlys mourning Luke. Everyone mourning Luke 😭😭😭

Alyn of Hull, slay.

Am I the only one who kinda thinks that the Hightower Sigil looks a little clip-arty? It's just not it 😬

I really wish they made the scorpions look better. I just always thought that the weapons would be more advanced because they actually know dragons.

Aegon and Helaena, you can sort of see that Aegon does care about her but he just doesn't know what to do with her.

Alicent ALICENT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. GET THAT MAN AWAY FROM THERE

Also Criston? Giving head? Yeah, I'd think the sharks are real before I believed that.

Where was the build up to... That?

I actually fucking shuddered. SHUDDERED.

Tyland don't fucking annoy that little boy.

Terms? You killed her little boy and you sent terms?

Yes, Aegon you humiliate that Lannister bitch.

Why is Jaehaerys so sweet? 😭😭😭😭

Dalton Greyjoy mention!!

Mine are Bigger - Actual Aegon II energy

Why is Aemond sitting there like 🥺🥺🥺? You fucked up my guy.

Emma is heartbreaking.

Syrax never grew? Why she so tiny?

Arrax was so beautiful.

The actual stab of grief I got watching Rhaenyra on the beach. That was her baby. That was her little boy.

Aegon the Magnamious?

Aegon being nice on the throne? Being kind to the shepherd?

Your goats? No, sheep even better. 🙂 Aegon, I am meant to hate you.

Otto get fucked, Aegon was doing his best.

Hugh? Hugh Hammer? Girl,get the fuck out of here, asking for money and shit.

I can see a lot of ppl going to whine about them humanising Aegon but it's necessary? Complex characters and our relationships with them is GRRM's greatest skill.

Larys get away from that boy.

This is a green heavy episode. I know why but still, give us some Joffrey maybe? Some House Baratheon shitting themselves? The Great Houses getting the news and going oh fuck?

Daemon is lowkey right, Mysaria did help place Aegon on the throne but she is also right, he's only that angry with her because nobody else around.

Matt's acting is top tier because you can really see the grief, the anger and the insecurity when he's snarking.

Rhaenyra's return. Her silence, it's fucking gold.

Jace and Rhaenyra 😭😭😭😭 His lil voice. 😭😭😭

Where was Jeyne Arryn? Why no Jeyne??

The funeral 😭 lil Joffrey is too lil. Jace holding him *raptor screams*

Alicent, the fit ate but what good are prayers? Go smack that son of yours.

Somebody hug Rhaenyra. Right now. Rhaenys? Elinda? Baela? Rhaena? Hold that woman.

The CRIME HOODIE is back.

I still hate the gold cloaks' cloaks. They look like piss rags. Does nobody on the staff know what gold is? Look at Sunfyre.

The actual book quotes 🙂🙂🙂🙂

The War of Quills and Ravens, yes, yes

Aemond don't sit with Ser Incelot, he hast done thy mother

Y'know what, Aemond is a lil right, he's getting the blame for starting the war but Alicent and Otto literally laid the foundations?

Why is Criston standing for Otto? He's not a member of the royal family.

Aemond, sitting in that chair is very Daemon of you

Otto, showing off his slutty lil wrist, your pour yourself a lil drinky girl

Blood and Cheese have a lil dog with them. Please don't let anything happen to the dog.

There's something always so eerie about all those tunnels under the Red Keep. It absolutely terrifies me.

Aegon and his buddies sitting on the throne gives off fuck boi vibes and the Strong joke was actually pretty funny.

That Viserys statue is not it.

Why is Blood so fucking massive?

Cheese, did you just fucking kick that dog? I will kill what you love you absolutely bastard.

Oh, those locks. The world building, oh the worldBuilding

The atmosphere is very well captured. The music is on point.

I love the detailing of the interiors of the Red Keep, it's so much better than the OG series.

Oh Helaena.

Helaena, my love. Why Helaena, why her.

Why didn't they just check themselves?

How the fuck did the writers make Blood and Cheese that lack lustre? How the actual fuck do you fumble that?

Alicent, my fucking eyes, MY FUCKING EYES

I'm giving this a 7.5/10. Everyone else was great but HOW DO YOU FUCK UP BLOOD AND CHEESE? HOW? HOW? I DEMAND A TRIAL BY COMBAT

Also I must say, the Biblically accurate Hand of the King chain in the trailer is very good.

[kalivasquezart]

Just wanted to say that I absolutely love your au about the Pioneer. Its so well thought out and just overall amazing and oh boy dont even get me started on your art— absolutely beautiful💖💕

I also am working on an au based off of Artis pups and when I found you I was like 🫢🫵 Very similar ideas 👀👀👀Also Hunter as Pioneer’s mentor is SUCH A COOL CONCEPT— Like like cause Hunters my favorite scug and the fact that you included him in your au and as Marbles’ mentor is just *squeals* but it also makes a lot of sense considering he comes a little bit after Arti and is one of the few scugs who can encounter pups in their campaign. I also wanted to ask if its okay with you if I use that idea/concept in my own au 👉👈

I was also thinking about Pioneer’s brother— Ik you said that you hc him as being dead, like officially, but I thought it would be interesting if he was still alive. I personally was inspired to let him live in my au simply because of some official art of Gorum (specifically his endings art especially the food quest one where he has a suspiciously familiar green slugpup). I was thinking something like what happened to Surv and Monk (the one-way pipe considering the fact that he kind of began to drift to the right as he sank) happened to him and Gorum found him. Idk these are just ideas Im using for my own au but thought I would share.

I just realized this is super long sorry HANDNAND I am insane and write too much

ahhhh thank you for the kind words skek YOU FLATTER ME~

[there are rain world spoilers regarding artificer's capaign below, be warned]

while my current headcanon is that the green pup died, i've been thinking very hard about it for the last week or so, and IMO there's a high chance i will retcon that. if the pipe thing is canon to Surv/Monk campaigns then i'm even more eager to adopt that idea. my only real hold-up about the pup was that we clearly see it drown in Arti's dream (the same flashing aura behaviour when you swim underwater), and if he really did drown then the only way to bring him back to life would be through karmic rebirth "last checkpoint save" kind of thing… which feels a bit cheap? a little too simple for me. i'm heavily biased here, because a while ago i read an interesting lore post of someone trying to explain why Arti's pups wouldn't "respawn" if they were killed, while Arti did. in short, the pups were too young to be bound by karma and so when they died, they died for good (reincarnated as a different creature, maybe) - but Artificer being an adult and already having experienced the urges before, was brought back. if i can, i will try to find that post again, and link it here.

ANYWAY yeah, personal AUs don't have to strictly comform to the game's canon, i keep forgetting about that. hell, i've seen people revive scav king or, i dunno, SOS from the dead, and they made it work.

speaking of my AU again, i may also have headcanon'd Arti's mate as a semi-aquatic scug (less freaky than riv tho), and so Bryn/green pup would have inherited some of those genes, making him more likely to survive the drowning. so yeah, i think i like the storytelling potential of keeping the pup alive, althought i'd have to sit down and do a proper brainstorming on what that means… when Arti and Marbles eventually reunite with their long lost other half of the family.

by the way, if you (or anyone else reading this post) wants to use my ideas in their own AU then i'm okay with that! no need to credit or anything. many people come up with similar concepts anyway, it'd be silly to try and police them on it.

[paul-simon-juggling]

Whatever spiritual level he has ascended to, he's having the same religious experience as he was on The Boxer in The Concert at Central Park (which makes me think that they're singing it but who knows.)

Art: What a night!

Paul: Aummmmmmm. What an orgasmic song.

[apparitionism]

Bonus

Happy particular Monday! Here’s a story for it, which came about mostly because I wanted to put a couple of people into a clichéd situation, and then I had to do leadup and aftermath... anyway, it’s intended to be a two-parter (yes, I know; aspirations) set in a not-entirely-canonical season 4, in which the Warehouse did get brought back and Helena did leave without explanation, BUT Artie doesn’t go full Father Data and Leena doesn’t suffer the consequences—mostly because Mrs. Frederic has sensed some badness to come and thus sent Artie and Leena away. Because why not? Also I have Claudia jumping into Caretakering, and even a bit of Artieing, with some enthusiasm.

P.S. I know I haven’t yet finished last year’s Christmas story—that’s a pain point—but I genuinely am working to get back on various horses, including that one. Weather (in all senses) permitting.

Bonus

“I genuinely cannot believe we’re stuck in an elevator,” Myka says. It may be the most true statement to which she’s ever given voice.

****

SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER...

Myka’s reasonably pleasant thought, burring along as background to her monotonous tasks, is I don’t mind this. She and Steve are in the Warehouse office early in the morning, doing file inventory, and it’s true: she doesn’t mind it. It’s a little lacking as a holiday activity, but with Artie, Leena, and Pete all away, “lacking” is pretty much the flavor of the moment.

Claudia pokes her head in and says, “Ping.” She’s unenthusiastic, speaking of lacking. Where’s the usual revving about what it might be this time? “At some midwestern accounting firm, because it’s important to have a boring Christmas.”

Ah. “An accounting artifact?” Myka asks. Speaking further of lacking: here, it’s artifacty zing. Then again, artifacty zing got Myka trapped in Alice’s mirror, among other catastrophes, so maybe boring isn’t so bad. “Balance sheets?” she ventures. “Pluses and minuses?”

“Some people at this pingy company just got extremely large Christmas bonuses,” Claudia says, “and some got their pay extremely docked. So yeah, ‘balance sheets, pluses and minuses’ just about covers it. Probably. I mean, I might be trying to manage expectations here.”

Claudia’s certainly right, in that getting one’s hopes up—about anything (or anyone)—is a fool’s game.

But still, there’s something to be said for boring-but-remunerative, even if only for some people... what a nice idea. “I’d like a Christmas bonus someday,” Myka says, “instead of a Christmas penalty. Which I think pretty accurately describes the Pete-plus-artifacts situation.”

“It’s two days before Christmas, and he hasn’t done anything yet,” Claudia says. “That you know of,” she amends.

“Because he’s been with his family in Ohio for the past week,” Myka points out, and she’s gratified when Claudia rolls her eyes. It’s practically a concession.

Steve says, “It’s inappropriate to say ‘Christmas’ bonus these days. It’s ‘end-of-year.’” The contribution suggests he’s listening with only one ear.

“I wish appropriateness mattered here,” Myka says, not really to him but in general. Who knows how a Warehouse HR department would make heads or tails of the application of employment laws—much less employment niceties? “Not that it makes a difference. Christmas, end-of-year... call it Fred, and we still wouldn’t get one.”

“If I ever do get a bonus, I’m absolutely naming it Fred,” Claudia declares.

Myka shakes her head. “Poor Fred. Doomed to be injected right back into the discretionary economy.”

“Inject-o-what are you even talking about?”

“Just a guess, but: you’d spend it on things you don’t need.”

Claudia harrumphs. “Thanks for lumping me in with the avocado-toast-and-Starbucks crowd. My fiscaling is way more responsible.”

“Really? What would you use Fred for?”

“Asus VG278HE gaming monitor. Plus a graphics card, maybe the Nvidia GTX 690, depending on how hefty Fred is.” At Myka’s snort, Claudia challenges, “Fine, where would you inject it?”

“My Roth IRA,” Myka says immediately. She’s not sure what assets her evil, crazy, or dead self will need in retirement, but given the many and varied forms each of those, or combinations thereof, could take, it seems like a good idea to have a financial plan in place. That’s another thing a Warehouse HR department might be useful for...

“You’re the actual human manifestation of an accounting artifact,” Claudia accuses. “Speaking of which, here’s the deal. I gotta stay here—some Mrs.-F homeworky stuff—and Steve’s busy reassuring all the misfit toys in the building that Leena hasn’t deserted them forever. And I’d say ignore the ping entirely, but your never know what’ll go viral, and I bet Artie’d say the last thing we need is another financial crisis. Or maybe you’d say it. Anyway, you’re it. And for your backup, when you get to Cleveland—”

Myka groans. “Cleveland? Seriously? Pete’s going to be so mad about you pulling him away from the family.”

“I’m not pulling him away,” Claudia says, blinking like she’s some innocent little lamb.

Myka groans again. “You’re making me do it?”

Claudia shrugs. “Sure. Why not. You’re partners, right? But here’s some advice: wait till you get there to call him. You know, put off the misery, if that’s what it is, as long as possible. Besides—more advice—I really think you should spend your travel time thinking about bonuses. Who gets ’em and why. Because what’s a bonus, really?”

“An economic stimulus whose nametag reads ‘Fred,’ if I’m understanding things correctly.”

“We’ll see what you think about that when you get to Cleveland.”

“On the day before Christmas eve,” Myka grouses. “By the way, that’s a whole lot of ‘advice,’ coming from somebody who’s over a decade younger than I am and not technically my boss.”

“By the way,” Claudia mimics, archly mocking, “we’ll see what you think about that too.”

“When I get to Cleveland?”

“When you get to Cleveland. On the day before Christmas eve.”

“Sounds like the title of a lesser Christmas carol,” Steve says—he’s tuned back in to the conversation. He then says, with his grin that curves so impish, “Think we could get Mariah Carey to sing it? It’s a hit if we get her, right, no matter how lesser?”

“‘When You Get to Cleveland on the Day Before Christmas Eve?’” Claudia skeptics. “Hit-wise, that’s gonna need a lot more power: Mariah dueting with Darlene Love at the very least. Plus we’ll need a Destiny’s Child reunion for at least one chorus.”

“Thanks for reinforcing my sense of how awful this is likely to be,” Myka tells them both, and Steve’s grin turns apologetic.

Claudia, however, shrugs. “Maybe you’ll sing it different.”

Myka is now the one to roll her eyes. “I won’t sing it at all.”

Surprisingly, Claudia doesn’t go with another eyeroll. “We’ll see,” she says, and Myka is struck by the Mrs.-Frederic resonance in her words. Does the homework include practicing the enigmatic tone?

Steve looks up and catches Myka’s eye. He winks. Myka would wink back, but he would probably interpret that as her saying she understands what’s happening. And that would be a lie: serious enough, probably, to make him wince and massage his temples.

So Myka just blinks—not Morse or any other code, just basic eye-moistening blinks. Then she goes upstairs to collect her always-packed travel bag for her trip to Cleveland.

****

Her flight departs late, of course; it’s December in South Dakota. But that’s this-time fine, because it allows Myka a necessary excess of opportunity to prep her Pete-placation. Under her breath, she practices the delivery of such words as “shorthanded” and “necessary,” aiming for maximum sincerity.

When she at last emerges from her Cleveland Hopkins jetway, that extensive prep deserts her entirely, for what awaits her is the manifestation of a Christmas wish she has worked overtime to convince herself would not, could not possibly be granted:

Helena.

Whose arms are crossed, and whose posture betrays that her foot might recently have been tapping out impatience with the plane’s tardy arrival. The attitude is so normal, so entirely of-the-world (rather than of-its-imminent-end), that Myka wants to reverse course, get back on the plane and redisembark, just so she might meet it again, meet it and refeel this wash of absolute relief at seeing Helena impatient in an airport.

Devious, Claudia, Myka thinks. Outstandingly devious. “Hello, Fred,” she murmurs, then tries, in the ten seconds she has before she and Helena are in proximity to speak, to engage in a far more consequential prep.

For Helena has been gone—has been, as Myka put it to Steve not so long ago, “god knows where”—since shortly after the Warehouse did not explode. She was there, in the Warehouse, but then she was gone, and Myka was told only that Helena had “matters to attend to.” God presumably also knew what those matters were, but Myka hadn’t, in the wake of that first moment of absence, and hasn’t since, been able to pry any information about matters or their whereabouts out of anyone, divine or otherwise.

And through the seemingly endless wondering, Myka’s mind and heart have gnawed themselves ragged.

Until this moment, when the wondering and gnawing end: now her blood speeds, coursing with urgency even as everything else seems to slow.... her movements, her reactions, her thinking, all are sluggish, unresponsive; only her blood matters. This blood knowledge. For all her wondering, she’s been avoiding gnawing her way to that answer.

“Claudia said you needed backup” are Helena’s words when they meet.

Myka’s attempt at prep has fallen grievously short—not that she could have risen to such an occasion, not when hearing that voice for the first time in some time, and certainly not when faced with what her blood’s embarrassing insistence has forced her to confront anew. “I... assumed I’d be calling Pete,” she says, to at least go with truth.

“Interesting assumption. Perhaps necessary, if you believe I’ll be insufficient.”

Myka’s impulse is to reassure: “More than sufficient—you’re necessary,” she would shout, or better yet, whisper. Instead, because Helena’s tone is neutral—is she in actuality indifferent?—she falls into a defensive, businesslike crouch, offering only implicit denial of the premise of Helena’s statement. “Let’s head for the accounting firm,” she says, internally cursing herself.

Cursing, but also justifying: Helena is here as backup, thanks to Claudia’s cleverness, and Myka should not assume (speaking of assumptions) that she even wants to be here. All focus should be on retrieving the artifact. Certainly on that and not on Myka’s (honestly) predictably overexcited blood.

She tries to concentrate on Claudia’s advice (while at the same time trying not to resent her success at being cryptic about it): what’s a bonus, really? Helena’s presence, the sight of her, the apprehending of her impatience, the experience of blood: whatever else may happen, these have been—must be—are!—the bonus.

****

The cab ride is quiet. Myka’s resolve to think only of backup and bonus is dissolving by the second, and she lets words reach her tongue that might start a conversation with Helena about things... but those words don’t escape her lips, for a strand of formality seems to be stiffening Helena’s spine. Does she know how Myka cherished her impatience? Is she attempting to discourage such adoration?

Myka, in regret and relief, follows that more-strict lead.

That’s a bonus too, though, for it turns the ride into unpressured, liminal time, perfect for simply basking in presence. It’s best, Myka is now thinking, to treat this reunion as something that was of course going to have happened. For backup or other professional purposes. Despite the fact that it’s the thank-god fulfillment of recurring, desperate dreams.

However: at one point in the traffic-backed silence, Helena, completely unprompted, turns and smiles at Myka.

Myka smiles back.

It’s a previously missing puzzle-piece slotting into place... yet in its aftermath, Myka finds herself having to push with force against a will to worry over other missing pieces; in particular, she must fight the fret-intensive futility of trying to count them.

****

They find the accounting firm’s lobby spacious but quiet—holiday-low staffing, presumably. Myka asks the receptionist, “Is there someone we can talk to about end-of-year bonuses? Also penalties?”

“I’m a temp,” says the young man. His tone suggests it’s his answer to every query... but then he adds, very quietly, “Unofficially, there’s this one guy...”

That has the ring of “artifact,” so Myka nods, encouraging him.

“Super-vocal about his paycheck the other day. How tiny it was. I mean, he’s the kind of guy you might have theories about what else is tiny, but I—”

“Who was that?” Myka interrupts, even as she feels Helena’s readiness to laugh. Mr. Super-vocal is thus probably not a wielder of an artifact; more likely, one of that wielder’s... victims?

“Bob,” the temp says. “I’m sure he’s got a last name, and I’m sure he thinks everybody should call him ‘Mr. Lastname,’ but my care level? Anyway he’s down the hall—one of the only ones in the farm today. Spite-working. Maybe on his anti-everything manifesto.”

“Down the hall” turns out to be a vast expanse of cubicles: definitely a farm.

Myka says to Helena, “Follow my lead?”

“Always,” Helena says.

It’s a tonally sincere utterance—and in that, admirable—but it’s also manifestly untrue; nevertheless, Myka’s blood decides to believe it, to recognize it as another puzzle-piece. I really need to function, Myka tries to explain to her interior. So if we could climb down just a couple rungs. Like to the cab-ride level, maybe?

Her body refuses the agreement.

Of course.

The occupant of the first inhabited cubicle they find is an over-coiffed middle-aged man who clearly spends far too much time in tanning booths. He’s typing aggressively, as if the force of his keystrokes will power his message. His manifesto?

“Are you Bob?” Myka asks him.

“You better be here about my money,” obviously-Bob says, clearly spoiling for a fight.

Myka finds his demand incongruous—his job has to do with other people’s money, and Myka and Helena are manifestly other people. Who could have money. Fred or otherwise.

“In a way,” she says. She follows up with “We’re from the IRS,” and it’s never not funny for that to be useful. Bob winces, as if she's about to strike him. Also never not funny. “We’ve noted some suspicious discrepancies in end-of-year reporting.”

“You have?” Bob asks. Now he’s avid rather than confrontational.

“Looks like some overreporting. Also underreporting. So you see our concern, particularly about effects on withholding.” She is making this up, as she generally does whenever she has to go actual IRS on someone. Read up on tax law, she reminds herself, as she generally does every time. Not that she’ll ever have the leisure to do that... “What we need to find out is whether it was in error, or if it warrants a full investigation.”

“Nancy Sullivan,” he says, with contempt, the name itself a curse. “She’s the one you should investigate, and then send straight to jail. She’s always been a witch about year-end, but now?  On steroids. Talking about making her list, threatening to mark down people she doesn’t like, including yours truly, as naughty... and then we got our paychecks, and somehow she did it! No idea how she managed to push that garbage through, but I swear you better get her up on some kind of charges!”

He rises abruptly, clutching a slip of paper; his chair topples over behind him. He shoves the paper in Myka’s direction, his knuckles nearing her astonished nose—but in the instant before contact, Helena intervenes, her arm blocking his, stopping his forward motion.

Backup.

Helena plucks the paper from his pushy hand. “And what’s this?” she asks.

A pretty minimal manifesto, Myka thinks initially. But then she replays his screed in her head, and his babbling about Nancy Sullivan resolves into meaningful references; struck by the realization, she very nearly misses his next statement: “My pay stub. She can’t just do this.”

Helena says, “Of course not.” She’s soothing him, her voice a faux-caress. It’s enough to tempt Myka to act out, just to hear it directed her way, even as Helena continues, “But we understand some of your colleagues, to the contrary, received large bonuses.”

His “tanned” skin darkens further. “Guess she thought they were nice. To her. Suck-ups.”

Mya looks a Find out anything else that’s relevant at Helena, who nods. Retreating back to the pre-cubicle hallway—relieved that her nose is intact—she Farnsworths Claudia. She skips the pleasantries, starting with, “A very disgruntled employee says the woman who signs off on bonuses was making a list.”

Claudia chortles. “You’re hilarious. Was she checking it twice?”

“This is my point. We don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with, not yet, but I bet that’s the crux.”

“I should’ve known you weren’t aiming for hilarity. So you really think this is some Santa thing?”

“No. I’m saying words about lists because I think it’s a grocery thing.” Myka wants to shake her fist at the heavens and every deity who occupies it. Occupies them. All the heavens. “Of course I think it’s a Santa thing! I also think it’s Pete’s fault somehow.”

“Just because it’s Christmas? C’mon.”

“Christmas and Ohio?” Myka snorts. “You c’mon. I don’t believe in coincidence.”

“Maybe you should though. For peace of mind?”

“That’s another thing I don’t believe in. Just see if you can find anything about a Santa’s-list artifact, would you?”

“Roger. By the way, how do you like your backup?” She chortles again and disconnects.

“I like my backup like I like the sunrise,” Myka tells the blank Farnsworth screen.

“What about the sunrise?” Helena asks from directly behind her.

Myka wishes the sound of her voice were either more or less startling. She wishes also that she knew exactly how much overhearing had occurred.

“It’s inevitable,” she sighs.

In response, Helena blinks.

They take the elevator to Nancy Sullivan’s office.

In that elevator, which is aggressively mirrored, Myka can’t help but glance repeatedly at herself. So many reflections. You called this into being, thinking about Alice’s mirror before, she accuses. She tries not to focus on how her hair could really stand to be more controlled... she’d focus on Helena instead, but who knows how that would be received? Instead she allows herself one glance, then looks down.

She likes being on the elevator with Helena, though; it’s a space of relative privacy, like the cab. Have they ever before been on an elevator together? Alone or otherwise? She runs through their interactions, fast-forwarding from the Wells house to D.C., Tamalpais to Moscow, Yellowstone, Colorado Springs, Ohio (here Myka trips over the fact that Helena’ s now been to Ohio twice, if only once in physical form), Pittsburgh, Hong Kong...

The review—the speed with which she can conduct it—reminds her of how limited that time has been, so: an elevator ride. Yet another bonus.

“That fellow,” Helena remarks, and Myka looks up again; their eyes meet in the mirror of the elevator’s doors. It’s uncanny, as if they’re both holograms, so Myka turns her body toward Helena, who meets Myka’s actual eyes and continues, “He attempted to make a lewd joke about his willingness and ability to be naughty when it’s called for. I pretended not to understand.”

Myka can’t help it: she snorts. “I bet he didn’t buy that for a second.”

“I have the ability to perform ‘prim’ when it’s called for,” Helena says, and Myka has to acknowledge that statement as good evidence of itself. Then Helena’s face reshapes into a devilish grin as she says, “In a slightly different vein, his quailing at those three letters with which you assailed him? Hilarious.”

“Letters?” A little perverse-quirk makes Myka want to hear Helena say them, though she’s probably not pulling off “disingenuous” in making the request.

Helena seems fine with the perversity, for she obliges: “I,” she begins, then draws out “Aaaaare.” Then, after a beat: “Esssss.”

Myka now herself feels assailed—by how right Helena’s reading her. She tries to step it down with, “I wasn’t aiming for hilarity. I never do. Claudia can vouch.” But she does spend a little moment thinking about the context of that previous assailing: we’re from the IRS. We are here, together, from an agency. We, together, represent. It isn’t by any means everything Myka would have wanted... but it’s something: part of this bonus. “Fred,” she says, sotto voce.

The office they’re seeking is on the building’s highest floor, suggestive of Nancy Sullivan’s bonus-approving rank; it features several large windows, one of which affords the office a view of the hallway, and vice versa. Through it, Myka and Helena watch a woman, presumably that powerful Nancy Sullivan, writing with a quill-esque pen.

“It’s the pen,” Myka says, because it has to be. “It’s always the stupid pen.”

“Always?” That’s unusually tentative, like Helena’s trying not to step.

“Okay, once,” Myka concedes. “My dad and Poe and a pen, and as a result I’ve developed a severe aversion to those quill things.”

Helena takes a beat. Then: “I never liked feather pens.”

“Are you just saying that,” Myka says, because she might be, and she might admit it, and that might be good or bad or something else Myka has no way of evaluating. Why does Helena say words like this? And for that matter, why does Myka keep spending her limited time on this planet trying to parse them?

“Yes? In that I’ve... said it?”

That really didn’t help with any of the whys. “I mean, just to make me feel better?”

Helena shrugs. “The fact is, today’s ballpoints et cetera are far more reliable. Does that make you feel better?”

She’s playing at being obtuse—surely that’s for a reason? But Myka has no time to wonder further, for Helena is knocking on the office door and opening it without waiting for an invitation, and the real retrieval is underway.

Myka flashes her badge. “I’m Agent Myka Bering, and this is Helena Wells. We’re from the IRS.” She glances at Helena—all these glances!—and gets a small smirk in response.

Rather than introducing herself, the woman says, “Really? I bet that’s not true.”

“Why?” Myka asks. Have she and Helena, over the course of the elevator ride, lost their ability to perform “official” correctly?

“I have a feeling you’re here for this,” Nancy Sullivan says, and she lofts the pen, waving it like a wand. “Mostly because I also have a feeling that I want to close my fist around it, punch my way past both of you, and make my escape.”

Well. “That’s self-aware,” Myka says. “Unusually so.”

“Thank you? Although it’s less self-awareness than kind of a... sixth sense.”

Helena raises an eyebrow at Myka. “Sixth sense aside, we appreciate your good sense to refrain from attempting to punch your way past us. That would have ended poorly.”

“I wish I’d had the good sense not to use this pen,” Nancy Sullivan says.

“Is there a reason for your wish?” Helena asks. She sounds, to Myka’s ears at least, like a recently summoned, slightly flummoxed genie.

“Because of how much I liked using it—particularly when I realized nobody was going to question anything. I signed off on all these orders, and it was like...” she trails off. Then she concludes, “Magic.”

To keep her talking, Myka prompts, “Was it?”

“Having the power to reward good people has been fantastic,” Nancy Sullivan continues, “but penalizing the awful ones? I mean I’ve sort of resented feeling compelled to use the word ‘naughty’ about them, because that’s way out of character for me. But other than that? Utterly spectacular.”

“Bob,” Helena suggests.

“Oh, god, you met him?”

Helena offers a dry “Alas.”

Nancy Sullivan’s smile is as dry as Helena’s tone, astringently vindictive. “I could not have been more thrilled to hit him and everybody like him where it hurt... I admit I’ve always been kind of judgmental, but wielding this pen? Intensified. Like, the hates are more. In particular, the hates are more. I’m not saying the Bobs of this company didn’t deserve what I did, but I feel it more. Punishment. It’s satisfying, but also weirdly costly. Grinch-in-reverse costly.”

That’s a little on the nose. Myka glances at Helena again, because the satisfactions of punishment, of judgment, even of hate, are among the things they will need to talk about. Maybe. Someday. If they are to have a someday that is theirs... if that is even possible after so much time and tribulation... Myka lets the glance grow into a gaze, a resting regard, and it stays that way until Helena, too, glances, with the result then that their eyes meet and lock... such a clasp, Myka feels, could ground that potential, and potentially necessary, talk of things, if only they were not in the middle of a retrieval...

...which makes Myka think. Why are they in the middle of a retrieval?

“I wish I didn’t feel like I need to articulate this, but where did you get the pen?” she asks. Because she has a niggling sense of something larger happening, something beyond her grasp. Nevertheless, it is not—repeat, not—a vibe.

Fine. It might be a vibe.

“My cousin gave it to me,” says Nancy Sullivan.

“Your cousin,” Myka says. “Whose name is?” Now she’s knows what’s coming, and that has nothing to do with a vibe: no, it is entirely deduction based on experience.

“Pete Lattimer.”

TBC

[ctimenefic]

fic writer interview

thank you for the tag @testarossa, this was a lovely indulgent way to spend an evening. @prettydangrotten, @onadarklingplain and @rockyteriyaki, if you care to play I'll put my chin in my hands and kick my feet as I listen like we're in a 90s movie sleepover

How many works do you have on ao3?

22 posted

What’s your total word count?

total word count: 166,741

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

they're all in the Daredevil (Netflix) fandom, and all Matt/Foggy. Let's swap chests today (mutant AU), Invisible Ink (Tattoo Artist AU), A Wizard Did It (um.... Magical Statue AU?), Indelible Ink (Tattoo Artis sequel) and Shampoo, Rinse, Repeat (or how I ruined haircuts for myself for four years). Do you see how I gave myself a complex about only writing AUs?

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I try to! I've been fairly good about it recently. But I've had periods where I've been almost entirely out of fandom, and there's a pile in my inbox that are years overdue replies. And I reply because they make me feel good and I want to appreciate that! Every now and again I sit down an answer a pile from, like, 2020 with a biiiig apology and it genuinely lifts my spirits to do so.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

dust and ashes. sometimes we process grief on the internet!

but for f1 rpf specifically, well. That'll be either the living and the dead or no second chances, depending on which mid-season driver change devastated you most.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

oh god nearly all of them in some way or another, I love a happy ending (in fact there's an ask in my inbox right now that's indirectly about that). in terms of feeling like sunlight after a storm, three's a crowd. the rest are more soft landings after a gentle flight, imo.

Do you write crossovers?

Sort of. I've written MCU fic that crossed over with X-Men before Deadpool got there. And there's some others languishing in my G-drive.

If AUs based on established media count, then yeah, definitely - I've got some (thinly drawn) ideas for Inception and James Bond F1 rpf fics.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don't think so! if I have, I forgot. I forget many things.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, yes I do. And it's getting smuttier. What kind, um- idk, there tends to be a plot attached, or a plot emerges eventually. It's mostly slash? (Does Rule 63 George count as slash or nah??)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I have a vague recollection of reading something once that made me go 'hmmmm' but once again, my memory issues save me from recalling if it was actually a thing or if it was a two Dennis the Menaces situation.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No but I had my first podfic made this year! nony podficced positive negatives and don't like a gold rush, which is great because I consider them sister fics.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I am cowriting one right now with @latecomersprivilege. It's about the Australian GP and orgasm denial. Yes, this year's Australian GP. We're so good at meeting deadlines and writing in a timely manner (it's completely my fault).

What's your all-time favourite ship?

Merlin/Arthur, from BBC's Merlin. I only have one Merthur fic that I've let stay alive, but Merlin still occupies such a peculiar place in my life. I watched every season live, I participated in fandom to an extent I probably never will manage again - I loved those boys. I love them still.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

that one enjolras/grantaire fic that was going to be my magnum opus and ground to a halt at 20k. Some folders of my G-docs are cemeteries.

What are your writing strengths?

Worldbuilding, I think. Or, since that's quite a broad term, creating worlds that feel lived in. I'm not necessarily coming up with crop rotations and a full economy, but I think I'm good at suggesting the picture continues beyond the frame of the story. Also, I like to think I have a grasp on rhythm.

What are your writing weaknesses?

length length length. I hit 20k in a doc and my brain stutters to a stop, which means I really struggle with executing ideas that deserve longer. I am also very bad at editing. This is a terrible trait. And I write slooooowly.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I get very nervous about this as a mono-lingual person, because I don't want to end up turning actual languages into catchphrases? But I also want to reflect how our international blorbos speak. I do LOVE when authors make a point of saying someone is speaking in French etc vs English, even when it's translated for the reader, to make a point about intimacy.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

harry potter. scoured that from the internet a while ago

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I have an elaborate strollonso fic in me. Unfortunately I do have to write the 50k galex fic it's a sequel to first. And, uh, remember what I said about length being a weakness of mine?

What's your favourite fic you've written?

I did a five favourite fics ask a couple of months back, and it mostly holds true, but I think I have to add three's a crowd now, because it kind of snuck up on me as a concept, and I damn near hated it by the end of writing it, and then was embraced so kindly by readers I could actually look at it anew and remember why I wanted to write it. And that's quite precious.

[womenl0verr]

Brother

Warnings; some cuss words, its just not family friendly.

brothers name= b/n

"Glee club there will be a new spanish teacher" principal figgins announced,

"Yeah what do you want us to do about it?" Santana asked the principal, "well this person is someone special to one of the member" you listened to principal figgins, as you were sitting in the cold chair, resting your head on santana's shoulder, when suddenly your brother entered the room.

"What!?" You shot up from my seat quickly since you weren't out to him yet, "principal figgins you can't employ him as the spanish teacher, i'm pretty sure he doesn't even know spanish!" You exclaimed, "well i took spanish classes as a chi-" you cut my brother off, "see what i mean he makes every aspect of my life worse!"

"Wow y/n i guess being attractive runs in your veins" artie said with a chuckle,

as santana looked at him with a glare. "Of course i'm the better looking sibling" we said at the same time, "what? Really cmon its me" you grin, "oh please. When i was here i'm pretty sure i changed sex partners as fast as flash could run" he scoffed, "wow you whore" you chuckle, "you slut!" He chuckled as your jaw dropped.

"Alright! That's enough y/n sit down." Mr schue said sternly, as i rolled my eyes and sat down, "i wanna get in on this its seems fun" my brother also sat down not to me thankfully, "that's what your sex partners said" you chuckled as his jaw dropped.

Skip to next week, we went to the auditorium,  then santana brittany and mercedes went up to the stage to perform, my brother was there with me and of course being the annoying bitch he was. He was gonna sing too.

Santana and brittany were the backups to greedy while mercedes sings. They were wearing very revealing shirts and you could see santana's abs, you didn't even notice that you were starring at her abs the whole performance. After the performance ended, you was still starring at her abs, she noticed it and smirked, and also my brother and kurt noticed it.

You felt kurt nudge your shoulder, you looked at him with a confused expression. Then santana texted me, she had texted me a picture of her abs.

Mommy😘(chat) regular=to you, chat=to santana

Take a picture it lasts longer💋

I hate you

Yeah but thats not what you told me

last night~~

God

Thats one of the things you said😉😜

(Then she sent you two pictures, one of them her middle finger and pointing finger, and the other was her curling them, i could feel myself get wetter at the picture so i squirm in my seat.)

What the hell san?!

What? You wanted that last night?

Omg

Y/n

y/n

Y/n

Hermosa

Darling

Babygirl

Stop ignoring me i can see you laughing at your phone

Y/n stop ignoring me.

I will punish you in the janitors closet if needed.

Fine. What?

Hehe. 👅this was me last night and this was you last night🌊 hehe. Me also✌️also us ✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️

Really san? God why am i with you again?

I love you please don't break up with me

Don't worry san i'll never break up with you💍

Gasp omg y/n l/n are you proposing to me

Mhm will you make me the happiest woman and accept this ring?💍

Yes! Of course i will, now were the happiest women on earth. Nothing can come between us😘😘

Time for the homeymoon~~🐱🙀😽😸😺😼✂️✂️✂️👅👅🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱🖖🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱🖕🐱🖖🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Why'd you stop?

Gasp mrs lopez i am married woman. Anyways

🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🌊🌊🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🌊🌊🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🌊🌊🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🌊🌊🐱✌️👅🐱✌️👅🐱✌️👅🐱✌️👅🐱✌️👅🐱✌️👅🐱✌️👅🐱✌️👅✌️👅🐱✌️👅🐱✌️🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱✌️🌊😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴

You excessively use emoji's to much

Then you use don't excessively use emojis that much and you you use aphostarphe

"Apostrophe"

Ugh!!!! 😡🤬🤬😤👿🤬😠🤬😾😤🤬😡 now we have angry sex

🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🐱✌️🌊🌊🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🐱👅🌊🌊✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️🌊🌊

Mr schue was saying something but and santana weren't clearly listening, you chuckle every time she sends you a text. "Who are you even texting? Your boyfriend" you heard your brother say on the stage as he was gonna perform, "or girlfriend" he chuckled as he saw your face, you turned to kurt, with wide eyes, as everyone soon snickered and giggled.  "is it becoming obvious?" You whispered and kurt nodded.

"What!? I'm not texting someone!" You defended myself, "you didn't deny..." he trailed off. "And plus i saw you looking at that girl's abs" he pointed to santana.

"What!? Thats not true" you tried to defend yourself, keyword; tried. you didn't want to come out to him yet since he would say all the embarrassing things from your child hood possible gay things, and lucky for him mr schue had left the auditorium to get something.

"Oh please i know you have a thing for brunettes, like uh oh! Jessica alba, sofia vergara, megan fox-" you cut him off, "ok enough" you stopped him, from embarrassing me further, you look down at my lap, "god. I knew it!"he cut himself off, then texted you.

Idiot of a brother💩🫶🏻(chat) chat=b/n regular=you

You have come out right? Are you even gay?

Wouldn't you like to know

And yes.

I knew it! So have you come out cause if not yet then i understand i won't say what i was about to say. And also please i want you to know that i support you in every way. And i will be here always for you. Just text or call me of you need someone to talk too. Even if i have work i swear i will do everything in my power to stop working and talk to you. I also want you to know that

i love you❤️

I know mom and dad weren't as supportive but i promise you i will be the dad that dad was suppose to be.

Yes i have come out.

I knew it! So what about her cmon tell me the tea.

What don't you have to perform?

Nah its fine they can wait. So what's up with you and that Latina girl?

were dating. Eight months and happy. She makes my day better. And i'm happy about it obviously.

Awww i can't believe it. My lil sis has a better love life than me. Well i have to perform now

Then he looked up from his phone and put it in his pocket, "i knew it! You're as straight as the shape of the earth!" B/n exclaimed. (Circle the earth is circle.)

"Wait so y/n's flat? I mean she doesn't look flat, her boobs are-" b/n cut puck off, "what are you about to say to my baby sister?" He glared at him while artie grabbed some popcorn from god knows where.

Anyways. he was next to you so.. you grabbed some and ate while you two watched the scene unfold, "i-i didn't i-" puck stammered, "exactly. Know if i hear you or any of you say that again about my little sister. I will not hesitate to punch someone, expect for the girls i know y/n likes that" he warned puck and walked up to him pointing a finger at his face. then chuckled when he said the last thing.

You choked on the popcorn, "alright so what is happening?" Mr schue entered as he saw the scene, "whoa whoa, i left for 5 minutes what the hell..." mr schue trailed off, b/n went back to the stage to perform.

After school there was a glee meeting, most of the glee kids were still in class. You were going to the choir room when you saw, b/n and santana in the choir room talking.

"So tell me. What are your intentions with my sister?" B/n asked with crossed arms,

they haven't notice you yet so you watched the scene unfold, but fortunately for you artie had finish his class, he wheeled next to you watching the scene unfold too, and magically he had popcorn.

"My intentions with her is to make her the happiest woman in earth. And protect her from the miserable world, cause she deserve's the best, cause she is the rainbow in everyone's life." Santana explained as your heart fluttered at what she said.

"Hm. Good enough. Now tell me when are you gonna propose to her. will you ever propose to her?"

"I will when w-were uh- when were 25?"

"Eh good enough. Now please, don't hurt her feelings, if its one thing i know about y/n is she's sensitive, if she ever hears something bad about her from a person she loves. Well she'll hate you for the rest of your life." he pleaded,

"Of course" she nodded,

"Now, tell me what y/n hates on a person"

"Well she hates, messes, germs cause she's a huge germaphobe, dirty rooms, touching dusts, people telling her to shut up, people trying to control her energy, also when people bring up that she has adhd, i know because she once told me that: me having adhd isn't important its not like it my whole personality." She explained, your heart fluttered as she said those last words.

and you never noticed that the rest of the glee club were behind you and artie watching the conversation.

"Then what are the things you like about her."

"I like how her eyes light up when we are talking about astronomy, and also when we have arcade dates since she likes arcades despite of how it smelled. her smile whenever we i win her a big ass teddy bear whenever wear at the fair. oh! Our fair dates arcade dates picnics and our movie nights. based of the things i said you should probably know that she begged me to take her on those types of dates. cause she always says

y/n l/n never asks out someone on a date. her eyes, her hugs, her kisses."

'her taste her boobs her neck her thighs her moans her whimpers her everything' santana thought to her self.

You felt yourself tear up a little when you heard it, "aww tana you big softie!" You exclaimed entering the room to kiss her, you wrapped your arms around her neck, as hers went around you waist, "hermosa! Did you hear everything?" She exclaimed startled, she called you one of her nicknames for you in spanish, forgetting your brother spoke spanish.

"te amo pretty girl" she whispered kissing you once again, "¿Quieres ir y tener una noche de cine?" You looked at her with a puzzled face, as she forgot that you couldn't speak spanish well, "wait could you say that again just slow down" she chuckled, "would you want to have a movie night with me hermosa?" You nodded quickly before kissing her again,

"alright as much as i love you sis, i gotta go and mark some test papers, será mejor que la trates bien." He said the last thing to santana, "prometo que la trataré bien" you looked at the two with a confused face.

"ugh bye idiot" you rolled your eyes,

"Bye! Bitch" he said playfully,

Then santana lead you to the chair, sitting on her lap.

After school in santana's room, you laid on santanas chest watching a movie, her hands on your back, while yours were just laying on her stomach.

"Te amo, hermosa" she said softly.

"je t'aime aussi chéri" you knew she loved it when you spoke french, its just how you said it so *chefs kiss* and then in the end you thought her french.

The end

A/n for the french and spanish i used google translation, so if its wrong then i'm sorry. And i know its really bad but i just wanted to post something, so uhm here you go. And uh i'll be posting more. 1953 words..... jeez... anyways! Stay kinky!❤️❤️

[yo-kaiwatchkillyourfamily]

Silly Game Time: I've decided the Moon needs its own moon, and am going to make one appear (which I can do, by the way, as I am terrifyingly powerful; lucky for y'all, I'm also quite amiable). It'll be about 1/3 the Moon's size, so clearly visible from Earth.

Your privilege is to choose the Moon-moon's coloration and name! Huzzah!

it shouldn’t be a colour it should be this picture

And it should be called

and it should be called

Scripts.com Bee Movie By Jerry Seinfeld NARRATOR: (Black screen with text; The sound of buzzing bees can be heard) According to all known laws of aviation, : there is no way a bee should be able to fly. : Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. : The bee, of course, flies anyway : because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. BARRY BENSON: (Barry is picking out a shirt) Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. : Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. JANET BENSON: Barry! Breakfast is ready! BARRY: Coming! : Hang on a second. (Barry uses his antenna like a phone) : Hello? ADAM FLAYMAN: (Through phone) - Barry? BARRY: - Adam? ADAM: - Can you believe this is happening? BARRY: - I can't. I'll pick you up. (Barry flies down the stairs) : MARTIN BENSON: Looking sharp. JANET: Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. BARRY: Sorry. I'm excited. MARTIN: Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. : A perfect report card, all B's. JANET: Very proud. (Rubs Barry's hair) BARRY= Ma! I got a thing going here. JANET: - You got lint on your fuzz. BARRY: - Ow! That's me! JANET: - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! (Barry flies out the door) JANET: Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! (Barry drives through the hive,and is waved at by Adam who is reading a newspaper) BARRY== - Hey, Adam. ADAM: - Hey, Barry. (Adam gets in Barry's car) : - Is that fuzz gel? BARRY: - A little. Special day, graduation. ADAM: Never thought I'd make it. (Barry pulls away from the house and continues driving) BARRY: Three days grade school, three days high school... ADAM: Those were awkward. BARRY: Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. ADAM== You did come back different. (Barry and Adam pass by Artie, who is jogging) ARTIE: - Hi, Barry! BARRY: - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. ADAM: - Hear about Frankie? BARRY: - Yeah. ADAM== - You going to the funeral? BARRY: - No, I'm not going to his funeral. : Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. : Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. ADAM: I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. (The car does a barrel roll on the loop-shaped bridge and lands on the highway) : I love this incorporating an amusement park into our regular day. BARRY: I guess that's why they say we don't need vacations. (Barry parallel parks the car and together they fly over the graduating students) Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. (Barry and Adam sit down and put on their hats) : - Well, Adam, today we(I couldn’t fit the entirety of the script)

[spaceorphan18]

Don’t know how much you pay attention to the Top 40 pop stuff, but can you think of any popular songs from the past few years that would work well into any of the plotlines on Glee?

Well. Nonny. I am terribly uncool and couldn't name you one song from the current top 40.

But what I can do is use the pop songs used in Bridgerton's Season 3 and give them to Glee storylines! Those are all newer! (collective groan, hush, we're doing this)

abcdefu by gayle : (I kinda love this song) it's got real Ceelo Green's Forget You energy. Honestly, I can see any of them singing it but it's got some real Quinn angry girl energy. (Thought I'd totally buy Rachel in one of her hundred break ups with Finn.)

dynamite by bts : oh this is a fun dance number, totally a group number.

jealous by nick jones : oh this screams Finn or Artie to me. Maybe both of them. One of the very straight dudes is singing this.

cheap thrills by sia : this is another fun dance number. It's got some Brittana energy, let's give it to them.

happier than ever by billie eilish : you know what. Let's give this to Tina. She can use an angsty, angry power ballad to scream out.

snow on the beach by taylor swift : ooh, now this is a gentler power ballad. Rachel's angsting during this one.

give me everything by pitbull : let's be real, no one is singing this one but... Sebastian is doing this one with the Warblers right after they finish Whistle for Regionals ;)

pov by ariana grande : this is mercedes singing to sam. Mercedes is the only one who could plausibly sing this, lol.

thunder by imagine dragons : this is more of a dance number but, this screams competition with everyone taking turns on the lead, featuring mike and brittany dancing

confident by demi lovato : I don't know why Santana, Quinn, and Brittany are singing this one, but oooh this is their number.

yellow by coldplay : this is a Blaine song if there ever was one. He wrote it especially for Kurt. (also, Darren singing this one? yeah...)

you belong with me by taylor swift : my god Rachel. sooooo Rachel. this is early season 1 Rachel singing about Finn, lol

lights by ellie goulding : this is a girls' group number.

all that i want by tori kelly (bridgy original song) : on Klaine is getting this one. A song that's about finding you and loving you in every life time? Yeah, that's Klaine ;)

Omg, Nonny, this ended up being waaaay more fun than I expected to be. Plus, a little something for everyone!

[dalimarisdaddy1967]

So I found something else on the GrandMa Studios Facebook page(The 9h ago time stamp is inaccurate. I'm behind on posting lol)

The post reads:'Dear players! We are very interested to know about your favorite characters in the MCF series. Who has won your heart and who would you like to meet in the future? What character traits are particularly memorable to you?'

I have a few things to say about this. Why have all of these characters in one photo? In the top row we have Alister Dalimar, Angelica Morgan, Ankou, Richard Galloway, Banshee/Aisling O'Hara, and Rose Sommerset. In the second row we have Emma Ravenhearst, Madame Fate, Archivist, Goliath, Robert and Charles Dalimar. I get they may want to showcase some important or more recent characters but pairing that with the caption is interesting.

I think we may wind up seeing from or hearing about all or most of these characters again. Am I grasping at straws here? Yeah probably but we know there will at least be a reference to Charles in the new game and with the new timeline and the existence of others, what's to stop the other characters resurfacing too? What do you guys think? Lemme know cuz I'd love other opinions.

Also here's just the picture if anybody wants it.

@detectiveruth @masterdetectivemcf @macatt4c @fallenidol-453 @redrum-eht @hakurakurohime @proustianlesbian @thebiggestpartypooper @rebellovesthings @artsydon @hiddenobject-fanblog @pookiethebloodsucker @apeirotilio @ink-and-pixels @arty-girl-asks @angelsmama1968

[crazylittlejester]

I know you don’t like arty and wars dating In fics but I wanted to share a bit of their dynamic in my au if that’s ok! Reminder that they are spirit tracks link and Zelda.

Ghost=arty

Engie=wars

Ghost: link!*runs up to him and hugs him* I’m so glad you back!

Engie: me to!

Ghost: yeah! Did you show the chain your train yet?

Engines eyes light up: no! Come on guys I’ll show her to you!*goes into an hour long rant about trains*

Time: why did you ask him that? I thought you would be more interested in our adventure?

Ghost: I am. But this makes him happy so I’m happy. Plus he’s can tell me all about you adventures later right now he’s having fun so what’s the harm?

 Bonus

Sea: do you think they’re dating?

Legend: who “Mr I love trains” and “little miss princess.” No.

Sea:wanna bet.

Legend:sure.

Plot twist they’re engaged.

It’s not that I don’t like Zelda and Wars as a ship, understand why people ship them and I dont like, go out of my way to avoid them in fics 😭 (in ONE of my au’s actually they are getting together), i just usually headcanon that Zelda as a lesbian 😭

ALSO THEY SEEM SO SWEET IN YOUR AU OH MY GOD I LOVE THEM

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

They Both Just Gotta Be Dicks - a Malevolent fic

WARNING: Intermezzo spoilers

Not much surprises Kayne anymore.

A melting Arthur manages.

AO3

-------------------

This is try number six hundred and forty-eight. Or maybe forty-nine? Sure, forty-eight, and who cares, because I am absolutely sure it does not matter at all.

Who would even bother counting? What would be the point?

There isn’t a point, and that is the fucking point.

Yeah, yeah, you two, get your morning started; share the coffee, drop the sugar (seen this eighteen thousand fucking times and how’s that for counting), and here comes the mail courier! 

This part always goes fun. Sometimes Parker dies right away; sometimes there’s a Battle For Supremacy! in which proto-John wins every time and then Parker dies. Sometimes Arthur gets killed in the process, and proto-John gets a maximum of sixty-eight seconds (I did count that) of life outside the Dark World before oopsie-whoopsie can’t kill your host and he goes screaming back. Sometimes—

A man comes out of the shadows (did I see that right?) wearing an absolutely filthy anachronistic hoodie and jeans for a guy twice his size, fucking cold-cocks the mail courier over the head, dumps his bag (yes, I’m just standing here staring, and who wouldn’t), finds proto-John’s book (The fuck! Proto-John’s book!), and then steps back into the shadows and is gone.

Well, I…

I can’t help laughing, screaming it, because what the actual hell was that? I’ve done this five million and eighty-nine times and I have never seen that before!

The door opens, and the detective besties are fussing over the mail courier, but they no longer matter because the book is gone. Arthur’s just not as effective without his little friend.

Silly weird filthy criminal. Did you really think you could slip through shadows and I couldn’t follow?

#

So he’s pretty good with portals! Nice! Took us all the way to the woods outside Innsmouth (fucking nasty place), and breathing like he’s fucking dying, he goes loping through the woods, unconcerned about shoggoths or any other dreadful thing, clutching that book like it’s everything he’s ever wanted, tripping over his boots, which are also too fucking big, and I just gotta know.

I gotta know… and I don’t! Do you know how rare that is?

He’s done something to himself, this gasping-shambling-winner-of a human, and I can’t see his thoughts. Ooh, ooh, ooh, I’m excited enough not to just explode him and take the fucking book back.

He stops. Drops to his knees. Holds the book out. Is clearly about to open the fucker.

Nope, sorry, proto-John spoken for. “Yyyyyyallo.”

He doesn’t jump. Goes real still. “I knew you’d be here,” says Arthur Lester who sounds like somebody put him through a meat grinder and then stuffed him into sausage casing and then smoked him halfway and then popped him in a microwave without poking holes so he blew up in there and then scraped him out and squished him back together in the shape of a man.

Gotta admit, I didn’t see all this coming! “That’s a neat trick,” I say, walking around to the front. “How’d you know?”

That sure is Arthur Lester looking up at me, though he’s missing teeth, and you could just slice meat on those cheekbones. “Because that’s how lucky I am.”

Oh, boy, oh, boy, oh, boy. “You must be lucky, Artie, because I don’t know you! How about that? Looks like somebody sure put you through the wringer, though!” Closer, kneeling down, making eye-contact.

His eyes are that funky color of repeated and unaddressed subconjunctival hemorrhage. He’s just breathing like a bull, clutching that book, looking like he wants to bite me.

“You can see!” I tsk. “That just isn’t fair, is it? We should fix that.”

And he says, “I know where your fucking black stone is, you fucking monster,” and just like that, it stops being funny.

I may not know him (conundrum!) but he does know me, and as the smile slides off my face, he starts to shake, so he doesknow me well enough to know he’s in trouble.

“Do you?” I say, high and light and kind of tight. “Do you? Do you? Because that’s important information, Artie, that I would like to have right now! You wouldn’t go claiming something like that if it wasn’t true, would you? Where is it? On you? Did you swallow it, Artie? Am I gonna have to go digging for gold?”

And he says something else he shouldn’t know at all! “It’s on Earth one-two-four-nine aspect B8, you filthy dickhole.”

Yeah, sooooo… this just got weird? “How’d you know that, Artie?” I say, calm, soft, soothing. “That’s not a designation you ought to know.”

“Because you told me, or part of you. The one you fucking killed,” he snarls, spitting, and his hood slips back.

Oh, that ain’t right. Most of his hair is gone. He looks kinda cancerous, definitely grody, really not socially reassuring. I can’t read his mind, but I can peek at other things, and boy-howdy. “Hey, you’re gonna die, Artie!” I say with great cheer.

“I know.” He clutches the book. “It’s okay now.”

“No, I don’t really think it is, Artie, in fact, I’m getting the idea you don’t really understand the stakes here—”

“I know you promised him to me if I got your fucking stone!” Arthur just screams at me, and there’s blood with bile in it flying out of his throat   and that just tastes deeee-lightful. “I got it! I had it! You were supposed to give him back!”

Oh. I tap my chin.

Behind us, a couple of roaming shoggoths spot us, feel me, and run yipping away into the woods. Yeah, yeah.

“I get it,” I say. “You were dealing with another me. Well, good news! I killed them all.”

“I know!” He screams it, and his voice cracks, and he is sobbing all over the book and himself and there’s blood and snot everywhere. 

“You’re so juicy,” I tell him.

“You killed him before he could do it,” Arthur says in that tiny voice he gets when he’s all they won and I can’t and all that weakling bullshit. 

“So… you actually got the black stone?” I say. “Without John.”

“No. With him.” Such a brittle tone! But at least that detail is consistent. “Then we weren’t going to give it to him. He was going to wake the Dreamer.”

Pfft. Well, I know which one of me that was, and good riddance. “That old chestnut?”

“We weren’t going to do it, and he took John, and… and I…”

“Were you gonna trade, Artie?” I all but sing at him. “Trade John for waking the Dreamer and ending everything including John?”

“No,” he says, spraying more blood. “We were going to trick him. But then you ki… you… you showed up and you… you…”

“I killed him!” I remember that one. Suicidal version of me? No, thanks. “I ch-ch-chopped him to bits, and then I stewed the bits, and then I ground him into meat and I ate the whole thing!” And I laugh.

He doesn’t laugh. Artie never does have a good sense of humor.

“Just let me have this,” he suddenly says. “You don’t know what I’ve done to get him. Let me have him, and I’ll tell you where the fucking stone is.”

“Or I could just torture you for it,” I say with a shrug.

“Go the fuck ahead. There’s nothing you could use anymore, and if you do, you won’t know the trick we did. You’ll lose. Even if you get your stone, you’ll lose, because it won’t be the whole fucking thing.”

I laugh again because eh? “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I open this book. I take John into myself. You get what you need.”

“Or I just take the book, and take what I need, and we’re done!”

His laugh is just crazy, grating, crackling delicious, and I lock it away in my head for future use. “You can’t.”

That’s fucking insulting, so I reach to pluck out his defiant little eyeballs.

I…

I missed?

I stare at my hand, outstretched, and at him. “Huh?” I say, as one does.

“You can’t,” he says. “The trade. I get John.”

“Not your John. Not even a John yet,” I point out.

“He will be. I’ll tell him who he is. It’ll be fine. It’s going to be fine.” He’s rocking back and forth now. “All of it will be fine.”

Wow. “You’re a special kind of crazy, ain’tcha?” I try again. I… miss again? I have no idea how that’s happening. I could just cook his cells and do it that way, but I’m so curious! “Okay, this is pretty neat, and all,” I say. “But that book is due elsewhere right now? I mean, we’re already off schedule, and also, my guy, you’ve missed an obvious out. I can just take you with me and make you show me the stone.”

That laugh, Artie, wow! “No, you can’t,” he says all wetly. “Because if I cross another world-boundary, or even step through time at any pace other than normal, I will fucking die.”

I whip out some pince-nez (like you do) and pop them on to try to see him clearly.

Still can’t see his thoughts. Can see a whole lot else. He was not lying. “Oh, Artie, what’d you do to yourself?” I say, already laughing, because this guy is worn so fucking thin that I think rain would tear him apart.

“I hunted,” he says. “I found a way. And I found my way here.”

“You know, most humans who get into magic of this kind do not generally suffer organ jello-ification? Seriously, what’d you do?”

“I only needed to get here,” he says, and his voice is soft, and he strokes the book cover, and wow, Artie, wow.

“Buddy. Pal. You’re that frail, you can’t take him inside you.”

“I know.”

“I mean he’s gonna kill you. At once. Not even on purpose.”

“I know.”

“You’re gonna pop like a cheap condom.”

“I know.” (He would.) “And if you let me, you’ll get what you need.”

“How in fuck will that get me what I—” And all at once, I get it. My laugh is almost as crazy as his. “What’d you do, Artie?”

“I put it here,” he says, pointing to the most egregious bald-spot, the most cancer-looking area. “Yes. I did. You can’t touch me… and you need this piece. If you don’t get it, your stone won’t work for whatever the fuck you’re trying to use it for.”

And it’s so daring and so wild and so stupid? Not like I can’t kill just him and find it in the corpse? “Grammatically heinous, my boy!” I say, affecting a Brigadier General for a moment. “Seriously, though, you shoved part of my stone into your skull?” 

“I do this. I tell you where. You let me have this.”

“This… proto-John.”

“He’s in there.” He curls over the book. “And I’ll make sure he knows… he knows everything.”

“He’ll die with you.”

“With.”

Oh, Artie, Artie, Artie. “You know that doesn’t work? He wouldn’t be tied to you after death.”

“I know. I made sure he would,” he  snarls like some snarly thing, and that’s when I decide to let him do it.

He’s tried so hard, and he’s got information I want, and just look at him! Obsessed! Gross! Melting! How in fuck will proto-John even respond to this? Oh, I missed you so much that I fucking killed us both and bound us somehow in the Dark World? Yeah, that’ll go over great.

He’s still trying to sell me. 

“Let me. You’ll get what you want.”

Oh, fuck, this is gonna be a ride. “He’s not gonna thank you.”

“I don’t care.”

“You know what? You’ve surprised me, Artie. That’s worth a cup of coffee. Go ahead. Steal your John, then trap him after death. I’ll take the li’l stone-bit when you’re gone, and all will be right with the world.”

And he tells me where it is. What year, exactly. What landmass. Even what region. He can’t get closer than that, but that’s okay. That’s okay.

It’s one of many places those three idiots found. I would’ve gotten there eventually, I tell myself, but let’s be real here: Artie just saved me a whole bunch of pointless Arthur-wasting. I know where to send the good ones now. You know. The ones that don’t get flushed.

He’s not even aware I’m here anymore, I think. Cradling that damn book. Does he even remember he had a daughter? I fucking’ swear, this guy… “Hope Faroe likes your new add-on.”

He doesn’t answer me. Wow, Artie. Wow.

He opens the book.

I’ve seen this a thousand times. That blast of power, that wildness of desperate fire, that light reaching for him like a drowning man for a swimming one and pulling them both under.

He chokes. His eyes go from bloodshot blue to bloodshot gold. “John,” he sobs.

Then he pops like a ripe cherry. Good spread, too! Those bone-bits ain’t never coming out of those trees.

Honestly surprised he lasted that long, given the mess he was. How in fuck did he even get that way? It must have taken years. “Oh, oh, I’ve got chills. Years of looking for John? Of ensuring you’d go to the Dark World together? Ahahaha! Ridiculous! Only you, Artie, only you… oh, yeah, you’re dead, you can’t hear me.” I rummage around in the mess.

Know what’s annoying? I can’t see the sliver.

Fuck.

#

It takes me a month to gather all the goo (thanks a ton, Artie), trick someone into touching the gray stone, and then getting them to tell me where the sliver is, and then I can finally fucking touch it.

Sort of.

Gather it, we’ll say.

Fuck. It’s not that small. Things would definitely not have gone right if this were missing. I don’t even know how I’m going to repair the damned thing, but at least I have the sliver.

Thanks. A lot. Artie.

At least I know where to go.

Gotta go find me a new Arthur. This one is no longer interesting. Without a John—proto or not—it won’t fucking work, as I’ve learned through trial and tribulation, though not my own.

I could just kill this now-pointless-Arthur, but eh… I don’t care anymore. His lucky day.

Before I go alternate-Artie-hunting, though, I just have to go take a peek into the land of the dead.

Well, well, well… whaddaya know. It worked. They’re together.

And shouting at each other. Wow, that is some conflict! Figures that even when dead, even after all Arthur did to pull this off, they both just gotta be dicks.

Music to my ears.

[l-lenny]

Dumb Krum… I love you too!

REUPLOAD-longer ver.

Viktor Krum x Malfoy! Fem! Durmstrang! Reader

Tw: reader is swearing, cliffhanger?

Pt 7/??

SERIES MASTERLIST

———

For the rest of the lesson you felt uneasy. Viktor ignoring you was hurting you more than anything. For the rest of the class you tried to talk to him but we’re stopped by either McGonagal or Vik. Right after you left the class you got mad “Stop ignoring me!” You pushed him aside. “I am not ignoring you.” He said sternly. “Yes you are!” He looked at you and admitted “I feel like ve are falling apart .. more so since you hang around that ginger” he said and looked in your eyes. You gasped “how can you say that?!” You loved him! But you also love your friends. He never reacted like this when you were talking with Dolian, Artie or any other of your friends. And what about him and Hermione? You werent stupid. “You are the one and only-“ I love. If it was just so easy to say it. “-the one and only…who will truly know me and understand me.” You said with small smile. Was it a sad smile? Was it a pitiful smile? You weren’t even sure. Your feelings are harder to ignore more and more each day. Viktors eyes sparkled as he looked at your face. “You are truly so amazing!” He said and hugged you. Wishing for time to stop just so you could be in his embrace a little while longer or better yet forever you both parted. The rest of the day continued as it should. Well that is what you thought-

Getting out of DADA the infamous Weasley twins went to their next lesson. Both of them in a hurry because they wanted to be sat in the back of the class for professors Bins trash lesson. For obvious reason of really important nap. Rushing through corridors they turned left just for the twins to see both you and Viktor hug so affectionately. Something in Fred stopped and broke. Seeing someone so delicate, yet feisty, beautiful yet dangerous and kind with some other bloke made his blood boil. George noticing his twin stopped he pulled him back to reality and they continued to professor Bins. “Mate you fancy her.” Said George mater-of-factly. “Nah I think it’s just crush. She is older than me, she is in another school, she is a champion, she is a bloody Malfoy and she fancy Krum it’s obvious I don’t stand a chance” he sighed. “I know I am the more handsome twin but you look good too, I bet she is at least crushing on ya! She asked you to the bloody ball! You are the champion’s plus one! And you were the one whom she retrieved from the bottom of the lake.” Fred smiled at his brothers words. His twin was right. He can’t loose hope now! And for the small chance of hope to be with her he is willing to fight.

After your last lesson of the day you were crossing the courtyard and was stopped by your brother. He was fuming. Getting on your nerves with his yapping about Weasleys. “Draco! Shut it!” You spun to face him. “All I am saying is that your decision to like him is stupid-“ he continued “-you have so much more potential to go for someone better!” You bring out your wand just to glue his lips together. “I hate you!” You said, tears started to spill. Was is so hard that for just one day to have peace and quiet? Not to mention that your emotions were running wild today. “Stop getting into things that don’t concern you! You don’t have slightest idea what happened to you but I hate this version of you” you undid the spell and walked away. Draco was stunned looking at your direction.

In rage you marched to your room when some slytherin guy stopped you. “Hey beauty!” You looked at him already annoyed. In your eyes he was more sleazy than nice or charming. Sly smirk plastered on his face. “The name is Marcus…Marcus Flint! And I know you will have great time with me on the Yule ball” he said confidently. “So I will be taking you to it as your date yeah?” He arrogantly continued. But in that moment you started laughing historically. This just gave you an opportunity to say to whole school you have a date to the ball. “With you?” You started to say. “Hate to break it to you-“ you said sarcastically “-but you’re as charming as a sleazy snail could be, not to mention you didn’t even asked! You dare to order me around? I already have better date, more handsome, charming and has manner!” He looked stunned, but then his face turned red. “You stupid bitch! How dare you-“ you slapped him. You slapped him so hard he fell to the floor. “Do. Not. Ever. Call. Me. That!” You spit out. “I could lit your pants on fire just for the fun of it” you whispered to him in a mean teasing voice. “And I would have a nice laugh out of it. I would paralyse you just so you could be without your bloody manhood. I would be praised as a hero and would be doing a favour to any girl who would be unfortunate enough to see your small length. Do not be this stupid next time you open your mouth and learn some manners.”

You left the scene where many students were watching it unfold. Well it was your intention at least until- “ehm ehm” was heard from your left. And there he was. Professor Snape and his hateful glare. “Striking another student I see… that is not a behaviour I expect from miss champion…see me at detention tonight after dinner.” He said sternly and left. Oh my Merlin you trought. This is super bad.

You never had detention! You always escaped with slight slap on the hand nothing more. You were so enraged. Fleeing to Astronomy tower, wanting to be left alone, you looked up at the sky. Memories of Fred folding in as you looked around. Your anger calming. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come to this bloody school…” everything would be more simple. You thought to yourself. No annoying boys or brothers, no stupid feelings towards Vik and no howlers from your parents. Your mind started to feel heavy from all the stress. “Y/n?” chaos in your head got louder. “Y/n.” Your mind screaming and spinning these thoughts around making you feel uneasy. “Y/n!” You spun around to see Viktor. “V-Viktor?” Must you blabber like that? You look pathetic. “Are you alright? I heard from Hermioni-ni about your ehm… suitor” he looked unsurely at you. Ah, those eyes. You could loose yourself in them. “Well, yeah…” you sighed “and I got detention for it” you admitted and told him about the situation . First he laughed and then he said “But that’s so unfair. Detention for something that he deserves? Hermioni-ni told me he vas a jerk” the nickname stung for some reason. “Thank you for checking in on me, you are a great…friend” you said and came closer. “Of course” he smiled. Suddenly his hand came up. Him tucking your hair behind your ear made your blood to rush to your cheeks. Looking him in the eyes you were suddenly in much better mood. Inching closer and closer you wanted to close your eyes and make this gap between your lips disappear. Slowly his scent intoxicated your mind and closing your eyes you inched closer. Heart beating fast as if you were running a marathon.