#GOD i need a title for it. ive been tossing a couple around but they dont Feel right smh

[captainkingsley]

would it be okay if you told about your modern au but put it under a cut to avoid accidental spoilers?👉👈

I’ll see what all I can think of to talk about that might not actually make it into the main fic, but that are still floating around in my head… Mainly because the main fic is almost done and all of that will be out in the world soon enough :3c still readmore'd for the length!

So specifically in this au, Molly, Lucien, and Kingsley are triplets and they’re musicians, and their manager is Gustav, because, well, of course he is. Their whole team that works on shows and marketing are also made up of the circus folk and the Tombtakers, and I might get into it with a side-fic, because the main fic is Caleb’s pov and he’s not entirely familiar with all of it.

A few of the most fun roles I have plotted out for them are Yasha and Zoran handling the security at shows, because who better to do that than them? Yasha is of course still Molly’s best friend and looks out for him, and stops by in the main fic to meet Caleb. Originally my plan was to have them meet at a show, but I couldn’t imagine Molly not letting Yasha meet the person in his first actual romantic relationship far before Caleb winds up at a concert. 

(Molly has had a lot of partners, just never long-term, serious relationships. Getting with Caleb is a whole new thing for him.)

Cree is their sound engineer and also has been Lucien’s partner for a significant portion of both their lives. Which is funny in-universe because most of Lucien’s solo work is music that’s about like, edgy lost love, demons, curses, and similar themes. He likes to keep up appearances of being more on the creepy side in terms of his aesthetic, but he and Cree are actually genuinely happy together. Lucien just knows how to work his audience. 

And I can’t talk about the partners without also talking about Marius and Kingsley. Marius was a drummer they hired to help them with some album recordings, and then Kingsley kept asking Gustav to re-hire him for later work, and then shows, and it wasn’t until Lucien stopped by Kingsley’s place one afternoon that anyone realized why — Marius was just in Kingsley’s apartment, and that’s how they all found out Kingsley and Marius had been sleeping together basically since Marius was first hired.

So that also means Molly was the only one out of the triplets who was single, and he was fine with that, and then Caleb absolutely intrigues Molly, so… it all works out. Lucien and Kingsley poke fun at him for dating a professor, but Molly thinks Caleb being so smart is attractive, so shut it, guys. 

There’s a lot more to all of the relationships within the crew, like Gustav having been one of the first people Elric trusted with helping his siblings after the debacle with the parents, and Ornna handling pyrotechnics and special effects. 

Once the fic is posted I hope the person I'm pairing Elric off is as funny as I think it will be. It's a character I desperately want to see interact with Molly because I feel like their energies would be bonkers next to each other.

But. Okay. Music stuff, too. I’m too embarrassed to share the entire playlists but I want to get a vibe across, here are a couple songs that are kind of my inspirations for Molly’s solo stuff, 

Basically super-colorful upbeat stuff that is not the kind of thing Caleb would purposely seek out, but reflects the stage persona Molly gives himself. He’s outwardly the hedonistic partier of the triplets and Caleb is actually pleasantly surprised to find out that sure, Molly enjoys this stuff, but it’s not all of who he is.

Just like Caleb covers his drama and angst and his sad past with his studying and projecting himself to be the serious professor™, Molly covers his own insecurities by leaning into being the pretty one, the dumb one, the one that drinks too much and parties a bit too loud. 

But Caleb can recognize that Molly’s smarter than he lets on. He knows people, he’s more emotionally adept than Caleb could ever hope to be! And they help bring those sides out in each other.

[strawberrystepmom]

malevolent enterprise ch. 2

ceo au series. sukuna and yuji are brothers. gojo x f!reader are endgame but this is backstory/lead up. reader has hair that can be swept off of their face. reader is a lawyer (ive taken creative liberties bc i am not a real lawyer so take it up with god if u find an issue) and has an established platonic relationship with sukuna and has an ex boyfriend that is an oc named shigeo. cw drug and alcohol mentions. wc 1.8k.

masterlist coming soon but in the meantime, ch. 1 can be found here

divider thanks to @/cafekitsune ♡

“Forgot I paid you to stand around, ---.”

Hearing Sukuna use a shortened version of your full name, you roll your eyes and pull your glasses off of your face, holding them between your thumb and index finger. Meeting his gaze with an indignant look of your own, you toss the pen you’re holding with your other hand down on the desk in front of you and groan in frustration. 

You’re only standing in his office because you've been reviewing contract abstracts for hours and could use a break before your brain starts to turn to mush given his absolutely archaic NDA demands that would never be upheld in court. 

“Am I not allowed to pace? Is that one of the workplace rules you’ve set we all have to follow, King Ryomen?”

He appreciates your sharp wit if nothing else so he chuckles, walking around you to plop down behind the heaviest and most ornate looking desk you’ve seen in a modern office. 

Truly fit for a man who sees himself as a king. 

“Can I make all of you start calling me that? Will HR have an issue?”

You scoff and shake your head. 

“Yes. I have a funny feeling they would indeed take issue with you demanding your employees call you king.”

Placing your glasses back on the bridge of your nose, you sweep back a few tendrils of hair that have fallen in front of your face and sigh, raking your fingers through the top of your overgrown layers. You’ve been too busy lately to even get a trim, late nights spent at the revenge motivated Ryomen Enterprises preventing you from doing much but provide general counsel, as your position and official title state. 

You left one incredibly oppressive job for another and you don’t quite regret hitching your wagon to Sukuna but you aren’t proud of it either, especially putting your own goal of having your own firm on hold to do it. 

Leaving the Zen’in firm seemed intelligent three months ago after Naoya was named partner instead of you, the tireless hours you put into the blockbuster Miyamoto v. DTK, Inc. wrongful termination suit, the first of its kind in the country, meaning ultimately nothing when it comes to family ties and misogyny. 

You handed your resignation to Naobito the next day who received it with a knowing smirk, glad to see one less bitch too big for her skirt suit step aside. Two months later Sukuna reached out to you and you assumed you’d be stupid to pass up a comfortable and lucrative in-house counsel position in a well funded company everyone had just started buzzing about. 

It also helps that the founder of said company is someone you’ve known for long enough you have seen him shuffle through several life phases. 

Needless to say the job hasn’t been what you expected it to be since saying yes though, sifting through a bankers box full of Manila envelopes, muttering aloud about all the shit you need to get done and the severe lack of hours in the day. 

“The journalist hasn’t sent back her NDA yet,” you remark and he hums. He knows exactly the pretty little pink haired thing you’re mentioning and he smirks thinking about how easily he pulled her apart in a penthouse suite 8 blocks away a few nights ago but his attention is drawn back to the present when you slam a stack of papers in front of him. 

“Your brother’s company doesn’t even have in-house counsel.”

Sukuna arches a brow, sitting back in his chair and slamming his feet on the desk. You don’t even jump, perhaps too used to his antics after only a couple months of working for him. It’s not like he was a stranger to start with, the senior you helped through your sophomore Contracts course remembering you fondly for your plucky demeanor and willingness to fight when necessary. 

You simply remember him as a smooth talking asshole who charmed you into doing his coursework successfully but he signs your checks so you keep your assessments of his character to yourself as often as possible. 

“How do you know what’s going on at Yuji’s company? Are you a mole?”

A snort is your response and you toss him a glance from over your glasses, one he knows means he’s treading in dangerous territory. Tossing down one of the near bursting envelopes in your hand, you pick up your phone and grimace at the text lighting up the screen. 

Toge: maki wants 2 eat w u at some point this millennium - her words

Rolling your eyes, you text back and Sukuna watches with a grin, wondering what in the world could have you so irritated on your phone. 

“That’s not Gojo is it?”

You scoff again and add nothing further, continuing to focus on your phone despite the second last message Toge sent you containing a link to a headline showing off the man just mentioned wining and dining a pretty dark haired woman across the world last night. 

Quickly, you type a reply to Toge’s message to send the bubble with the news article further out of your periphery.

You: are you guys together? where are you?

“It’s my assistant reminding me to eat since I don’t get a spare second to do it working for you,” you finally remark, locking your phone with a wince. 

You try to pretend you’re too good to be affected by the latest news of Satoru’s careless public hookups but you did lock yourself in the executive bathroom to cry at your own reflection for 45 minutes earlier so you opt for silence rather than digging the hole any deeper. 

Why you care in the first place is beyond you, the two of you only ever orbiting around one another, no serious groundwork for anything beyond neutrality laid. You can’t help who you’re attracted to, though, and while there’s no use in lamenting that you’re nobody to the man you can at least sit down and dye your hair a shade darker to pretend he’d be interested next time you get the chance. 

Sukuna pulls you out of the hole your mind is in, swinging back and forth in his chair, making it squeal with each quarter turn and further annoying you.  

“When’s the last time you went out and did anything besides look at paperwork and smoke with the window cracked? You look like shit.”

The expression on your face is priceless, shifting to glare at your boss while he snickers to himself and shrugs, knuckles wrapped around his opposite bicep. 

“Yuji’s party is the last time I went out.”

Well over a month ago. Sukuna whistles lowly, still shifting idly in his chair. 

“I’m just saying maybe you need more than just a bite to eat to feel better. Text your ex or something, didn’t he just get surgery? He’s probably at home.”

The mention of Shigeo, baseball star, makes you exhale as loudly as possible and throw down another envelope. He’s the last person you want to hear about, given you broke his heart just over six months ago, admitting you didn’t see yourself marrying him when he asked about a shared future for the two of you. He’s sweet, he’s wonderful, he’s a good man but he isn’t your forever man and finally, anger makes your face flush and feel warm, your boss successfully making his way under your skin.

“Don’t you have illicit substances to snort out of someone’s asshole?” You look away and mutter under your breath, much to the amusement of the man watching each irritated step you take. “What are you even doing here anyway? It’s after hours.”

Sukuna takes his feet off of the desk and leans forward on his elbows, sucking his teeth. He isn’t sure why he’s here, actually. Perhaps he’s partied out and tired of hosting giggling girls with nothing better to do than hang on his every word or maybe he wants to look over his kingdom without prying eyes judging his every mood. Both of these are a little true but above all, part of him holds the tiniest bit of fondness for you. At least enough that he’s concerned you’re overworking yourself. 

“Go out tonight. All this shit will be here tomorrow and I’m sure I’ll give you even more to deal with by the time the sun is up again.”

You sigh and look down at your phone, screen lighting up as another message from your personal assistant comes through. 

Toge: den, just sat down. ordered you vodka soda.

“Fine but let your little pink princess know that if her NDA isn’t in by next week I’m going to sit there and watch you two fuck to make sure nothing gets out.”

Sukuna hums, brows raised. 

“I always knew you were a freak.” You roll your eyes and he chuckles, standing up from his chair and letting it roll back far enough it bumps against the glass floor to ceiling window behind it. “You’re one of those girls who wears really sexy underwear but never lets anyone see them, right?”

Tucking documents into a box, you snarl. He’s not 

flirting, he's making nasty observations as he is known to do. He has known you for long enough he feels extremely comfortable doing so and you can hardly argue with him. Who cares even if he is right? You’re a grown woman with a lucrative career and life, if you wanna wear 50,000 yen silk panties that’s your business.

“That’s more than enough out of you.” Another document tucked and you approach Sukuna, looking up at him with your mouth in a line. “I’ll be in by 10 tomorrow. Don’t fuck my night up.”

He nods, holding his hands up in a gesture of mild surrender. 

“I’m serious about the NDA too. I’ll meet with her if you want but I won’t promise to be nice about it.”

Your boss scoffs but smirks.

“You’re always too nice, that's why you don’t have it yet but I’ll talk to her.”

Nodding, you acquiesce, uninterested in arguing while you tie your coat closed. Your phone lights up again and you look down at the message with a groan.

Toge: ice melting…👎🏻

“I mean it, Sukuna Itadori. I do not want to hear a single report of bad behavior in the morning.”

The only person allowed to still call him his family name is you and you turn on your heel, stilettos clacking across the marble floor with each step. 

“Whatever you say, boss.”

His sly remark makes you toss another look over your shoulder while opening the office door but the buzz of your phone catches your attention instead. 

Maki: If you aren’t here in 15 I’m dragging you out of that building myself.

Knowing she means it, you stiffen and rush to leave. 

“No drama, Sukuna!” 

You shout over your shoulder and he chuckles, opening his own phone and scrolling to the contact for the pretty little pink princess he hopes to have back between his jaws tonight. 

[glxssylaufey]

hello! i hope you are still taking requests!

can i request a oneshot with tom hiddleston where him and the reader are a already a couple and they into a pillow & tickle fight then it turns into a smut? (i rlly love fics with fluff to smut) you may use these prompts that i found!

"quit stealing all the pillows!"

"stop that! i'm ticklish!"

"can i kiss you?"

"i want you right now."

"all mine."

i hope this isn't a lot, i just really love your fics and keep writing! 🦋

ahh thank you sm, i’m so glad you enjoy my writing, love! <3

AND OK THIS IS ADORABLE, you and tommy will always help each other wind down after a long day with cuddles and passion. i feel like he’d be super sweet and gentle with you all night and then he’ll start to get super playful and eventually… well you know. ;)

i hope this is what you were hoping for! enjoy! ❤️

staying in [tom hiddleston]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙. ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙. ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

summary: tom hiddleston x fem!reader ; you and your loving boyfriend enjoy a relaxing night at home with one another. little did you realize, the night was only just beginning.

warnings: smut (18+), minors DNI, very fluffy, swearing, fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, daddy kink, praise kink

a/n: my dearest apologies for the long wait! i hope you enjoy! requested by: @aestheticallyholland also, keep reading until the end to find my play on words for the title hehe

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙. ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙. ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The sweet aroma of freshly brewed tea swam through the house as you roamed back and forth in the kitchen. You elevated yourself onto your tippy-toes to retrieve two small cups from the tall cabinet. Seeing how the pair of cups sat neatly on the top shelf away from your reach, you let out a sigh. Of course, you knew who would be the only one tall enough in the house to reach that absurdly high shelving.

“Tom!” you shouted.

“Yes?” he called out from the next room.

“Come help me!” you exclaimed.

Tom was your darling boyfriend that you had met through a mutual friend. You still remember that night your friend dragged both you and Tom to that art museum with them. The both of you grew closer and closer with every conversation or text to where eventually you were inseparable. Even to this day, you smile remembering the day Tom asked you to be his.

“Someone needs rescuing?” Tom quips with a smile, striding into the kitchen. Yup. You had thought to yourself. If anyone would have legs long enough to reach the top shelf, it’s definitely him.

“Absolutely!” you say, playing along. “I don’t know how I’d ever survive if I don’t get my cup of tea right this instance.”

Tom laughs and walks past you to effortlessly pick the two teacups from the cabinet and place them in your hands.

“My lady.” he says with a wink. You giggle.

“Oh, my hero.” you fake a swoon before setting the china cups on the counter. As you being pouring you and your beloved a cup of tea, you feel his body press against your back gently.

His long arms snake around your waist to pull you closer into him. You feel his lips press into your neck, pecking kisses all over your skin.

“The movie is starting, you know.” Tom informs you. You hum slightly, feeling his lips form a smile in the nape of your neck.

“Well, you wanted tea, mister.” you laughed, turning to present him with his cup. “Ta-da!” you exclaim, making Tom chuckle.

“Oh, what would I do without you?” he sighs, taking the cup into his hands before leaning down to press a kiss into your forehead. You smile before going to reach for you own cup.

“Hm, I don’t know. Brew your own tea?” you joke, taking a small sip. “Needs more honey.” you say, turning around and placing the cup onto the surface. Tom rolls his eyes dramatically, setting his cup on the counter.

“And I need your company.” he states slyly. Before you could question what he meant, Tom scoops you into his arms causing a squeal to escape your lips.

“Thomas!” you giggle as he starts carrying you bridal style into the living room. “You wanted tea!”

“Yes but I’m afraid I’ll go crazy if you spend another second away from me.” Tom laughs, placing you down onto the couch. He then quickly crawls on top of you to press open mouthed kisses into your neck once more.

“I was only gone for ten minutes!” you claim.

“Exactly.” he laughs. “You’re incredibly slow.”

“Hey!” you say, grabbing a pillow to playfully wack Tom in the side with. He turns to look at you with a devilish smile.

“Oh, you’ll regret that!” he exclaims before lunging at you to tickle you, causing you to burst out into tears of laughter.

“Tom! Stop that! I’m ticklish!” you laugh uncontrollably, trying to push him off you.

“Don’t mess with the God of Mischief, darling!” he says, before attacking your neck again with nips and pecks, his hands still mercilessly tickling at your sides.

Hooking your legs around his slim waist, you jump and pounce on Tom, sending him onto his back. You pin his arms above his head, looking into his crystal blue orbs.

“Or what?” you tease, raising an eyebrow. Tom stare deeply into your eyes, taking note of how stunning you appeared above him. Tom allows his head to fall back ontoo the couch, letting him lay completely under your touch.

After a moment of breath, Tom begins to grin. You watch as his piercing eyes rake over your form.

“What is it?” you ask softly. Tom brings his gaze back to your eyes and sighs joyfully.

“You’re just so beautiful.” he whispers, causing you to blush. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, looking up at you with pleading eyes. You couldn’t bare to resist him any longer.

With your grip still locked on Tom’s wrists, you bow your head to connect your lips with his. As the kiss deepens, you feel him slip his tongue into your mouth, making you moan in pleasurable surprise.

Tom begins to slowly sit up, allowing you to slide further into his lap. You move your hands from his wrists to cup his face while his arms drop to his side. You then feel Tom’s hands slither up your legs to caress your thighs, making you squirm. When the kiss breaks, his eyes are immediately connected with yours.

“Already writhing under my touch, Y/N?” he questions quietly. You blush, looking away in embarrassment.

“No, darling. You know better.” he corrects you, brings his fingers under your chin to lead your face back to in front of his. “Never be ashamed of the pleasure I give you.” he says before bringing you into another kiss. This one was shorter. You disconnected from his lips quickly to speak, still tasting him on your tongue.

“Tommy…” you whisper, your voice almost cracking.

“Hm?” he hums.

“T-the movie.” Is all you could trust yourself to say. You feel him groan against your skin, his hands traveling up your spine to rub soothing circles over your back.

“That can wait. I want you right now.” he insisted. His suggestive words go right to your core as you begin to feel yourself become wet. One of his hands then slowly drop to the bottom of your shirt. He takes the fabric and slowly begins to move it upwards.

“May I?” Tom asks kindly.

“Please.” you whisper, lifting your arms to allow him to undress you. Tom gently discards your shirt onto the floor before removing his own, revealing his broad shoulders and long torso.

You place your hands on Tom’s chest to feel his bare skin against yours, allowing you to feel closer to him. You then press small kisses across his chest while you sneak your hand down to undo Tom’s belt. Though he was swift to stop you.

“Ah, ah. Ladies first, my love.” he tells you as he grabs your hands to halt their movements. He lifts you up slightly to place you flat onto your back on the couch. You sigh in pleasure as you feel Tom kiss his way from your neck down to your clothed breasts.

Both his hands travel up your stomach to knead your breasts through your bra. You groan, relishing in your boyfriend’s praising touch. One of his hands snake towards the back of your bra, skillfully unclasping the straps. Once the lacy fabric falls, Tom’s eyes roamed all over you body with want and hunger. He took note of how the cool air hit your nipples, causing them to harden for him. Tom hums in appreciation, gently pawing at your tits.

“You’re so stunning.” he says in pure awe. He lowers his head down to capture one of your firm nipples into his hot mouth. He sucks on it gently, making you arch your back into his mouth. Your head falls back as he returns the same attention to your other nipple. You weave your fingers through Tom’s light and wavy locks, giving them a tug every so often. His warm and wet tongue felt heavenly in comparison to the chilled room. His teeth grazed your sensitive flesh, making you buck your hips up into him. You were absolutely craving that friction.

“P-please Tom, I need more.” you whisper. Tom glances at you before giving you a devious smile.

“As you wish.” he says simply before sinking down the couch further towards your burning heat. His hands follow, gently caressing down your bare tummy to the band of the pair of sweatpants you had worn for the night in. 

Tom then hooks his fingers in the hem of your pants before looking up at you for your approval with his puppy dog eyes. Although this was not the first time you and Tom had been intimate with one another, you still felt safe and comforted whenever Tom asked your permission for anything and everything. You soften your eyes and give him a soft nod. Tom’s smile grows impossibly wider before he places one last final kiss on your stomach right bellow your belly button.

He removes both your pants and panties in one swift movement, tossing them near by your shirt. Tom takes in the sight of your glistening pussy, ready to be touched. He brings his thumb down onto your sensitive clit, rubbing small circles into your body. You moan out in ecstasy upon feeling his fingers finally touch your needy body.

“Mmm.” Tom practically growls, admiring the sight of your bare cunt. “All mine.” he whispers. With no further warning, Tom dives into your warmth, devouring your dripping pussy.

“Oh, fuck!” you mewl out, arching your back off the couch. This spurs on Tom, his clever tongue beginning to work faster.

You pull at his hair, causing him to moan into your pussy. He ate you like a man starved, his talented tongue licking up every last drop of your sweet juice. You grind yourself onto face, his hands giving your thighs a gentle squeeze before he lifts up his head once again.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and make a mess of my face, Y/N?” he asks in that delicious british accent of his. “Do you want my fingers?” he questions.

“Yes! Yes please, may I please take your fingers into my pussy?” you moan out. Tom smiles against you before pushing a single digit into you. Your moans echo through the house as Tom quickens his pace. He’s quick to find your sweet spots, causing you to push yourself further down onto his fingers.

“You are hugging me so tightly, Darling. I think I ought to stretch you out.” he whispers sinfully before adding in another finger. Once they settle deep inside you he scissors his fingers inside of you ever so slightly.

“Thank you!” you cry. “Your fingers feel amazing, daddy.” you say. Tom grins, his fingers starting to pump in and out of you. He hits your g spot perfectly, making you impossibly wetter.

“I can feel how close you’re growing.” he claims, looking up into your eyes with darkness. “Go ahead, love, cum for me. Show me how much you love my fingers.”

“Yes, daddy! I’m cumming!” you moan. With that, the coil in your stomach snapped with intense pleasure, the wave of your orgasm rushing over you completely.

Tom’s fingers slowed to let you ride out your high. Once his fingers stilled, he pressed one last kiss to your clit before slipping his soaked digits from your sopping pussy.

“Look at this mess you’ve made.” Tom says with a devilish smile. “Go ahead, my girl. Clean it up.” he tells you before bringing his dripping fingers to your mouth. You open obediently, moaning once you taste yourself on the thickness of his fingers.

Your tongue swipes and rolls around his fingers as you made sure to suck on them for good measure. Tom watched you intently, his teeth bared and mouth slightly open while he sighed deeply.

“Fuck, I love you.” he said breathlessly before bringing your face in to kiss him. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting all of you at once. Once this kiss broke, he immediately brought his lips down to your breasts.

“May I make you feel even better?” he pleads with a gentle tone, his eyes asking you for permission to bed you. “Please, Y/N, let me take you.” he whispers into your ear while his hands continued to massage your sides and hips.

As he sucked marks and hickies into your skin you moaned slightly at the sensation of his talented mouth.

“Oh, Tom! Yes! You make it feel so good.” you whisper, your head dizzy with euphoria. Tom stops to glance up at your eyes with a smile.

“Please, I need you.” you nod with a whine.

“Don't worry, my dear. I'm here to keep you happy." he reassures you with a sweet tone. After pecking one last kiss onto your belly, Tom sits up onto his knees to unfasten his belt buckle. The sound of metal clanking filled the room as you continued to watch him.

Once Tom dropped his jeans along with his boxers, you witnessed his hard cock spring into action and bob up and down obscenely. You could feel yourself practically salivating over the delicious sight of his twitching member. You could spot a small pearl of precum leaking from his red and angry tip. Tom must've caught you staring because he chuckled to himself, snapping you out of your daydreaming.

“See something you like, love?” he leases, his voice smooth and deep. You nod eagerly, sitting up to allow yourself a better view of your godly boyfriend.

“Mm, yes sir.” you hum, giving him a wink. “This view just might be even better than that plump backside of yours.” you teased, making Tom scoff with a smile.

“What a tease.” he laughs before, hooking his hands on each of your thighs to yank you closer to him. Your wet entrance pressed against the tip of his cock, causing you to moan out from the sudden contact.

“Do you want me, Y/N?” he asks, placing his hands on either side of your head to position himself above you.

“Always.” you say truthfully.

“Show me.” he requests.

After a brief pause, you give him a mischievous smirk. You quickly wrap your legs around his waist and pushed your heels into his lower back, forcing his cock to slide inside of you.

You and Tom both throw your heads back in a moan, flooding in the passion you had for one another. Tom pulled your body closer to his so he was completely flush against you, his cock nestled deep inside your pussy. He could feel you pulsing around him, begging him to move.

“You are perfection, fuck!” Tom moaned out as he pulled out completely only to slam back inside you. Your back arches off the couch due to the snap in his hips.

“Yes! Thank you, daddy!” you cry. “Oh, yes, p-please make me cum, daddy, please.” you babbled on, his body driving you near insanity.

“Shh, shh, relax. I’ll get you there, it’s alright.” he whispered before leaning down to gently kiss a tear that had fallen down your cheek. “Now be a good girl and let the whole neighborhood know exactly who is making you feel this damn good.”

With that, Tom set a merciless pace of harsh thrusts against your softness. The sound of skin slapping skin flooded the room, quickly followed by Tom’s grunts and your moans.

“Fuck, Tom, feels so good! Please don’t stop!” you moan, wrapping your arms around his strong neck for leverage.

“Believe me baby, I wouldn’t dream of it.” he grunted, hips still rolling deep into you. You could feel every ridge and vein rubbing inside your walls, hitting places inside of you that you didn’t even know existed.

Your nails dug into his broad shoulders, making him hiss into your ear in bliss. His thrusts began to falter, signaling that he was getting close. You pull yourself closer to Tom, wrapping your legs around his strong hips even tighter.

Tom settles from his hands down to rest on his forearms, connecting his chest with your own. You could feel his rapid heartbeat against your sweaty chest as he lowered his head to kiss you.

You bring one of your hands to tangle into his dark blonde locks, deepening the kiss. You both moan into each other’s mouths, adoring the feeling of being so deeply connected to each other. With one particularly hard thrust, you scream in ecstasy when his dick ruts into your g spot. Tom smirks into your neck, knowing he just found the spot. His thrusts quicken, being sure to hit that spot deep inside you every time.

“Fuck! Oh fuck, daddy, I’m close!” you cry. “Please let me cum, I’ve been such a good girl for you, daddy!” your filthy words fill Tom’s ears, making him growl.

“Not yet, darling. Hold on just a little longer.” he gasps, his thrusts becoming sloppier. You knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

“T-Tom, please!” You feel yourself tighten around him, making Tom moan and give one last sharp thrust before spilling inside you.

“Fuck yes, Y/N, cum!” he moans, his cock stilled in your pussy. You scream, the coil in your tummy snaps, making your orgasm flood over his cock. You could feel Tom’s warm seed fill you up, making you gasp in pleasure. Once the room fell still again, so did Tom. He gently lowered himself onto you, careful not to crush you with his weight. You hugged him close to your bare front, rubbing his shoulders and back to soothe the red marks you had clawed into him. The two of you panted in the now silent room, recovering from your highs. You feel Tom begin to move to remove his now softening cock from your pussy. You quickly cease his movement by stopping his hips with your hand.

“Wait, please.” you whisper. Tom stops, afraid he hurt you, his worried eyes snapping to meet yours.

“Are you okay? Have I hurt you?” he asks, frantic. You place your hand on his cheek to calm his nerves.

“Shh, I’m okay... I just… miss you being this close.” you say, hugging him once more. “Can we stay like this just a little longer? Please, just stay inside me tonight.” you ask tiredly, certain you were already drifting off.

Tom smiles, and presses a lingering kiss into your temple before resting to cuddle you with his cock nestled inside you.

“Anything for you, my love. I’ll stay in tonight.”

[quirklessidiot]

Title: coward :: pretty girl Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: : In which you finally meet the perfect girlfriend of Miya Atsumu and he starts to slowly accept the fact that whatever happened between you two is long gone (or is it?)

authors note: 

here to give my thanks again, literally feels so surreal with how much love this story is getting despite the angst sjjsdjsjd i-

also ive released the prologue for my first ever smau! its a more lighthearted one compared to this one between sakusa and an older gn!reader, if you’re into that check it out here uwu

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You’ve never actually seen Miya Atsumu and his girlfriend.

This was your first time today during Sugawara’s house party, Daiki had forced you to go and insisted that the three of them needed to have their manly bonding time (it actually only consisted of stuffing themselves with junk food and watching shounen animes), “...Also don’t you want to bond out with your ex-boyfriend that you chose over me? I’m hurt, I didn't know you like fake blonde volleyball players.” he fake-sniffled, in which you replied with an arched brow.

You didn’t know how he ended up knowing about Atsumu, you were expecting a talk from him but he simply shrugs it off and says, “No matter how much I tell you that you should tell him, you won’t listen. So I won’t bother wasting my breath, just know that you’re being selfish by denying these boys the right to have a father and you're denying that blonde shrimp to be a dad too.” 

“Y/N-san, I’m surprised you came!” Sugawara grins.

“Daiki took charge of the kids.” You replied, fiddling with the keys in your hand.

“He looks very reliable.” the teacher exclaims, handing you a drink in which you completely deny because you weren’t very good with alcohol, “You guys would make a great couple!”

“Oh,” You voiced, you were very familiar with those words, many people had always thought you and Daiki would make a good pair. It was definitely a shock to many when they found out you were pregnant and that the basketball player was not the father despite being there most of the times, “I’ve never seen him that way.”

“He did mention that, he even openly confessed to Miya-san that he’s jealous of how he was your first boyfriend.”

You choked on your saliva, that fucking sly bastard-

“Anyways, make yourself comfortable! I have to go say hi to my old friends from college!” he exclaims, patting your shoulder. You immediately turn around to find Miya Atsumu cozying up with a beautiful girl in his arms.

Ah, that must’ve been the beautiful model with legs for days.

“You’re kind of staring.” comes a very familiar voice.

You want to roll your eyes but you decided against it, “I didn’t know you and Sugawara-san were close, Inunaki-san.” you greeted your annoying senior.

“Suga-san’s a friend to the whole team…” he grins, “Also, I’m just here to warn you that Osamu might be here later, he’s not as nice as Atsumu towards you.”

“You don’t have to remind me.” 

“Come to think of it,” Shion Inunaki paused, tapping his chin in deep thought, “Atsumu still follows you around like a lost puppy. He’s been spending his off days with you instead of his girlfriend. I’m actually surprised he even brought her here today.”

“What are you implying?” You reply, feigning ignorance.

“Ah, L/N-san. I love how you still don’t care about my kohai’s feelings up till now.” He grinned, sarcasm oozing out of his sentence.

“Don’t be silly.” You glazed,“What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.” he turns to you, hand on his hip, “Even I don’t get why he’s so into you after all this time and the shit you put him through. He’s got someone better in front of him. Physical looks and emotionally speaking, Ri-chan’s a whole lot better than you… No offense…”

You knew he was rubbing salt to the injury but you couldn’t really bring yourself to argue with him, after all, he was right at the most part (you technically considered yourself as the big bad villainous ex in Atsumu’s life) 

“You sound like those girls who used to threaten me back then when I was dating Miya-san.” You replied coolly, Inunaki even notices the amusement dripping in your tone, it's as if he hadn’t insulted you right at the face and called you a lesser being, “It’s almost pathetic.”

You ended up on the balcony right after, so much for trying to socialize, who were you kidding? It’s good you manage to escape the scene before Osamu could see you there, you couldn’t handle Inunaki and the grey-haired twin together. Thank god that Aran wasn’t around the area.

“Figured you’d be here.”

You turn to find the one and only source of all your problems these days, Miya Atsumu, you narrow your eyes in annoyance, “You should leave, people will get the wrong idea.” You simply replied, “I’m not in the mood to be in the middle of that.”

“I just came here because I wanted to apologize about that night with your brat.” the blonde casually leans against the doorway, “It was my fault for riling him up.”

“Yuuto has a temper, he’s more of his otosan than me.” 

“What was he like?”

“Who?”

“The bastard that you miss, those brats father…”

You tilt your head and press your lips together, surprised by his choice of words, “Special.” you openly-confessed as you gaze at the very man in front of you. Oh, the irony of it all. 

How you wish it was that easy to let go of all your fears and anxiety, if you had told him six years ago about your pregnancy, would your life probably be different? What if you told him now? How would he feel?

“He’s lucky,” he admits, gaze fixed on you, “I mean - other than the part that he died  - he was a lucky guy, Y/N.”

It dawned upon you that moment that this had been the first conversation you had with your ex that held no hatred, malice, or anger. He seemed to be slowly accepting the fact that you wanted to do nothing with him. Like you, he had no choice but to move on.

“ ‘Tsumu! What the fuck you moping around alone for up there? You got a girlfriend here!” Osamu calls down from below. You both snap back to reality at his brother's voice, “Guess that’s my cue to leave, I’ll see you around, Y/N.” he uttered softly and as he turned away, you suddenly spoke out.

“I’m sorry.” He freezes in place, somehow this apology seemed different than the rest, “I know I’ve said that a lot these past few weeks and that night but I want you to know that every apology was genuine. I just, I’m not very-”

“I know.” He suddenly turns to you, the very familiar and warm grin that you're accustomed to decorates his features and you feel like its that night in fall and you're back in college again, “I guess I was so wrapped up in wanting to get an emotion out of you that I hadn’t  realized, it’s not you if you did that. You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

You feel your insides clamp and your lips tremble lightly, you feel the air turn heavy around you. How is that he was always the one pulling the strings and doing all the work between you two? How could he forgive you this easily?

“Don’t be silly.What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.” 

“I’m proud that you’re trying hard for your kids though,” He chuckles, “Those brats are lucky they get to see all sides of you everyday.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.” you muttered, watching his figure walk away and vanish in the dark, leaving you all alone in the night of spring.

“...I now pronounce you husband and wife…”

You stare at your father and his new wife looking at each other with complete love and adoration, something you never saw when you were growing up. It sickened you to the point that you turn slightly pale and feel the bile on your throat rise. You watch them exit the church as sakura petals fall, the idea of a picture perfect wedding and happily ever after like the fairytale books you used to scorn when you were a child.

You loathed it.

He even had the audacity to invite you and your mother. She ended up not going and was probably drowning herself in cheap saki at home.

You sat at the back during the reception, along with the people who were not exactly ‘close’ to the bride-groom. You feel like an utter fool, why were you even here? You should’ve gone home or attended that stupid party and get stupid drunk with people you barely knew like your mother.

Yeah, that’s right.

You’d rather be there than here.

“Ah,” you hear a glass clink, you saw one of your dad’s friends stand up, ready to make a speech, “First off, I’d like to congratulate my friend. Finally!” laughter resonates throughout the room but you don’t follow suit, instead, you hold onto the wine glass tightly as if you don’t like where this was going, “I know how unhappy you were back then but ever since you met Yui-chan, your life seemed to have become better. I could never be more proud!”

You could feel yourself getting sicker by the moment, especially after you heard the words you dreaded to hear the most, “Let’s not make anymore mistakes shall we?” he jokes.

All you could see was red right after, grabbing your clutch on the table as you made a haste exit. Was this the reason he invited you? To shove it on your face that you were a mistake made?

That you shouldn't have been born?

You ended up breaking a heel and tripping on your own feet soon after, shakily, you adjust your posture and sat at the concrete for a few moments, trying to gather yourself but desperately failing, "I didn't… I didn't ask to be born too, you know?" You murmured to yourself bitterly.

You let it all out, it shouldn't have hurt to be called a mistake. You were an adult already for crying out loud! Yet when they toss that word around like it was nothing especially at that wedding, you feel like you're eight years old again and you're hearing your own mother curse at you for being born into this world, the harsh words she said were as clear as the day, "if you probably hadn't been born, we would've been happier. We'd have better lives, Y/N. So don't go around and cry and think you got it bad, you hear me? Your sadness is nothing compared to ours. It's nothing, Y/N. So stop being ungrateful."

You ended up at the frat house that night, people would occasionally glance at your disheveled state but you just downed the alcohol, ignoring their stares as usual  and when you get a text from your mother asking why you left the wedding so early in such a manner, you feel the pent-up emotions bubbling within you again. 

Blocking her number and taking one last swig of the cheap vodka in your hands, you head up to one of the rooms upstairs. You hold it all in well, you don't want to showcase such things to strangers.You feel the alcohol and emotion about to hit you when you open a door that you thought would be your safe space for the next ten minutes but you're immediately greeted by two people on the bed, ready to hit it off and have a good time.

"O-Oh sorry… I-Wrong room...” you stammered, lips quivering and small tears escaping since you couldn't hold it in anymore.You immediately bolted out the door, So much for sobering up and crying by yourself for ten minutes, you might as well call Daiki, maybe he was available-

“Hey! Y/N!” a very familiar and a very unexpected voice calls out your name on the quiet street.

You hesitantly turn only to find your project partner and classmate standing there, a bit out of breath as if he had just squeezed through the very crowded party in a hurry, you're confused by his actions. You weren’t exactly close? What was he doing?

“Hey.” he softly says, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket to hand it to you. You hesitantly look at it and take it from his grasp as you try to get rid of the runny mascara. You're taken aback by his kind actions so far, although he had always been nice and tried to make conversations with you, you weren’t exactly very participative and it had always been one-sided on his part. 

When he suddenly stopped talking to you recently, you didn’t bother to initiate anymore because you didn’t want to get more involved with people like him.  It’s not like he was a bad person, per say, he just had such a loud presence that made everyone stop and stare. You weren’t exactly a big fan of those kinds of people (save for daiki since you grew up with him)

“Come on, Y/N.” the blonde sighs, taking off his jacket to place it on you, “Let's take you home.”

"You don't have to."

"You look like shit, Y/N. I’m not takin' no for an answer" Atsumu points out forwardly, "Actually, before we head home lets disinfect that wound, yeah?"

"Miya-san, I-" you tried to tell him you were fine but he didn’t seem to be having it.

"Atsumu." He corrects, despite his forwardness and brash attitude, you know he means well, "You let me call you by your first name so please don't call me Miya-san, sounds fuckin weird coming from ya."

You're thankful that he doesn't pry or ask questions about why you looked like this. He just mumbles throughout your whole journey that you shouldn't wear heels when you can't even walk on them.You also start to notice the slight accent from his tone when he got annoyed by your insistence that you were alright, you had always thought that he was a city boy with the way he carried himself.

When you arrive at the drugstore, he pays for the necessities himself despite you protesting again and even buys you a sugar-free treat on top of that, "You said you were diabetic one time." He shrugs off as he lets you sit on the concrete steps.

“Oh,” You faltered, “You remembered.”

“It’s one of the few things you said. You don’t talk to me that much so it's not hard to remember the things you say.”

“Sorry.” You tried to apologize, brows furrowed in deep thought and the only reply you got was a gleeful laughter from the blonde setter.

“You don’t really mean that do you?” he observed but he didn't look insulted by it at all, instead he seemed amused by it, “Don’t sweat it, Y/N. My twin told me I could be an annoying shit at times.”

“No,” you mused, “Not at all, you’re not annoying.”

Atsumu stares at you right in the eye, his corners crinkling just a bit as the amused smile never leaves his features, you’re starting to like it when you see him smile that way, it reminded you a lot of the youth you craved for, the problematic-free youth that you wanted and wished, “Is it safe to say that you don’t mind my company?” he guessed.

“Well, you’re here now and I haven’t left you.” 

He doesn’t reply,  instead he bends down to your level and takes the antiseptic and band-aids from your hands. Before you could object, the setter dabs it on your wound and as you seethe quietly in pain, he blows on it. You’re getting more and more perplexed by his actions tonight especially with the words he says next, “I may not be close with you to know what happened tonight but I hope I made you feel a little bit better, Y/N.” 

The next time you see the professional volleyball player is at work,You’re tasked to send out some documents to your boss again and it just so happens they’re wrapping up the shoot for the advertisement at the studio.

Something’s different now. 

After your little talk with him at the terrace, the air around you doesn’t feel tight, your anxiety around him seems to decrease, and your feet doesn’t get cold anymore. Of course, Inunaki would throw in a jab or insult but you took it like a good sport and didn’t bother with him.

“Ah, L/N-san! How are the boys?” Hinata jumps up and down excitedly as he sees you enter the studio, you still couldn’t get used to this big (small) bundle of energy.

“They’re doing fine, Hinata-san.” 

“Oho, L/N-san, you’re looking better these days.” Inunaki teased, you gave him a brief nod and just ignored the jab, Atsumu slaps his seniors back in retaliation, “You’re not the one she broke up with Inu-san.” he joked, “Hey L/N-san.”

“Miya-san.” You greeted.

“Does Yuuto still want to skewer me like a kebab?”

“He feels sad that he wasn’t able to say sorry to you before you left.” You replied, a hint of amusement laced on your tone as you recalled Yuuto frowning on the dinner table the night before because Sugawara had informed the club members that Hinata and Atsumu wouldn’t be visiting as much because training was about to start.

“Shame, wanted to see that brat say sorry too.” He let out a grin, your conversation is cut short though when a new presence joins the room.

“Oh, Riku-chan!” Inunaki calls out.

You lick your dry lips as you see the very beautiful and tall raven-haired woman approach you, wow, Miya Atsumu outdid himself with this one. You recalled her being on Vogue magazine once and on tv a few times as a fashion model of an underwear brand.

“Oh, hey babe.” Atsumu greets, you note how stiff he became. He probably thought this would be an uncomfortable situation. The woman, unlike you, was very open with her affection. She gave him a brief kiss on his jaw.

Hinata greets her and you’re left wondering if you should excuse yourself before you could make Atsumu more uncomfortable by your presence but Inunaki, being an asshole, decides to make the choice for you, “L/N-san, this is Miyazaki Riku! I’m sure you know her, she’s a supermodel!” he introduces you to her.

“Good day.” You greet the model.

She tilts her head slightly, “Have we met before? You look very familiar.”

“She was my kohai back in Uni and Atsumu’s classmate!” Inunaki grins, patting your back, you hold back a glare since you didn’t want to make it more awkward than it was.

“Oh?” she chirped, immediately letting go of Atsumu’s hand, she grabbed onto yours, “What was he like? I bet he was so cool and chic back then too!”

Chic and Cool?

Memories of a rather clumsy and corny Miya Atsumu in college slowly wormed its way to your head and out of nowhere, you burst into a low chuckle. Inunaki was startled by the sudden reaction and Atsumu feels his insides mush up when he hears that very rare sound, “Yeah,” you croaked, shortly after recovering from your small laugh, “Definitely chic and cool.”

“That’s so cool! I definitely want to hear stories about you back in college, baby!”

“Maybe some other time,” you voice is back to its smooth and cool tone, realizing that you needed to leave from this uncomfortable conversation and start your job, “I have to finish up my work here and get home early.”

“That’s a shame, I could definitely tell you guys were close.” a frown tugs her lips as she notices how quick you were to say goodbye to her, “Bye, L/N-san!”

After that rather dry and one-sided enthusiastic conversation, you finish your work quickly and Daiki messages you just in time that he and the boys would pick you up, you say your goodbyes to your director, the staff, and the volleyball team. You don’t notice the lingering gaze of Atsumu as you left nor do you notice Inunaki telling him that he’s got his girlfriend right in front of him and he shouldn’t look your way.

They shortly wrap up right after and they’re ready to go home. After deciding that they’d all grab a good meal together (much to sakusa’s dismay), Atsumu feels his mood lighten up as they exit the studio to see you standing there along with Yuuto, unwrapping his onigiri. As he’s about to call the brat to talk to him and even drop in to say hi to you, he sees a familiar tall figure emerge from the convenience store with Youta in his arms.

The blonde decides against it.

“...You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

He watches the interaction from afar and notes how easy it was for the man to interact with you, he even catches on an amused smirk from you as the man tries to tell you a joke, “Is that L/N-san?” he hears Riku ask, “I didn’t know she had a family, that’s so cute!”

Atsumu doesn’t really know what to say as he watches the domestic scene unfold in front of him, he was trying to move on, wasn’t he? Yet why can’t he look away? 

“Baby? You alright there? You’ve been staring at the empty space for a while.” Riku calls out, sounding a bit worried as she snaps him out of his daze. You were already gone, probably far off with that scrub and the brats.

“I’m good.” he tried to affirm himself, wishing it was true, “I’m good.”

taglist [closed]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi ;  @svtbitch  ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii ; @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @intoomuchfandoms ; @yammmers ; @mx-minxx @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan ; @volleybloop ; @imcravingyou ; @yams-wants-that-booty ; @liathachcapricious ; @pinknugget @seikamuzu ; @marigoldthoughts ; @sillykittt ; @baejinoffcl ; @alluring-akaashi ; @bnhasstuff ; @jungshookmeup ; @intheawks ; @bokuakadaily ; @agaassi​ ; @yams046​  ; @dope-squish​ ; @chrisrue15​ ; @vermillionwaves​ ; 

@misosamu  @Etherynaw  @ryaaaax @differentballooncollection @keniloveshaikyuu @allysasteaparty  [hi, i can’t seem to tag u guys, i think you need to open your tags uwu]

[slowlydrowningme]

Under the Bright but Faded Lights

Title: Under the Bright but Faded Lights

Rating: T

Word Count: 1546

Warnings: Description of kidnapping and injury, minor mentions of blood and violence

Pairing: Damian x fem!reader

Prompt:  18 and 22 for Damian Wayne x fem reader (Pinterest prompt lost #1) please! 

“You are weak with love for her.”

Notes: Apparently I have issues writing fics that are mostly the requested pair.  I don’t know how this turned into what it did, but there it is.  Fun fact: I started this fic three different ways before I settled on this one.  Good times.

Tags: @this-is-what-makes-us-fandoms

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things are fuzzy when you come back to your senses slowly.  The pain in your head isn’t surprising and neither is the wet, sticky feeling on the side of your head.  The cold is seeping into your skin through the material of your jeans where you’re sitting on the damp concrete, hands pulled above your head secured with chains if the clinking noise is anything to go by.  Your shoulders are sore and your ribs ache with each breath, but other than that you seem to be relatively unharmed.  The pounding headache was by far the worst part.

And it was made worse when you finally decided to open your eyes.

“Y/N…thank god.”

“Di-Nightwing?”  You can barely make out he outline of the man sitting across from you, but the voice and color scheme are unmistakable. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?” Blinking your vision clear, you try to remember the events leading up to that shadow appearing in your bedroom.

“Dinner with a friend,” you say in leu of saying Damian’s name because you don’t know who has you and what they know.  “A movie and then a walk home.”  It had been Damian’s night off and he had decided to take you on one of the most cliché dates ever because Dick had recommended it and you had found it amusing. He would do anything to see that lovesick smile on your face and the whole family (and you) knew it.

“Where did he grab you?”

“He?”

“Deathstroke.”  Well, damn.  “Where were you?”

“At home.  I had been there about ten minutes.”  The lenses of Nightwing’s mask closed and you knew he had drawn the same conclusion.  Long enough that Damian would have been well on his way home.  “But…I never sent the text.”

The text that you sent every night before slipping into bed and drifting off for the night.  The text that would be replied to immediately if Robin wasn’t patrolling.  The text that you would see the reply to when you woke up the next morning if he was. The text that was sent because you had once told Damian how your mother said her biggest regret was not getting the chance to tell your father she loved him one last time before he died in the car accident when you were ten.

“He’ll notice then.”

“Yeah,” you breath out, blinking slowly as your head starts to fog up again.  “How long have we been here?”

“Me, a couple of hours. You, maybe an hour tops.”  Damian would have definitely figured something out by now.  Whether he had figured it was foul play was still up in the air.

“Hey, N?”  You struggled to keep the slur out of your voice, but the startled look on his face told you that you had failed.  “I’m going to pass out again now.”

“Hey, no!  Y/N?!  You need to stay awake!”  Nightwing called out, but he already sounded like you were listening from underwater, so you knew it was a pointless cause at this point.

The next time you came to, you are still chained up but there’s the distinct sound of fighting in the room with you.  A gun shot going off pulls you out more quickly than the previous time.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance, kid,” the deep voice of Deathstroke, aka Slade Wilson, draws your attention to where he and Robin are engaged in a fight.  A quick glance reveals Nightwing is almost out of his manacles, tossing worried looks between the fighting pair and you.

“Y/N!”  Nightwing relaxes slightly in the shoulders when he notices your eyes are open again.  But that is short lived when another gun shot goes off and something sharp hits your cheek.  You flinch and gasp when the pain in your arms is brought back to your attention.  

You’re aware you haven’t been shot, but you definitely took some kind of shrapnel to the cheek and it stings. But it just serves to remind you of all the other aches and pains that have only gotten worse since your last bout of consciousness.

“Ow,” you muttered, blinking back the bite of tears.

“Jesus,” Nightwing swears, doubling his efforts to get out of his restraints.  It’s a moment later that both of his arms are falling to his sides and he’s crawling over to where you’re slouched.  But your eyes are on Robin and Deathstroke.  You had seen Damian fight plenty of times and every time you’re able to marvel at the terrifying beauty of it.  But he has a katana and Deathstroke is wielding his guns.  

“No, help him.  Help Robin,” you gasp out when Nightwing reaches up to pick the lock securing your hands above your head.

“No.  He’d never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t get you out of here first.”

“Please help him.” But you know your request is in vain because Nightwing is shaking his head and reaching above you still.  Your chest is tight with fear as you keep your eyes on Robin as he focuses on Deathstroke.

“The others are here,” Nightwing says quietly as you feel the grip around your wrists release and he’s gently guiding your arms down.  He’s careful with you, but you aren’t trained to compartmentalize the way they are and the pained cry escapes your dry, cracked lips.  There’s a flurry of movement when the others crash into the room and you flinch at the commotion before leaning into Nightwing as he shifts to protect you from what’s happening on the other side of the warehouse.  

“Get her out of here,” comes a growl that is sadly all too familiar these days and just, how did knowing Batman’s voice become your norm?  “Nightwing, now!”  The order is clear and Nightwing tenses with it but doesn’t argue.  Instead, he loops an arm under your legs and around your back, lifting you easily as he stood.  

“Leslie is waiting at the Cave.  Take mine.” Red Hood shoots Nightwing a glance over his shoulder before taking a shot at Deathstroke.  

You want to argue. You want to fight them all to get to Robin and make sure he’s okay, but the fog is coming back and you’re not certain how much longer you’ll be able to hang on.  But you fight it because Hood’s ride is a motorcycle and you’ll need to hang on for the ride to the Cave.

Thankfully, Nightwing seems to know you’ve only got a little bit left in you and straps you onto his back before you’re flying a breakneck speed to the hidden entrance.  But you’re out again before you enter and when you come back to the world, you’re laying on a bed in the med bay of the Cave and Damian is sitting next to you.  You hand, that doesn’t have an IV attached to it, is held tightly between both of his, his lips pressed to your knuckles as he watches you blink awake.  There’s no hiding the fear in his eyes, or the relief at seeing you awake, so you give him your best shot at a smile.

“Hey,” your voice is rough and you can guess that you’ve probably been out for a fair amount of time given the texture of it.

“Thank gods you’re all right,” he whispers in response, leaning forward and kissing your forehead. You close your eyes and hum in response. “I was so worried.  When you never sent the text,” he explained, leaning back to sit down again.  He kept his grip tight on your hand, placing his lips back to your knuckles.

“Slade?”

The darkened expression tells you all you need to know.  Escaped.

“What did he want?”  There had been no exchange between the two of you other than the butt of his gun connecting to the side of your head, so you couldn’t be certain outside of your connection to Robin.

“To make a point.  He failed.”

“He was never going to kill me or Dick, was he?”  Damian let out a snort and shook his head.

“No, he’s too fond of Grayson.  It’s disturbing.  I think he only takes him to prove he still can,” and wasn’t that disturbing.  But you were still glad that Damian’s oldest brother had been there to keep you calm and watch out for you.

“Dami?  What point was he trying to make?”  The question is quiet, and you’re worried about the answer, but you also know you need to hear it.

“You’re weak with love for her,” Slade ground out as he blocked a blow from Damian, throwing one of his own that was easily blocked by the other man.  “Your grandfather would be disgusted with how weak you are.”

“You are wrong.  I’m strong because of my love for her.  For all of them.  That is where my grandfather was wrong.”

“It doesn’t matter. He was wrong.”  The smile he gives you is enough to put out the fire of fear in your belly and when he releases your hand to place his hands on either side of your face so he can press his lips to yours sooths the remaining doubts.

“I love you, My Prince.”

“And I you, Beloved.”

[danni-dollarsign]

A Critical Look at “Pokemon: Sword and Shield” From a Casual’s Perspective...

A/N: Hey! if you’re reading this, then thank you! I don’t know why, but I thought to myself, “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool to write a pointless essay about a Pokemon game?” And then I realized today was the 1YR anniversary of SWSH, so I figured I might as well just do it! So even though I’m late and probably nobody will really care to read all this nonsense, I wrote it! If you’re interested in all the analyses of PKMN SWSH, but aren’t too invested in the technical mumbo-jumbo used by the more hardcore fans, then maybe you’ll enjoy this. 

Also, it’s worth mentioning that I’m literally just some rando on the internet saying my opinion. None of this should really be taken SUPER seriously - it’s mainly designed to provoke thought rather than try to argue any specific idea. So if I say something that you don’t agree with, you got two options: 1) Draft a constructive comment or DM to me and we can discuss calmly like adults, 2) shake your idea and ignore this. There’s really no need to get heated up over a video game essay, of all things, so let’s not do that lol. 

But other than that, yeah! If you’re interested in more stuff like this from me (in-depth analyses of Pokemon games from the perspective of a low-key casual), lemme know! I’d love to chat with anyone about this awesome series.

So, without any further ado, let’s get into the essay (warning: it’s like ~8k words).

Introduction...

Welcome to the wonderful world of Pokemon! Love it or hate it, Pokemon has had a huge impact on popular culture in countless countries in a number of different ways, sparking memes, dreams, and happiness everywhere! It holds a very special place in my heart - Pokemon was a game that I got to share with my two older siblings, was one of the first fandoms I got into, and was a big reason as to why I grew to love creative writing so much after writing a couple fanfictions for the games. I’ve been playing Pokemon ever since my brother gave me a copy of Pokemon: Ruby and have been a devoted fan ever since. While I may not be super into the strategy and damn near mathematical aspects of gameplay, I’d like to consider myself a relatively knowledgeable fan with enough extra knowledge to give a look at one of these games from a casual, yet analytical view. So what game other than the newest title, Pokemon: Sword and Shield, with its release anniversary being today? In this casual online essay, I hope to describe all my thoughts of Sword and Shield (which I’ll shorten down to just “SWSH”) from the perspective of the everyday Pokemon fan.

General Gameplay...

Many top-title games of Nintendo are best known for their simplicity: in Super Mario Bros, you’re a mustachioed red guy jumping on monsters to try and save some random princess (who may or may not be in this castle); in The Legend of Zelda, you’re a green elf-looking guy slashing wildly at monsters with a sword given to you by some old guy in hopes of defeating some ultimate bad guy; and in Pokemon, you’re a child wandering around the region catching monsters who also accidentally saves the world before becoming the very best (like no-one ever was). And while the games themselves have grown from that initial stylistic simplicity, some have lost that creative in-depthness in favor of being playable for children. This is probably the biggest issue with the newer Pokemon games as of late.

Regardless, let’s look into the playability of SWSH.

It’s played like your regular Pokemon game; you’re a kid who journeys to become the Champion of Pokemon Battling with your friend, catching monsters known as “Pokemon” with pocket-sized balls dubbed “Pokeballs.” But I’m sure you’re all aware of that information, and are instead asking “Well, what’s the deeper plot?” Yeah, no, that’s it. You’re a kid catching Pokemon to become champion - oh, and you also accidentally save the world from a power-hungry businessman - but that’s neither here nor there.

Plot aside, the game is a bit barebones. It’s pretty linear gameplay (literally linear - the map of the Galar region is almost exactly a straight-line waltz from Postwick to Wyndon, which is a bit weird after dealing with the giant, sprawling maps of earlier generations) where you travel from place to place, beating gyms and catching ‘mons, before getting into a couple scuffles and becoming champion. For an RPG-styled game, it comes off as much too simplistic for older fans (I’d even reason that it’s too simplistic for younger players, as well). While I will say, I don’t exactly miss the days of hopelessly wandering around a pixel city, trying desperately to figure out how to move on to the next town because the answer to the puzzle is hidden in this giant area that my little peanut-brain couldn’t figure out at the time. But it is a bit demeaning to get “Hey, do you know where to go?” and  “Hey, follow me so you don’t get lost!” and “Oh, yeah, want another tutorial on how to easily catch Pokemon for the fourth time in a row?” every two seconds in a city where there’s only two places to check out.

But we can’t really discuss the gameplay of Pokemon without discussing the highlights of the region. Ever since the transition from 2D to 3D, Pokemon games have begun a trend of gimmicks - which I like to call “battle enhancers” - that they use to add uniqueness to their games. X&Y had Mega Evolution, Sun and Moon (and USUM) had Z-Moves, and now we have Dynamax! As we all know, battle enhancers are the strategy by which the player uses some extraterrestrial/magic stone to physically enhance one pokemon at a time for a certain period of time - in the case of Dynamax, the pokemon either grows in size or changes in form, gaining the ability to use special type-based attacks for a duration of three turns.

Honestly, I think it’s a pretty fun mechanic! Dynamax combines the good components of both Z-Moves and Mega Evolution - new forms, awesome moves, and a ticking clock. It adds a bit more strategy to the battle enhancer, where the player actually has to plan out who and when to Dynamax (though it’s really not that hard - most everyone will save it for their ace or the pokemon with the type advantage at the very end of the battle, because that’s what you do). But it’s fun and creative, making the battle a bit more exciting when you see your beloved ace become gargantuan on a field while the audience chants in excitement. Initially, I was skeptical of the battle enhancer, but once I threw myself into the game and really got into it, I felt it was fun and cool for the region. My feelings were further improved when I learned that Dynamax was inspired by the idea that the Nintendo Switch had the potential to be played on the TV as well as in a hand-held mode. The idea of turning pokemon “big” on a “big-screen” is really just so cute to me, really. Overall, it’s a fitting concept that is paired well to the game when everything is considered.

But when you look beyond the Dynamx experience to find more content in the game… there’s really not much else. Many people (including me) were ecstatic to hear about the free-roam areas in SWSH - the Wild Areas. Here, you can do all the fun grinding stuff that makes Pokemon games a bit more challenging and fun - hatching eggs, shiny-hunting, running around in circles, Dynamax dens, etc. But when looking at other Pokemon games, that’s really it. Let’s examine Pokemon: Sun and Moon, for example. This game really shines not just for its refreshing setting and compelling plot-line, but also for it’s amount of cute and quirky mini-games to be enjoyed for a good while outside of the main story. Pyukumuku Chucking, Mantine Surfing, the Alolan Photo Club, Ultra Warp Ride Travel - a good handful of mini-games that appeal to different kinds of people! All of these mini-games aren’t just tossed in there, either - they have a fitting place in the culture of the world and add to it, rather than just reiterating it. But when you look for mini-games in SWSH, you won’t really find anything aside from just battling. Sure, there’s the Battle Tower, as well, but I’ll personally say that I’ve never been a fan of the concept of post-game NPC battle buildings. For a hardcore player, they might be fun, but as a casual who can’t devote the time to really dig into understanding how IVs and competitive breeding works, they’re really no fun. Not to mention that nothing is really being added or developed with these battle buildings; they don’t add to lore, they don’t add to the culture of the region, you don’t even really gain anything from it - they’re pretty much just places to battle the occasional familiar face and that’s it. While I’m sure plenty of people adore these facilities in the games, I’ve never been too partial to them (I’d even prefer those god-forsaken casinos over another goddamn battle frontier).

But my biggest problem lies with the release of the DLC. While I’m not against the idea of DLC in general, both The Isle of Armour and The Crown Tundra left a bitter taste in my mouth when I started thinking about the issue of playability in SWSH.

I have always been more invested in the storyline of Pokemon games rather than the battling aspects. Usually I’ve always just gotten through the main story, then wandered around to find extra post-game content or mini-games, and then moved on to other games. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing - I just figure that the games have served their purpose for me upon completion, so rather than bore myself wandering around and doing things that don’t interest me, I go find another game that has more story-based content. That being said, I finished SWSH in less time than any other Pokemon game (I’d say somewhere around twenty hours, complete with me running around in circles like an idiot before rushing through content intermittently); as a result, I was no longer actively playing the game by the time the DLC was announced.

I’ll be honest and say that when I learned about all that was being offered in both sets of DLC, I felt a bit betrayed. I’m well-aware that Nintendo is a corporate business, and therefore will always prioritize financial gain over their fans’ lasting enjoyment of their titles - that’s just a fact of life. But I couldn’t help but feel like I paid a bunch of money for the bundled titles, only to play a game that hardly could be considered worthwhile or satisfying without added headcanons or fan-works, and then get told that extra content is available that may or may not add satisfaction to the experience that’s already long since ended for me. It was just a bit disappointing - and I’m not talking about the whole “Dexit” deal (I actually was on-board with the idea of having no real National Dex - I felt it added realism to the games and would force players to get to know the new Pokemon instead of just choosing the same team they always have since Gen 1 or whatever). My gripe is that I paid for a whole game, wasn’t satisfied with the result, only to hear later that the content that I might have been missing is available to pay for? That’s incredibly annoying. Not to mention that I was further disappointed after learning about the contents of the DLC, but we’ll get into that later.

Overall, the playability of SWSH is very basic, but can be enjoyable if you suspend belief and just enjoy it for what it is. When it comes to storyline, it’s not much of a game, and doesn’t sport much post-game content besides battling.

Immersion and Ambience...

Many of my friends can attest that I tend to like silly, fantastical concepts because I personally love to throw myself into the universe being offered to me. Pokemon is really no different - the games have always sported a very immersive experience for me thanks to the combination of interesting regions and evocative music (especially the music).

I think that most every Pokemon fan has a specific region, city, and music theme that sparks a plethora of nostalgic emotions to the point of near tears. For me, that’s always been Pokemon: Platinum, the Twinleaf Town theme - just staring into the rippling reflection of the pond by the player’s home, listening to that beautiful synth clarinet playing that nostalgic melody - it makes my heart beat with so much fervent passion that I hardly have the words to describe it! And I think that sense of nostalgia - regardless of whether or not those memories are old or new - has always been a strong-suit for Pokemon games. They always have the ability to inspire such deep emotions in me and other alike in a variety of ways, further adding to the ability to immerse us into the game’s world. And whether your favorite area is as simple as Twinleaf Town in the Sinnoh region, or as agonizing as Rock Tunnel in Kanto, it’s the spirit of certain cities/towns/routes that further add to the immersion of the world in question. But how well does SWSH hold those values? Spoiler Alert: Not very well.

SWSH, in the end, is still a Pokemon game - so the setting is very vibrant and colorful and everything that can hold my attention for long periods of time. But the problem arises when one begins to progress through the game and continuously forgets what’s where and where’s what. A lot of the map is painfully basic (again, due to the literal linear nature of the Galar region) and the cities themselves kind of lack their own real originality. There was an attempt at unique cities that’s become iconic of the Pokemon franchise, but it doesn’t really stick. I think most people would agree with me that the only real memorable areas in the main game were Slumbering Weald, Ballonlea, and Spikemuth, and each of these areas have their own set of problems that also make them a bit difficult to fully enjoy. At their core, most all Galarian cities have the same basic set-up: basic green plants (if plants are in that area at all), the same brick roads that lead either to the gym or to a route leading in/out of city to another city, and a giant gym/key building in the center of it all. And that’s really about it. No real interesting buildings except for gyms and Rose Tower (and I guess technically the hotels), no extraneous locations that aren’t directly related to the plot or to gimmicks - it’s very bare-bones and really can take you out of the experience.

In a hard contrast, I’ll give the example of Generation 1’s region set up - every city has its own personality that also matches the feel of the region as a whole. Every city is based on colors, and each city is themed after that, respectively (i.e. Vermillion City, the city of sunsets themed around the color orange, is home to the Pokemon Fan Club and the kick-ass electric-type gym that initiates feelings of excitement; Lavender Town, the noble town themed around the color purple, is home to the Pokemon Tower and spooky spirits that inspire feelings of somberness and reticence). Obviously, this isn’t very realistic, but the trick isn’t to replicate reality - it is to inspire reality. The Kanto region is incredibly creative, and therefore is easy to immerse oneself into the world because it’s become a world we are actively interested in. We know that it could never truly be real or plausible, but that hardly matters when we are so enthralled with the colors and set-up and feeling of the towns. We don’t really get much of that in Galar. It probably isn’t such a great idea for your final city - being Wyndon - to feel blank and lifeless when compared to minor cities in the region. And even when we find cities that hold that uniqueness we desire like in Spikemuth or Ballonlea, there’s really no other reason to be there longer than just beating the gym. It’s sad, really. Spikemuth is such a interesting, creative-looking town home to such cool characters, and yet there literally is only one path to get in and out of the town - the town isn’t even given small houses to investigate like literally every other city in the region. It’s a waste of potential! The fact that I can’t investigate such a promising setting that inspires me really takes me out of the world, reminding me that this is just a video game in which you move from Point A to Point B. It’s no longer a fantasy world for me to explore, but instead a line at the DMV to get my Drivers’ License. The only real good thing about this is that fanfiction writers get so much free-reign when it comes to writing about the city - the only thing we really learn about the city is that it’s underfunded and gloomy and that’s literally it. I would have really liked to see more inspired cities around the region where things outside of the main plot can be done, but hopefully this is just a problem we’ll see in this region.

Probably the most important aspect of immersion (in my opinion) is the music. With the potential to make or break a game for me, I hold a lot of expectations on the music found in video games (I’ve been classically trained in music since elementary school, and have always had a fondness for video game music). Pokemon music has always been some of the most inspiring pieces of art in my life - whether it be the kickass battle suite of Champion Cynthia, or the somber piano melody of Emma’s Theme, the music of Pokemon has always been the first thing I notice and analyze whenever playing the latest title. That all being said, I have quite a few notes to make in regards to the soundtrack of SWSH.

I’ll start with the pros, first. Generally, every main title has had its own feel when it comes to the soundtrack - DPP was jazzy and smooth, Sun and Moon was based on popular Hawaiian music meshed together with classic Pokemon synths, RSE was all about the horn section (trombones and french horns all the way!). SWSH, at the end of the day, isn’t much different. The region is inspired by the UK, so it’s no surprise to discover that the soundtrack was inspired by popular British Rock. As a result, a lot of themes went really hard, keeping a hint of individuality even when some battle themes hosted similar instruments. The biggest appeal of the soundtrack, I believe, was found in the little moments, namely the cheers of the gym battle themes. I think it’s safe to say that most people get super hyped when they hear those rhythmical chants coming to life whenever in the final leg of the battle, right when you begin to Dynamax. That’s amazingly exciting, never failing to suck me into that exact moment to gather the power of God and anime to defeat my opponent. While I wasn’t totally rocking out to every single song that came on, I was pretty satisfied with the music of SWSH, overall. It’s not too bad, and hosts a few bops that I still seek out to get my blood pumping.

But, as to be expected, there are plenty of cons when it comes to the soundtrack of SWSH. I could go over this for hours and hours, detailing complex definitions of music theory and basic song comprehension, but I’ll just make this nice and simple: it was really bland.

Note that I said “bland” and not “bad” - the music is fine in my opinion, I just wasn’t feeling the same feelings as I had in previous Pokemon titles. It all felt like Pokemon music, but not much else. It was like remembering hints of a memory long-lost, but you don’t really care about to dig deep into your mind for context. Towns had music, routes had music, pokemon and characters had battle themes, yada yada yada, nothing really to write home about. If I had to pick a song that honestly, truly invoked emotions beyond “Oh it’s battle time, now”, it would have to be the Battle Tower Theme, and that’s most likely because it was written by someone else entirely (Toby Fox, also known as the creator of Undertale and composer of super hard-hitting jams). And the worst part is that I never would have even been able to hear the Battle Tower theme because I hate battle buildings (which is more of a personal problem, I know, but still). Honestly, I would have preferred hearing that theme as compared to Champion Leon’s battle theme - I feel like his champion theme was very bland and lifeless, simply holding all the required elements of a Pokemon battle theme just because that’s what has to happen. It’s uninspired, faceless, and corporate, only to be completely foiled by the unique blast of energy found in the Battle Theme, which just screams “Prove that you’re the best!” over and over to me (also known as a big theme in the Pokemon games, especially in SWSH).

That’s not to say that every other theme in the game was terrible. I much enjoyed Marnie and Piers’ battle themes, but for a different reason. As we know, Piers and Marnie host a more “punk rock” style when compared to literally everyone else in-game, a trademark of Spikemuth citizens. With their occasionally cold and prickly (no pun intended) personalities, their themes go a bit harder into rock-land as compared to characters like Hop or Bede. There’s no conflict of style there - it’s “punk” with “rock”, loads of guitars and bass with a hint of synths to keep that Pokemon flare, and fits a bit better in the setting of the world. Mild conflict arises when we start looking at characters who aren’t rockstars or idols - let’s look at Bede’s theme, for example. While it really isn’t a bad theme (it’s actually, dare I say, a bop), I wouldn’t exactly say that the resulting pieces fit neatly together like they do for the Spikemuth duo. Bede’s theme requires a lot of synths to accentuate his more flamboyant and immature personality, but also holds ties with the rock guitars while also trying so desperately hard to sound like a Pokemon song. Now, I don’t think “Pop Synth Rock” is anything bad, per se; I just feel like the added rock elements didn’t do much to add to the musical representation of our cliche jerk-face “rival”. It feels like the rock elements were an after-thought rather than a planned layer of musicality. I could really say the same thing about Hop’s theme, but then I would have to re-listen to Hop’s theme because I always forget what it sounds like even after listening to it a second before.

A big problem is that not many of these themes hold lastingly memorable motifs/melodies, which is a personal pet-peeve of mine in games where the music is highly esteemed. In pretty much every battle theme (except the generic pokemon encounter theme, which is the same melody in every Pokemon game, only with variations added to fit the music theme of the region) is just an on-going strip of notes that sound nice when playing the game, but if you tried to pick out the specific melody-line of that character, it’s a bit of work to really find anything. Let’s look at a more concrete example: Lusamine’s battle theme from Pokemon: Sun and Moon is up on my list of most memorable battle themes, and will do well without the extra influence of young me’s nostalgia seeping in like it would with earlier generations’ battle themes. Lusamine, as we know, was the elite antagonist of the game, being the leader of this esteemed Pokemon protection group who later is revealed to be using Pokemon for her own demented goals of perfection. Almost immediately, the player hears the signature accents of the harpsichord playing the prime motif before the piece digs into a full orchestration. It doesn’t sacrifice anything for the sake of “sounding like a Pokemon song”, nor does it sacrifice anything for the sake of keeping with the musical inspiration. Instead, it focuses on being exactly what it needs to be - a musical representation of Lusamine, hosting orchestra-based instruments (piano, violas and cellos, horns, violins, light pad synths, etc…). Most anyone can pick out a handful of memorable motifs from her theme (the main horns melody line, the harpsichord melody line, the mid-section cello and piano melody line, etc…), and those remain in our unconscious. So, it’s no surprise that when she becomes the “Mother Beast” later on, when the player hears hints of those signature melody lines becoming distorted in the madness of the new battle theme, it invokes a particular emotion that fits elegantly with the subject matter of the plot right then. In short, it’s musical storytelling done right. In SWSH, we don’t have that extra omph of emotionally-nostalgic motifs; instead, we just get songs that play in the background of this video game, and that’s really it. If you don’t like the song, good news - you’ll probably only hear it once or twice, depending on who the NPC is. If you do, then you’re out of luck for the very same reasons. This game lacks a very basic hint of soul to its soundtrack, which is really such a jarring idea especially when you realize that they paired up with a composer who arguably has mastered the idea of musical motifs (Fox).

This really isn’t just SWSH’s problem, either. I also went through a similar heartbreak in S&M during the final stretch of the main game; after battling Lusamine and saving the region from the threat of Ultra Beasts (more or less, anyway), we the player go to challenge the champion, who is revealed to be Profession Kukui since there really is no true champion for the newly-made league. It’s hard to go from an exciting, powerful battle theme like Lusamine’s to some generic, cardboard-cut-out version of a champion battle theme for Kukui. It’s hard to invoke any sort of emotional appeal when there’s no real inspiration to be felt in the music; with no emotional connection, there is no emotion. It’s, once again, just music that plays in the background of a video game. A similar experience happens in SWSH with the player’s match against Champion Leon; though we have the potential to gain an emotional connection to a Leon Theme motif, we don’t get that. Instead, we just get music that is programmed to be exciting for our championship match that will undoubtedly change our lives forever. Bland, boring, anti-climatic - all for the sake of coloring in the lines. This has been an on-going problem in Pokemon games for years in which the Championship Battle Theme is less interesting than the Evil Team Battle Theme, which probably isn’t a good idea. It’s annoying when your villain has a better theme than the literal strongest trainer in the region - it ruins the chances of likability for the region’s “good guys” and overall is anti-climatic when it is finally time to become champion.

Overall, the ability to immerse someone like me in a game is very important when it comes to retaining players. While SWSH isn’t the worst Pokemon game when it comes to immersion (considering the fact that I actually beat the main game, which I can’t say for other main Pokemon titles…), Game Freak certainly could stand to learn from the game’s shortcomings.

Creature and Character Design...

The monster design is arguably one of the most controversial topics when it comes to any Pokemon game. Some people only care about the designs of Gen 1, others accept everything but Gen 5, and a select few could rant for hours on the stupidity of literally every Pokemon design in the franchise. Regardless, the design of the Pokemon native to the Galar region is an important topic of discussion when analysing the potential for enjoyment of the game. After all, I’m an artist who loves drawing all my favorite characters as well as my favorite Pokemon, so understanding the designs of these beloved figures is vital to understanding the game in general. For sanity’s sake, I’ll only be discussing new Pokemon introduced in this region, and will be ignoring all previous pokemon that aren’t regional variants.

Overall, the designs of the latest Pokemon are satisfactory. Because of my tendency to always suspend belief in fantasy works, I’ve very rarely had much to hate about Pokemon designs (not even in Gen 5, though I don’t particularly like any of them aside from the game cover legendaries). SWSH didn’t really bring much to the table when it comes to brand-new Pokemon, but the ones introduced are fitting and interesting: the Dragapult line, all three starters (even if I did laugh for literal hours at the discovery of Cinderace’s typing), Wooloo and Dubwool, Yamper and Boltund - just to name my top favorites. And I was totally invested in the designs of the game cover legendaries, Zamazenta and Zacian, since they held cultural relations with the region’s inspiration and therefore had actual meaning within the game besides just being cool mythical creatures. Nothing really outright bothered me with the designs or pokemon choices in this game; as I mentioned earlier, I was okay with the idea of no National Dex for this region, and that all the pokemon allowed in this game matched with the region well-enough.

But, of course, it’s not without faults. I found there to be a substantial lack of original legendaries in this game - we only have three real legendaries to catch in the main-game, four if you consider the DLC. We had a similar problem in Pokemon: Sun and Moon, but it was later amended with the introduction of Ultra Beasts (which can technically be regarded as legendary Pokemon, albeit from another dimension and not technically Pokemon). In SWSH, we are only given the option of catching more than two legendaries if we buy the DLC - this is remarkably disappointing for those who are interested in seeing new, unique Pokemon designs. I know many fans are constantly frustrated with Game Freak’s tendency to overuse Gen 1 Pokemon, but the fact that nobody is bothered by the running trend of being able to easily catch a bunch of previous games’ legendaries is beyond me. It’s essentially the same thing, overly relying on the fanbase’s sentimental nostalgia rather than moving forward to create new creature designs. I know for a fact that so many people would have been excited to catch Pokemon with cultural significance (maybe like elf Pokemon that resemble that of Seelie/Unseelie fairies, or more Pokemon that resemble chess pieces, or maybe more Pokemon that follow a theme of medieval artifacts - there are many possibilities), so the fact that they skimped out in favor of making people pay for nostalgia is ridiculous to me. This was a majority of the reason why I rejected buy any of the DLC content - why would I pay for Pokemon I’ve technically caught before? I mean, I guess it can be more for the kids who have never encountered the older legendaries, but then again, wouldn’t it be more beneficial for your game to have Pokemon that actually represent the new region? Instead of just stealing other games’ legendaries for the sake of saying that you have them, they could have just worked a little harder to design maybe three or six more cool legendary designs and centered those guys around the two DLC locations instead of just having Calyrex for The Crown Tundra. At the end of the day, it’s really just a cash-grab; the only reason I could ever see myself understandably buying the DLC for SWSH would be because I wanted to interact more with my favorite NPCs, but then again, I can just look at screenshots on Twitter and feel just as satisfied.

But not all is lost in terms of designs. Now let’s get into my favorite design portion of this segment and discuss the NPCs.

First, we’ll dig into the rivals. Personally, I really enjoyed the rivals of this game; while Pokemon is definitely running on a formula, I still was able to find enough about the three rival characters to genuinely enjoy their presence whenever they came on screen. I suppose we can expect to keep seeing this new Pokemon Trainer Rival Formula: Kind of Annoying but Too Sweet to Hate BFF Rival (Hop), 2 Edgy 5 U Rival (Bede), and Some Pedo’s Waifu Material Rival (Marnie).

Hop is arguably one of my favorite Pokemon rivals of all time (right up there with Gladion from S&M). He’s one of the only Pokemon characters to get a realistic character development over the course of the game’s playable story, which really humanizes him and makes up for his occasionally annoying personality. Over the course of the game, Hop goes from silently residing in his brother’s shadow to learning to stand on his own without needed any outside validation; much to my surprise, it’s not some half-hearted transition. Hop doubts himself during the challenge, as evidenced not just by his dialogue but in the way he actively changes his team to try and be more competitive like everybody else. I remember feeling so heartbroken in realization that Hop stopped using his beloved Wooloo, which is rightfully paired up with the excitable boy. The idea that Hop uses Wooloo, a normal-type cute Pokemon that generally wouldn’t be used in a competitive team, really adds more dimension to his character; when he learns to enjoy himself instead of letting his doubts overtake him, he returns to using Dubwool and his favorite team, demonstrating how he would prefer to have fun as himself than be someone he isn’t. I found that to be a really wholesome theme to his character, one that we haven’t really seen in a Pokemon game yet - it was a pleasant surprise! Hop is sweet and kind, always wanting to motivate the player even when he’s in his own internal turmoil. With all that added with his adorable babyface and goofy/awkward preteen disposition, he really makes for a likeable rival character.

The next rival to be introduced is none other than our classic Mean Boy rival, Bede. He’s a character the fanbase is a bit more accustomed to due to previous titles’ rivals (i.e. Green/Blue/Gary Oak from in R&G/B, Silver from SGC, technically also Gladion from S&M…), so are quite a few expectations placed on his character as a result. Also true to the typical Pokemon Jerk Rival, he has a complicated homelife (he comes from an orphanage, as we later learn) and has a similarly complicated parent-child relationship to the leading antagonist of the game (in this case, Chairman Rose). Bede constantly assumes himself to be better than he is and isn’t afraid to be a total prick about it, choosing to bully Hop upon winning battles against him to boost his own inflated ego (though there’s hints pointing to Bede actually having rather low self-esteem). All things considered, I liked Bede as a character about as much as one can like a mean rival archetype, but I was more than pleased to discover his transition to a more likably mean-spirited character when he later returns to the game to challenge the player after being disqualified from the challenge. While we’ve had a likeable mean rival before (namely Gladion), Bede is something of his own entity with how he actually has an attempt at character development that leads him to a mini-redemption near the end of the game. He’s really the first mean rival to have a transition from total jerk to slightly-peeved tsundere, which was probably a good idea on Game Freak’s part so that we wouldn’t be left with a character we downright hated after the way Bede quite literally destroys Hop’s confidence. It’s nowhere near as impressive as Hop’s character development (which isn’t super impressive to begin with, but let’s ignore that fact for a bit), but it’s still interesting to see in a monster-catching game about being the best you can be.

And then, of course, we get to the cute-girl rival, Marnie, also known as the place where I get a bit mad again. I’d like to say that I absolutely love Marnie; she has an adorable design and interesting personality that captures my attention whenever she has screen time. But she serves one purpose in this game, and one purpose alone - being the main cute girl rival of the game. Marnie has the potential to be a similarly interesting rival (cute design that meshes “punk” with “cute”, has a wholesome and fun dynamic with her gym leader older brother, uses a Pokemon that isn’t considered to be a “competitive” choice as her ace, has a cool/cute personality…), and yet we probably only talk to her about five times over the course of the main game. Little is done with her character - in fact, the only real thing she does in the game other than becoming the next dark-type gym leader is that she helps the player sneak into Spikemuth after the gates have been shut by the remarkably-harmless Team Yell. I don’t think I’m alone in saying that I would have loved to have seen more done with her character. With the boy rivals being more fleshed out than her, it leaves a sour taste in my mouth because the female rival is the one left with a blank personality (and I’m not just saying that because she hardly smiles - that’s really one of the only things we get about her that gives her an actual personality). My frustrations are further exacerbated because this has always been an issue in Pokemon games, in which the girl rivals are so barebones for seemingly the only purpose of serving as some neckbeard’s waifu that they can input a personality they desire despite the fact that she’s canonically a minor. Why put in the time to give dimension to Hop and Bede, but not Marnie? And we know for a fact that Game Freak has to recognize the lack of personality given to Marnie, especially since they had previously come out with Lillie’s wonderfully sweet character arch in S&M and USUM. Personally, I feel that it was because they didn’t feel like having a more punkish girl character who also had traditionally feminine-coded interests (she’s known to have been distracted during the gym challenge by the boutiques) and ultimately decided to just not give her any further personality other than that, perhaps fearing that it would dissuade the gross creeper fanbase from latching onto her. But that’s really just speculation, so don’t take any of my nonsense too seriously. Really, I’d just rather we had a girl rival with more personality to match the other two rivals so it wasn’t so annoyingly unbalanced.

Moving on from the rivals, we get into the designs of the League Staff of the game. In most other Pokemon games, I’d never really been too interested in the gym leaders; they had always been more of minor bosses, just faces that you saw for a couple of seconds before pummeling their ‘mons and moving to the next city. But in this game in particular, there was a sudden transition from simple puzzle master to a full-on celebrity figure. I really enjoyed this! It was so nice to actually have some information on the gym leaders other than what type they sported; suddenly, they have personalities and interests - they become real to the player. Not to mention that there really is a gym leader for everyone to enjoy, thanks to their unique personalities and styles.

I’ll be a bit honest and say that some of their clothing designs are remarkably stupid for even an anime-based RPG game (I mean, I know we joke about Leon’s terrible sense of fashion in the fanbase, but can we just pause and ponder what Piers’ wears? I mean, a leather jacket with spandex? Metal boots and a work-out tank??? What is he wearing?!), but it isn’t exactly distracting. In Western cultures in particular, we can see a trend towards the glamourization of the “athleisure” style, or athletic wear designed more for everyday use rather than just working out. It was kind of fitting to see this be the primary style for the gym leaders, who can basically be described as hierarchical sports stars. Weird? Sure. But in the context of the world, it all fits together, and once again adds to the immersion aspect of the game.

Looking at our main antagonists, they are designed quite well. Chairman Rose is designed to be quite easy and fun to hate (at least for me) - he’s an important-looking businessman who’s very impressed with himself, paired up with a beautiful yet terrifying subordinate woman who does most all the hardwork for him (...actually, they kind of remind me of an antagonistic Cl. Mustang and Lt. Hawkeye from Fullmetal Alchemist…). They also had noteworthy battle themes that popped a bit more than other battle themes in the game.

While they hardly count as antagonists, I’d like to also make a brief mention of Team Yell. They’re more annoying than anything, which is a trend that I’m not too sure how I feel about yet. It was definitely more likable coming from Team Skull, that’s for sure. I would have liked Team Yell doing a bit more damage, having them be a bit more unruly and controversial before evening them out with the whole emotional appeal of them cheering on for Marnie in hopes of saving their ruined town. But they weren’t too terrible in my opinion.

I could talk for hours on the champion of the region, too, Champion Leon. He’s a really fun and charming character overall, less of the supremely wise and powerful champion that we’ve seen in older gens and instead being a more quirky but worthwhile opponent on the path towards the crown. But I definitely preferred him more as a character than as a champion; even though his team changes depending on your starter, it’s not too challenging of a fight if you know what you’re doing, especially when you immediately know what his ace pokemon is (something we don’t really learn in other gens about the champions). While I’m sure the idea of a powerful but transparent champion can be done, Leon doesn’t really stand up as a powerful trainer when compared to other champions in the franchise. But he’s definitely still a fun, interesting character concept that I am grateful for in this particular game.

When it comes to the designs of the primary NPCs and Pokemon, SWSH continues to talk that line just above mediocrity. Not too bad, not all that great, but definitely not something to be forgotten. I’d reason that the primary strength of this generation lies within the characters that are introduced.

Uniqueness vs. Status as a Pokemon Game...

In regards to the uniqueness - how well this game stands on its own as an individual concept rather than just another Pokemon game - I’m a bit divided. On one hand, I’m a bit saddened by the watering down of content and constant reliance on concepts from older games. But I can also see that SWSH introduced a lot of interesting ideas that have inspired so many fans for this generation. And while yes, this gen didn’t have much to offer in terms of new Pokemon, new scenarios, or new lore, I do think that it does hold its own when compared to the other games in the main series. New characters are introduced to the player, all of which having good (and bad) traits that allow for lots of fan-created content with their essence; a new look into a brand-new battle enhancer that requires a different strategy than those of previous battle enhancers; a new culture found within the Galar region that can inspire many more thoughts and theories on the Pokemon world as a whole in a number of ways. We cannot pretend that SWSH isn’t an influential game just because it wasn’t ground-breaking; even with my extreme distaste for the Black and White games, I still admit that they led to important decisions and ideas that led to the creation of games I did enjoy. So, as its own entity, I think that Pokemon: Sword and Shield really has a lot of offer and would probably be an amazing game for a younger player who’s just getting into the Pokemon universe.

But I think that a lot of us long-time fans can agree that this game doesn’t quite match up with the others in terms of giving those real “Pokemon game” feelings. The problem with big-titles like this is that the company tends to lose sight of what really makes a franchise so influential isn’t the stuff found at face-value. It’s not the creatures or NPCs or game mechanics or design or any of that garbage - it’s the feelings we get when all of those things reach that perfect harmony. It’s the rumble in my chest whenever I listen to that famous intro-sequence of my old Pokemon: Ruby game; it’s the fire in my eyes when I went back to challenge Pokemon Trainer Red for the tenth time that night back in my old Pokemon: Heart Gold game; it’s the tears I cried when I watched the only interesting character, N, leave my playable character after his emotional spiel following the defeat of Ghetsis in my long-since abandoned copy of Pokemon: White. At the end of the day, Pokemon is more of an emotion I get rather than a game I play, and I think this is an idea that few people can recognize for themselves. And while I’m aware that I literally just spent several thousand words bagging and praising this game for all those face-value aspects, I also know that when you add that extra little bit of care to your work, go a little further with a character you know someone will adore, or try something new with that new battle theme, there comes a sensation that goes beyond that of love for a silly fantasy game. I’d like to think it’s something akin to inspiration.

Conclusion...

In conclusion, Pokemon: Sword and Shield is far from perfect. With a number of faults and disappointments, I can understand why a lot of fans were less than interested in giving this game the time of day. But I also want to say that this game deserves to be understood and appreciate for what it is, for what it’s done. Who knows what sort of new ideas this game has inspired? Whether it be in the name Pokemon game or someone else’s passion project, I am confident in the potential that this game has to bring someone’s dreams to fruition. It already has inspired so much amazing fan-content from the community; after so many years of being away from the fandom, SWSH was the game that drove me right back, giving me the drive to once again indulge in my middle-school days of sketching out my latest comfort character or writing out a million headcanons in a way-too plot-heavy story. Many fan-creators in this community feel the same as me, I’m sure, so it would be untrue of me to say that this game was anything less than what it was: a fun, simple game that prides itself in its characters and potential rather than complex combat mechanics or some corkboard-plot nightmare. It’s a game meant to be enjoyed, so we must remember to find our enjoyment wherever it can be found. For me, Pokemon can’t really do much wrong, but also is held up to a level of expectations that I can’t quite understand even for myself. This, at the end of the day, is a video game from my all-time favorite franchise; so long as I can find enjoyment there in it, then it’s worth it. In a world filled with nihilism and cynicism, it’s nice to visit a land where you’re wise to try and be the very best like no-one ever was, to be the next best Pokemon Master.

[cannotgiveafuck]

Billy Batson & Captain Marvel identity analysis (long post ahead)

Alrighty then! So I contemplated posting this bc it's so closely tied to the wip fic, buuuut here it is. Ive never been really satisfied with how some media portray this character bc they either lean too far towards childish or angry, or divide the identities too much. And whilst writing the fic I thought about how I wanted to portray him and what that entailed. A long semi comprehensive ramble of headcanons and character analysis based on the individual and combined identities of Billy and Marvel!

First, we have Billy. This kid who's parents died on a work trip, was left in the care of a greedy/selfish old man that did not care for him at all, has bounced through foster homes for a plethora of reasons (some of which are behavioral or abusive), and ultimately decided trying to make it on the streets was his best option (before being picked up by Dudley).

Now, backstory wise, it's all very obvious that Billy would have trust issues, especially towards adults (and double towards adults who try to control him). His learned attitude towards those that set their eyes on him (both before and especially after becoming Marvel) is guarded and aggressively defensive, he's snarky and sarcastic, ready to flee at a moments notice, and scared of being once again used, abused, and tossed aside if he were to trust someone. But at his soft core he desperately wants to be cared for, he wants affection and love and family, he wants a safe and secure home, he wants to believe in good.

All of this bleeds into his attitude towards his peers, too. Before becoming Marvel, he's a bit jaded and lost - his wrecked home life creating the chasm that keeps him from opening up and relating to others, from making real friends (the few exceptions being friends he considers family, and whom he is very loyal and protective of). After Marvel, Billy doesn't even try to associate with kids his own age. He stops going to school and is so focused on trying to be a good hero, he has distanced himself even more. But also, all the situations that he is exposed to really matures him. He still enjoys video games and sports, but he's also worrying about keeping Fawcett City and the world safe and working with JL - he doesn't have time nor patience for naive and clueless kids. But since he still is a kid and wants to have fun, those he let's in he holds onto and divulges everything to.

However, despite his hard outer shell, I do believe Billy is good and tries to be good and wants to see the good in those around him. A prominent and reoccurring memory of his parents is them telling him to be a good kid. That very much shapes Billy's views and ideologies. He wants to be a good person, which means he needs to help others (however he sees fit, from stopping bullies to carrying an old ladys groceries), but also realize that there is good all around him in everyone else, too. He has kind neighbors, and a community that helps each other, he knows everyone has their own struggles and they may direct negative emotions outward but may just need a helping hand in return. Billy knows suffering and cruelty and does not want to cause that, he wants to end it. So, theres this conflict inside him that he views as being smart vs being good. His true sunshine and trusting demeanor is boosted when he is chosen by Shazam, because now he has this divine and worldly responsibility to do and be good. And while he does not hold value in himself (abandoned and abused orphan does not hold a high confidence or self esteem level), he also wants to prove that he is worthy of inheriting this power, that there is good in this world and in him.

Now, second we have Captain Marvel. This is where identities become...complicated. The way I see it, Marvel is a mesh of 'Billy Batson', 'The Potential Adult Billy Could Be', and 'The Vessel of The Greek Gods Powers'. Since I've gone over Billy's identity, it transfers onto Marvel pretty seamlessly. So as The Adult Billy, he is still Billy Batson, but the grown up version, comfortable in his skin and in social standings with others, he is without the limiting physiological responses and capabilities of being a child. Despite all his experiences, Billy is still a kid - a bit awkward in his growing body, he's impulsive with his emotional responses, he jumps to conclusions and is very one track minded, has a hard time putting words to thoughts or instincts and understanding certain things and intentions (situations being very black and white). But as Adult Billy who is Marvel, he still sees through the same eyes, but he can filter distractions and pause to think through reflexive emotions, and he has a better understanding on just how morally grey the world can be, a gained clarity on other intentions and livelihoods, and he can empathize and read other's emotions in more detail than just the basic happy/mad/sad. Basically, Billy's brain has physically grown to that of an adult.

On the other hand, there is also what I like to believe is a...sort of third will in what makes Captain Marvel. He is, for all intents and purposes, a vessel or an avatar of sorts. He is a Chosen Champion by the Wizard Shazam to wield the powers of the Greek Gods (specifically the Greek gods, bc...well, that's a whole other post to ramble on), hes the mortal connection between them and the human world, their gift to the humans as a protector, as the guiding light of good. He is a symbol and title beyond one person. It is much like the mantle of Batman being passed on, except instead of all the gadgets and tech and databases...it's experiences and memories and wisdom gained by the previous Marvels, and available when properly called upon. Captain Marvel is like a reincarnation every time there is a new chosen champion. Billy is himself, but there were also others before him, other Marvels that existed and lived that can be remembered.

There is, however, a weird side effect to this being that the more in touch and immersed with these previous Marvel's he becomes, the more he slips away from himself - less Billy and human, more ancient and disconnected. He loses Billy's mannerisms and speech pattern and warm empathy, he still follows the ideology of good, but the charisma is gone, he's distant and cold.

All of this makes for a very interesting and fun way of writing Marvel and Billy - in how they each think through situations, how they each interact with the same people, how they each react to everything. And that's including how the same people react and treat each of them differently. Someone may see and treat Billy as a kid, but with Marvel they interact with and see an adult, a peer. When someone knows who Marvel really is, they need to consciously remind themselves that Marvel is Billy is a kid, because literally everything about Marvel screams at their senses that he's an adult (sunshine naivety aside). He still walks and talks and looks and is capable of thinking like an adult. It's not a situation of a couple of kids standing on top of each other in a trenchcoat or a kid dressing and doing their makeup like an adult. Magic has made him an adult, sort of.

At the core of it, the one experiencing and remembering and feeling everything is a child. There is no separating that, he is a different face of the same coin. So while Marvel can handle the emotional and mental exhaustion and stress of the situations he is put in, Billy Batson is going to suffer through the replays when everything is done. Because superheroing is not all saving lives and being praised, it's seeing people be hurt and bleed, interacting with the worst of humanity and others, witnessing tragedies and death in small intimate encounters and in large numbers. He is the one that will have nightmares and trouble sleeping, he is the one that will bear the brunt of the trauma and remorse, navigating detailed memories of violence and how it felt to hurt, wondering why there are phantom pains and aches when his body is not damaged, all with no trusted support system to turn to (because if he does, will the JL just see him as a child who cannot handle being a hero? will they turn him away?). Billy is the one having his childhood and innocence ripped away from him for the sake of the world. There are consequences of being the chosen champion, and while Billy is willing to accept them, will continue to fight and uphold his divine duties, will put others before himself every time, it wont make be easy.

The potential of how complicated Billy and Marvel can be, and how other heroes cannot fully comprehend it without a trusted in depth discussion (only Black Adam can understand and lemme tell you, that's a hot mess) - that's what makes him and his situation so interesting and fun to write.

[the--blackdahlia]

Natural Born Killers Chapter 8 (Sam x Dean)

Title: Natural Born Killers Chapter 9

Summary:  It started as an accident. That’s what it was. But things escalated from there and now the law wants Dean Winchester, one way or another.

Warnings: Language

AN:  So, after I wrote this chapter, I realized that same-sex marriage was not legal in California until later. So, let's just pretend this is an AU where it's a little more accepted/legal in the early 2000's.

Present

“Your file says you graduated from St. Joseph high school.” Victor said, looking at Sam.

“That’s right.” Sam said.

“Was this before or after your dad died?” Victor asked.

“Why does it matter?” Sam asked. “I graduated. That’s all that matters, right?”

“I’m just very impressed to be honest.” Victor told him. “I mean, you have to have had at least a hundred schools under your belt. You stayed at St. Joseph for about two years it seems. And then you graduated salutatorian and got a full ride scholarship to Stanford. That’s pretty good for a prime candidate for foster care.” Sam just rolled his eyes. “Tell me about Stanford Sam. What led up to it. All of it.”

****

2001

It was a few days after Dean’s birthday when the envelope showed up. Sam had applied at Stanford, as well as Notre Dame, UCLA, and some various Michigan and Indiana colleges. The trail of letters had slowly been trailing in. But this one was different. And when Sam opened it, he knew his life was going to change.

“Dean?” Sam said into the phone. Dean was at work. He was working a little later throughout the week so he could have his weekends with Sam. It didn’t always work out that way, but since he had proven himself to be such a good mechanic, his boss tried to work things out for him.

“Sammy? What is it? What’s wrong?” Dean asked.

“I have something big to tell you.” Sam said. “I don’t know if I should tell you now though…” Dean’s heart was beating hard. What was wrong with his Sammy? “De?”

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, his voice a little unsure. Sam was smiling, not that Dean could see.

“De, how do you feel about California?” Sam asked.

“What?” Dean asked, confused.

“Well, I got a full ride scholarship to Stanford, so…” Sam said. Dean was silent at the other end of the line. Then Sam heard him yelling and could make out words of excitement.

“Oh my god Sammy! That’s the best news I’ve heard all day!” Dean told him. “When I get home, we’ll celebrate! Fuck, I’m so proud of you!”

****

“I have to live on campus.” Sam groaned as he tossed all his information on the coffee table and dramatically threw himself on the couch. Dean looked up from the movie he was watching.

“Says who?” Dean asked.

“Says Stanford.” Sam said. “The only way I don’t have to is if I have proof I’m living with my parents, there are accommodations that I need that they can’t provide, or I have proof that I’m married or in a domestic partnership.” Sam looked up at Dean. “So I guess I’ll be living in a dorm for at least the first year.”

“Give me some time.” Dean said. “I’ll make sure you can stay with me baby boy.”

****

The big day came not too long after Sam turned 18. He was one of the youngest in his class it seemed, but he was so excited. He had made friends with a bunch of people over the two years he was there, and even walked with Kaelyn, a girl that was in his photography club with him. He had worked his ass off over the past two years, taking as many AP classes and activities as he could to beef him up to colleges. Him and Dean hadn’t been hunting a lot, but he wanted to make sure they never had to rely on hustling pool or anything like that ever again.

Sam gave a beautiful speech and man, Dean was so ready to jump up and applaud every word that came out of his mouth. Dean hadn’t graduated high school, so he didn’t really see the joy in sitting in a gym for hours while kids talked about following their dreams and such. But seeing Sam in that dark blue gown, standing up at the podium to give hi speech, filled Dean’s heart with so much love.

And then he got his diploma and Dean was on his feet, cheering his blushing little brother.

“So where are you off to after this?” Kaelyn asked Sam as they all stood around, hugging each other.

“We’re moving out to Palo Alto so I can attend Stanford in the fall.” Sam said shyly. He didn’t like boasting about himself. Only a few of his friends knew about the full ride.

“That’s right Mr. Smart Stuff.” Kaelyn laughed and hugged him. “Well, I’ll send you my address when I settle in my dorm at the U of M.” She smiled at Sam, like she wanted to ask him something, but Dean came up and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and Kaelyn blushed. She had a major crush on Dean.

“Well, I’ll send a postcard to your home address when I get settled up in Palo Alto so you have the address.” Sam said. “I’ll miss you Kaelyn.”

“I’ll miss you too Sam. And Dean.” She said, her face turning a bit redder. Sam and Dean made their way towards Baby. Sam had gotten pictures with his friends and they all promised to send him a copy when they were printed. Dean had a disposable camera he had gotten at CVS and the roll was filled with nothing but Sam at his graduation.

“I thought we could order Chinese and stay in for the rest of the night.” Dean told Sam. “The house we picked out over spring break is ready for us to move in. Dan and Tiffany are sad to see us go. They said we’re the best renters they’ve had in awhile.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Sam said, staring out the window. Dean frowned a little. He knew Sam had been stressing about the housing situation for awhile. If he could prove that he needed to live off campus, the money from his scholarship that would be put towards room and board would be given to help offset a rent or mortgage. Because Palo Alto was expensive. But they had found a cute little place not too far from campus. It was the cousin of Dean’s boss’ place, and he wanted to sell to head east.

When they got home, Dean placed an order at the Chinese place and went to their bedroom to watch Sam change out of the dress clothes he had worn under his gown and slid into some sweats and a t-shirt. Dean wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed on his neck.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” Dean murmured against him. “Go sit down and I’ll bring it out.”

“Mmmm, okay.” Sam said, moving away from Dean and settling himself on the couch in the living room. Dean took a couple minutes but came out with an envelope. Sam looked up at Dean. He had been getting cards and such in the mail from people like Bobby and Jim who wanted to congratulate him for all his hard work. Sam just thought it was one of those.

“You didn’t have to get me a card.” Sam said, taking the envelope from Dean.

“Just open it Sammy.” Dean said. “I called in a lot of favors for this.” Sam raised an eyebrow but opened the envelope and took out the paper from inside.

State of California Department of Public Health

License and Certificate of Marriage.

Samuel W. Campbell and Dean M. Winchester.

“D-Dean.” Sam looked up at him.

“Now you don’t have to live in the dorm baby boy.” Dean said. Sam laid the paper by him and wrapped his arms around Dean, hugging him. “We have an official record in California, and I got someone to change your records at school to reflect it.” Dean’s heart warmed at the smile that spread on Sam’s face. “There’s something that goes with that.”

“What?” Sam asked. Dean grabbed a box he had set on the coffee table and opened it to show two black bands. Two black wedding bands.

“Gotta make it official right?” Dean asked, taking one of the bands and sliding it on Sam’s finger. Sam did the same for Dean. Dean took Sam’s hand and kissed the finger where the ring was. “Mine.” He whispered.

“Yours.” Sam said happily.

****

Two days later, they Impala was packed down with all their boxes and such. They had sold off most of their furniture, and rented a small trailer that could hitch to Baby for the things that wouldn’t fit in the car. They had not stayed in a motel since they rented the house, but they were going to stay in one on the way to their new home. Dean wasn’t entirely sure where they were going to stop off at yet. They had left early in the morning and stopped to get breakfast. But Sam was tired and napped on and off on the way. They finally stopped late in the night for a motel. Dean hadn’t had to pull all nighters to drive for a long time and he was a little out of practice. So he got them a motel room with a king bed for him and the other Mr. Winchester.

“It’s pretty much our honeymoon baby boy.” Dean joked as he kissed Sam gently. Sam just rolled his eyes and let Dean kiss him.

The next morning, he was like a ball of energy. They were so close, he could taste it. He would have about a month or so to get used to the house before he had to attend orientation and then classes. He had plans to do some gardening; herbs and other plants that they could use for protection as well as cooking. He had done a little with their next door neighbor in Michigan, since it was sometimes too hard for her to get done to pull the weeds. It was a great relaxer sometimes. Dean worked on cars; Sam liked to take pictures and work on gardening with Mrs. Tandy.

“We’re almost there.” Dean said as they passed through Sacramento. Dean couldn’t stop stealing glances at Sam. He looked so happy, so relaxed and Dean was so in love. Before they knew it, they were pulling onto Emerson Street in the Midtown neighborhood.

“I can’t believe we scored a house here.” Sam said in almost a dreamlike state. Their home in Michigan was very nice, but it wasn’t theirs. They were just renting it. Of course, their landlords didn’t mind if they painted or anything like that, but Sam wanted someplace that was theirs.

“Remember, it needs a little love.” Dean said, finding the right address and pulling into the driveway. They had visited the house and it’s previous occupants on Sam’s spring break a few months prior. The house had been empty for about a month now. Dean had worked extra hours and done a few kills to get the money to pay for the house, meaning that the extra scholarship money could be applied to fixing it up.

“It’s ours.” Sam said, a huge smile on his face. “It’s all ours.”

****

Two Months Later

“Dean, I’ve gotta get to the orientation.” Sam said.

“Want me to drop you off on my way to work?” Dean asked, buttoning up his work shirt.

“Might be a good idea. I heard parking is a bitch.” Sam said. “And I haven’t gotten the bus schedule down yet.” Dean smiled and kissed Sam.

“And you’re the nerd.” Dean laughed. “Come on. Let’s get you to your orientation.” Sam smiled. He knew how to drive, but he had just never bothered to get a car. Dean drove them everywhere and Sam was happy with that. Occasionally, he would drive out for things, but it was rare.

Dean dropped Sam off at the student center and gave him a quick kiss.

“If you need me to pick you up, call me baby boy.” Dean said. “Love you Sammy.”

“Love you De.” Sam smiled and waved to Dean before heading inside. They were all gathered into an auditorium and went over all the things that Stanford had to offer, financial things, etc. Finally, they broke for lunch. Sam sat a table by the window, looking out over the campus.

“Hey, mind if I sit here?” A kid asked holding a tray of food.

“Sure.” Sam said, looking up at him.

“I saw you at orientation. What dorm are you in?” The kid asked.

“Oh, I don’t have one. I live at Midtown with my husband.” Sam explained.

“Dude, lucky.” The kid laughed. He stuck out his hand for Sam to shake. “Name’s Brady. I’ll be at Florence Moore...I think.” Sam laughed and shook his hand.

“I’m Sam.” Sam said, smiling at him. “Pre law.”

“Business.” Brady said. “I’m gonna be a CEO someday. But I think I’ll need a lawyer like you to help me out.”

Conversation flowed freely between the two of them, and they stuck together for the rest of the orientation. They had a few of the same basic core classes, and they even got them at the same times.

If Dean ever had to be jealous of anyone, it was Brady.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @we-ride-with-the-tide @dekahg @marvel-af @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk @strab0 @sandlee44

Supernatural Tags: @bandobsession98 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @fangirlsencyclopaediaofweirdness @ilovetardis @missihart23 @supernaturalwincestsblog @flamencodiva @sams-serialkiller-fetish @theas-bedtime-stories

Natural Born Killers Tags: @mysteriousharmony @webcraft4eveh @mereka18 @writinginthesecrettrees

[crystalninjaphoenix]

One Short Day

A JSE Fanfic

Yay, I wrote something that isn’t connected to pain for once in my life! Or at least, the most you get are hints and maybe a moment. I was planning on working on something else, but...I don’t know, I just felt like I needed something softer, and I’m sure there are people who need that too. So behold, an attempt at mostly-fluff! I just wanted to write the boys having fun out on the town, simple enough ^-^

It was rare that there was a full day they could all be together. A day where Schneep wasn’t working, Chase wasn’t recording, Marvin didn’t have a show, and Jackie didn’t have to bolt off at the last minute to do heroic vigilantism. A day where they could just do whatever they wanted, all of them, together.

They met up at Jackie’s apartment building. Naturally, JJ arrived first, then Schneep and Chase at about the same time. Just when they were starting to get worried, Marvin showed up, sprinting up to the group and skidding to a halt beside them.

“Late again, I see?” Jackie said when Marvin finally caught his breath. “Maybe we should just tell you we’re meeting thirty minutes earlier than we actually are.”

“Gimme a break.” Marvin rolled his eyes. “My phone was out of battery so I couldn’t check the time, then I got distracted.”

Jackie raised an eyebrow. “With what?”

“Um...” Marvin looked away, embarrassed. “I may have started playing Plague Inc...for an hour...or more.”

“Dude. Set a timer next time or something,” Chase said. “Ask JJ if you can borrow one of his watches if you have to, I dunno, anything.”

“Enough of this, we are wasting minutes,” Schneep said, checking his own watch. “Jackie decided what to do, what is it?”

Jackie immediately brightened. “Okay, so, we all know JJ hasn’t seen much of the town.” Everyone nodded. “So I thought we could give him the grand tour! Get lunch, go to the park, and I think the fair is open tonight so we can finish with that. That good with everyone?”

“So we’re just gonna walk all over town?” Chase asked. “Only two of us can drive, and none of us have a car right now.”

“Toughen up, Chase, walking’s good for you!” Marvin teased. “Right? Schneep, you’re a doctor, tell him I’m right.”

“He’s right,” Schneep said.

“See?!”

JJ snapped his fingers for attention. I thought we were wasting time? I certainly can’t lead the way, so I’ll ask one of you to.

“Right!” Jackie started off. “C’mon guys, lunch is waiting for us!”

They ended up at a local restaurant near the center of town called Kassie’s. It was a quaint little place, and since it was a warm day they decided to sit at a table outside. The chipper waitress gave them a plate of free fries, then took their order, and headed back inside.

“Is it just me, or is it kind of hot today?” Chase asked, fanning himself with some of the napkins.

“No, it’s not just you. God, I’m dying,” Jackie agreed.

“Jackie, you are not only wearing long sleeves, you are wearing two layers of them,” Schneep pointed out with a smile.

“Oh, you’re one to talk, Mr. Sweater-all-the-time!” Jackie rolled his eyes. “What about Jays? He’s got that vest/dress shirt on.”

JJ looked aghast. You four can run around and show your arms all you like, but I’ll have you know it isn’t proper for a gentleman!

“Are you implying we aren’t gentlemen?” Marvin asked, right before tossing a fry into the air and catching it in his mouth.

JJ raised an eyebrow. Indeed.

“I don’t care, it’s hot. I’m taking this off.” With a few flailing arms, Jackie pulled his hoodie over his head and tugged it off, revealing a Marvel-themed T-shirt underneath. “Ah. That’s better.” He looked around to see the others staring at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“Holy shit, Jackie!” Chase yelled. “Your arm!”

“Wh—oh fuck I forgot I was wearing short sleeves today.” Jackie looked down at his left arm. “Yeah, okay, I got scars, you can look all you want.”

“So that’s why I’ve never seen you in T-shirts,” Marvin realized. “Jackie, what the fuck happened?”

Jackie frowned, then coughed awkwardly. “Y’know...I’d rather not talk about it right now. Maybe later. Besides, Schneep already knows the story. ‘S how we met.”

“Honestly, you three are making mountains out of mole hills,” Schneep said. “Is fine now. You should see his torso, now those are scars.”

That only made the other three look more worried. Jackie sighed. “Look, guys, we’re having a fun day. We’re gonna have fun, and not gonna get all concerned, though I do appreciate it. And you—” he glared at Schneep “—need to stop saying that, ‘cause it makes it sound like I lost some epic battle instead of just having top surgery.”

Chase and Marvin relaxed in unison. “I’m still convinced you have, I dunno, fucking bullet scars or something,” Marvin muttered as Chase pulled the remains of the fries towards him.

“Oh yeah, but Schneep’s talking about the surgery. He’s done this before, and it’s no longer funny!” Jackie looked pointedly at Schneep when saying that last part, who just responded with a massive grin.

JJ was the only one who still looked concerned, but now that was paired with confusion. He looked around at the others. What is top surgery?

You could almost hear the hiss as the others all inhaled sharply in unison. They’d all forgotten for a moment that JJ didn’t know. Schneep cleared his throat. “Jackie, would you like to explain?”

“Right yeah. God, where do I start with this?” There was a slight pause in the conversation as the waitress returned with their food. The moment she was out of earshot, Jackie started up again. “Alright, so...” he leaned forward, hands clasped together, eyes wide and nervous. “You know how I call myself Jackieboy Man, right?”

JJ nodded. A moniker I never understood, but yes.

“Well, I didn’t always call myself that. Neither did anyone else. Because, well, they all thought that...I was a, uh, girl. Even I did. For the longest time I just sort of...accepted it. I only started to figure it out in high school. I got my first job, and one of the customers called me ‘that nice lady,’ and hearing it...just sort of surprised me. Like someone gave the wrong answer to a really easy test question. So...I started thinking, and eventually I realized that I wasn’t...actually a girl. That was when I renamed myself.”

JJ didn’t look any less confused. Why would they not understand that? Wouldn’t they be able to...see that you are not?

Jackie winced. “Well, no...you see, I...fuck.” Jackie put his head in his hands, took a deep breath, then looked up again. “I was born...in the wrong body. Top surgery is...it’s to get rid of the parts I didn’t want. Are you...are you getting this now?”

After a moment, JJ’s eyes widened. He nodded hesitantly.

“Okay. Good. Great.” Jackie sighed. “I don’t know if this word existed in the twenties, but nowadays we have ‘transgender’ as...a thing. When someone is something other than what their body is born as. I’m still a he. Or, just, anything but she, really. Literally call me anything but a girl. And please, don’t ask about what my name was before. Or what’s...down there. Those questions make me...really uncomfortable.”

My good man! JJ signed. Why would I do such a rude thing? And to my dear friend, nonetheless. 

Jackie’s shoulders slumped. He leaned back in his chair and exhaled in relief. He’d been dreading this conversation, but better to rip the bandaid off now. “Thanks, man. I...appreciate your understanding.”

JJ smiled. No trouble at all, Jackie! I may not fully grasp the concept, but that’s no reason to disrespect your wishes.

“If you want, I can answer questions. Just...later. And as long as you get I don’t represent everyone who’s trans.”

JJ nodded and gave a thumbs-up. There was silence for a moment, before Chase broke it by saying “Hey, guys, I made a Jenga tower out of fries.”

Schneep rolled his eyes, and immediately knocked over Chase’s tower.

“Aw you bitch!” Chase gasped. “You didn’t even play the game right!”

“Fuck your games. Actually eat the food like it’s supposed to be.”

“You’re just jealous cause you got a salad instead.”

“Maybe I am! Did you think of that?!”

“Dude, I just said I did!”

The rest of lunch was covered in the blanket of familiar banter. Jackie smiled to himself. God, he was so glad nothing changed.

About two hours later, the boys had made their way to the southern part of the city. That was where the park was. It had an official name, but everyone just called it “the park” because there was only one of them and it was shorter. The park itself was pretty big, with trees, paths, flowerbeds, and two playgrounds at either end.

Since it was the middle of the afternoon, there were quite a few families with young children hanging around, parents watching their kids climb all over the jungle gyms and pushing them on the swings. While Marvin and Jackie walked ahead, pulling JJ with them and talking his ears off, Chase and Schneep hung back a bit. Chase was staring at the families on the playground.

“Chase? Are you okay?” Schneep asked gently. 

“Yeah...yeah, I’m fine. It’s not a down day.” Schneep gave him a Look. “No, really! It’s just...y’know, seeing all the kids kinda bums me out. You know?”

“Of course I do, Chase,” Schneep said. He was probably the only one of the boys who did. “If you are feeling upset, you can go home.”

“No! God, no, that’s not what I meant at all. This has been good so far. I don’t want it to end.” Chase frowned. “Now I’m just...man. I’m starting to lose it.”

“Chase.” Schneep grabbed his hand. “If you are not enjoying yourself, we can always go do something more quiet. We would hate to push you to do something you are not up to.”

Chase considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah, it’s not too bad. It helps that you guys are here, I think. But I’ll let you know...if it gets too much.”

Schneep gave him a long look, before finally judging that everything was alright. “Okay. You have to do that, or I am going to break into your home at night and yell at you for lying.”

“Okay, okay, I get the idea,” Chase laughed. He looked down at their clasped hands. “You’re not worried people are gonna think we’re a couple, then?”

“What? Oh. Is there no such thing as regular hand-holding in this country?! Besides, it should not fucking matter. Also you are not my type anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re not mine, either. You’re a guy.” Chase and Schneep both had a good laugh at that.

Marvin looked over his shoulder at the two of them. “Are you two gonna walk fast or what?”

“Or what,” Chase said with a smirk.

“Oh, you’re hilarious. A fucking comedic genius. Hey guys!” he said that last part to Jackie and JJ. “We’re gonna slow down so these two assholes can join us.”

“Marvin, how dare you,” Schneep said, mock-offended. “At least be more creative in your insulting us.”

“No.” The two mini-groups merged together to form the main group once again. “So what’re you two talking about?”

“Chase is worried that hand-holding makes a couple,” Schneep tattled.

“Bullshit,” Marvin stated. Jackie went “yeah!” in the background. JJ frowned at the use of language, but nodded. “What makes a couple is the kissing. And romantic interest in each other, which leads to the former.”

“You say, having not been on a date in at least five months,” Jackie muttered.

“Shut your stupid face, you...lovely person.” Marvin pulled his wand out of his pocket and twirled it, like he did when he was nervous. “We’ve all been kinda busy lately.”

“Yeah...that’s true,” Jackie sighed. “But maybe if you went out more, you could find someone you could go out with. Just once, if a commitment isn’t your thing right now.”

Marvin frowned. “Why in the wide world of wingmen would I go on a date once deliberately?”

“A night of fun?” Schneep suggested.

“With a complete stranger that I have no interest in? No. I need to have some intrigue in whoever they end up being.”

“None of you are gonna get anywhere with him,” Chase said. “He doesn’t get one-night stands.”

“Damn right I don’t! There’s no point!”

And it just seems improper, JJ signed. If you aren’t going to court someone, don’t approach them at all.

“Marvin! You have an ally!” Jackie gasped. 

“Good. Finally, someone who agrees with me.” Marvin held up his hand and, after a moment of figuring out, JJ high-fived it. “Yeah! There we go, you got it!”

Jackie checked the time on his phone. “Alright, it’s starting to get a bit late. If we want to get enough time at the fair, we’re gonna have to book it to the eastern side.”

They didn’t actually run the whole way there, despite Jackie wanting to. By the time they got to the fair the sun was starting to set. They bought tickets and headed inside, where the Ferris wheel and the roller coaster towered over the smaller rides and the carnival games. It was a weekday, but it was one of the first days the fair was open, so the fairgrounds were crowded but not packed.

Chase gasped. “Games. We can do the games first.”

You do realized they’re all rigged, right? JJ asked.

“Who cares? They’re fun! Games now.”

Soon, the others started to suspect that the reason Chase was so eager to play games was because he knew he would win every time. The dude was scarily good. A combination of sheer luck, skill, and fuck-it-let’s-take-a-chance-ness led to many more victories than the others, something Marvin and Schneep immediately called him out for.

“You are cheating, I am sure of it!” Schneep huffed, folding his arms.

“Nah, just have a knack for it. And, in this case, practice.” Chase tossed one of the wooden balls back and forth while he waited for the carnival worker to hand him his prize. “Ya gotta aim for a bit above the spot where the third jug sits on top of the other two, then throw hard. It’s a bit of an arc.”

“No, you’re a cheater,” Marvin asserted, muttering darkly.

“Aw, c’mon! Here, will this make you less salty?” Chase accepted his stuffed prize from the worker, then handed it right over to Marvin. “I got it for you! You like cats.”

Marvin glared down at the plushie. “You’re lucky it has a cute face,” he said.

“See?!” Chase smiled. He was actually having a good time. It was a good change of pace from the park.

Eventually, everyone had a prize except for JJ. They were running out of games to play, but then Jackie spotted one of those ‘find the ball under the shuffling cups.’ “Hey guys, you up for that one?”

JJ brightened. I’m actually quite skilled at those!

“Well, then, let’s go!” Jackie pulled him over, the others in tow.

The carnival worker was calling out the rules of the game. “You get one, you win one of these lovely roses, you get two in a row, you win one of these tiny fellows here, and you get three in a row, you win one of these adorable penguins! Step right up, step right up!”

“Hey!” Jackie waved to get the worker’s attention. “We want to play!”

“Well then, young sirs, the rules are simple. Keep your eye on the ball, see right here, right here, it’s under the middle cup. Now watch as I take the cup this way, then that, then this and oh look at that! It’s goin’ fast, it’s goin’ fast don’t lose it don’t lose it! Now, which one is the ball under?”

Jackie was fairly sure he knew where it was, but he turned to JJ anyway. “So, which one?” he asked.

JJ bit his lip, then reached forward to point at one of the cups...only for the worker to slap his hand away. “I’m sorry sir, please don’t touch the cups. To prevent tamperin’, see? Just tell me.”

JJ looked a bit stunned at the worker’s aggressive tone. But he signed It’s under the left one.

“Excuse me?”

“He says it’s under the left one,” Marvin jumped in.

“...ah, I see.” The worker lifted up the cup to reveal the ball. “Seems you were right. Do you want to try again?”

The boys glanced uneasily between each other. The worker’s tone had dropped from the polite-carnival talk to one that was a bit...short. She was also talking much slower than she was before, drawing out the vowel sounds. “He can hear you perfectly fine,” Chase said. “He just can’t talk.”

“Mmm...I see...” The worker pursed her lips. “Do you want to try again?”

They all nodded. The worker was silent this time as she shuffled the cups, faster than before. When she stopped, she looked at Jackie. “Which one is the ball under?”

Jackie had a vague idea where, but he wasn’t sure. “JJ, do you know?”

The left one again, JJ signed, less enthusiastically.

“The left,” Jackie translated.

The worker frowned as she revealed the ball under the left cup. “You boys aren’t cheating, are you? Those weird gestures seem like symbols.”

Marvin laughed bitterly. “Yeah, they’re symbols alright. They stand for words. Do you not know how sign language fucking works? He’s telling us the answers ‘cause he’s the best one at it. Now let’s do this one more time.”

The worker shuffled the cups impossibly fast. Once more, she asked Jackie where the ball was. This time, he had no idea, and just looked at JJ. JJ, in turn, stiffened a bit, eyes hardening. It’s under the right one, though I wouldn’t put it past her to sneak it up her sleeve.

“Right,” all the boys said in unison.

The worker reluctantly lifted up the rightmost cup to show the ball sitting underneath. “Congratulations,” she said dully. “You win one of the big prizes. What color do you want?”

Turquoise, JJ signed. “Turquoise,” Jackie translated.

They walked away from the booth in silence. After a few moments of walking, Marvin said, “I could totally put a curse on her.”

“No,” Jackie said firmly.

“Just one little spell. She can lose her voice for a week.”

JJ shook his head, then tucked his prize under his arm so he could use his hands to sign. Revenge is never the best answer. 

“It’s what she deserves!” Marvin snarled. “She was making that difficult on purpose. I saw her, she was going much slower with the customers before us. JJ, I’m so absolutely sorry on her behalf, cause god knows she’s not gonna fucking apologize.”

It’s okay, JJ insisted. Believe it or not, I’ve faced worse, especially in my day. They were much less friendly back then.

“I am sure you are not using that word in the correct meaning,” Schneep mumbled.

Marvin shoved his hand into the pocket containing his wand. “One hex. Come on. Just one. I won’t even make her ears fall off or anything.”

Everyone refused to let Marvin curse the carnival worker, and he reluctantly relented. At this point, they’d finished with the games, and all that was left were the rides. They took turns, one or two of them sitting out to watch the accumulated prizes while the others spun and flew and then stumbled off the rides. After trying most of the rides out, they took a snack break for ice cream and cotton candy.

“I think the Ferris wheel is the only one left,” Jackie said. “Unless we want to catch that sideshow thing. There’s supposed to be magicians—”

“Fake,” Marvin interrupted.

“—clowns, animals, and they advertised a knife-thrower—”

Schneep nearly choked on his ice cream. “No.”

“Okay, got it. No show then.” Jackie nodded. “But I’m not too sure about the Ferris wheel. I know at least one of us is afraid of heights.”

“Yeah, uh, me.” Chase bit his lip. “But I think I’ll be fine if I don’t look over the edge. Unless someone else doesn’t want to go on it, then I’ll stay off with them.”

“I’m good,” Jackie said. “Schneep? Marv? Either of you scared of heights?” Both of them shook their heads. “Alright. JJ?”

JJ signed, A bit, but after all these dizzy rides, I’ll take something calm like the Ferris wheel, if you please.

“Alright. Guess we’re going on the wheel, then!”

Night had truly fallen by this point. The Ferris wheel wasn’t exceptionally tall, but it still rose above everything else in the fair, providing a fantastic view of the colored lights below. Instead of having the traditional two-person seats, this wheel had booths that could fit up to eight people, so all the boys fit into one just fine. The wheel turned, and the booth turned with it. Chase squirmed, resolutely not looking over the side. Jackie and Marvin did the exact opposite, practically leaning out of the booth to look down below.

JJ tapped Schneep, signing something real quick. Schneep nodded, then yelled “Can you two stop that?! You are going to fall out of the fucking side, and you are making Jamie nervous.”

“Oh, sorry.” Jackie sat back down.

“Aww,” Marvin groaned, but pulled back into his seat. “I hope you know I do this for you, JJ.”

JJ smiled. Thank you, it’s appreciated. And I’m sure your body feels the same way, having narrowly avoided a fall to great injury.

“Nah, I would’ve been fine.”

The wheel stopped. Their booth was right at the top. “Oh, fuck,” Chase muttered, covering his eyes with his hands.

“You know, you didn’t have to come,” Jackie said quietly. “We would’ve been alright letting you stay down on the ground.”

Chase peeked between his hands. “I know. But...it’s really nice up here. Quiet. And with just you guys. As long as I ignore the distance from the ground, I’m good. You’re my friends, you know, and you make everything better.”

“Oh, Chase,” Marvin gasped. “That’s...really sweet!”

“What? Didn’t think we where friends?”

“It’s...always nice to be reminded.” Marvin smiled softly.

Well then consider this your reminder, Marvin! JJ wiggled his mustache happily. I consider you all my friends, maybe even family. You are all wonderful people and I love having you in my life!

“Nooo, stop.” It was hard to see in the dark, only lit up by the lightbulbs on the Ferris wheel, but it was possible that Marvin was actually blushing.

“You know what? I love you guys.” Jackie grinned. “Not afraid to admit it! Best friends I’ve ever had.”

Schneep cleared his throat. “Yes, I feel the same. You are all great people, and I am fortunate to have met you. I...love you as well.”

“Aaaahck!” Marvin appeared to be trying to fold into himself. “Too much love! Fatality!”

Chase chuckled. “Marvin! Accept our love!”

We love you, Marvin! JJ signed eagerly. Now you have to say it back!

Marvin made a strange sort of groaning exhale before inhaling deeply, calming down. “Yeah...I—I love you guys too. God, I love you guys so much. You should all know that.”

“There we go!” Jackie said, triumphant. “Marvin, you are, truly, the emotionally constipated one. And I thought Schneep was the worst.”

“Excuse me?!” Schneep gasped. “I assure you I am very love-sharing. I just do not use words too much because they are complicated.”

“Understandable,” Chase shrugged. “I can barely speak half the time, and I was born in English.”

I thought you were born in Ireland, JJ signed, amused.

“Oh, you know what I mean!”

The Ferris wheel started lowering, stopping and starting as it let passengers off. The boys stepped out of the booth and onto land once again.

JJ yawned. I must say that I’m rather tired after all this. I think it’s time we go home.

“Yeah, I’m starting to feel it,” Jackie agreed.

“You all are weak!” Marvin countered. “I’m good for another couple hours.”

“Watch you crash immediately upon entering your room,” Chase laughed.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I think JJ is right,” Jackie said. “It’s time to go home.”

Schneep nodded. “Yes, I could stay up longer, but I have morning shift tomorrow so I should not push my luck. I will see you all later?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Course, dude!”

“Definitely.”

Count on it!

With that, they left the fair. Eventually they split up, each heading their own separate ways until they eventually got to wherever they were staying that night. Some went to sleep immediately, some stayed up a bit later, but eventually they all went to bed.

And when they decided to do it, none of them had trouble for once.

[brylinjmalone-blog]

The Atlantic Group~ An (A/B/O) Rickyl Fanfic

Chapter 1: Waking Up The white and grey titles above him are the only things he can see. His vision is hazy and out of focus as the Alpha’s best friend, Shane, leans over him with what Rick can only guess is a bouquet of lilies in a blue and white antique vase in his arms. From what he can make out in the mess of colors, Shane wears his police T-shirt that had seen better days. His eyes are red and bagged, his face pale like he hadn't been sleeping. Shane looks at him and sighs before he addresses Rick in a distorted voice.

“I'm sorry man. I know I say the same crap every time I come in here." Shane fiddles with the flowers for a breath before chuckling. “I'm just goin' to set these on your side table, okay?"

Shane observes Rick for a moment before he steps off to the side, out of Rick's peripheral vision, to set the flowers down. After what feels like a few minutes of silence Rick's vision settles into focus and calls out to Shane.

"Shane?" He looks around, noticing he's completely alone.

"Shane, you in the john?" No answer. Scenting the air and noticing that only his own scent was present, with was odd because the nurse’s scent should be strong if they were checking on him, Rick looks around to see if he can make out his best friend. He sees the monitors he's hooked up to are off and the flowers that the other Alpha had placed next to his bed are dead. Odd.

Disoriented and confused, Rick tries to get out of the hospital bed. Tossing the blankets aside, Rick slowly sits up and grabs the IV pole next to him before trying to stand. Once he puts weight on his legs-- legs that are far weaker than he thinks they should be for being out for such a short amount of time-- they give out and Rick is on the floor, unable to breathe. He turns on his side and rips the IV from his arm before calling out in a hoarse voice, "Nurse. Help."

When no one responds he calls out again, scenting the air. The whole building smells wrong; nothing like sterilize bandages and medicine but of death. Shakenly getting to his feet and taking a couple more tumbles before he can balance his weight, Rick makes his way to the bathroom connected to his room. He leans against the door with a heaving breath, and stares in shock at the mirror. He's thin-- thinner then he can ever remember being, and he's certain that it's unhealthy-- and his stubble is visibly longer then it had been before he got shot. Sticking his head under the faucet and turning it on, he drinks the stale smelling water greedily to clear the dust from his throat. Once Rick has had his fill he turns the water off and wipes his hands off on his hospital gown, being mindful of the bandages wrapped around his stomach that smell infected. He walks out into the hallway and pushes a gurney that blocked the door out of the way.

The hallway was a war-zone; papers litter the floor and the lights were flickering, doors are thrown open with some lights on and some off. Rick starts to make his way down the hallway, confused about the lack of people. He starts to walk down another hallway with a flickering light, stopping at the doors and almost dropping to his knees at the sight in front of him. Bracing himself against the door he stares at the abandoned hallway, the almost completely decayed body of a woman lying in the center.

'Oh my God, what happened here? Where is everyone? ’ Rick thinks as he walks away from the doors, his fear growing with each step he takes, staring in horror at the bullet ridden blood stained walls. Puddles of the red liquid coat the floor; foot prints slide in and out of view. Being careful not to cut his feet on the glass and ceiling parts on the ground, his breathing catches in his throat at the chained and bared door, the words 'Don't Open, Dead Inside' are spray painted on.

Rick turns to his left and pushes the doors open, bolting from the building. Opening the exit door Rick makes his way outside, using the wall as a support. He keeps his head down, trying to ignore the bodies wrapped in bloody sheets that cover the parking lot.

Rick makes it to his house with little memory as to how he got there. As he pulls up in front of a house he throws the bike he was riding down and stumbles his way into his house. Racing up the porch he throws the screen door open and walks in, calling for his wife and son.

Walking into his and Lori's room he notices the clothes are thrown everywhere, a suitcase on the bed with shirts and pants left hanging out of it. The whole scene was one that reminded him of hasty packing that wasn't completed, like something more important had come up and the suitcase was forgotten. Going into the next room shows a similar scene, only instead of grown men's and women's clothes they're little boy shirts thrown everywhere. Making his way out of the rooms he drops to his knees and calls out for his family again, terrified now.

After a few moments of crying softly, something most Alphas would never do, Rick gets to his feet and makes his way outside, sitting down on the stairs next to the street that lead to his porch. Looking out into the neighborhood Rick sees a man walking down the street in a black suit. The man sees him and slowly inches his way over, limping as if he had hurt himself. Rick raises his hand and waves at the man trying to catch his scent, unaware of the figure behind him, also slowly making his way to Rick. Once the figure is close enough to the back of Rick's head, they raise their arms back like they were playing baseball with a shovel. A twig snaps under their feet and Rick turns around only to be knocked down by the shovel to his face.

……………………………………………………..

Rick must have blacked out at that point from shock and exhaustion because the next thing he knows; he's waking up on a comfortable bed with his hands tied above his head. Not knowing where he is or how he had gotten inside a house, Rick looks around at his surroundings. An Omega boy is standing off to one side of the bed, a baseball bat in hand as he shifts from foot to foot, biting his lip in anticipation. A glove snapping drags Rick's attention to the other side of the bed, where another Alpha is standing. He looks at Rick for a moment before he goes back to cleaning his hands in a bowl on a table.

"Got that bandage changed now," He says, "it was pretty rank. What was the wound?"

"Gunshot." Rick says.

"Gunshot? What else? Anythin'?" He wipes his hands on a towel before he turns to Rick, wiping his brow as well.

"Gunshot ain't enough?" Rick asks sarcastically.

The man gets closer to Rick, almost over top of him to assert his dominance, and snaps back, "Look, I ask, and you answer. That's common courtesy, right?" He leans down until he's face to face with Rick before saying emphatically, "Did you get bit?"

Rick licks his lips in confusion, narrowing his eyes at the man, "Bit?"

"Bit," the man repeats, "chewed, maybe scratched-- anythin' like that?"

"No, I got shot." Rick says looking the man in the eyes, "just shot as far as I know." The man goes to touch Rick, but Rick evades him, remembering what he had done to that man; shot him in the head, point blank, without a second thought.

"Hey. Just let me." He places the back of his hand on Rick's forehead before turning to his son, "Feels cool enough. Fever would've killed you by now."

"I don't think I have one." Rick says, shaking his head.

"Be hard to miss." The man says. The man reaches up and cuts the bindings on Rick's wrists with a pocket knife. He gets off the bed and cuts the bindings on Rick's ankles before closing the knife with a click and putting it back in his pocket.

"Come on out when you're able." The man says as he makes his way over to the door, nudging his son. Rick grabs a thin blanket and makes his way out of the room, heading in the direction of a scrapping ladle and soft murmurs. The man and his son are at a small table, dishing up food onto plates. Rick notices a collection of can goods and toilet paper rolls in corners, two twin mattresses lay side by side, obviously used. It seems like the Alpha and his son were staying within three rooms of the whole house. The windows and door are boarded up with heavy blankets covering them, not letting what little light the candles and oil lamps give off be seen from the outside. The house, now that he's looking around, is familiar. As he makes his way to the windows he feels the other Alpha's eyes on him. He goes to look outside but the man stops him.

"Don't do that," the man calls softly, "They'll see the light. There's more out there than usual. I never should've fired that gun today." The man makes his way to the table and pulls a metal can off a small burner with some rags, "Sound draws them; now they're all over the street. Stupid-- using a gun." He blows the hand-held burner out and places it on a side table. "But it all happened so fast... I didn't think." The man sits at the table.

"You shot that man today." Rick accused him.

"Man?" The man questions.

"It weren't no man." the boy pipes in.

"What the hell was that out of your mouth just now?" the man glares at his son.

"It wasn't a man." the boy corrects himself.

"You shot him in the street out front-- a man." Rick says a little more forcefully.

The other man scoffs and says, "Friend, you need glasses. It was a Walker. Come on, sit down before you fall down." The man places some beans on his son's and his plates before dishing up a plate for Rick, "Here." Rick sits at the table across from the boy.

They say their blessings and start to eat. The man looks at Rick as if something had clicked with him just now that he hadn't thought about before.

"Hey, mister, you even know what's going on?" Rick swallows his food before he speaks.

"I woke up today in the hospital.... came home and that's all I know."  Rick takes another bite of beans. The man and his son share a glance with each other before the man clears his throat.

"But you know about the dead people, right?" he asks.

"Yeah I saw a lot of that," Rick says, slightly nauseous, "out on the loading dock, piled in trucks."

"No, not the ones they put down. The ones they didn't-- the Walkers, like the one I shot today. Cause he'd have ripped into you, tried to eat you." At Rick's confused yet horrified expression the man continues, "Well, I guess if this is the first you're hearin' it, I know how it must sound."

"They're out there now? In the streets?" Rick nods at the windows.

"Yeah. But we'll be fine as long as we stay quiet." Rick switches his gaze between the two males as the dad speaks.

"But listen." the other man gets Rick’s attention, "One thing I do know-- don't you get bit. I saw your bandage and that's what we were afraid of. Bites kill you. The fever burns you out. But then after a while... you come back." The two males get quiet.

"Seen it happen." The boy says. His dad squeezes his arm and smiles at him.

They all go back to eating. Later after they finish their food, the three of them curl up in the living room. The man and his son curl up on the mattresses while Rick leans against the sofa. The boy decides the quiet is too much and ask the men a question.

"Dad, did you ask him? " The man chuckles a little before he turns to Rick.

"Your gunshot; we've got a little bet going. My boy says you're a bank robber."

Rick laughs in his throat, "Yeah, that's me, the deadliest Dillinger. Kapow." Rick shifts a little and smiles at them, "Sheriff's Deputy."

"Uh-huh." The man nods. An alarm goes off down the street and all of them jump. The little boy looks at the window in fear, a small whine escaping him, and his dad immediately calms him.

"Hey, it's okay. Daddy's here. It's nothing. One of them must've bumped a car." He reassures his son, purring softy.

"Are you sure?" Rick ask looking at the window.

"It happened once before. It went on for a few minutes. Get the lights Duane." Rick and the man get up and head to the window. The man waits until the room is mostly dark, the candles still burning low, before he moves one of the blankets to look outside.

" I think we're okay." the man looks outside over Rick's shoulder, scanning the street for any kind of threat.

"That noise-- won't it bring more of them?" Rick asks as Duane comes over and pulls the blanket back a little.

"Nothin' we can do about it now." the older Alpha sighs, "Just have to wait 'em out till mornin'."

"She's here." Duane gasps as a black female Walker in a white nightgown comes into view from the side. She turns towards the house and starts to make her way over, like she knew they were there.

"Don't look." The man tells his son in a strained voice, "Get away from the windows." Duane backs away from the window, shaking, and throws himself on their mattresses, sobbing.

"Duane. Duane, quiet now." His dad goes over to him and pulls his head into his lap, "Come on, quiet now pup. Shh shh." Rick stays by the window just watching the female Walker as she makes her way to the house. She starts walking towards the porch and out of window view. Rick makes his way to the door in the hallway just next to the room they were camping in and looks out the pep-hole. The Walker makes her way up the steps with another Walker following her.

"It's okay, here." Rick hears the man tell his son. the man grabs a pillow and places it over Duane's head, "Cry into the pillow. Do you remember pup? Shh shh." The Walkers make it on the porch, stopping in front of the door while the other Walker walks over to the other side. the woman just looks at the door; her head bobs like a chicken as her sunken, glazed eyes focuses in on the pep-hole. The way she moved was as if she knew Rick was right there, watching her, and she wanted him to know that she was watching him too. Her jaw keeps twitching like she was trying to bite something, and her eyes drop down to the door knob. It's rattling makes Rick look down were the knob was turning. The Walker was trying to get into the house.

Rick backs away, scared, and goes back in the living room where he sits down on the floor, next to Duane and his dad but his eyes never leave the door. He rumbles quietly, smelling the distress on them both and trying to comfort them. He directs it at the Alpha, not knowing how he would react to Rick comforting Duane. He looks at the other man quick. The Alpha nods and Rick rubs Duane’s ankle. Duane reaches down and pulls Rick’s hand up to his dad’s, burying his face in the scent of the two men. Rick looks to the Omega’s dad. He smiles and nods, and Rick goes back to watching the door.

“Thank you.” Duane says.

"She uh..." The man says while he pets Duane's hair, "She died in that other room on that bed in there. There was nothin' I-- I could do about it. That fever, man, her skin gave off a heat like a furnace." Duane was still crying quietly as his dad and Rick talk.

"I should've--" the man shakes his head, "I should've put her down, man. I should've put her down. I know that, but I-- You know what? I just didn't have it in me. She’s my Omega; my mate. She's the mother of my child. When I lost her… if I didn’t have Duane needing me, man, I would have lost it. I don’t know what I would do." The rattling of the doorknob continues even as they get ready to sleep, all kind of huddle near each other. Rick watches the door until he falls asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They drive to the police station in a car they hot wire not far from Rick's house. Rick drives with Duane's dad in the front while Duane piles in the back seat.

"You know, I never got your name. Seems kind of bad not knowing the name of the man who saved my life." Rick says after a couple of minutes of silence.

"Morgan. Morgan Jones and that's my son Duane. You gonna tell us your name, Sheriff?" The man says.

"Rick Grimes, nice to meet you." Rick laughs.

When they show up at the station Rick unlocks the back door for them, and heads for the showers to test the hot water out, to the joy of Morgan and his son. After they had cleaned the excessive amount of grime they had collected, all of them thankful for the hot water, they sat in the locker room drying off. Rick turns to the other man.

"Atlanta sounds like a good deal.  Safer anyway-- more people."

"That's where we were headed, before…" Morgan sighs.

"Plan to move on?" Rick asks.

“Haven't worked up to it yet." Morgan nods. Rick nods before holding out a bottle of pills.

“They’re over the counter, so not as strong, but I figured your boy could use them.” Morgan takes the bottle with a nod and looks at the label. Narrowing his eyes, the Alpha looks at Rick with a small rumble of warning in his chest.

“There were a few Omegas that worked here; the Suppressants were mandatory for when they were on shift. I don’t think they are going to need them now, but you might if you do decide to leave. There might be more around here but…” Rick shrugs and Morgan nods his thanks and apology.

The two men finish getting dress and Duane meets them back in the locker room, fully dressed and looking a lot happier. They follow Rick farther into the station and come upon a metal cage, filled with guns and ammo. Rick unlocks the padlock and chain keeping the guns inside and pulls the door open.

"A lot of it's gone missin'." Rick says as he pulls a rifle off the wall and checks the scope; Morgan and Duane pile in after him. They fill up two duffle bags with ammo and guns before making their way around the building for anything else they might need. Finding five more bottles of Suppressants, Morgan takes four and leaves the one with the most pills in it for Rick.

“Just in case.” Rick nods his thanks and they make their way outside, into the back-parking lot.

"Conserve your ammo." Rick says as they head to the cars, "It goes faster than you think, especially at target practice."

"Duane, take this to the car." Morgan hands Duane their duffle bag and points to the jeep the three of them came in, where Duane heads throwing an "Okay" over his shoulder.

"Are you sure you won't come along?" Rick asks Morgan.

"A few more days. By then Duane will know how to shoot and I won't be so rusty." Rick thinks for a moment, then turns to the squad car-- 'his and Shane's' he thinks--and pulls out two walkie-talkies, turning them on to make sure they work. He hands one to Morgan.

"You have one battery. I'll turn mine on a few minutes every day at dawn. You get up there, that's how you'll find me." He says.

"You think ahead." Morgan nods and goes over to Duane, Rick following him.

"Can't afford not to, not anymore."

"Listen, one thing--" Morgan turns to Rick as he speaks, "They might not seem like much one at a time but in a group, all riled up and hungry-- man, you watch your ass."

"You too." Rick acknowledges. Morgan smiles at him and they shake hands, Duane standing right next to him.

"You're a good man, Rick. I hope you find your wife and son." Morgan says releasing Rick's hand. Rick nods and looks at Duane.

"Be seeing you, Duane. Take care of your old man." Rick and Duane shake hands as well.

"Yes sir." Duane smiles at him. The Alpha and his son already have the jeep started but waits until Rick is pulling out behind him before they make their way around the building. Morgan pulls onto the street, going right, and honks the horn in goodbye. Rick turns onto the street, going left, and blares the siren twice in reply.

He drives out of the small-town neighborhood and heads to Atlanta. While driving, Rick gets on the radio and hopes someone will answer.

"Broadcasting on emergency channel. Will be approaching Atlanta on highway 85. Anybody reads, please respond. Hello, hello. Can anybody hear my voice? Anybody out there? Anybody hears me, please respond. Hello, can you hear my voice?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rick pulls the sun blocker down, showing a picture of him, his Mate Lori, and their pup Carl. It was one of the only pictures he had of the three of them; him and Lori weren't fighting that day and so they went and got a professional family picture of them and Carl. He pulls it out and puts it in the breast pocket of his shirt. Grabbing his hat, the bag of guns and a gas can, he continues down the street leaving the empty squad car on the road.

After about half an hour of walking, Rick stops in front of a small, white farm house and calls out, "Hello? Police officer out here. Can I barrow some gas?  Hello?"

Rick puts down his stuff and hops onto the porch. He knocks on the door and calls out once again. "Hello? Anyone home?"

He walks around the porch looking in each window. As he looks in the last one, he gets queasy. A man and his wife were dead; two bloody holes to the heads and a shotgun in the man’s hand tells Rick they had killed themselves. Walking over to where he left his bags, Rick stops short at the sound of a nickering horse. Looking over to the fenced in field, a chestnut stallion with a white face was grazing on the overgrown grass. Rick picks up his things before he goes into the barn, takes off his jacket and pulls one of the ropes off a nail, before he makes his way over to the horse. Rick leads the horse to the barn and gets him cleaned up and saddled. Once the horse is good, Rick puts the bag on his back and gets on the stallion.

"Just go easy, okay? I haven't done this for years." The horse takes off running, making Rick grab hold quick so he doesn't get thrown off, "Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa! Easy now. Easy, boy. Easy easy. Easy. Easy. Eas-- Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa."

…………………………………………………………………………………..

The horse seems to settle down as they make it closer to Atlanta; Rick has him walking on the one clear side of the road.

"Let's go." Rick urges the stallion forward, staring at the traffic jam of abandon cars that looked to be left behind while trying to leave Atlanta. It wasn't until they were in Atlanta streets that the horse started to act strange, not wanting to go further in the city, whining and trying to go back the way they came. Rick turns the horse back around and urges him forward. Passing military vehicles, helicopters and local cars and buses, Rick didn't see any Walkers yet. It wasn't until they passed a bus, two streets over, that they found the dead. Three Walkers start to get off the bus, growling, which causes the horse to start whining again.

A few more Walkers start to appear as Rick looks back at the ones getting off the bus. Rick turns the horse down another street where a tank and some military jeeps were left. Rick slows down in front of the tank where a body of a soldier was laying against the tanks gun, crows eating out of one of the wounds on the soldiers back, the man's face was blown off. Passing the tank, Rick's nose starts to crinkle at the smell of death that seems to cling to the city. Rick kicks the horse into a run. He turns onto the next street and immediately tries to back away, the only thing that stops him from running head first into the street of Walkers was the horse rearing in fear. The whole street is covered from what Rick can tell, but he doesn't stay to get a good look. As soon as the two of them turned the corner, the Walkers took notice of them and started after their next meal. Rick allows the horse to take off, trusting it to get them out. The herd takes off after them, slowly, as the horse runs down the street. They make it to the tank before their path is blocked by Walkers from all sides.

Surrounded by the Walkers as they start grabbing at both Rick and the horse, the stallion rears up and Rick has trouble holding on. When the Walkers knock them both to the ground, Rick drops the bag of guns and his hat. Most of the Walkers start their feast on the horse, seeing as it was basically an easier target because it couldn't really get up. A few go after Rick, but he kicks one off him and scrambles back. Seeing more Walkers in front of him, he freezes, knowing there was no way to outrun them. He’d have to outsmart them, which has him crawling under the tank, the Walkers following him. Seeing how many were there, locking him in place on both sides, Rick places the gun to his temple.

"Lori, Carl, I'm sorry." Just as he goes to pulls the trigger, Rick notices an opening under the tank and pulls himself up before the Walkers reach him. He closes the door under him and scoots against the wall of the tank, next to a dead soldier.

"Oh.... God" Rick pants out. He goes to pull the gun from the soldier’s suit and almost yells when the dead soldier turns towards him, growling. Rick brings the gun up and fires. Immediately his ears start to ring, his vision goes out of focus. Rick falls to the ground in pain when he notices an opening from the top of the tank. Standing up, with a little difficulty the ringing in his ear starts to disappear. He notices the bag of guns in the street but is unable to do anything as Walkers were starting to climb the tank. Rick pulls the lid down, the Walkers beating at it, and locking himself in with the dead soldier. Rick checks the gun he pulled from the soldier to see how many bullets he had left, then he just sitting there, trying to figure out how he was going to get out of this one. Over the sound of Walkers pounding on the tank and eating his horse, Rick hears a sound; the radio.

"Hey, you." The man over the radio says, "Dumbass. Yeah, you in the tank. Are you cozy in there?"

[buttercreamscenes]

Failed Porn Star - Joe Sugg

Request: hi can i request an imagine where the reader is joes gf and she really fucking hates his mustache... i mean please dont get me wrong here, i love joseph graham sugg w every fiber of my being, but his fucking mustache is giving me 80's failed porn star vibes and i hate it... sorry if this was a lot. i love you and your writing!! ive been following from the beginning and youre so amazing and my fav buttercream blog. luv ya lots xoxo ♡♡♡♡♡

Request: I neeeeeeed something really cute, like total couple goals lmao (With Joe)

Smut: Mild

Requests are OPEN!

A/N: Thank you for the title babe! That seriously made me laugh!

I hope you like it :)

Masterlist

“You’re home!” You said as you walked into Joe’s living room. He had been in LA for the past couple of weeks and unfortunately, you couldn’t join him. Your boss needed all the help she could get around this time and letting one of her favourite assistants go wasn’t an option. “What the hell is that?” You asked, looking at a smiling Joe walking towards you.

“Just give me a kiss, you fool.” As Joe went in for a kiss, the first one you two would have in weeks, you couldn’t help but be disgusted. “(y/n)?” He asked as you avoided his kiss.

“I’m not kissing you with that.” 

“You kissed me before I left and I had it then...”

“Yeah, it was more stubble before and now it’s just...gross.” You complained. Joe had been growing out his mustache for a couple of weeks now and although it was tolerable at first, you couldn’t handle the way it looked. You always hated guys with facial hair and you made Joe promise he would never try to grow any but here he was...with that thing on his face.

“Oh come on,” Joe pleaded. “It looks perfectly fine.” He said, trying to kiss you once again but you avoided it for the second time. “Babe.” 

“Until you get rid of that, I will not kiss you.” You stated. You smirked at him, trying to convince him to shave but all he did was look at you. Joe was pretty stubborn but you knew you could win this war. You stared into his blue eyes, not moving or blinking, as Joe stared into yours. You cocked an eyebrow as he smirked at you.

“Babe!” All of a sudden, Joe’s arms were wrapped around you and he was placing little kisses along your neck. “I know you can’t go a day without kissing me if you don’t have to.” His kisses became sloppy as he left a trail of them from your shoulder to your chin. You closed your eyes remembering the feeling of his lips, the feeling you hadn’t felt in weeks and although you wanted to crack, you had to stay strong. He moved the kisses so they were inches from your lips and in order to protect yourself, you tilted your head to the ceiling. “Fair play.” He whispered against your neck, now moving the kiss backwards.

You smiled, knowing Joe was struggling to find ways to crack you. He was good but you were better. As Joe tightened his grip around your waist, he picked you up and lightly tossed you on the couch before climbing on top of you. You looked up at him and smirked as his hands slid under your shirt, squeezing your hips.

“I’m not-” You began but as soon as one of Joe’s hands moved from your hips to your back, playing with your bra strap, you stopped. His eyes stayed glued onto yours and you could see a lustful look in them. Before you knew it, he had unclipped your bra and his hands were now at the front of your chest. He pressed his lips against your neck once more causing you to close your eyes and bite your lip.

“I’ve missed you.” He whispered, his hands traveling to the top of your leggings.

“Oh, no no.” You said, pushing him off you and onto the ground. “You want anything more, get rid of that.” Joe looked up at you, sighing as you walked away. You smirked as you made your way to his room, praying to God you had won.

[naughty-teddy-innit]

Rehabilitation : Chap. 2 An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction

Title:      Rehab: Chapter 2

Author: @naughty-teddy-innit

Rating:  PG- No smuts for a while, but intense content?

Click here for: INTRO  Chapter 1

CHAPTER 2

I inhaled, and tipped my head back, a low hum of pleasure escaping my lips. The warm, moist steam that filled my lungs was equally heavenly on my sore, stiff muscles, and I took a long moment to just stand there, to let the spray of hot water cascade down my body. It was so soothing and relaxing and just SO deliciously nice after a very, VERY long day, and for a moment I seriously contemplated just STAYING in there, before reaching down and twisting the slippery knob to shut the water off.  I mean, I could quite comfortably have flipped the TV on and relaxed with a cold drink WHILE sitting under the heavenly streams of hot water. It was just that lovely. Sigh.

I awkwardly managed to scoop up the 2 fluffy turquoise bath towels that were hanging on the wall, and wrapped one tightly around myself, and twisted the other around my soaking wet hair.  I stepped from the shower, and faced myself in the mirror, quickly wiping the steam from the slick surface.  Ugh. I bit my lip at what was staring back at me, wishing for the millionth time, probably like every other woman in the world, that I could change the reflection.  Making the same wishes that probably any other girl staring into the mirror would make. Prettier, perkier breasts. Slimmer arms. A flat belly and thighs that didn’t jiggle. I’d always been a curvy girl, it was a trait that ran through almost all of my family, and it was a trait that was a struggle to embrace at the best of times.  I self-consciously sucked my tummy in, and turned study the line of my jaw and profile. Add a slimmer face to that list, and lose the double chin, and…I guess that list could go on, right?  Funny thing is…I don’t consider myself ugly at all. I love the sparkle of my blue eyes, and I’ve always been told my long, wavy hair belongs in a Pantene commercial. Masses of silky waves that once tamed, really were pretty, and were probably the one feature that made me feel prettiest.  

I unwound my hair, quickly ran a comb through my damp tresses, and tucked it back into a simple braid.  A bit of moisturizer on my face, some lotion on my arms and shoulders, and that was that. I wrapped myself up in my favourite, faded flannel bathrobe, and turned back to the mirror.  I could feel the exhaustion behind my eyes, the dull ache of not enough sleep, an ungodly early morning and just… too much. Too much in my mind, too much on my heart.  My eyes squeezed shut, the onslaught of the day washing over me….

 ______________________________________________________________

“God…. Jesus in Heaven…Oh Ed…My boy…”  

For the briefest moment, as his voice broke and he wobbled right in front of my eyes, I’d honestly thought his knees were going to go right from under him. I’d almost found myself grabbing for his elbow, but he’d managed, with his good arm, to steady himself on the railing of the bed.

I had tried to prepare him, but it had to have been a horrible shock for Stuart, seeing Ed that way.  He managed to lower himself in to the chair that sat perched by the head of the bed, out of the way of the wires and tubes and beeping equipment, and scooched it as close to Ed’s side as possible.

I saw the sheen of tears in his eyes, but only one managed to land on the scruffy expanse of his cheek before he gathered himself, taking a deep breath and blinking the rest away.  It was an awful, brutal sight. I was only a bystander, I didn’t know him at all, but even my stomach hurt to see someone so young in such a god-awful state.  

He was white as a ghost, pallid against the sheets and his hospital gown, and he had IV’s, tubes and monitors connected all over his body.  His poor face was a mess.  A massive gash along his hairline was stitched carefully back together, as was his badly split lip.  One eye was bloody, swollen shut and marbled with bruises. The rest of his face wasn’t much better, puffy and covered in contusions and scrapes, and there were dried spatters of blood still matted in his pretty orange hair.  His arm and shoulder were tightly braced, and it looked as though metal pins or …something…were protruding from the cast on the lower half of his arm and hand, likely surgically implanted to keep his broken bones in the right place.  His neck was braced too, and he was intubated, a breathing tube placed down his throat.  His leg was also elevated, casted and in traction, and beyond all the injuries we could see?  I could only imagine the injuries we couldn’t.  

I don’t think he moved from that chair for hours. He managed to slide his good hand through the railings of the bed, carefully avoiding any tubes or wires, and kept his one good hand laid gently over Ed’s uninjured one. And he just…sat. Watched over him, just like he said. No words spoken, just silent…protection? For hours, he just…sat. Never once leaving his side.  

It had to have been close to lunchtime, when he came hurrying back to the front desk, phone in hand.

“If I leave to take this call, will I be allowed back in??” He asked in hushed, but urgent tone. “His mum and dad have finally landed and I need to get them here.  I need to tell them where to go.  Imogen’s frantic and John’s BARELY holding it together.  I don’t imagine you want phone calls in here?”

I looked up from my computer screen and gestured to the call buttons by the door. “Not a problem, Mr. Ca-, I mean, Stuart.” I smiled, remembering what he’d said earlier.  “You just have to press the call button outside the door, identify yourself, and we’ll buzz you back in.  Get them here safely, okay?”

“Appreciate it, Annaliese, thank you.” He nodded an exhausted smile, and rushed out the door to take the call.  

—

His sweet mama, God, she just flat out broke my heart.  SO tiny, and just beside herself when they finally arrived.  I could see where Ed got his pretty ginger hair from, though hers were streaked, showing her years, and she had beautiful dark eyes.  Her husband was taller than her by quite a bit, he had grey, thinning hair and a beard to match, and warm eyes.  Her eyes were swollen and red and she looked as though she hadn’t stopped crying in hours, even days, and they still flowed as she clung to her husband. Stu made very quick introductions, mentioning briefly that his brother Matthew would be arriving later in the day; he’d apparently been on vacation with some friends, but I knew they only cared about getting to their son.  Stu and John held her tightly, supporting her and holding her up in every way they could while I paged Ed’s doctor and signaled to the nurse that they’d arrived.

“Mr. and Mrs. Sheeran?” I spoke softly. “I’ve paged Dr. Hendry, and he’s on his way right now, and Amy, our charge nurse, will take you to your son. I’m so sorry the last 48 hours have been so rough, but I’m glad you’ve made it now.  Please let me know if ANY of you need anything.”

Imogen was beyond words, but she managed a quick, but grateful nod as Amy joined us, and gently led them away.  

 ______________________________________________________________

I shook my head, subconsciously trying to shake free the images swirling around my brain. Once his family had arrived, I’d taken a step back and let the doctors and nurses do their job, an effort to separate myself from a situation that while it didn’t not involve me, somehow had drawn me in anyway. I found myself wanting to check in on him, on his family…. but I pulled back, wanting to maintain some level of professionalism. Still. The remainder of my shift, my mind couldn’t help but wander, and even now, hours later in my own tiny bathroom, I clearly wasn’t having much luck detaching myself.

The steam on the mirror had faded, and there was a chill to the air.  I tossed my towel over the shower rail, still trying to figure out for the life of me why this boy had me so drawn in, and fumbled for the switch on the wall.  I padded off to my tiny kitchen, determined to find glass of wine and something involving chocolate. I was exhausted, dying to put my feet up on the couch and probably just pass out. I’d not left work until near 6:30 after starting my day at 5, and working ICU/ER shifts meant that my weekends were not always weekends. I was due back in the ICU to cover for Brenda again the next day, but graveyard shift meant I wasn’t due in till much later in the evening, and would work over night.  

I sank into the worn, overstuffed cushions on my couch, a glass of chilled White beside me on the aged pine chest my grandmother had passed down to me, and handful of double stuff Oreos for good measure.  I fumbled with the remote, flipping on an old episode of Breaking Bad, and several sips and a couple of cookies later, I’d nodded right off.

————

The next day was spent sleeping till late in the afternoon.  My body clock was often at a loss; my sleep schedule often changed depending on whether I was working an overnight, a morning or an afternoon/evening. I managed to pull myself out from under my duvet with enough time to do a grocery run, hit the bank and get home to throw down a quick supper.  I’d bring a sandwich and some snacks with me, but nothing sucked more than having an empty, rumbly belly when you were stuck at desk on graveyard shift.  

My third-floor walkup was about a 10-15 drive from the hospital, but staff parking was brutal, and gas was expensive, so I often just took public transit.  This night was no different, and I found myself on the unit with time to spare for the beginning of the graveyard shift.  The nurses were completing their shift change at the same time I was starting, so the typical checks were completed and updates given.  Cheryl, the nighttime charge nurse, was a sweet lady and one I’d worked with quite a few times before.  Unfortunately, she was already a bundle of frazzled nerves when I arrived. Short staffed, one nurse and the other clerk on duty had already called in sick, and the Resident was stuck in traffic.  Goddamn. I was already dreading what this night would bring.

Several hours, a cardiac arrest, and a medication allergic reaction later, I was in desperate need of a coffee and a stretch.  I hadn’t stopped in hours, not even long enough for my brain to drift to Ed (though I knew he was still with us) and I was due for a break. I logged in my last order and faxed out the last of the requisitions over to 3C, our step-down unit. I lifted myself from the lumpy desk chair, rolling my neck to loosen it up, and stretched my arms behind me.  

Cheryl was updating flowsheets and charts at the Nurses Station, kitty corner to my desk, and shot me a grateful smile when I mentioned where I was going.

“Girl. Go. Coffee waits for no woman. Take a fifteen, and lord knows we’ll be here when you get back.”

I grinned and grabbed my bag from under the desk. “Steeped tea, 2 milks and a sugar?”

“Bless you, my child.” The woman actually folded her hands in prayer and crossed herself, and my shoulders shook as I silently cracked up.  “My turn next time?”

“You got it.” I tucked my bank card into my pocket and glanced at the massive swinging doors that gated our unit, and then decided to tiptoe through to the back doors that were closer to the elevators. The main cafeteria was closed this time of night, so the coffee shop on the main level would have to be my destination. I tiptoed through the maze of beds, carefully making sure not to disturb anyone, and I was almost to the back of the unit and out the door, when I heard the noise.

First one monitor blared, then another alarm screamed, and then I heard the rattle of the bed rails. Oh no. I whirled around, my coffee forgotten, searching out the source of the commotion.

The flash of orange hair, the rainbow colours of his skin, so bright against his hospital gown and sheets- my heart dropped. Shit.

It was Ed.

Luckily, there was a phone on the wall, and I grabbed it, slapped the call button and paged the Code which would summon the doctor.  I could see Cheryl come skidding around the corner- she’d have seen the monitors go off on her screens at the Nurses Station, and she literally flew to his bedside, along with another trauma nurse on duty.  

He’d not yet woken up, he’d been unconscious and intubated since he was brought in from the accident, and it looked as though he was finally coming to. The problem with an unconscious or comatose patient coming to with a tube down their throats and no idea where they were or what was going on?

Panic, fear and utter confusion. And panic, fear, and utter confusion can wreak havoc on an already weak and injured body.  

I noticed his parents were nowhere to be seen, and neither was Stuart, probably because it was the middle of the night. I grabbed the phone again, and called down to paging to have them call whatever numbers they had on file for his parents. They needed to be here now. If he was waking up, I knew how much he’d need those familiar faces to support him.  

I touched nothing, I was very aware that I was NOT a medical professional and I ALWAYS made sure to leave anything medical TO the professionals, but physically, I was closest to him, and mentally…I couldn’t help it. I only wanted to help.   His eyes were wide, frantic and panicked and his good arm was trying blindly to yank at the tube that was down his throat. His frightened eyes locked with mine and in his drugged up, confused state, he was blindly reaching for me.

“Hey…. hey, Look at me.” I spoke softly, and very gently wrapped my hand around his, guiding it away from his ventilator tube, and made sure to keep eye contact. I spoke again, clearly, softly and gently.  “Ed, Look at me. You’re okay. You’re in a hospital, your family is coming, and the doctor is coming to help you. The tube in your mouth is only to help you breathe. You’re safe. I promise.”

His whole body was tremoring, and he obviously was not all the way conscious from the way his eyes were rolling around and intermittently drifting shut, and I wasn’t sure he’d understood a word I’d said.

Dr. Collins came rushing over, along with his Resident and the surgeon on-call, and together they began to check his monitors and vitals, and issued orders for tests and scans. Cheryl immediately made notations on his chart and sent the second nurse for the sedative and pain med the doctor ordered.

The doctor made his own progress notes, and then waved the nurses and resident back a bit, ostensibly to uncrowd his overwhelmed patient.

“You’re a very lucky young man, considering.” The doctor smiled a reassuring smile, and rumbled on in his deep voice. “I think we’re ready to remove that breathing tube, but you must try to remain calm. You’ve had a rough ride.  We’ll talk more when you’re feeling stronger, and when your family has returned.”

He gestured at Cheryl to come assist with extubating the tube.   I quickly moved to step back and get out of the way, but a set of warm, strong fingers, fingers I’d still been squeezing up until just a moment ago, quickly wrapped tightly around my hand and wrist. A pair of the clearest blue eyes I’d ever seen looked at me and frantically begged me to stay, no words needed. His grip was strong, and I could see him shake his head just the tiniest fraction of an inch when I’d tried to pull back.

I gently squeezed his hand back, and bit my lip, a (what I hoped was) a reassuring smile flitting across my face. He wouldn’t be alone. I’d make sure of it.

“I won’t go. I promise.” I whispered, holding on tight. “I’m right here.”

TBC…..

Xoxox

Author’s Note: I’m just gonna hide in my little corner over here and hope the wait was worth it? I know it’s not my longest piece of writing, but I kinda love. Small disclaimer- Take everything with a grain of salt, and allow for touch of creative license pretty please lol I do work in a hospital, I do Annaliese’s job, but I haven’t worked in ER or ICU before, so if I’m a tad off, it’s with the best of intentions!! 

ALL FEEDBACK/ASKS/NOTES/MESSAGES much appreciated and welcomed!  Love you guys!

[brokengem]

Hey!! I just wanted to ask if you could write a Harry x evie fic, maybe one where they're trying to hide their relationship from their friends? Thanks!!

Oh Anony, this was so much fun to write. Thank you for the prompt. Here you are, hope you enjoy it. 

Title: Subtle you are not AKA The Five Times Evie and Harry tried to keep their relationship a secret Plus the one time they failed.Word Count: 3216Rated: G.Note: On AO3

I. Ben

Ben knew he was late. The appointment he’d set up with Evie had been for noon, but of course the meeting with the council had went over the allotted time. Grumpy having taken an instant dislike to something Genie had suggested and things only escalated from there. Ben had to defuse the situation before things got out of hand.  

Fifteen minutes later and he finally arrived at Evie’s dormroom. He only hoped she wasn’t too angry with him for making her wait. Ben knocked lightly to announce his presence, giving the doorknob a quick twist, surprised when the door didn’t budge. He waited a moment and listened only to hear a soft giggle followed by someone shushing another.

“Evie, I’m sorry that I’m late. The meeting got a little hairy towards the end but I was able to settle things. I hope you aren’t mad. Evie?” Ben’s smile wilted, staring at the closed door, “if you’re busy I can come back another time.” Another giggle was his only response. The young king just making out some rustling before Evie gave him an answer.

“No, it’s fine Ben. I was just working on another commission. Give me a second and I’ll let you in.”

Ben nodded, despite knowing she couldn’t see him. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, the king waited, greeting any student who happened to pass by.

“Sorry for making you wait, Ben,” an innocent smile graced Evie’s lips as she pulled open the door. Ben’s brow rose as he took in her appearance. Her normally perfect hair was in disarray, though it looked like she had tried to calm it down before answering the door. The top she wore was slightly skewed, delicate hands quickly working to smooth out a few wrinkles.

He waved her off her apology with a smile, thinking nothing more of it, “no I’m sorry. We made this appointment and I was the one late.”

“Yer majesty,” Harry cooly addressed from where he lounged on Evie’s bed, giving the king pause. If he noticed the lack of boots and socks on the pirates feet, he didn’t say a thing.

“Don’t mind him,” Evie reached for his hand, pulling him towards the little platform for him to stand. Ben didn’t miss how her eyes lit up when she looked at the pirate. “He was helping me with one of my latest orders.”

She waved to the beautiful blue cape draped across Mal’s bed.

“For Chad?”

Evie nodded, ignoring the snort that came from her bed, “how can you tell?”

Ben laughed, “peacock feathers gave it away.”

Evie clapped her hands together, “right! Well let’s get started on that new suit!”

II. Gil

Gil growled in frustration. He just wasn’t getting this problem. Now that he was in Auradon he was getting much but with his studies. There were still a lot he couldn’t grasp yet, like this damn chemistry problem. He’d been trying to do it on his own for five minutes now, but he wasn’t having any luck. Thank god, Evie had come over to help him and Harry with their work.

“Evie, I still don’t get this,” Gil mumbled, looking up from the worksheet.

The blue haired princess didn’t reply. Instead all her attention was focused on Harry, the pair sitting impossibly close. Evie’s hand rested casually on the pirates knee and Harry’s arm was draped loosely around her shoulder. She giggled to something he couldn’t hear, the brightest smile on her lips as she looked into Harry’s eyes.

“You know,” Gil coughed, head tilting to one side as he observed them. They jumped apart, Evie making as much space between them as she could as Harry scowled at him. “You two would make a pretty cute couple.”

Evie giggled nervously, tucking a strand of her behind her ear, “we wouldn’t. We are far to different.”

He only shrugged, “I think you fit pretty well. Harry behaves best when you’re around. Your friendship is good for him.”

“Hey!” Harry growled, fingering drumming angrily against the top of his knee, “ye need to shut up.”

Gil watched silently as Evie’s fingers brushed against Harry’s arm, his friend’s anger  instantly melting away. Harry huffed, looking back at the girl from the corner of his eye. “See,” he exclaimed, hands thrusted out towards them, “if I didn’t know any better I’d think you two were already dating.”

Evie caught one of his hands in her,giving it a gently pat, “don’t be silly, Gil.”

He frowned, “I may not be the brightest but I’m pretty damn observant.”

And he was. He noticed things and there had to something more here. They acted so different around each other. How couldn’t someone assume anything else.

“Didn’t ye have a question ye needed answered?” Harry drawled.

Gil blinked, looking down at his forgotten worksheet. How could he forget? All thoughts about Evie and Harry’s questionable relationship leaving his mind, “Right! Evie, I can’t wrap my brain around this problem.”

He moved closer to the girl, missing the relieved looks passed between the pair.

III. Jay

Jay was going to kill him. Harry was late to R.O.A.R practice yet again, the third time that week. If he wasn’t such a great asset to the team, he was sure Lonnie would have kicked him off the team and if he keeps it up she just might. She wouldn’t blame her if she decided too.

He doesn’t get why he’s the one being sent out to try and find the skeevy pirate when Gil or even Uma could go and hunt for him. He was their best friend after all, but no apparently it was his job to babysit the other boy.

He was beginning to imagine all the ways he could mess with the pirate during practice when he heard the giggling. The tourney field was empty with most the players in the gym for R.O.A.R practice, but that was definitely a giggle coming from the bleachers. He’d hate to scare whoever it was but he really needed to find Harry before Lonnie killed him.

“Harry, you’re going to be late” a familiar voice giggled.

“Few more minutes,” Harry’s thick drawl answered, “they won’t miss me.”

Busted. Jay grinned, making a beeline for the bleachers. “Think you’re so smooth. Let’s go Casanova.” Jay frowned when the pair came into sight. Evie’s back was pressed against the frame of the bleachers with Harry’s arm overhead as he leaned in. The pair stared back at  him wide-eyed.

Jay’s brow rose in question, arms crossing over his chest, “this is new.”

Evie smiled innocently at him as Harry slowly took a step away from her, “Jay, how are you?”

“Oh I was great. All ready for R.O.A.R practice but you know we’re missing a member so I had to go out and hunt him down,” Jay glared pointedly at the grinning pirate.

Harry shrugged, “What can I say mate? Princess needed help with some lines. What kind of pirate would I be if I didn’t help.”

Jay scowled at him, glancing between the two. Evie’s cheeks had a much darker tint to them than normal and Jay hadn’t missed the anger that had lurked in Harry’s eyes when he interrupted. He was being lied to.

“Pirates aren’t helpful,” he snapped back, “ but whatever. Lonnie wants you to stop being late to practice. So if I can steal you away for a few hours, you can come back and finish whatever THIS is.”

Evie straightened herself, leaning up to whisper something quickly to the pirate. Jay’s eyes narrowed as Harry nodded, a soft expression creeping into his eyes as the girl walked away from her.

“We were just finishing up. Good luck with practice!” She gave his arm a friendly pat, humming happily to herself as she left.

Jay turned a questioning brow to Harry, the pirate simply tossing an irritating grin his way with a shrug.

“Can’t keep sweet Lonnie waitin’ can we?”

IV. Carlos

Carlos was going to kill him. He could have sworn Jay had made Chad return all the spare keys he had made of the room. But he he was only a few steps away from his opened door. Jay was off running R.O.A.R strategies with Lonnie and Li’l Shang. Mal and Evie normally let them know ahead of time if they were going to invade the room, so there was clearly only one possible person. Chad apparently held out on them.

“Chad I swear to all that’s high that I’m just going to let Jay pummel you,” Carlos ranted, ready to give his own pummeling to the invasive Prince, “you aren’t Chad.” He frowned, staring at the familiar red covered back. The pirate groaned, hastily closing something in front of him before glaring at Carlos from over his shoulder.

“Last I checked, mate, I wasn’t that pompous prince.”

“I can see that, mate,” Carlos mocked, taking the briefest steps back when Harry turned to face him. The shorter boy squared his shoulders, head held high like Jay taught him. This was his room and Harry was the trespasser, he couldn’t show fear. “But seriously man, what are you doing in my room? How’d you even get in here?” Carlos quickly looked at the doorknob to see if it’d be tempered with.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned away, palms flat on the table housing the 3D printer, “got a key.”

Unbelievable. He really need to talk to Ben about possibly installing some sort of alarm system for their room. He was getting tired of the unwanted visitors.

“What are you making anyway?” Carlos approached, disappointed when Harry reached into the machine and quickly snatched the item inside. It was small, fitting perfectly into the pirate’s palm.

“It’s nothing for ye to worry about pup,” Harry carefully tucked the item away, “if ye don’t mind I have some place to be.” The pirate left with a tip of his hat.

Carlos shook his head, hurrying to his machine to find a folded piece of paper lying beside the controller. Curious Carlos unfolded it surprised to see the design for a ring; one with a braided ring band and a heart shaped sapphire in the middle with four tiny leaf shaped rubies on both sides. It was beautiful and Carlos could only imagine the cost if Harry had actually bought a real one. Above the ring he could just make out the pirate’s sloppy handwriting, Evie.

“That belongs to me,” Harry growled, snatching the paper from Carlos’ hand, he clenched it tightly, “what did ye see?”

Carlos rose his hands in surrender, “she’s going to love it.”

Harry gave a slight shrug, “ah agree. CJ will love it.”

“No, I meant…you made it for Evie, right?” Carlos asked, watching as Harry’s frown deepened, “it might not be the real thing, but she’ll love it. Giving it to her for her birthday?”

Harry scoffed, crumpling the paper in his hand before stuffing into his back pocket, “it’s for me sister, not the little blue berry princess.”

“Right,” Carlos sounded unconvinced. He knows what he saw, but if Harry wants to play he’d let him. The pirate snarled in response, leaving in a flourish of angry red.

V. Mal and Uma

Mal growled, punching her pillow angrily. Sitting up evil glared at the other girl through the darkness. Evie froze on her way to the door.

“You need to work on your sneaking skills, E,” Mal deadpanned, watching her best friend sag in defeat, “Evie, where are you going at this hour?”

“Dizzy just has a bit of an emergency,” Evie answered, as she continued towards the door, “I’ll only be a few minutes. Promise!”

The girl was out the door before Mal could disagree. Mal frowns, concerned over her friends’ strange behaviour. For the last few days, Evie had been sneaking out at ungodly hours. She thought she was sneaky but everytime Mal had woken up and just let her go. Not tonight. She didn’t believe for a second that Dizzy needed her at two am. Mal was up and out of bed in minutes, she needed to hurry before Evie got too far ahead. It would defeat the purpose if she lost her target before finding out what she needed to know.

As quiet as a mouse Mal followed her blue loving best friend, Evie glancing this way and that as she made her way through the corridors. Where are you going that you’re so worried about being followed? Mal wondered as Evie continued to look over her shoulder. The girl stopped just outside the double doors leading to the kitchen, she gave one final look around before a hand shot out pulling her in.

Mal frowned, rushing forward to help her friend. Throwing open the door, Mal glanced around in confession. The kitchen was empty. Everything left untouched. Where was Evie?

“Gotcha now, Harry!” Uma whispered, the young sea-witch scowling at the sight of Mal, “what are you doing here?”

“Looking for Evie,” Mal answered, crossing her arms, “not that it’s any of your business. Lose your first mate?”

Uma mimicked her pose, head held high and arms crossed, “he’s been sneaking out. I wanted to see what he’s been off doing.”

Mal hummed, glancing around the kitchen once more hoping for some evidence of Evie to pop up, “Evie’s been disappearing to. I followed her into the kitchen, but clearly,” she waved her arms out around her, “no Evie.”

“And no Harry,” Uma grumbled.

“You don’t think they went off together?” Mal’s nose scrunched up in distaste, holding up a hand to stop Uma from answering, “Ew, actually don’t answer that. I don’t want to know what they’re doing. Not at two in morning. I’m going back to bed and giving her the benefit of the doubt. I’ll bother her about it later. For now I need to keep my sanity.”

Uma could only laugh as Mal brushed pass her in a hurry.

+ VI. Busted

“Careful Princess,” Harry laughed, catching her before she fell.

Evie silently cursed the raised branch that caused her to trip. She supposed it was bound to happen at least once as they made their way to the Enchanted Lake, her excitement getting the better of her. But Harry steadied her, his hand securely in hers as they continued down the path. She sighed happily, taking in the beauty of the forest at the went.

After hearing all about Ben’s first date with Mal, Evie had wanted nothing more than to see the Lake for herself, especially with someone she cared for. And here she was, hand in hand with her boyfriend going to that very spot. She hadn’t expected much for her birthday. Actually she expected nothing at all, but Harry surprised her with the most beautiful ring. One she already had on her finger to admire. She knew it wasn’t real. But it was a promise, a promise of so much more. Evie thought the ring was all but Harry had just laughed, taking her hand and leading her out of Auradon Prep. A picnic he had said, teasing her over her sappy desire. She was beside herself.

“There it is, love,” Harry pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Evie gasped. It was just as gorgeous as Mal had described it. The water was so clear she could see all the colorful rocks beneath. The remains of a stone gazebo stood decorated with a Happy Birthday banner, blue and red streamers lacing down each of the three stone pillars with matching balloons securely tethered down to rocks. In the center, three large picnic baskets sat over a glittering blue blanket.

“Harry, it’s beautiful. You did all this for me?” She gave his hand a squeeze, turning to face him confusion dancing over his feature.

“Well I did do th-” she reached up, standing on her tiptoes to promptly cut him off with a kiss. It was sweet and tender, making her wish they could stay like this forever.

“Surprise!”

They drew apart, staring wide-eyed at the various teens coming out of hiding. Popping up from behind bushes and stepping out from behind trees, their friends stared back with various expressions.

“Bloody hell! We can’t get a moment’s peace from ye lot” Harry cursed, glaring. Evie blushed, burying her face into the lapels of Harry’s leather jacket.

“Called it” Uma gleefully announced, wiggling her fingers at Mal, “pay up.” Mal grumbled, passing over a few bills.

“What are you guys doing here?” Evie asked, her question muffled.

Carlos rubbed the back of his neck, “we wanted to throw you a surprise party for your birthday, but we couldn’t figure out where we wanted to have it. Gil kept hearing Harry mutter about surprising you at the Enchanted Lake so we figured why not. We got the decorations up and we’ve been waiting.”

Evie smiled, finally facing her friends, “how sweet of you guys. Thank you.” Harry’s arm wound around her waist, “so this wasn’t you?”

Harry stared at something of to the side, “ah made a picnic for us. The rest all ‘em apparently.”

She couldn’t help the laughter the bubbled from within at his pout. Forgetting about the current audience, Evie took his face between her hands and gently pulled him down. The pirate rested his forehead against hers, he took one of her hands in his and kissed her palm.

“It’s great to finally have this all confirmed,” Carlos exclaimed, “and you gave her the ring! I told you she’d love it.”

The spell temporarily broken, Evie pulled away to turn back to her friends. “You knew about us?”

Jay scoffed, “you two aren’t exactly subtle about it.”

Evie sighed in disappointment, “I thought we were doing a pretty good job at hiding it.”

Harry shrugged, “I wasn’t really tryin’ to hide.”

Mal walked up to the pair, taking Evie’s hand in hers as she gently pulled her out of Harry’s arms. “E, why did you think you need to hide your relationship with Harry?”

“We…I thought it was for the best,” Evie smiled, sadly, “there’s still a bit of a riff between all of us. I didn’t want to cause anything to trigger anything war.”

Ben smiled reassuringly, the young kid coming to Mal’s side and taking Evie’s other hand in his. “Evie, we want nothing more than for you to be happy.”

“And if that’s with Harry,” Uma having made her own way over to Harry’s side, gave her first mate a playful jab in the ribs with a teasing grin, “and heaven only knows why, than be happy.”

“You guys,” Evie gave Ben and Mal’s hand a squeeze, tears blurring her vision.

“E don’t cry. It’s your birthday.”

Mal swept the girl into a tight hug. Evie’s face pressed into the girl’s shoulder, those pesky tears of joy not wanting to stop. She sighed happily as a familiar warm presence stood behind her, his arms wrapping securely around her waist as he rested his head on hers. One of by her friends surrounded them, just becoming a big entanglement of limbs as they all wished congratulations and support.

Best Birthday Ever.

[stylessemantics]

"You love me, right?" maybe where Harry is asking the question after a fight or something...

This isn’t the best I have to admit, but I wanted to try and write some thing and kind of help get my mind of my pain from the surgery for a bit. Sorry for taking ages and Thank you for leaving a suggestion! Also wittle vulnerable harry melts my heart. Under the cut cause it went on for ages for which i apologise profusely.

You and harry didn’t fight often. Instead you had little arguments and discussions like grown ups that you are and made decisions that affected the both of you as a couple, together. Harry was never one to lift his voice or get angered at the little things and neither were you. 

Except to you this wasn’t a little thing.

You were going to bed alone pretty much every night. And you could feel him lay beside you late late at night, only for him to be gone before your alarm even rang. He was overworking himself, spending torturous hours in the studio preparing his first solo work. You were proud of him, beyond what words could ever express, but you also felt tossed to the side, and you worried about his wellbeing. All these sleepless night were only making him get moodier and pickier with his work and you were sure he was probably driving everyone at the studio a little bit insane with his perfectionism. It wasn’t healthy for him or his work and you weren’t about to stay quiet and say nothing about it after months of the same old pattern. “Harry”“hmmm...” he didn’t take his eyes off the piece of sheet music in front of his eyes. This was the norm now. One worded answers and noises acknowledging your presence but not really paying attention to you. Whatever it was he was stuck on today – a note, a chord, some play on vocals that he wanted to get just right but didn’t really feel as real and raw as he envisioned – he didn’t let go of it until he got it right, only for it to sound terrible in his ears when he took it to the studio, and then back to the drawing board.“Harry pay attention to me” you demanded with a strong voice. You weren’t about to play out yell at him but you were tired of him being so dismissive and blinded by all this work. He had to take a break and he had to realise that he needed one. His eyes lifted up to meet yours with a confused glint. What was going on? “Jesus, finally... Don’t you think you need a break?”“What? I’m good” he was slowly turning back to his papers but you had enough. Putting a hand on the sheet music you got his attention back.“You’re not good. You’re not sleeping. You’re not eating...”“That’s not-”“If you say that’s not true I will rip this piece of music Harry. You’re a bit too obsessed with this and it’s not good for you and you need to take a fucking break, that is not a suggestion” His eyes widened offended. This was his work, this was everything he had, and he was not leaving it until it was perfect.“This is my album we’re talking about... It’s my life’s work its...”“It’s literally taking you away from me. Did you notice I cut my hair? That I’ve been making your favourite dishes for dinner this past week? That our 2 year anniversary was 5 days ago? When was the last time you freaking went to bed with me? Talked to me!? Shared any of your music with me, Harry?! Think about it!”“Well I’m sorry! But this is everything to me. This is all I have. And I’m sorry that me working hard on my life’s work is making you feel slightly left aside. But this is my all!”

You took a few steps back. You weren’t even slightly angry at the fact that he forgot your anniversary, or that he didn’t notice your hair. You were okay with him not always going to bed at the same time as you. That was so tiny to you right now. But you were definitely offended and quite frankly taken aback by the fact that you meant nothing and his work was his everything. Sure it was his first solo project and you understood the big looming cloud of doubts and fears that brought alone. But for fuck’s sake that’s what you were there for right? To help in whatever you could. Get his mind out of the creative gutter. Be there for him. But you were nothing compared to the latest note he added to a song called ‘Carolina’, and nothing more than a body he laid beside at night if he decided to go to bed. “Then this is your everything?” you ask with a tiny whispery voice. “This is it. This is all you have. All you are. All you’re willing to do.”“Y/N...” The glint in your eye that resembled a tear made him take a second look at you. It opened his ears and he heard your every word. And he heard the pain in them.“Marry it, Harry. Fucking marry it then. Let it consume you. You’re not eating, or sleeping and I’m concerned about your health. You’re stuck in the same note and forcing it instead of letting it flow through you like you’ve always done before. Fine. I hope your album worries about your health too... About making you dinner, running you baths, I hope it wants to talk to you, because the last thing I want to do right now is look you in the eye” You let out softly, still careful to not raise your voice at him and fled the home studio to lock yourself in your room and calm down. 

And you left him to think about how you were right. Your hair was shorter, and looked very lovely, but he hadn’t noticed. He wondered when did you cut it but he couldn’t place it. And he couldn’t remember the last time he asked you about your day or told you about his day for that matter. The last time he showed you a snippet of anything he was working on. Asked for your opinion. He realised that it was bad... He shouldn’t need to rack his brain for the last time he gave you a good morning kiss. That’s unacceptable. That’s simply horrible. He realised that his eyes were burning with tears in the sudden realisation, and they also burnt from staring at the stupid piece of paper titled ‘Ever Since New York’. His own scribbles looked foreign to him, like he didn’t write them himself. Like this wasn’t his work that he worried so much over. This didn’t feel right. His effort for making this album real and honest felt like a facade because he wasn’t being himself. He was letting all of the fears of going solo and the doubts on his own writing skills consume him and make him a work-a-holic monster. It was making his supposed “everything” crumble and feel like a complete lie. And this album wasn’t all he had. He had you. He had you crying in your bedroom because he’d literally tossed you aside.

He felt relieved leaving the studio and his desk. Like there wasn’t a cloud of fear and doubt over his head, and he knew it was because you cared about him enough to make him realise he needed a break, or else none of his songs were going to ever be finished. He knocked on the door, jiggling the doorknob and realising it was locked.“Y/N... I’m sorry, please... Let me in?” he whispered, hoping you could hear him. It took him a few seconds to hear the lock passing and you were opening the door to him in an instant. God he didn’t deserve you, he thought. You were in all your right to be so mad at him and still you had kept your voice low, and were opening the door to him when he had fucked up so big. “Baby, you’re right... I... I don’t know what’s happening. I’m scared” he admitted and you hugged him tight. You knew he was scared. He had to be. This wasn’t like the other times he’s put out music. This was something colossal. This was a monster of an album. You knew he was scared, but you hoped he’d shared the weight with you instead of drowning in it alone. “I know Harry. But I’m here... I’m always going to be here” there was soothing silence and back rubs for a while as Harry felt like he could breathe again. It was nice to feel your arms around him, and he scolded himself in his mind for neglecting this for so long... If only he had let you hug him maybe the album wouldn’t feel like such a shadow over his head, and more like a walk in the park.“You love me... right?” his voice wavered as he asked. He felt like you were done with him, and after calling his work his everything like he didn’t have you in his life, such a central piece... He legitimately wondered if you were just completely done with him. Taking a step back from the embrace you looked him in the eye and smiled. How could you not love him? All of him and his quirks and fears and worries. How could you not love his hard-working personality and his tender heart. How could you not love how passionate his is and how honest he is and how brave he’s being allowing himself to be and appear vulnerable for his work. How could you not love every inch of him?“I’m always going to love you Harry... No matter what. Album one or one hundred... I love you and I’m going to love you through them all... I’m here always.” 

Still recovering from my surgery. Today the stitches hurt like a bitch and I decided to go through my drafts and finish some things up. Once more; Sorry for taking ages and Thank you for leaving a suggestion. I hope this is worth your while! I know it’s not the best and my mind didn’t really go through the whole plot to try and make sense of it.

Prompt taken from THIS four-word-prompts list

MasterlistIv, xo.

[swiftwidget]

Control - Chapter Four

On Track

Cowritten and Proofread by @aoimikans

“William Howard Wright,” he flashed his pass to the evidence technician, “I need the Yagi-Rishi case files and evidence.”

The young evidence technician adjusted her large, round glasses and squinted at the pass. After a moment of consideration, she nodded and pressed the lock release with a polite smile.

The lock clicked with a loud buzz, and William yanked the heavy door open.

“Noriko Shuuka,” the technician introduced herself, bowing slightly. Her shoulder-length, tightly curled brown hair bobbed about her face, “You’re with the visiting team?”

“I am,” William echoed her bow.

“I figured,” she said, “You all are the talk of the precinct.”

“Oh?” William quirked an eyebrow at the small young woman. “Do I want to know?”

“It’s not that interesting,” Shuuka deadpanned with a shrug. “We just don’t get international teams often, and people enjoy a fresh conversation topic.”

William huffed but smiled politely. His quirk, Aura Sight, pulsed pleasantly at the back of his eyes. The black aura of truth overlaying the image of the woman remained constant.

A refreshingly honest person, he thought as he followed behind her.

“Just over here,” Shuuka said, turning around the last set of shelves, “Yagi… Yagi.. Ya- Ah, here.” She reached up, standing on her tiptoes, and pulled down a white, cardboard box. Something metallic inside rattled.

“You think you can hold two of these? There are three boxes total,” Shuuka passed the heavy box to William.

“I can manage,” William said, shifting the box in his arms lower so the technician could stack the second box on top. “Thank you.”

Shuuka pulled down the last box and lead William to the front. Gently placing her box onto a dolly, she gave it a pat.

“You can use this to take the boxes,” she said, taking the top box from William and placing it beside the first, “Let me grab the proper forms, and you can be on your way.”  

William signed the boxes out of evidence and rolled the dolly toward his team’s office. Ringing phones and conversations buzzed in the background as he passed through the police bullpen. One officer led a woman handcuffed toward her own desk.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know how trigger got in my purse!” the young woman exclaimed, wriggling against the officer’s firm grasp. “It’s not mine!”

William grimaced at the woman’s lies. White light swirled around her, growing brighter as she spewed falsehood after falsehood. Pain prickled at the back of his eyes as he hastened away. Gritting his teeth, he dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out an orange pill bottle. Shaking out two pills, he tossed them into his mouth and swallowed them dry. He stuffed the bottle back in his pocket as he shoved the conference room door open.

“Welcome back, Will,” Vera Lang said cheerfully. Her fingers danced back and forth across her braille terminal as she read the digitized files on her laptop.  

William grunted in reply, making a beeline for the coffee pot. He poured himself a mug, sighing into the pleasant steam rising from its contents.  

Bellamy shot him a concerned look, “Are you alright? You’re irritated.”

Snorting and taking a long swig from his mug, William nodded.

“A criminal playing dumb,” he said simply, rubbing at his eyes. The prickling sensation always lingered after witnessing a falsehood. On the bright side, there had only been one. Had there been more or, God forbid, a roomful, a little prickling would be the least of his problems.

Bellamy nodded in understanding, lifted an evidence box and removed the lid. He shifted through its contents and passed a couple files to Alba and Mary.

“Find anything from the digital files?” William asked, setting his mug down at his place at the table.

“An estimated timeframe of the abduction which matches with our information regarding the presumed mugging, a link to another case involving the homicide of one Hibiki Genji,” Vera listed, patting the Genji casefile box sitting beside her, “and a record of operations that took place with pro-heroes searching for All Might. Most of the heroes were his co-workers from U.A. Hero Academy.”

“Makes sense considering they wanted to keep things close to the vest,” Mary chipped in. “Especially with all the bad press the school has been getting recently.” At the odd look she got from Alba, she shrugged, “I like to keep tabs on U.A. Watching the Sports Festival is kind of a tradition in my family.”

Alba clicked her beak thoughtfully, “I suppose close friends and peers would help keep news from getting out. There was enough uproar in reaction to his retirement alone.”

William nodded absently, “So, no mention of anything that would imply Big Bad was involved?”

Bellamy shook his head, “So far, no.”

Damn it. William sighed, brushing his hand over his breast pocket, right above his heart, and the small photograph tucked inside it.

“There’s no such thing as a dead end, Wright.” His mentor’s laugh echoed through his mind, “Maybe a split end, but if you look hard enough, you’ll find a connection.”

“Keep looking,” William said, earning a chuckle from Vera and smiles across the table. Returning his attention to the box in front of him, he dug to the bottom. Curiosity piqued, he pursed his lips  and pulled out a handheld recorder. Sitting back and plugging in his personal set of earbuds, he prepared a notepad and pressed play.

“If at any point you need to take a break -” Detective Tsukauchi’s voice sounded tinny in William’s ears. There was a rustling of cloth and faint background noise… Beeping?

“I’m alright.” A man’s voice, low and a bit raspy. So different from his hero persona, All Might. “I’m not as fragile as I look, Tsukauchi.”

The detective in the recording snorted with humor.

So, this is Yagi. William thought.

He jotted down quick notes as the interview continued.

“...Was she the only person you saw?”

“No. There were two others. All for One, the villain from the Kamino Ward incident, and this young man, Isamu Sato. He was coerced into working with his supervisor, Inoshita, and the villain, who Isa- ah, Sato- only knew as,” A slight pause, “Sensei…”

The tape continued to roll, but William wasn’t listening. He was staring at the words written on his notepad.

ALL FOR ONE.

A title only heard in whispers of fear or reverence. Old. That name is old.

A shudder ran down his spine, and he shook himself, pressing rewind. He hit play and heard the detective continue.

“What were the roles of the three?”

There was a shuffling movement, a quiet thump.

“To be brief, All for One provided the quirks forced -”

William’s brows furrowed as he tried to focus in on the background noise during another long pause. Forced? Quirks?

“Do you need a moment?” Detective Tsukauchi asked softly, a slight crackle muffled the speaker.

A hand brushing over the mic, perhaps.William pushed against the earbud, listening intently.

“Just growing pains. All for One provided the quirks forced into my system. Inoshita personally administered one and regularly changed my IV solution. Nurse Sato was made to deliver meals and ensure that I survived the quirks that put a greater strain on my body.”

William blinked, pressing pause.

What?

He pulled out an earbud, “Mary, pass me the photos we showed Tsukauchi.”

Mary raised an eyebrow, setting aside her papers.

“Sure thing, here,” she said and passed along the folder she pulled from her bag.

William stared at the photos, and the detective’s pitch black aura resurfaced in his mind’s eye, “There’s been a misunderstanding. The man in the first and last photo is Toshinori Yagi.”

“Quirks…” he muttered softly. He hadn’t really believed…

“Got something?” Bellamy asked.

“I might… One moment.” William said, almost breathless. A shaky smile pulled at his lips as he pressed play.

“Survive?” Tsukauchi sounded… worried.

William gripped his pen tightly as he waited for Yagi to reply.

“The tail quirk-” His eyes shot to the second photo, “-added a significant amount of body mass… Without that young man, I would not have lived through the change.”

William grinned, “We have him.”

Genji looked up, pale, “Are you sure?”

“I’m certain,” William nodded, predatory glee bubbling in his chest, “Big Bad was here. And - And Montgomery's quirk theory was correct. We have our living proof.” He smacked the second photo as a laugh escaped him.

Eleven goddamn years… He pat the photo in his breast pocket, But you were right.  

He carefully pulled out the earbuds and set the recorder on the table, speaker up.

“Listen to this.”

The whole dorm smelled of curry. It brought a smile to Toshinori’s face as the elevator door opened to the first floor. Adjusting the strap of his gym bag on his shoulder, he looked down at his phone as it buzzed.

Power Loader sent his reply:

[Yes, I can meet you at the faculty gym. Let me just gather some measuring supplies.]

[Fantastic!] Toshinori quickly texted back, [I’m on my way now.]

He looked up just in time to see a green mop of hair disappear around the corner and into the kitchen.

“Midoriya, my boy!” Toshinori called out. He chuckled at the sudden thumping scramble of footsteps as the boy rushed back around the corner.

“Yes?” Izuku asked. He was dressed in his running clothes, much like Toshinori was now.

“Heading to the training fields?” Toshinori asked, approaching him.

“Y-yeah! I was just grabbing my water,” the boy gestured to the fridge with his thumb.

Toshinori nodded, “I’m headed that direction myself. Why don’t you grab your water and walk with me?”

Izuku blinked up at him, brows raised, and nodded, “Sure!”

Toshinori could have sworn he saw the telltale light of One for All as Izuku dashed to the fridge and back, water bottle in hand. He smiled and led the way to the front doors.

The day was bright despite the thin layer of overcast clouds. Blue sky peeked between great swaths of grey. A cool wind brushed over Toshinori’s skin, rustling his sweatpants and t-shirt.

I should have grabbed a jacket, he thought before remembering none of his jackets were tailored. Regardless, being outside felt … He didn’t have the words.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, smiling at the cool, crisp air filling his lung.

He opened his eyes, blinking in the sunlight, and movement caught his attention. Izuku stretched his left arm and rubbed at his neck.

“How’s your shoulder doing, my boy?” Toshinori asked quietly.

Izuku quickly pulled his hand away from his shoulder, “It’s fine! Really,” He took a deep breath and sighed, “It just tingles, but that’s Recovery Girl’s healing side effect really. Um, but you’d probably know that.”

Toshinori chuckled, “Oh, would I?”

Izuku’s face flushed red, and he bowed his head, “I- um-”

Toshinori ruffled the boy’s hair, grinning at his stammering.

“I’m teasing,” he said with a laugh.

“O-oh,” a small smile twitched on Izuku’s face before it faded to something more serious, “How’s your - um - How’re you feeling?”  

“Well,” Toshinori adjusted his bag strap again and smiled down at Izuku, “I’m walking again, and I’m pleasantly full from earlier. Definitely a positive turn of events, considering...” His smile fell, and he looked the boy in the eye, “I want to apologize. You should have never seen that… I was hoping you - and your classmates, for that matter - would never have to see that side of my… condition. I,” he traced the uppermost spike on his neck, “I should have taken proper precautions. If I had, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

Because of me… Again.

Toshinori glanced at the scars lining Izuku’s hands and arm, “For that, I am sorry.”

Izuku looked up at him, a pensive frown on his face. Then he bowed and shook his head, “Thank you. It’s really not your fault though...”

A small smile softened Toshinori’s expression, and he clapped a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “I also want to thank you for listening this morning. Everyone’s acceptance,” he paused, searching for the right words, “It helps.”

Izuku grinned, eyes a little watery, “I’m glad to hear it!”

For a short distance, they walked in comfortable silence. Toshinori’s tail found its way around Izuku’s waist, giving it a small squeeze before swinging back into place.

Rubbing his stomach, Izuku laughed, “Does your tail still have a mind of its own?”

“Of course,” Toshinori said, swatting the boy’s back with his tail. He darted to the side with a laugh when Izuku attempted to catch it. The boy righted himself too slow, and Toshinori snagged him, holding him against his side with the crook of his elbow.

Izuku sputtered and hopped along with Toshinori’s long strides, and Toshinori shot him a cheeky grin, suppressing the laughter bubbling in his chest.

“So…” Izuku said between a small hop and a skip in his uneven gait, “What’s on today’s training menu?”

A sudden overwhelming sense of familiarity brought a wide smile to Toshinori’s face.

“What have you worked up to?” he asked, looking down at the boy trapped against him.

Izuku smiled proudly, “A mile warm up, no quirk. Six mile run at five percent. Three miles at eight percent. A mile cool down, no quirk. Weightlifting with and without One for All. Cementoss built a fairly simple obstacle course, and I try to complete it three or four times as fast as I can. It changes every week, and sometimes he’ll offer to change it while students run it. Adds adapting and quick thinking elements to the course.”

Toshinori nodded as Izuku counted off the parts of his regimen on his fingers, smiling with enthusiasm. He hummed thoughtfully, and Izuku quieted. The boy looked up at him expectantly, and Toshinori playfully ruffled his hair earning himself a small squawk of protest.

“Not bad, my boy,” Toshinori’s tail swung cheerily as Izuku sputtered and squirmed his way out of Toshinori’s headlock, blushing to his ears.

“Sounds like you’ve got your own menu in order,” Toshinori grinned as they reached the training field and gave the boy a small push from behind “Go on then, I’m off to meet Power Loader. Your warm up and cool down are important, so make sure to do them properly.”

Izuku nodded, smiling wide, “Right! See you later, All Might!”

The tip of Toshinori’s tail flicked with his amusement as the boy dashed off.      

The faculty gym was large, much like the rest of U.A. The building had once been an armory and used for training young military officers before the founders of U.A. bought the property around it. Its rectangular base and high, curved roof was large enough to house a small blimp, though it never did in its history - at least, not to Toshinori’s knowledge.

He pulled open one of the many doors lining the sides of the old brick building and stepped inside. Immediately, Toshinori was greeted with the smell of rubber, dusty heating vents, linen-scented cleaning solution, and sweat. It was warm, familiar, and sent a pleasant rush of renewed energy through his long limbs. He chuckled at himself as his tail swung excitedly. Dropping his gym bag and slipping the prototype sandals from his feet, he jogged onto the track.

Toshinori carefully sat and stretched as Recovery Girl showed him.  

“All Might!”

Twisting in place, Toshinori raised a hand in greeting, “Good morning, Power Loader.”

Higari Maijima was out of his mechanical suit, instead wearing his casual clothes, a grey shirt and a pair of thick, tan work pants dotted with welding burns. Behind him, he rolled one of his mobile tool cases.

“Good afternoon,” he said, rolling his case up to a bench by the track. Maijima grinned as he came to sit near Toshinori, giving him enough space to swing his long tail around to stretch it, “You’re looking better.”

“I’m getting there,” Toshinori said with a grunt, nearly folding himself in half to touch his clawed toes. New muscles pulled, but he couldn’t help grinning at the familiar ache. “Working my way up to running again.”

Maijima hummed thoughtfully, “The prototype shoes working at all?”

“They’re a bit loose,” Toshinori admitted, “Slides a bit.”

“I see,” the inventor tapped his chin, “Maybe something more form fitting. May I?” He gestured to Toshinori’s feet. “I want to do some more measurements.”

Toshinori nodded, shifting to face Maijima. Pulling Toshinori’s foot into his lap and starting from his hock, Maijima stretched measuring tape across each joint.

Maijima muttered under his breath, “Your claws present the biggest issue, but one I’ve worked with before…” he wiggled his own fingers, blunt iron claws flashing in the sunlight streaming through the large windows. He pressed the pad on the ball of Toshinori’s foot, watching as his toes curled before spreading each and examining the partial webbing between them. “In warmer weather, I would say your pads would be fine barefoot - though etiquette demands footwear. Hm. Do you have a preference where style is concerned?”

Toshinori shrugged, “Just something comfortable that won’t overheat. So, breathable material. That may be too much to ask, though.”

“Not at all,” Maijima replied, “Breathable material that’s strong enough to withstand pressure from your claws. I may have just the thing back in my workshop.”

Toshinori grinned, “Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

Maijima moved to wave him away, but he paused, “Ah, multiple pairs are a given, but having a separate athletic pair will definitely be useful. If you don’t mind, would you allow me to observe how you run? To see how flexible the material will need to be.”

Toshinori’s ears perked, and his legs itched to move. Running.

He nodded.

Maijima pulled his gear from the track and dusted off his pants, “Alright. Whenever you’re ready.”

Toshinori pushed himself to stand, shifting from all fours to two as quickly as he could.

He walked to the starting line, the rubber path felt rough against his toes. The track stretched out ahead of him and he took a slow, deep breath. His legs tensed and his tail whipped behind him. Claws digging against the track, Toshinori leapt forward. He started at a fast jog, feet thumping against the track and getting a feel for his stride. It was longer, bounding and pressing forward. His heart pounded, strong in his chest, as his body warmed to the movement.

He sucked in another deep breath and let it loose, charging ahead.

His mind felt so clear.

Grinning, Toshinori sped up, arms pumping at his sides and tail curving as he made the wide turn of the track. His breath puffed around his face, blood roaring in his ears.  

Faster.

He ducked his head, pumping his arms - almost leaping through the air.

Faster!

His chest burned, and his back muscles pulled. Bending forward, he relieved the strain, grinning ear to ear.

He loped along the track, wrists and arms bending - softening each impact. The sidelines blurred with his speed. Focusing on his breaths, his steps fell into an easy rhythm - One, two, in. One, two, out. Nice and even.

Reaching the turn and digging his right hand into the ground, he -

He blinked, noticing the track inches from his nose, and jerked back.

Shit!

His tail thrashed as he stumbled through the turn, hands and feet scrabbling for purchase.

Shit-shit-shit!

His foot crashed against the back of his arm, and he tumbled to the ground. Toshinori grit his teeth as he ducked into a roll and slid across the track. When he came to a stop, he coughed, tasting copper.  

Rolling with a groan, Toshinori sat up on his haunches and rubbed at his scarred side.

“Ahh,” he hissed through his teeth, “That smarts.”

A sharp pain pricked the back of his neck. He quickly brushed through the mane and felt around his third spike. It was still there - loose, but still there. Toshinori breathed a sigh of relief. He would hate to have to tell Isamu he’d already knocked it out.  

“All Might!” Maijima jogged across the track and came to a stop beside him, “Are you alright? That was quite the tumble. Not used to running on all fours, huh?”

Toshinori’s ears drooped and he rubbed his palms together, grateful for the thick calluses on his palms built up over years of hero work.

“I-uh, no,” he frowned at his claws. A few of the caps had slipped off.

Just different, that small mantra repeated quietly in the back of his mind, Just different.

“All Might, it just so happens that we have several students who do the same. One of which walks and runs as a quadruped full-time,” Maijima smiled down at All Might and held out his hand.

Toshinori took it and let his peer tug him up to stand.

“I’ve got something for you,” Maijima said, beckoning Toshinori to follow. He led him to his tool case, opened it, and dug through it. “Recovery Girl mentioned the dual nature of your stride, and I figured you might be able to use a pair of these.”

From the case he pulled a pair of fingerless gloves. Maijima handed them over, smiling as Toshinori curiously turned them about and prodded them with his claws. Thick, tough pads were sewn into the palms of the gloves.

“They’re running gloves,” Maijima explained simply when Toshinori gave him a questioning look. He grinned a toothy grin, eyes sparkling from behind his long, shaggy bangs, as Toshinori carefully slipped them on and flexed his fingers.

“They’ll help grip the ground during those turns,” Maijima continued, “There are also a few running videos I know of that could help you figure out how to steer with that long tail of yours. If you’re interested, that is.”

Toshinori’s tail swayed thoughtfully, and he nodded, “I think I’d like that.”

Maijima smiled contently, then suddenly jolted, “Oh!” He bent and dug into his tool case, “Nearly forgot. I noticed you used to do a fair amount of boxing in here, but I imagined your claws would make it difficult to make a fist.” He pulled something from the case, “And I made something for that.”

Toshinori stared down at the gloves Maijima held out and grinned.

Since listening to the taped interview, William’s team worked with a feverish energy, searching for any and all mention of All for One. The Emperor of Darkness whose name was only whispered by the few foolhardy enough to cave during interrogation.

Their “Big Bad.”

Arch Montgomery had been one of many to go after the man called All for One.

“Yes,” Montgomery had said so often, looking at William over his thick-rimmed reading glasses, “All for One is as much of a man as you or I.”

William still remembered the late nights searching for whispers of his name on the wind, pouring over books and police records, following the trail of bodies he and his subordinates left behind.

For a retired history professor, Montgomery had a surprising number of contacts and more energy than men half his age. He kept in near-constant touch with dozens of investigators, private detectives, and police worldwide.

It had been a woman from Uruguay who theorized that All for One was merely a title, passed down from person to person. While some quirks provided longevity, it seemed unlikely that such a quirk would make the man live for generations. Especially not with the horror stories from scant witnesses. They spoke of a man in a suit with a highly destructive quirk, though the exact nature of said quirk was never consistent.  

“So, naturally, Lucia believes that there is no consensus on All for One’s quirk because there is not only one quirk - There is not only one man,” Montgomery had said in his London office, reading the email Lucia had sent him. “All for One is both a man, or perhaps a woman, and a legacy. A title.” He gently tapped his bourbon glass, leaning back in his wooden desk chair, “An interesting theory.”

A theory William - a man in his early thirties at the time - was quick to accept as the most obvious answer to the mystery of All for One’s apparent longevity.

Montgomery… had not been so quick to accept that answer. His own theory was born of the mad ravings of a quirkless man.

All for One was a man who stole quirks away.

“There are too many different stories.” He rambled, pacing the floor of his library and leaning heavily on his cane, “Distinctly different accounts with contradictory quirk descriptions!” Montgomery ran a hand through his usually impeccably combed white hair. “Think, Will! Think! There are at least forty descriptions of the same man with different quirks.”

“Maybe you should lie down,” William had cautioned, holding out his hands.

“I’ve not gone senile, Will! Do not-” Montgomery collapsed then, cane slipping and clattering across the floor.

William had to keep him in the house and using his oxygen tank, not that the retiree thanked him for it.

Stubborn old man.

“Wright?”

William blinked, looking up and tucking the small photo into his breast pocket. Bellamy stood beside him, another file in his hands. His kind face crinkled with worry, but he kept his empathic observations to himself.

“Detective Tsukauchi is here,” he said, giving William’s shoulder a covert squeeze.

“Thank you,” William said quietly, sending a significant look to Mary. She quickly flipped through the small pile of papers and pulled out the transcripts of the Yagi interview.

“Good morning,” Tsukauchi greeted them with a respectful nod. His dark eyes swept over the room and halted at the boxes of evidence. “Already hard at work then?”

“We took the liberty of going through the Yagi case files to better familiarize ourselves with them,” Vera Lang said, smiling in the direction of the detective.  

Mary handed William the transcripts, and he turned to Tsukauchi.

“I do have a few questions regarding your talk with Yagi,” William said, moving to stand beside the detective. He tapped down on the name in question, asking, “This nurse, Isamu Sato, he was integral to keeping Yagi imprisoned. Why hasn’t be been detained?”

Detective Tsukauchi frowned slightly at the page before moving to the coffee machine and filling his mug, “He was integral in Yagi’s escape, and as per Yagi’s request any charges against him have been dropped.”

William hummed, turning to look at his own case files. He pulled out a stack of photos, spreading them across the table, “Nurse Sato was in an out of that building the most. Here, we have several pictures and videos of him carting supplies into the building - and yes, I made sure to double-check his identity. In fact, he’s the one who drew our attention. Are you certain you have all of the facts?”

Tsukauchi glanced over the photos, sipping from his mug.

“I trust Yagi’s judgement,” he said simply, the black aura around him unwavering, “However, I still intend to question him. He suffered grave injuries at the hands of Yagi’s captor, and I’ve been waiting for his doctor’s approval.”

Trust him? All Might, the man who shined the brightest.

William frowned at the clear, black aura, “And you believe this nurse is without guilt? After what he put your friend through?”

Tsukauchi’s shoulders stiffened.

Mary sighed as her plant withered in its jar on the table, and Bellamy shot William a stern look.

Then Tsukauchi straightened and turned, “I am sure Sato is convinced of his own guilt. He freed Tosh- Yagi. A man who did not feel guilt or acknowledge the wrongness of the situation would not have acted.” His voice was even, expression firm, aura unchanged.

The corner of William’s mouth twitched. Touché…

“Fair enough. I would like to be present when you interrogate Sato,” William said with a pleasant smile, moving to the coffee machine and refilling his own cup, “Along with Genji, if you don’t mind.”

Tsukauchi took another sip of his coffee, eyeing William over the brim of his mug, and for a moment William envied Bellamy’s insight.

Tsukauchi’s stare remained blank, a well-practiced emotionless mask, “Alright. Prepare a list of questions you would like addressed, and have them ready by 4:00 sharp. I have business to attend to this afternoon, and I’ll see if Sato is ready to be released from his doctor’s care on my way back.”

William nodded, “Sounds reasonable. Thank you.”

BAP! Toshinori’s gloved fists sent the punching bag swinging on its squeaky chain,  Bap-bap! Bap-bap! Bap!

Shifting his stance with a couple featherlight steps and a sway of his long tail, he threw another hard punch. Bap!

Toshinori panted. Drenched in sweat, his shirt and ridged mane stuck slick to his back. Every fiber of his body ached and burned, and his scar twinged with effort.

He’d never felt better.

Shaking his head and blinking sweat from his eyes, Toshinori whipped his tail from side to side and struck the bag again.

“Your form is shit.”

Toshinori jolted at the gruff voice and turned -

“Gloves up!”

Toshinori twisted, arms up in a block. He stumbled back at a sudden impact on his forearms, claws digging into the padding on the floor, but he did not fall. He dropped his arms and looked down in surprise.

“Torino?!”

Gran Torino frowned, giving Toshinori a careful once-over and leaning to the side to look at his swaying tail. Toshinori’s tail stilled and hesitantly tucked closer to his legs.

“Reflexes are fine,” Torino huffed, crossing his arms, “A bit slow.”

“A bit- ?” Toshinori’s hackles bristled a little apprehensively, but he grinned, “Are you sure you’re not the one slowing -oof!”

He landed on his side in a tangle of long limbs and wheezed, clutching his abdomen.

Gran Torino stood above him, a stern frown on his masked face, “I’m sure.”

“Go easy on him, Torino,” a familiar voice called out.

Toshinori grunted and waved weakly to Naomasa, who raised his hat in greeting.

“You couldn’t have warned me?” he shot an accusing gaze at the detective, though his tail thumped happily against the mat.

Naomasa shook his head with a grin.

“He knew better not to,” Torino waved his hand carelessly.

Toshinori nodded, conceding to the fact. Rolling and pushing himself up, he sat back and stretched out his legs. His tail swung around and draped across his lap, tufted end flicking nervously.

“What brings you to U.A.?” he asked, not missing the hard glare Torino was giving each change.

“I can’t check on my dumbass student from time to time?” Torino grumbled.  

Ah… Toshinori’s eyes widened marginally, He was worried.

“Tsukauchi and I were here to see Nedzu. Don’t get any ideas!” Torino scolded, pointing sternly at Toshinori’s wagging tail tip.

But you didn’t have to visit me here.

Toshinori grinned, tail wagging faster, “Good to see you too.”

Torino bristled and stalked away, “Yeah yeah, you’re fine. Don’t know why I bothered dropping by. I’ll meet you by the car, Tsukauchi.”

Toshinori quirked a lopsided smile as his old teacher exited the gym, griping about youngsters giving him cheek.

Naomasa sat beside Toshinori on the mat, grunting softly as he did, “Torino’s getting soft in his old age.”

Toshinori whipped his head around, hackles bristling nervously.

“Don’t let him hear you say that!” he said in a hushed voice, gesturing downward with his gloved hands.

Naomasa chuckled, leaning and bumping Toshinori’s shoulder with his own. His laugh and the gesture soothed Toshinori’s nerves and hackles.

“Feeling better?” Naomasa asked.

Toshinori nodded with a contented smile, “I was able to speak with Midoriya and his classmates about everything - well, nearly everything. They didn’t need any gorey details. They’ve got enough on their plates as it is.”

Naomasa hummed in agreement, “I’m glad.”

“Me too,” Toshinori’s tail shifted and wound its way around Naomasa’s abdomen.

Toshinori cleared his throat awkwardly, “Sorry, it does that,” he said, the tips of his ears heating a little, “And you? How’re you doing?”

Naomasa huffed a laugh, absently resting his hand on Toshinori’s tail, “I’m alright. Doing better now that I’ve seen how much you’ve improved.”

Smiling, Toshinori pulled off his boxing gloves and flexed his hands.

“You were right,” he said.

Naomasa shot him a cheeky grin, “When am I not?”

“Shut up,” Toshinori elbowed Naomasa, “I meant about the restlessness.”

“That so?” Naomasa asked, tone suspiciously innocent, “So, just another thing I was right about then?”

Toshinori scoffed, then jolted when Naomasa gave the end of his tail a playful tug.

Naomasa grinned, but coughed when Toshinori gave his abdomen a squeeze. Dramatically flopping his back and patting Toshinori’s tail, he wheezed, “I tap out!”

Toshinori snorted and unwound his tail from Naomasa’s waist, “That tap out was too fast!”

Naomasa laughed, hat falling off, and rubbed at his belly, “Maybe I’m the one going soft.”

Shaking his head, Toshinori barked a laugh, “You’re fine the way you are.”

Naomasa shook with laughter, rolling a bit on the mat before sitting up and pushing at Toshinori’s shoulder.

“Hey! I mean it!” Toshinori grinned wide, “If you disagree, you could always train with me like old times.”

“I might take you up on that,” Naomasa said seriously, smiling.

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence. Then Toshinori shifted, pulling up and resting his arms on his knees.

“So,” he paused, rubbing at the back of his neck and tracing the spikes there, “What were you meeting Nedzu for?”

Naomasa sighed, picking his hat up from the mat and tapping it against his leg, “There are rumors that the Villain Alliance is on the move, preparing for something. We just had a standard, be on the look-out, meeting with Nedzu,” he frowned, “Especially with the recent spike in media attention. I’m assuming you’ve seen the news?”

Toshinori grimaced, “I have. I need to write a press release to publicly address,” he gestured to himself, “this. Though I am certain Nedzu already has something prepared.”

“It would be like him,” Naomasa said with a small nod. Then he glanced at Toshinori, a small frown pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“What is it?” Toshinori asked.  

Naomasa’s frown deepened and he furrowed his brows in thought, “Wright - he’s with the international team - he went through the evidence, and he wants to interview you and nurse Sato. I’m here to pick up Sato, if Recovery Girl gives her leave, but… Something’s off with Wright.”

“Gut feeling?” Toshinori asked.

“Yes,” he replied, dark eyes far off in thought, “I’m still not sure what his motives are.”

Toshinori hummed, “Can you ask him?”

Naomasa snorted, “Oh, I’ve probed. He and his team are a rather secretive bunch, but Tsuragamae trusts them. They’re not bad. Just… I suppose single-minded would be the word.”

Toshinori nodded, “Do you know what they would want to question me about? Ah,” he frowned, “More importantly, you will be the one to interview Isamu - ah, Sato - I assume?”

“Yes,” Naomasa said, “I still lead the investigation, and the international team is technically under my supervision. Though Wright asked to sit in with one of his subordinates. I thought it’d be best to see for myself what they’re after, so I agreed.”

Naomasa shrugged, “That’s all I have for now. I’ll save your interview for a later date,” he paused, glancing at Toshinori, “Unless you have more to add right now.”

Toshinori shook his head, “No. Nothing you don’t already know about.” He paused, furrowing his brows and looking down at his claws, “There is something...”

Naomasa quirked an eyebrow, “What?”

“You remember the USJ Noumu? There were multiple sets of DNA in its body,” Toshinori rubbed his palms together, then asked, “Would there be a way to find out where, or rather, who my quirks came from?”

Naomasa stared at Toshinori, looking a bit taken aback.

“I know where my spikes came from. Nurse Sato,” Toshinori continued, gaze fixed on his claws as he fidgeted, “A student asked where the others came from. I suppose it piqued my interest, and…” he furrowed his brow, “I need to know, Naomasa. They’re victims of All for One. I need to know their names.”

Who they were… He ran his thumb over the claw on his forefinger. If… if they’re still alive.

“Okay,” Naomasa said.

Toshinori’s ears perked as he turned to his friend, “Okay?”

Naomasa let his hand fall roughly on Toshinori’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“We’ll find them,” he promised, “If you come with me to pick up Sato, Recovery Girl could draw some blood I could take back to evidence with me. We can run it through our system and the quirk registry.”

“Thank you,” Toshinori sighed, a small smile brightening his features. He rocked back and pushed himself up to stand, pulling Naomasa up after him.

Naomasa paused, brushing off the seat of his pants, and gave Toshinori a cheeky smile, “You should probably hit the showers first. You reek.”

Toshinori sputtered, and Naomasa barely ducked in time to avoid being swatted by Toshinori’s tail.

Canvas 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Catalyst 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Control 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

Collapse 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

Contained 1 / 2 (WIP)

Find the whole series on Archive with fanart at the end of each chapter HERE!

Check out Aoi’s and my sideblog @toshinoumu for more series content!

[crctv-intelligence]

S1, E5: "No Spain, No Gain"

(Scene 1: A Plane in the Turkish Airport) Mikayla is walking clumsily with her carry-on towards a seat somewhere in first class. The man in the seat beside her sits behind an unfolded newspaper. Mikayla observes the outdated behavior but doesn't think twice about it as she tosses her luggage in the overhead compartment above her before taking her seat. She plops down into her seat without much care to look graceful. As soon as she does so, the man beside her speaks. "The strut up here was a perfect ten but I give the landing a two," a familiar voice speaks as Mikayla's face contorts to look offended. The newspaper is lowered to reveal Alexander in the seat beside her. "Too noisy," he adds. Mikayla's eyes roll as she settles back into her seat and crosses her left leg over the right. "I thought I was done with you after D.C." "Aww, you thought I'd be that easy to get rid of, babe?" The woman's head snaps in his direction. "Don't call me that," she demands. "What? We fucked. Usually I call girls I sleep with babe." His bluntness does not appear to impress Mikayla who turns away and jams her back into her seat unhappily. "Don't remind me... Where the hell have you been? I mean you were obviously here the whole time I was if you're on this flight." Alexander sighs as he rests his hand on hers. "Amelia told me to keep my distance." "Amelia?" Mikayla asks curiously before glaring down at his hand which he quickly removes. "My director." "Why?" "Not sure. But whatever it is, I think it has something to do with Jo." Mikayla is suddenly interested in what he has to say again. "Jo Jones? Like my boss?" "That's the one," he acknowledges before hailing a flight attendant and asking for two glasses of whiskey on the rocks. "Oh, no thank you. I don't drink while I'm working," she says. "She'll take one anyway," Alexander counters before sending the flight attendant away. Mikayla gives him a look that screams 'are you kidding me?' "What?" He begins. "You're not working. You're flying." The busty brunette rubs at her forehead to relieve the visible, mounting tension. "Aye dios mio, this is going to be a long flight." "Better brush up on your Spanish, babe," Alexander says before the title screen and opening credits bring the scene to a close. (OPENING CREDITS...) (SCENE 2: The Streets of Barcelona) "So you have someone looking into this Jo and Amelia thing?" Alexander asks. "I have a friend doing some digging," Mikayla answers as her head cranes left and right, surveying her surroundings. "And you trust him?" Alexander seems inquisitive today. "He works for the Agency too." "That didn't answer my question..." Alexander teases. The look she gives him silently advises him to change the subject. "What are we looking for, exactly?" He asks as he walks along the stonework walls with a water bottle in hand. "Viable assets," Mikayla responds dryly. "Yeah, I've got an eye for that," he jokes as he nudges her shoulder with his. Mikayla doesn't seem so enthused. She turns inwards towards him, her finger on his chest. "Stop it. You sex girls up for intel, fine. But stop telling me about it." Alexanders eyebrow arches high and mighty. "Jealous?" he asks, his voice raising an octave to tease his foreign counterpart. "Oh my God," her head shakes rapidly in disbelief, her hair whipping all over as she turns back around and continues walking. "I am working with a teenager. This is.. Wow." Alexander nods slowly as he follows a few steps behind her. "So I'll take that as a yes then." Mikayla scoffs. It seems to be the most common method of communication when she's talking to him. "Take that as whatever you want. Just keep your eyes open and your damn zipper closed." They walk a few more steps before Mikayla stops to look down at the pocket holding her ringing phone. She withdraws it and sees Garrett's name on the screen. "Go for Waters." she says after pressing the green button to answer. We cut to a scene of Garrett standing in an alcove inside CIA Headquarters. It's dimly lit and narrow, the main hallway still visible at the end of the passageway. He's slightly hunched over and whispering. "That message you left me... about Jo.." he leads the conversation. "Yeah?" "I don't know what's going on, but before I even got your message Amelia's name came up in conversation. All I know is as soon as I brought up her name; Jo locked me out and activated the privacy glass." "Parker..." Jo's voice says as he turns his head and sees her standing with her arms crossed at the end of the alcove. "Garrett?" Mikayla speaks after he pauses for a long time. "Garrett?" She says again, trying to get him to answer. The call goes dead and Mikayla gives her phone a frustrated look before slipping it back into her pocket. "Agency friend?" Alexander poses it as a question even though he already knows the answer. "That was him," she answers calmly. "Says Amelia's name came up in conversation earlier and Jo locked him out of her office." Alexander's eyes narrow as he ponders the very brief story he's just heard. "Why was Amelia's name being brought up in conversation if you didn't leave him the message yet?" Mikayla shrugs before continuing to walk. "They were probably looking into you and found her," she offers as a possibility. "And why would they be looking into me?" the tall, blonde op asks. "Because they know about that whole sex thing that happened. Yeah, Jo wasn't too happy." A sudden commotion being made on the opposite side of the street draws the attention of both operatives. A short, Latina girl in her late teens is arguing with a cop who is pointing at her camera around her neck. The dispute occurs in Spanish, translated at the bottom of the screen for viewers. "I'm a photographer! Ive been taking photographs all over the country! This is for a university project! Please!" she tries to explain. "No pictures here! No! Goodbye!" the officer shouts back before closing a gate at the location she was trying to photograph. Alexander leans in towards Mikayla. "New asset?" "Yup," Mikayla replies simply with a nod of her head. "And no, Alex, you can not sleep with her." Mikayla begins to walk forward out of frame while Alexander remains in place on screen. "Well you're no fun," he jokes before following her out of frame, leading to our first commercial break. (COMMERCIAL BREAK) (Scene 3: A Cafe in Barcelona, Spain) Mikayla and Alexander are sitting side by side, their closeness indicating that their chosen cover is to be a couple. Probably despite protest from Mikayla. The college aged photographer sit across from them at the same round marble table, a smile on her face. "Yeah, so I've been doing this for two years and I love it," she says to them, her story picking up in the middle after the commercial break. Mikayla smiles as she clicks through the images on her camera. "Well you've certainly got a good eye," she compliments her. "Awww, thank you so much. I'm hardly a professional but that's why I do it so much. I'm trying to be the best I can be." "You know, Sofia, Aaron is actually owns a gallery in Phoenix back home," Mikayla says as she strokes Alexander's arm. One alias noted, Mikayla's has yet to be learned. "Yeah, I'd love to see the rest of your work that you've done here some time," Alexander adds in, his American accent proving to be very convincing. "Oh my gosh, for real?" Sofia shouts happily. "That would be.. Yeah, I'd love to show you. Of course." "Perfect," Mikayla adds in sounding more than chipper as she flags down a barista and requests three coffees to go. (Scene 4: Sofia's Loft) Sofia unlocks her door with a key before pushing it open and stepping into the small one bedroom apartment. "I know it's not much, but it's still better than my place in Cali was," she confesses as she tosses her keys onto a nearby counter. "I actually have to use the restroom right now but you guys can make yourselves at home," she says before disappearing into a nearby door and closing it. "I want to read her in," Mikayla whispers as soon as the door shuts. "Are you out of your mind?" Alexander asks, his true accent coming back out. "The girl just left two strangers alone in her apartment. She's clearly careless and you want to tell her you work for the CIA?" Mikayla's eyes open wide as she stares him down. "So what do you suggest? Should I just drop my pants and have some Black Swan romance right here on her futon?" "I actually wouldn't mind seeing that," Alexander admits with a smirk. "You. Are. Impossible," the sound of a flushing toilet pauses their argument as Mikayla falls down onto the futon and pulls him down beside her. She lifts one leg and rests it on his, trying to appear comfortable while halfway cuddling the man she seemingly despises. The door opens and Sofia steps out, stopping her steps quickly when she sees how cozy her two new guests are. "Well, I see you two made yourself at home," she laughs awkwardly before walking over to a desk and retrieving her pink MacBook and walking over to the futon to sit beside Alexander. "Sorry, it's just the long flight from the States, we kind of just don't know how to sit comfortably anymore," Alexander jokes with her. "No need to explain. You guys are in love. It's cute," Sofia says with a grin. "You hear that, honey?" Alexander turns and looks at Mikayla with a look. "She thinks we're cute." His eyebrows raise on the last word and Mikayla knows he's using this as evidence of the point he made just moments ago. The girl is not ready to be read in. Sofia begins to talk about various elements of living in Spain while Alexander clicks through all her pictures on her computer. He stops on one in particular when Mikayla gasps. "Babe?" Alexander asks, hoping she's prepared to say anything other than 'that the guy I knocked out in the bathroom in Turkey'. Or at least he assumes that's what him based on the picture in the passport she showed him on her phone. "That backdrop and lighting... Phenomenal," Mikayla compliments. "Thank you, Miranda," Sofia says. And there it is, Mikayla's alias is now revealed to viewers as well. Mikayla looks down as her phone rings once more. She sees that it says Garrett, but her primary focus is on the picture in front of her. She silences the ringer and puts her phone beside her. "Do you need to get that?" Alexander asks. "It can wait," she responds. (Scene 5: CIA Headquarters) In a seamless transition, Garrett is standing in the courtyard outside of Headquarters pacing back and forth as he awaits the phone to be answered. Upon reaching voicemail, he grunts and ends the call. He's cursing at his phone when he looks up and sees one man, one of the field operatives shown in episode one that called Jo over about a lead. "Hey, Carter!" He says as he rushes over. "Garrett..." he says as he continues to walk towards the main doors. "Hey, do you have a minute?" the techie asks. "Sure, wanna talk inside?" Carter asks. Garrett shakes his head. "I'd really rather not," he confesses, which makes Carter stop dead in his tracks. He turns and looks questioningly at Garrett. "What's going on?" "Strictly confidential?" Garrett asks. "Dude," Carter laughs. "It's the CI-fucking-A. Talk to me." "Alright," Garrett takes a deep breath as he tucks his hands into his back pockets. "What do you know about Jo and a woman named Amelia Roberts?" The shift in Carter's demeanor is not a good indication. "Don't go there, man," Carter says as calmly as he can. "Don't go where? What happened?" Carter steps in and whispers while placing his hand firmly on Garrett's shoulder. "If you value your job... and your life... you'll drop this," he pats his shoulder one more time before turning and entering the building. The camera zooms in on Garrett's bewildered expression before the ending credits begin to roll, a voiceover saying "Next week on INTELLIGENCE" while the preview plays in the top left corner of the credits. NEXT WEEK ON INTELLIGENCE: "Sofia, I need you to do me a favor," Alexander whispers while Mikayla pretends to busy herself in the apartment. "Of course, anything for you guys," she responds. "The guy in this picture," Alex says while pointing to the laptop screen. "If you see him again, I need you to very carefully and very discreetly get a few more pictures of him and anyone he may be with. It's her father and she thinks he may be having an affair," Alexander lies. We cut to a scene of Garrett typing away on his computer. We cut to see his screen, a Mission Report with Amelia Roberts' name at the top of it. His eyes dance back and forth before he frantically exits out upon hearing Jo call his name. Mikayla and Alexander are laying on Sofia's futon. "Look at you and me, sharing a bed," Alexander brags." "It's not a damn bed," Mikayla retorts. "Does it really matter? We're sleeping together, aren't we?" The camera cuts back and forth between them several times before Mikayla closes her eyes and leans in towards him, the preview ending with the red text INTELLIGENCE over the black background before the audience can tell if they really kiss or not.