#I will cry and shit my pants if he abstracts

[riceballart]

he’s literally my dad guys frfr trust

Guys, guys, listen... You know..., we all need to accept this, yes, it will seem strange, but we just need to accept the fact that ...WE WILL NEVER BE AS COOL AS KINGER

[benefits1986]

On The Cusp

Adios, Aries szn! You’ve been too fast and too furious, too. First time to skip this daily thought dump and fart yesterday; but, no worries. All is well and unwell, too. I’m actually on the cusp of a major spiral that I could try pivoting to a sparkle, thanks to Vidi, my second born.  Last night, in between the official start of Taurus warm up szn, Vidi was a little too clingy. I found this weird because he usually has his own world, much like that of a cat. I asked him how he is and that something’s weird. He looked at me as he breathes heavily. I touched him and he didn’t reject me. As I was checking on him, I felt a big ass lump on his tummy area. I stopped dead. He let out a tiny shriek of pain. He looked at me again and off he went.  I tried to calm myself but my chest is pounding... not another lump; not another possible cancer case. Vidi is much like mom. Actually, even when I don’t believe in reincarnation because of Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, I feel that mom’s personality and even her signature sungit and RBF is too alike with that of Vidi’s. I’ve not been playing with Vidi the past month so that tennis-sized ball lump really shook me to the core. I asked him if he was alright. He blinked. I told him that we’d bring him to Doc Askie today.  I went back to my working files. Hours later, I decided to wash the plates. I also threw my whites in the washing machine. As I was blankly going about my most hated chore --washing dishes, I felt a sharp pain stab my chest. And I cried big, fat tears right there and then. You see, the past weeks have been doused with really time-bound stuff that are matched with outfits that are in monochromatic happy hues or crazy prints and colors. I have not been able to sleep well and my eating habits are down the drain. Every time I check myself in the mirror before heading out, I try my best to see the light in spite the shadows. But, I guess, for the past weeks too, I am shutting down grief, frustration, anger and the whole shebang of losing my ina which runs alongside my PTSD from mother dragon’s loss. Been updating my soul sister that I’m indeed on the cusp. She told me that we’d really have to find time for our video call, but I told her that I’m busy. She knew that I’m avoiding this call. She told me to send her voice messages; but, the messages I’ve been sending her were mostly about random FUN stuff instead of the real shit.  Last night, the painful stab on my chest swelled and erupted. Since I’m out of any unsafe ground, only my trust issues with myself kept me from crying out loud. I strongly feel that this is a win even though it’s a tiny one. LOL. I tried to contain my emotions, but NO. Hell no. The lump on Vidi’s tummy is the trigger I needed to face my fears --my emotions. I needed to feel the weight of that lump to push me to feel instead of overthinking. See? I hate washing plates vehemently, ergo, my grand alibi for the deluge of UGH emotions. I felt defeated but at the same time, I patted myself at the back. Good job on processing the loss this time around. A tiny step is where the journey to 10K steps daily begins, yes?  After the ugly cry with me, myself and I, Vidi panted more heavily. I went back to him and cuddled him. I thanked him for the good times and that we’ll see what we can do to help him out. I cried a bit more and took a work-related call. See the pattern? On the cusp status, confirmed. But, this time, I’d really try my best to be kinder to the world and kindest to myself. OPAK. Been realizing that this space is where my true healing begins or hope it does. As one of my circles told me, you’d know it’s decent writing when you know and feel it. LUH. Back then, I bashed this person. That’s too abstract, a little too creative. I egged this person for numbers, for specifics since we’re both from strat. He told me to stop making work as an excuse. :D Taray. In my face. Up my thicc ass. But, truth be told, I hang onto this life hack that translated to a life lesson. Thanks so much po, sir. Ikaw na ang dalisay. Ako na ang kanal. Happy? Lels.  Some weeks back, someone I talked to ages ago reminded me of this grief journey. I was told that stories about the loss of that person’s grandma. And that though it’s been ages ago, the hurt is still like yesterday, today and tomorrow. I was taken aback because this person seems really doing well but I didn’t see that beyond the really, really long talks we’ve had is someone aching deeply. Told this person the things I would have told the 26-year old ulila sa mother dragon me. LUH. That she is a big girl na in this big, big world. Mhie, as in. Crazy shit. Even I can’t fathom but sige. Push. Andito na. Andito na ako. Andito na ito. She told me that the “big girl” line was the last line she told her grandma before expiring. INTUITION is poppin’. UGH.  Side Note: Puwede na talaga akong mag-FGD ulit. Hahahahaha. Puwede na rin akong bumalik sa projective techniques gaming. Check ko paano in the coming weeks. :D I miss probing and prying people without them knowing it. LOL. LUH. Tapos, paid pa. Ayus. CHZ.

The constricting tiny jabs in my chest have been lifted. Akala ko talaga need ko na magpa-check up or hayaan ko na lang ma-heart attack ako e. O ‘di ba? Ready na talaga ako for mature roles and B-rolls? I think even my eye infection is a manifestation of me shutting down x CTRL ALT DEL the framework of grieving because I am learning the ropes of vulnerability which back then is what I call TMI. Gah. Hirap i-let out netong hayup na fact na ‘to; but I need to. I want to, too. Will still have to get check ups para lang ‘di ako mag-overthink much pero tatapusin ko muna ang long weekends na back to back; and of course, I’d need to be there for Vidi every step of the way. Good thing Doc A is my go-to taga-kalma whenever I overthink talaga even if she’s tad too close to my babies. Minsan, gusto ko siyang reprimand because doc-patients should have a professional boundary; but, sige, for the love of my babies, i-usog natin konti ang BOUNDARIES para matawid ang 2 babies ko na 11 years old both. LOL. Kidding aside, Doc A has been looking after Vici and Vidi with full-on intent. Dalisay din. Saka malambing kahit masungit ako saka laging nagmamadali. HAHAHAHAHA. Basta, ayusin niya lang talaga itong si Vidi and ‘wag niya na naman akong bibigyan ng prescription na: Stay in Manila more to avoid sepanx ng babies. The first time she prescribed this, I almost flipped. JUSQ. I felt attacked talaga. Sabi ko: ‘Di ba gamot and procedures ang pinaguusapan? I spend as much time I can with my babies when I’m in Manila ‘di ba? Umuuwi ako ng maaga, I play with them. Every sahod ko, ang laki ng kaltas for their funds. Tapos ang prescription: STAY IN MANILA MORE? Natatawa lang si Doc A sa akin lagi. Pang-asar. Pero again, ginagawaaan naman niya lagi ng paraan. Minsan nga, siya pa nagpa-poop kay Vici, her favorite baby of mine. May one time, muntik ko na talagang agawin si Vici sa kanya kasi super happy sila while waiting for Vici to poop. Sabi ko talaga sa kanya IRL: Doc, ‘di ba busy ka? Bakit ikaw pa nagpa-poop kay Vici? With a sweet smile syempre pero gigil na gigil na ako. Sabi naman niya is no problem. ‘Yun lang. POTA. Para-paraan din para mapansin ni Vici, noh? Kainis. As in. Gusto raw niya ma-check mainam ‘yung poop and pee pati manner ng pag-excrete. FINE. Pero, deep inside IDGAF talaga kasi puwede naman niya ipahawak sa assistant tapos mag-wait siya from a safe distance, ‘di ba? Trabaho niya ‘yun. ‘Wag siyang feeling close masyado kay Vici. I rarely get triggered sa mga ganitong stuff pero kasi sobrang bonded nila ni Vici talaga. Feeling ko puwede niya na iuwi si Vici kasi happy si Vici talaga kasama siya. Will share the deep dive soon.  So, back to the cusp. I really need to work my thicc ass off to turn this Taurus x Cancer szn to a sparkle. Sparkle talaga kasi para naman very graphic pero cutie pa rin. Really thankful kasi my seatmate sa work has been a tangke literally & figuratively of my kind of good vibes. As in kahit hassle kasi sobrang active niya sa socmed na full support ako basta walang trace ko pero sige pa rin siya. Kalat. HAHAHAHA. Kaya kahit na kanal gaming at wala ako sa mood, talagang natural na sa kanya na putok na putok ng good vibes from within. Sabi ko nga, he is what I need kahit ayoko talaga ng maingay. Sabi naman niya, tumigil daw ako. Hahahaha. ‘Di ba? Kanal is lifer? But, syempre, I am beyond blessed to finally be with him and my people. Iba talaga ‘pag nasa tamang environment ka. Kahit ganito, behind the unli tawa and bardahan, we’ve shared a very few MMK stories as a nasa lalayan na inching our way up. Not perfect pero workable WIP, baby! Need lang talagang unli pake at pakikipag-kapwa tao at hayop. Sweet and spicy na naman tayo. Ang aga-aga.  Also, nakakahappy and humbling AF talaga that I’m closely working with mga early 30s and late 20s na hindi boss ang title. Why? Ayoko kasi talaga ng nasa spotlight. I find it unnecessary. Wala sa title or designation ‘yan. Nasa take home pay and benefits mo. LOL. Saka sa quality and quantity ng kung ano mang ambag mo. Saka ang pinaka weird and wonderful lang na daily task ko is talking to my younger, “akala mo alam mo na lahat” self. LOL. It’s also my wounded healer era na totoo; hindi lang lipservice. ‘Yung ‘pag may kausap akong bata, deep inside, natatawa ako kasi mhie, crazy & good shit pala ako kahit pigil pa ako nung bata ako na kabog ang Gen Z and baby millennials. Medyo hardcore pala ako, mala-metal nung aking kabataan. Medyo malala. Medyo laging deliks levels. Ganern. Lalo sa usapang workaholic at melancholic. HAHAHAHAHA. Taena. At 37 talaga, I am able to connect the dots backward pero minus the shit of Steve Jobs, ex-lodicakes ko because Apple x Pixar = chef’s kiss, baby. ‘Di siya madali kasi people my age are really high rollers na ha. Pero, sabi ko nga, iba-iba tayo ng timeline. Scoping is but a formality. LUH.  Note to self: Next nego, HMO extended for my dad and pet insurance for my babies na. Plus, if ma-swing, car plan. :D Talagang planado po ang mga ganaps, opo. Saan kaya makakanhanap nito? Saan? Abangan.  Sa akin lang ‘yun. Sabi nga ng start up tatay ko nung kabataan ko: Hindi ka boss but people are naturally drawn to you. Skill mo ‘yan. It’s also your blessing and curse. So, use that to make peace and not faction. Use it well. Kung may problema ka, derecho mo sa akin. You know I will listen kahit na mag-away pa tayo. Remember that. POTA. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Lakas maka-Netflix ng dramarama ni tatay noh? Syempre, secret na lang muna anong comeback ko dito because, bitch, tabi. LOL.  Hassle netong post na ‘to because TMI AF but, we will continue to keep the bots out of sight, out of mind. We aim to be buried deep in the search results. Pati titles, babaklasin at babaklain natin. Marami na masyadong BIKING kw na contextually spot on, pero no, no, no. Gagawaan natin ng paraan.  HAHAHAHAHA. Maiba naman, right? ‘Wag rin nating gamitan ng kahit anong AI kasi mhie, they will ensnare my sense with dopamine. Deadly ‘yan pero nakaka-high talaga. LOL. Dami na namang explanation. Wala namang nagtatanong.  Also on the cusp of sending links to specific content shit na perfect sa mga personas IRL ko, pero, ‘wag muna. Kahihiyan. Katotohanan. Kashitan much. Sa tamang panahon na. Bwelo muna. Babu!  PS: Dulot yata ito ng Tunog Kalye English PL na I renamed to MTV Request Of The Daze na curated ko the past days e. Fuck, digital. Fuck, digital na tumitibok. :D Chz. Haypppp na PL ‘yan. Talagang sumakto sa part na ‘to U2 - I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For. Ganito rin ba si Haruki Murakami ‘pag nagsusulat? Sana ma-meet cute ko siya one day in Japan or wherever while I’m briskwalking tapos he is resting from his good run. Baka lang naman. Baka. 

[adorejungkook]

Baby Got Back!!

Synopsis; Jeon Jungkook has the fattest fucking crush on you meanwhile Jimin and Taehyung don’t find you too hard to look at either. Now Jungkook has to find a way to confess his feelings, maybe even show you,  before the other two find their ways into your pants during your “staycation”. 

Warnings; series, eventual (almost immediate) smut, pining, the boys are horny they talk a bit raunchy about you, big dick!jk (they call it small tho they're just bullying) ,first chapter is pretty tame, you canonically have a nice booty <3

chapter. 1 , 2, 3, 4 , 5

Jungkook hated it when you were around.

You were just so fucking nice, so pretty. He could barely think around you.

The best days were when you decided to let Jimin drag you to lunch along with him and the other two boys. 

“Wait, you’re really leaving us for a whole week? Whyyy,” Taehyung whined, leaning into your side, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer. They were all so comfortable with you, Jungkook had no idea how. He knew he’d combust if he was in his friends position, especially with the way you were running your fingers through his hair. 

Was it weird to wonder how you smelled right now?

“ Not even a whole week!” you say, giggling a bit when Tae groans at you pushing him off you a bit, “My parents really wanted me to come home for like three days, you’ll live.”

“You promised you’d come with us this weekend,” Jimin puffs, pushing cerulean strands away from his eyes, “I already rented our Airbnb and it was expensive as shit! If you don’t come I’m just gonna assume you hate me,” 

It was so hard to focus on the conversation, with the way his friends were sandwiching you between them. He looked down, knitting his eyebrows and running his tongue along the side of his cheek. He kept his eyes on his plate when you said you had to leave early and pushed out a small ‘bye’ when you squeezed his shoulder on your way out.

“Kook, you can stop crying now,” 

“I wasn't!” Jungkook huffs, whipping his head up to pout at his older friends laughing at him. They only made his situation harder, teasing him about you every chance they got.

“Uh, why are you yelling at me when I just got your girlfriend to come on the trip?” Jimin asks, a hand over his heart to feign hurt. Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows at the younger boy before stealing a couple fries from his plate.

“What? She said she was coming like a week ago hyung,” 

“Oh my god,” Jimin snorted, “Have you not been paying attention? What were you doing for like the past twenty minutes?” 

“Probably looking at her ass,” Taehyung interjects, waving his salt covered fingers in Jungkook’s direction.

“She was sitting down bruh,”

“I know. Her ass is still amazing,”

Jimin pauses for a moment, staring at his grinning friend. 

“You’re right, though,”He giggles, eyes turning to crescent moons with his bright smile.

Here they go again. Jungkook’s friends were never shy about their attraction to you, even though they knew about his long held crush. He figured it was because they thought he’d never act on it. They were probably right.

“Listen, she was thinking about going to her parents for three days but I convinced her to only go for the weekend so that she could still come with us,” Jimin smirked, puffing out his chest as if he deserved a medal for his ‘work’. 

Well, considering he just saved Jungkook a good two hours of sulking, maybe he did.

“Thank god, I packed like 3 pairs of grey sweatpants and no underwear! I would’ve wasted all my ‘sexy’ on… you two,” Jungkook said, pretending to gag with a finger in his mouth.

“Ew, bruh.” Jimin grimanced .

“I’m gross but y’all were just sitting here talking about ___’s ass?”

Taehyung patted his shoulder from across the table, giving him a pitiful stare.

“Her ass is actually sexy and your little dick is like a Kandinsky painting.”

“Beautiful?” Jungkook snorts, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Nah, abstract!” He replied, falling back on his seat in a fit of giggles.

It was going to be a long two days without you. 

[thrashkink-coven]

Adding to this

The way I portray my interactions with the Gods on social media is an extremely exaggerated and over simplified version of our interactions. I sometimes worry that people assume things are as simple as I may portray them for the sake of a more engaging reading experience. People ask me all the time, how do you talk to Lucifer or Hermes so easily? How do you hear them, how do you see them?

and that’s likely my own fault because I often write about our interactions as if they were normal conversations. Example:

Me: Hey I’m having a hard time writing this essay,

Hermes: it’s because you need to take a break, you’ve been writing for 4 hours

me: oh shit you’re right

In this example, I’m not literally sitting there and hearing Hermes speak to me as if he were another human. In reality, I sat back and wondered why I was so exhausted, and then I looked at Hermes altar and altogether got the feeling that I needed to take a break. At this point in my practice i don’t have to spend a ton of time wondering if it was really Hermes that sent me that message. I know how our interactions usually go and the advice was valuable, so there’s no need to inspect further if i don’t want to.

Alternatively, I may have been sitting at his altar and flipping a coin, using tarot cards or some other divinational tool that helps communicate messages in a concise way. It’s never as simple as just hearing him reply. There are always additional steps that help lead to a conclusion. Maybe I ask a yes or no question and his photo falls off his altar, probably no then. If I come to the wrong conclusion he will likely give me a sign that I’m incorrect.

Likewise, when I talk about physically “hearing” Lucifer’s voice and adoring the sound of it, it is again, not like I’m hearing a human speak to me. There’s a skill within occultism that has to do with hearing without hearing and seeing without seeing, essentially using the mind’s eye and visualization to experience a deity. My ears don’t actually hear his voice, but my mind does. And when I do hear this voice, the information it provides is delivered to me faster than if it had been said by a human. Almost as if I know the information before I’ve even realized I’ve heard it. His voice is a feeling and experience more so than a “sound”. As an autistic person, my brain works in very abstract ways. Sometimes I receive images, sometimes sounds and textures. My conversations with Lucifer can present to me like a series of images combined with feelings that can communicate an entire story in a very abstract and interpretive way. But again, I receive these images when in an altered state of consciousness. Through dreams or while in trance. These things don’t just happen for no reason. If they did, my every day life would be extremely intense.

Likewise, feeling Lucifer’s touch, sharing pleasure, kisses, embraces, should always be during states of trance. Honestly I would probably shit my fucking pants if that ever happened during any other time. If I just felt Lucifer’s presence near my neck or felt his warmth on my shoulders when I was casually hanging out and not asking for it during a trance state, I would lose my shit and probably cry or something. Idk it would be really scary and extremely abnormal. Trances take a lot of effort, focus and time. It takes a great amount of intention to achieve that state. If it could just happen randomly that’d be terrifying.

It is incredibly important to remember that the Gods will not constantly be trying to bother you. If I start hearing Lucifer’s voice when I’m not in a trance state and actively asking for his presence in a controlled environment, that’s a serious red flag. Likewise I have never seen Lucifer manifest with my eyes. I have certainly seen him tons of times in dreams or in states of deep trance. But there should be no surprises, you shouldn’t be visited by a deity by total random chance. It should always be through invitation and serious focused effort.

Of course the Gods show themselves to me through the world every day. I feel Hermes whenever I travel somewhere new, every time I jingle my coin purse or hear people speaking a language I don’t understand. I feel Lucifer and Aphrodite every time I touch my collar, when I’m near my lover, when I’m listening to love songs or doing my hair. That’s because they are Gods, not humans. They exist in a thousand different ways at once, but they should never be presenting themselves as full bodied apparitions.

I definitely experienced a bit of spiritual psychosis when I first started my work with Archangels, to the point where it got too intense and I was both ordered by my Archangel and generally just had the desire to take a break for a few months. Now I am far more vigilant and careful with my mental health. It’s important to remember that succumbing to these things doesn’t make you a bad pagan or a failed devotee. It makes you human. Humans are subject to illness. You have a brain that needs to be taken care of. You need to have an anchor point of reality to rest on when your brain becomes exhausted, especially if you’re dabbling in things like trances and astral projection.

When I emerge from a trance or have a crazy dream, I am always relieved and comforted by the solidness of reality. Knowing that my brain can relax and return to mundanity, knowing that my Gods aren’t going to be directly communicating with me is actually a really great and safe feeling. Being a human is wonderful because I get to experience the Gods without having to constantly be in that state. When I return form an astral journey I am delighted that things will go back to normal, that I won’t be seeing spirits or deities, and that I’m just a normal human in a physical body. Reality is really great, it’s great to live my everyday life in a place where I know I won’t be experiencing magical impossible things constantly. The fantastical magical things can remain in my dreams and trances. I don’t need or want those two worlds to blend together. I don’t need or want to see Lucifer in the real world. My brain needs the break and reliability of reality to remain secure.

Remember that skepticism is essential to healthy spirituality. You should always be able to ask yourself: “Was that real? Am I hallucinating?” That’s not a taboo question that should ever be off limits. Question yourself. Are you hallucinating? What could be the logical and practical explanation for this before you conclude that it was a deity or paranormal experience? How is your mental state right now? How is your physical state? Have you eaten? Are you dehydrated or stressed?

Before you decide that you’ve had a paranormal experience you need to rule everything else out. That doesn’t mean to say that the Gods won’t send us mundane things as a message, that happens more often than not. But seeing impossible things or believing that everything is a sign is more strenuous on your spiritual health and deity relationships than beneficial.

Tldr: you are not immune to psychosis.

I personally believe that the Gods are real and will show themselves to us through a million different ways. But i also believe that they are not human and will not present themselves like normal people will. Many of my longest conversations with them did not contain words. Many of my greatest experiences with them happened while I was asleep. I don’t see ghosts, shadow people, apparitions, demons or anything of the sort while I’m awake. Thank the fucking Gods for that.

I came across this tiktok that sums up my thoughts on spiritual psychosis. This is one of the few things I won't debate people over, as one of my close friends has suffered because of this so I hold it close to my heart. So if my opinion upsets you, just block me.

Remember: you don't need to be seeing deities in your room or have a conversation with them at the supermarket about what offerings they want to be a good pagan. In fact, back when Hellenic and Roman polytheism were still popular, people communicated with the gods through divination or dreams.

I feel like a lot of creators are pushing people to psychosis by pretending scenarios that really don't happen to them are true.

[ayyezhongli]

horny hungry dom zhongli x innocent slutty childe

where zhongli is horny asf and childe has this lusty energy around him which makes it hard for zhongli to concentrate bc he just wants to ravage and fuck childe using him as a fucktoy

ok so its late in the day n zhongli jus came back from a mission. he has paper work he needs to finish but forst he needs to shower bc he’s sweating like crazy.

so he says “good work today”

trying to contain himself with all this lust and sexual desire that was pouring out of childe. childe smiled saying.

“yeah thx, you too”

n zhongli walked over to take a shower. the lust was too strong. like a tornado. if he stood there any second longer he would’ve for sure fucked childe stupid right there. he turned on the shower water to hot and stripped revealing his member hard asf.

“fuck not again.”

so now zhongli steps in the shower, cheeks tinted pink and one of his hands against the tile wall.

“i’ll just get it over with now”

with his free hand wrapped around his dick, he starts pumping himself as images of childe flash in his brain. childe in a maid outfit. childe with a lewd face. childe moaning….all he could think about were these abstract images and dirty scenarios about childe he made up in his head mumbling childes name under his breath.

“Fuck! fuck! fuck!”

so zhongli cums shooting his load all over the tile wall panting. after a few minutes of washing himself he turns off the water and wraps a towel around his waist and gets out. he puts on a fresh pair of boxers and has the towel over his shoulders. when he looks up to his surprise, he sees childe standing in front of him with a bright red face.

“S-sensei!”

“how long have you been here?”

“w-well i went to go shower bc i thought you were done b-b-but….”

zhongli stares childe down biting his lip. childe could see the hungry look in zhonglis eyes. he looked like a beast who captured his pret and ready to devour it any second. n he suddenly found himself backing up as zhongli approached him until he was pressed up against a wall kabedoned.

He’s gonna eat me alive!!

“u saw enough.”

zhongli couldnt hold back anymore. he jus couldn’t. he has been for so long and too long. and with the way how childe was acting, his flushed face. He REALLY couldnt.

“S-s-sensei?!”

childe was squirming around trying to escape and oh that turned him on so much. watching childe squirm underneath him. and so he fiercely attacked childes neck marking and claiming every spot he can which in response to this action childe gripped his shoulders letting out tiny little pants and moans right into zhonglis ear.

“Sensei p-p-pls stop”

childe begged while zhongli ignored him. childes begging only made him harder. there was no going back now. zhongli slid his hands up childes shirt mouth still attached onto childes neck. he went up pinching his nipples causing a loud moan to escape his mouth.

“F-Fuck Sensei!!”

he moved up to nibble on his ear and reached his hand down into his pants to palm him.

“you’re already so hard for me childe….”

“S-s-sensei….”

childe moaned into his ear. childe had the lewd face that zhongli always dreamed of. It turned him on so much he almost came.

“D-d-dont to- Ahh~!!”

it was too late, zhongli had a tight grip around his dick and started pumping him fast. childe came within seconds all over zhonglis hand and in his pants. zhongli rid childe of his pants and started rubbing against him through his boxers.

“Mmmnn S-sensei dont stop ahh~”

“i never planned too”

He’s even hotter than i imagined

“childe….”

“w-w-what.”

“kiss me.”

n so childe did. wrapping his arms around zhonglis neck kissing him passionately. he wanted to have all of childe for himself. have him all to his self. violate and claim every orifice or non orifice of his body. all of it should n would belong to him by the time he’s done. pulling away breathless a string of drool attached from the mouth he went back in and childe rubbed back harder and needier than before.

“S-sensei….i want you….”

zhongli felt himself blush but kept a calm composure.

“prostrate yourself in front of me and maybe i’ll consider it.”

childe did so all shame going down the drain. n zhonglis view was nothing short from perfect. it was beautiful. seeing childe’s pink innocent little hole with his ass high up in the air. he couldn’t hold back. it was so plump, so untouched, so round, so innocent looking he wanted to destroy it. and so he bit down marking and claiming what belongs to him which made childe yelp. with a loud smack childe came as a red hand print formed on his ass.

“you came just from that? what a slutty little masochist”

childe quivered while zhongli spanked him a few more times. he could feel his legs going weak until they finally decided gave out and he dropped to the floor unable to hold himself up any longer.

“i’m not finished with u yet. get back up.”

childe struggled to follow his directions but eventually did wobbling.

“good little slut.”

zhongli bent over and planted a gentle kiss on his head.

“turn around and suck”

zhongli said pulling down his boxers revealing his hard member. childe just stared. that wouldn’t be able to fit inside him!! how was he gonna take all that it!!

“stop gawking at it n suck it!”

childe gulped and started licking his shaft sucking on the balls from time to time. he slowly lowered himself down gagging at every inch. he wanted to see zhonglis reaction through it all so he maintained eye contact as he watched zhonglis face flush and his hand covering his mouth. it was hot ngl and childe could feel himself becoming harder. after a few zhongli came and he could feel the slimy liquid go down his throat and drip down the side of his mouth. he pulled away but before he could fully zhongli held him down.

“keep going.”

childe did the best he could. and he could feel zhongli’s throbbing cock in his mouth.

“stick out ur tongue”

zhongli said panting slightly

“Fuck!”

and he came all over his face and getting sum on his tongue. catching his breath he looked down at childe to see such a slutty cum covered face panting with his tongue sticking out and tears forming from the side of his eyes.

“you look so hot covered in my cum, such a slutty whore all for me~….”

zhongli put his fingers in childe’s mouth.

“suck and get them nice and lubricated.”

childe did so until zhongli pulled them out.

“prostrate yourself for me again.”

and when he did, zhongli shoved his fingers inside causing childe to moan in pain, crying.

“S-s-sensei it hurts…”

“it wont for long just hang in there. this isnt even the part that hurts the most.”

zhonglis fingers wiggled around inside childe

“god ur squeezing my fingers so tightly”

his fingers searched for that one g spot.

“where is it now….”

zhongli said still looking until childe arched his back and let out a loud moan drool dripping down the side of his mouth.

“found it.”

what was he feeling? what was this immense amount of pleasure? has he have no shame? it all felt too good childe couldn’t think straight. as a puddle of drool formed from the side of his mouth n on the floor zhongli pulled out and aligned himself.

“woah woah wait sensei thats not all gonna f- AHH SHIT!!”

but before childe could finish zhongli pushed himself inside him. all of him. and childe choked on his own spit, eyes widening and crying clawing at the floor to escape as zhongli thrusted into him fast and rough showing no mercy.

“Sensei it hurts! It hurts! It hurts so much!”

childe cried out clawing and scraping at the floor.as much as he tried to escape zhonglis grip on his hips was too tight.

“shhh its okay….it’ll feel better soon.”

and like zhongli said, the pain started fading away n all he could feel was pleasure. all he could think abt was zhongli. zhonglis dick deep inside him. destroying him. ruining him. claiming him.

“Zh-zh-zhongli~!!”

childe moaned out.

“fuck that was hot. moan out my name again. moan the name of the person who’s fucking u stupid. claiming you for themselves.”

zhonglis pace quickened and by now he was slamming into childe ruining him like he always got off too.

“ZHONGLI FUCK!! I’M GONNA-”

and with that childe came dropping to the floor.

“this isnt over yet childe, not even close~….”

zhongli flipped him around placing each of his legs on his shoulder and pounded into him harder n faster than childe could ever imagine.

“I’m gonna cum again…”

“n im gonna cum too….”

giving a few more thrusts zhongli came inside him and childe came again on his chest cum dripping out of him and panting heavily and twitching.

“ur still so hard for me.”

zhongli palmed the twitching childe and he came once more all over zhonglis hand. zhongli lifted his hand up to childes mouth.

“lick it clean”

hesitating, childe sucked his hand clean tasting himself. the bittersweet slimy consistency. he couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose.

“good boy.”

zhongli said picking childe up and carrying him bridal style.

“lets take a shower shall we?”

“t-t-together?”

“mhmm.”

and so they stepped into the shower to bathe but it turned out to be another round. the end :)

(but guess what- i wrote an alt ending so enjoy 😈)

ALT ENDING:

“good boy.”

zhongli said picking childe up and carrying him bridal style. when zhongli raised his head he could see diluc standing in there eyes widen is shock to speechless to say anything. Childe looked at diluc face flushed

“DILUC??!!!? HOW LONG HAVE U BEEN THERE?!”

diluc was too speechless he couldn’t say anything.

“i’m just gonna-”

diluc said turning around.

“dont tell anyone diluc”

“i never planned too.”

diluc said walking out.

“Besides…i dont wanna risk the chance of me n kaeya getting out.”

(ok now thats the alt ending. hope you enjoyed the story. it’s pretty rushed but don’t mind that)

[zachsreaderinserts]

sleepy boys inc x gn!teen! reader headcannons

trying something new! i like bbs and all, but i wanted to write for other youtubers! lemme know if yall wanna see more content like this lol.

this takes place in a minecraft au!!! also, mentions of bad parenting/abusive parents

wc: 2,319

okay the sleepy boys

chaos incarnated, all of them. you can’t deny it

so, when tommy invites a friend from a local village, at first, everyone else is skeptical. since when has tommy made a friend who didn’t hate him within 20 minutes from all the screaming and insults he spewed?

unlike his friends, phil is more excited than anything. though he isn’t tommy’s dad, he feels like it sometimes, so he really wants to meet this new person who has caught the youngest’s attention

techno is very much not on board. he has a hard time trusting people at first glance and having been friends with tommy for the longest, he knows that tommy readily jumps the gun and attempts to befriend literally anything just because he can

and wilbur? indifferent for the most part. yes, he feels the need to make sure tommy is protected and cared for, but he also recognizes that this situation is out of his hands. the best he can do is hope that their friend isn’t an absolute asshole

so, it’s saturday. all three men are sitting on the couch in phil’s cottage, talking amongst themselves as they wait for tommy to come back. techno makes a joke about murdering them, which leads to phil scolding him about his violent tendencies

“you haven’t even met them yet, techno, what the fuck.”

wilbur is simply adding fuel to the fire, making little remarks here and there and watching the whole thing escalate to phil lecturing the piglin hybrid.

because of this, not one of them had noticed that tommy returned, with his newest friend. they both stopped at the sight of phil in dad mode, tommy considering just turning around and taking his friend as far away as physically possible

too late, since techno’s sixth sense made him whip around and stare at the newcomer. this made phil stop lecturing and wilbur quit giggling long enough for tommy to introduce his friend

after saying their name, the friend lifted their hand shyly, face burning from slight embarrassment. their other hand was latched onto tommy’s, feeling intimidated.

can you blame them? the fucking blood god looks like they wanna skewer them and cook them over a campfire.

tommy took notice of their shyness and cleared his throat, “we were planning on going to the carnival in their village if you three assholes feel like tagging along.”

like there was any way they were gonna let tommy and his friend go out without chaperones.

tommy turned back to his friend, “give me a second, i’m gonna go grab my sword just in case.” and proceeded to run up the stairs and towards the guest bedroom in phil’s house that he claimed.

the millisecond he was out of earshot, techno grabbed his friend by the front of the shirt.

“what are your intentions with tommy?”

the friend blinked once, twice, then bit back a smile. “you’re asking that as if i’m about to date that motherfucker.”

this time, it was wilbur who bit back a grin of his own. who would’ve expected the originally shy kid to have replied like that????

techno’s brain short circuited and his grip on their shirt loosened slightly. did.... did this kid just brush off his question???

“can you put me down? you’re gonna stretch my shirt.”

techno’s brain blinked back into focus and he gripped the kid’s shirt harder, shoving them against the nearest wall. “i asked a question, kid.”

“you know, tommy told me something like this would happen. i’m glad i came prepared.” and then, tommy’s friend sucked in a deep breath. techno leaned back, expecting the worst...

“MWISTER TECHNWOBWADE, PWEASE PUT MWE DOWN BEFWORE I SCWEAM”

oh god, this was far worse than anything he thought of.

he dropped the teen out of disgust more than anything, reeling backwards. if there was one thing that haunted his dreams, it was uwu-speak.

phil started howling of laughter, clutching his stomach and hunching over. originally he was going to stop techno from threatening a literal child but this outcome was so much better than anything he was anticipating

wilbur was no better, already tearing up from how hard he was snickering. he started choking on his own spit at one point, smacking his arm against the couch.

tommy was so fucking confused when he came back down the stairs, seeing the mayhem that was, for once, not caused by him. he glanced at his friend, who had the world’s biggest shiteating grin.

yeah, they were gonna fit in just fine.

and they did! phil took them under his wing (both physically and metaphorically) and allowed them to come visit his home whenever they wished. and whenever they did, phil was the first to ask how they’ve been and what they were up to

to phil’s surprise, the kid was overall calm in their choice of activities. things like playing soccer or drawing or figuring out how to learn instruments in their free time. it seemed like they were desperate to get their hands on anything and everything just to learn

he found it funny, though, when their chaotic side shone through. they easily were on tommy’s level when they got into that headspace and it was so hilarious to him.

his favorite memory of the kid was when they walked into the house and marched right up to where techno was reading idly in the corner. planting their hands on their hips, they spoke.

“if you were to fuck a clone of yourself, would it be masturbation or would you be considered gay?”

phil, who was washing the dishes six feet away from them, just about crumbled into a ball on the floor from how hard he was laughing and sobbing.

of all questions, that was the one that came out.

but he had no idea that the chaos was a coping mechanism. he just thought they were naturally like that in their free time.

he soon found out the truth when they came home with tommy, who was cursing up a fit, visibly angry. his friend was slumped over, as if trying to hide themselves from the world

when phil asked what had happened, tommy exploded.

“their fucking dad took all their money from their savings! said he needed it more than them and when they asked for it back, he called them a fucking disappointment! that fucking bitch--”

phil can count very few times when he felt true anger and he can confirm that when tommy had told him what had gone down, he saw red.

but he knew better than to outwardly show it. judging by how hunched over and defeated the kid was, what they needed was a stable support system

so he walked over and shut tommy up with a hand on his shoulder, “why don’t we take the rest of the night to build up that game room you wanted in the basement. i’m sure if we knock it out before techno and wil are supposed to be back, we can all play something like monopoly.”

seeing where phil was headed, tommy nodded and brushed away his anger. he knew that what his friend needed was a serious cheering up. tommy ran towards his guest bedroom, claiming that he was going to find his blocks.

phil crouched in front of the teen, tilting their head up to look him in the eyes. “you’re not a disappointment. you’re an amazing person with a chaotic joke machine going 120 kilos over the speed limit in your head and you are talented. your dad doesn’t know shit about what you’re capable of doing.”

oh boy, the kid’s crying. those are tears, full on tears.

that night was one of the best nights of their life, however. they enjoyed the entire three hour long game of monopoly where they watched the light leave everyone’s eyes. it was funny when wilbur lunged across the table when he landed on a railroad, out for phil’s blood.

speaking of wilbur, he enjoyed every minute in the kid’s presence. they often asked creative and random questions and went along with the abstract jokes he made, the two of them laughing heartily the entire time.

when the kid first mentioned wanting to learn how to play the guitar, he practically burst through the wall of the room next door, breathing heavily and exaggeratedly.

“did someone say guitar”

yeah, he’s feral. that’s canon.

they proceeded to spend the entire day in phil’s garden, each of them equipped with a guitar. despite their outwardly smooth brain and stupid demeanor, the teen was a fast learner and could play the most basic chords by the time the sun was setting.

wilbur’s favorite moment was the first night they met, when they went to the carnival. there was the game where you shoot the water and fill up the balloons and the kid was going head to head against techno and tommy.

it was when techno won that the teen turned to techno with murder in their eyes and spoke in a deadpan tone of voice,

“you’re lucky you won this time, you gentrified mayo monkey.”

wilbur’s jaw dropped, as did techno and phil’s. tommy was already in hysterics, smacking his hand against the counter that held the guns.

needless to say, wilbur found his favorite, not-quite sibling in a heartbeat.

techno was the last to come around with the child. can you blame him? every time he tried to threaten them or had beaten them at something, they would respond in a cryptic threat--

“i’m going to pee your pants if you don’t let me win”

or just brushed him off. without a second thought.

“anyways, i was murdering a chicken the other day, and the fucker had the audacity to ribbit at me.”

to say he was confused was an understatement. he was terrified of the fact that a literal child held so much power and disinterest in things like their own life. so for the first few months, he avoided them.

but he had seen past that when it was around midnight on a weekday. tommy was hanging out with tubbo and ranboo in their village miles away from the area. wilbur was out drinking with schlatt, niki, and fundy, and phil was already asleep.

techno wasn’t too far behind, sitting in front of the fireplace and staring out of the window that showed the front yard. it was only then when he saw the flash of a familiar face and looked closer as the teen walked up to the house quietly. their head was down and they carried a small bag with them.

techno opened the front door with a long creak as they reached the porch steps. it was only when they jumped and looked up in surprise that techno had noticed a deep bruise on their left cheek in the moonlight.

despite the fact that he kept away from them, techno was very protective and territorial of tommy, phil, and wilbur. and since they were attached to the teen, he became protective of them as well.

so all the voices in his head went quiet for a second. before exploding into a mixture of screams and threats, all leading back to protecting the child in front of him.

without thinking, he reached forward and cupped their face for a better view of the bruise. at the warm and soft touch, tears slipped down the kid’s cheeks and they sniffed pathetically.

the voices quickly took a 180, all screaming to take care of them. make them feel better. so, techno led the kid inside and let them spend the night in his room, with them falling asleep on the bed and him falling asleep on the rocking chair in his room.

phil did not hesitate to officially declare himself as the teen’s official father, saying that their biological father was a “little bitch”

now somewhat living with the teen, techno found an appreciation for their quieter moments, when they were reading or simply daydreaming. it was cute, in his eyes. but he also grew to enjoy when they were absolutely feral, especially toward tommy.

his favorite moment with them was when they had gifted tommy a music disc for his birthday. it was sweet and sentimental and tommy just about burst into tears when he saw it.

all of the sappiness quickly vanished when tommy put it into a jukebox.

“FUCK THIS PUSSY, BOY, FUCK. FUCK IT RIGHT, BOY--”

tommy had let out the most terrified scream and it practically engrained itself into techno’s brain. it was the first time he ever laughed at something the teen had done and the teen felt proud of themselves.

and finally, tommy. he was already happy to call himself a friend of the teen’s. they were like peas in a pod, working together.

tommy came to them when his insecurity felt heavy and they came to him whenever their dad’s words got to them. they had a nice system of dependency on one another and neither of them would trade it for the world.

tommy’s favorite moment of being friends with them was during their first birthday living in phil’s house. it was a birthday befitting their personality, with brightly color streamers hung and confetti all over the floor. he knew that they enjoyed it severely and once the cake was cut, the kid turned to phil.

“phil, where’s the big tiddy strippers i requested?”

tommy was GONE

he all but choked on his slice of cake and walked away, shaking his head while trying to stifle his giggles. but when he heard phil’s scream of “WHAT”, he just lost it.

all in all, his friend had made a fine part of the sleepy boys. they were a happy face in an otherwise somewhat bleak and dangerous world. and all four men appreciated it.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 29: Happiest Place on Earth (Vacation/Roadtrip)

AO3

Prev

Marinette blinks at her dad, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

“B, you have a private jet. Why the fuck are we driving?” Jason asks, and Marinette swears his eye twitches.

“I thought it would be nice to do a family vacation the normal way, complete with a road trip.” Her dad says and Marinette frowns. Now? Now is when he decides to be normal?

“Father, we can not all leave. Someone must stay behind to patrol and watch over Gotham. As much as it pains me, I will stay.” Damian says, and Marinette resists the urge to whack him. It wasn’t going to hurt him at all to get to stay, he was doing it on purpose. She wanted to go on vacation with her brothers and dad and Selina, but she also wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with them being so close to her for over fifteen hours in an enclosed vehicle.

“No need. Clark said he would make sure to listen for any extreme trouble, Stephanie and Barbara will still be here, and if all else fails we’ll use the Zeta tubes to get back.” Her dad says, his tone filled with finality. This was serious. He was really going to do this to them.

“Well, I’ll drive the second car. And I call Pix-”

“We don’t need to take two vehicles, Jason. Selina and I went out and bought a new car that will seat all of us perfectly, and there’s plenty of room in the back for luggage.” He says, and Marinette makes eye contact with Damian. His face says ‘fix this’, but all she can do is shrug. There was no way she was going to be able to save all of them from this one. Their dad looked way too determined. Alfred had somehow managed to plan his own trip to England to line up perfectly with their trip, which meant he was saved from the inevitable horror the trip would bring.

---

Marinette was willing to bet that her dad had never been on a road trip before. She honestly doubted he’d ever seen a movie with a road trip before, because if he had, they would most definitely not be on one. Even movies with road trips show how awful they are. Sure, the family is smiling by the end, but that’s because they’ve come up with a foolproof murder plan. Marinette frowns and blinks. She’d definitely been spending way too much time with Damian.

She had even tried to convince her dad to use Kaalki, even though he hated magic. In fact, Kaalki had begged as well. But no. So Kaalki was riding in the spare tire shell on the back of the car, unwilling to sit with her brothers for so long. Not that she could blame the Kwami. They were only an hour into the drive (that was scheduled to take fifteen hours and forty five minutes, not including breaks or traffic). She wasn’t too upset with the seating arrangement, but it had been calm so far. Too calm. Her dad and Selina were, of course, in the front. The next row, which also contained bucket seats, had Dick (he claimed one of the seats as the oldest) and Tim (who had to sit there because he got horribly carsick). That meant that she was stuck in the very back, sitting between Damian and Jason. But that was fine, they’d gotten along so far. They could keep it up for another fifteen hours, right?

---

They couldn’t even keep it up for another five minutes. Jason reached behind her and whacked Damian, which made him let out a battle cry, one that was way too loud for the car, before turning and attacking Jason again. She wasn’t sure how Tim was still asleep, even with his headphones on, but she supposed it was for the best. She really didn’t want to deal with her brother’s car sickness this early in the trip.

“This family is a fucking nightmare!” Jason yells, kneeing the back of Dick’s seat. Marinette glares at him and his dramatics. He was definitely trying to get their dad to turn the car around and switch to the jet. But Marinette had a feeling that instead of turning around, he’d drive even slower.

“Jay, I love you. But if you don’t stop screaming, they’ll never find your body.” Marinette whispers with a smile. Jason frowns, elbowing her gently.

“What’s wrong with you? I thought you’d be all over this shit.” He says with a huff. Marinette narrows her eyes.

“What, annoying shit?” She whispers snarkily, and Jason blinks. She frowns, until she realizes what she said. “Don’t tell dad!” She begs, latching onto Jason’s arm.

“Bruce!” Jason yells. Marinette yelps and covers his mouth.

“Jason, I am begging you not to do this.” She says, making eye contact with her dad in the rearview mirror and smiling awkwardly. “He was just guessing for, um, uh, I spy!” She yells, sighing in relief as he just nods and turns back to talk to Selina more. She’s about to give Jason an ultimatum, when he licks her hand. She gasps, yanking her hand back and wiping it on her pants with a frown.

“Karma!” Jason declares and Marinette huffs.

“No, it was just gross you mega jerk.” She says.

“Could I have the aux cord?” Dick asks suddenly. Marinette watches amusedly as Jason lunges forward to try and rip the cord from him.

“No, B, why would you give it to him?” He yells, trying to reach it, but unable to because of the seatbelt.

“I think you’re old enough to take turns, Jason. It’s not the end of the world letting Dick use the aux cord.” Dad says, and Dick cheers, plugging the cord into his phone. It’s completely silent for a moment, before ABBA suddenly blasts through the speakers. Marinette turns to Damian, her face stuck in a deadpan expression.

“I know you have a knife. Kill me, please. Or at least stab me badly enough that we have to stop.” She instructs, her eye twitching as Dick starts singing off key.

“If I had two, I would. But I refuse to allow you to escape this hell and leave me to deal with it by myself. If I am stuck here, ukht, then so are you.” Damian says, his tone just as flat.

“Nuh uh. Either all of the resurrected bitches get to die, or none of us do.” Jason pipes up and Marinette sighs.

“Completely unfair, but whatever.” She says, as a horrible thought suddenly crosses her mind. “Oh my god.” She says.

“What?” Damian asks. She pinches the bridge of her nose, and lets out a long breath before looking at her brother sadly.

“We have to drive all the way back, too.” She says, and chaos erupts in the backseat.

---

Jason glares at Bruce in the rearview mirror, waiting for the man to look back and notice him. He finally, finally does, and Jason just grins at Bruce’s responding sigh.

“What?” He asks, and Jason frowns.

“What, can I not just glare at you for no reason?” He asks, snorting at the overly done look on B’s face. “Okay, okay. I was just gonna ask you to stop at the next gas station. I need to walk around, my legs are literally dead.” He says.

“How? I thought Marinette was lying on your legs?” B says and Jason huffs.

“Yeah, she is, but I’m also scrunched up back here because Replacement just had to have the other good seat. I have long legs, B, I’m dying.” Jason says.

“Tt. If you were dying, I would not be forced to hear your voice.” Damian snarks, not even opening his eyes. Jason opens his mouth to argue, but is stopped by a finger raising slowly into the air.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh.” Pix says before dropping her finger back down and shifting around. Jason just rolls his eyes, trying hard not to smile at his baby sister. Maybe he could wait to walk a little longer. He leans up against the window, letting the soft noises of the car lull him to sleep.

---

Marinette Dupain Cheng was not dressed to impress as she walked into the random McDonalds, somewhere in North Carolina. Her dad had wanted to drive the whole way in one day, so at the last stop before she fell asleep, she’d changed into a pair of leggings, fuzzy socks and one of Jason’s old hoodies. Add in slides and a messy bun that could be mistaken for an abstract art exhibit, and Marinette was not willing to talk to anyone. At least, not until she had some coffee. She’s barely able to order her food before she’s following her brothers to a table in the corner. Sitting in the seat between Tim and Jason, she doesn’t even blink at the oddly stick table. It was six in the morning, the cleanliness of a table wasn’t exactly her number one priority. She narrows her eyes as Dick tries to say something to her, not quite able to comprehend his words. Just as she thinks she’s going to fall asleep on the sticky table, a huge cup is placed in her hands. The smell makes her sigh in relief before she takes a giant swig of the coffee, barely registering how hot it is.

“-nette! God, that was definitely too hot.” Dick says. Marinette blinks, the pain in her mouth finally helping her to register the fact that the coffee was too hot. Way too hot.

“Ouch.” She says quietly, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Kid, you’ve gotta be more careful.” Dick says, passing her another cup. She glances at it wearily and he sighs. “It’s a glass of ice water. It’s gonna feel a lot better than the coffee right now.”

“But, coffee.” She says and Dick gives her a look.

“It’s not going to kill you to drink the water. Now eat up. B wants to get back on the road as soon as possible.” Dick instructs and she groans at the food he passes her.

“You are such a dad.” She mumbles, picking apart the weird hash brown patty he’d passed her, eating small pieces of it.

“I officially hate road trips.” Damian says in a matter-of-fact tone. Marinette glances at him sleepily and grins.

“Just wait til we get to Disney, petit oiseau. That’ll be your own personal hell.” She promises him, snorting at the look on his face. In fact, she doubted any of the family would actually enjoy Disneyworld, given the fact Mar’i and Starfire were off planet again. Well, she knew she would enjoy it. But she doubted her brothers or dad would. Selina would enjoy it, until someone inevitably pisses her off and she steals from them and then gets in a major fight with her dad and- yeah. This was definitely one of her dad’s worst plans ever.

---

Dick insists on taking a family picture at the first rest stop inside Florida. He’s grinning at the palm trees and dolphins painted on the ‘Welcome to Florida’ sign with so much excitement, Marinette almost starts to think that this plan wasn’t awful. Almost. Because three seconds later, Damian is charging at Jason with the katana that he had somehow managed to sneak into the car. Which should have been impossible. She purses her lips as she tries to figure it out, when she sees Kaalki and the wide smile on their face.

“Did you open a portal so that Damian could get his sword and attack Jason?” Marinette asks Kaalki tiredly. She was relieved that her dad had decided they would spend the rest of the day at the hotel (once they finally got there, they were still currently stuck at that stupid welcome sign) instead of trying to go to Disney today. She was exhausted, and right now, the Kwami was not helping.

“I only helped him. He’s so small, and he is your brother, you know.” Kaalki says and Marinette snorts.

“So is the one that he’s currently trying to kill, Kaalki. But okay, sure.” She says, rubbing her face tiredly. She did not have the energy to deal with this right now. She sighs as Jason yells, turning on her heel and rushing after Damian.

“Get the fuck away!” Jason screams at Damian.

“Damian, no, drop the sword! Damian, please!” Marinette yells, rushing after him.

“Todd insists that he’s bunking with me. If he’s dead, I don’t have to worry about that.” Damian calls back, continuing rushing towards Jason. Marinette groans, running faster after him. Apparently, he was excessively crabby when tired. Joy.

---

“Do you think I could get away with wearing these all the time?” Dick asks, pointing to the Toy Story themed ears on his head.

“Might make some aspects of life a little hard.” Marinette points out with a grin as she imagines him, in his Nightwing uniform, with Toy Story ears on.

“We’d definitely amuse more villains, that’s for damn sure.” Jason adds with a smirk.

“Like yours are much better.” Dick says with a pout, pointing at Jason’s bright red Lightning McQueen ears.

“At least I’m wearing one of the better Disney characters.” Jason counters, glancing at Tim. Tim just frowns at him, sleep deprivation clear on his face.

“Goofy is one of the original Disney characters, Jason, I will not be accepting criticism.” He says flatly. Marinette giggles.

“What’re you laughing at sparkles?” Tim asks, pointing at the sparkles and huge bow attached to her ears.

“Nothing. Nothing at all, Timmy.” She says with a grin. She glances down at her watch, wondering what’s taking her dad so long. “Mo-Selina, do you think Dad’s alright?” Marinette asks, barely catching herself. She hadn’t asked Selina, or her Dad, if it was okay to call her that. And she didn’t want to be the kid to ruin the vacation. She currently had money on Jason being the one to ruin things, and she didn’t want to self sabotage that bet.

“Oh definitely. He’s probably just having trouble finding the perfect ears. After all, animal ears aren’t really his thing.” Selina teases, giving Marinette’s shoulders a quick squeeze. She grins and leans into her, content as she stands there and watches the door waiting for- yup. That was her dad. Walking out of a store, in public, with Mickey Mouse ears on his head. Oh this is amazing.

“Nice ears, B.” Jason teases and Marinette giggles. Sure, his ears were the most basic out of everyone (just plain black) but it was still hilarious to see her usually serious dad with mouse ears on his head.

“Tt. I cannot believe that you insisted we all wear them.” Damian complains, but Marinette can tell he likes his ears, even if he won’t admit it. They were Stitch themed, which was Damian’s favorite Disney movie. Really, it was one of three that she’d found that he could tolerate.

“I think you all look adorable.” Selina teases, her ears, like Marinette’s, were on a headband rather than a hat. And Selina’s were white with a veil. Marinette adored them.

“Can we please go get some coffee at Friar Nook’s?” Tim asks, looking dead on his feet. She frowns, slightly worried. They’d only been at the park for half an hour and he was already ready to pass out?

“Did you not sleep at all last night?” She asks, her tone slightly teasing but still concerned for him.

“Blame Dick. He snored all. Night. Long.” Tim complains, sighing deeply. Marinette winces.

“Why don’t you switch with Jason? He can sleep through anything.” She suggests.

“Absolutely not.”

“I would rather chew off my own foot.” Tim and Damian speak at the same time, turning to glare at each other before huffing.

“Come on, let’s go do some rides or something.” Dad suggests, and Marinette agrees, trying her best to hype up her brothers. Even though she’d been wary of the trip, and she was still NOT looking forward to the trip back, she could tell her dad wanted this to go well. He was obviously trying to let them have once nice (normal) vacation together. So she was going to do her best to make sure the rest of the trip was as amazing as possible.

Next

Tag list:  @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

[internalsealpanic]

Dancing In and Above the Starlight

summary:  There is nothing to do but dance the night away.

a/n: Since I am depresso expresso today here is some fluff! 

warnings: Depression, heights, suicidal ideation

You curl your body into the sheets, limbs escaping the gnawing cold. Your eyes are wide open.  You watch as glittering snow falls away. There’s a press of static in your mind. Maybe your brain is finally short-circuiting. You really should have been asleep an hour or two or five ago. Even if you check the clock now, it won’t make any sense. On some level, you are lucid. You recognize the characters on your taped together alarm clock. The red characters on its screen… you recognize them as numbers and letters. Your head feels like it’s full of cotton. 

You shift again. You hit replay on the voice mail. 

Kon’s voice comes over the speaker, a light warm sound cutting through the viscous atmosphere of the apartment. “Hey, babe! Could you grab like 20 cheeseburgers on your way home? It’s- Uuuuuuh… It’s for science. Yeah, totally-”

You replay it again. 

“Hey, babe!”

And again. 

“Hey, babe!”

And again. 

Kon’s voice always managed to soothe you, smoothing out your fraying nerves even on the bad days.  But today was one of the bad days you never tell him about. The kind that kept your limbs locked together. 

You really should just call Kon at this point. 

You don’t. 

You don’t want him to see you like this. You don’t want to talk to him about these bad days. The days when you have to shuck off the quick wit and unbridled confidence. You don’t want to tell him about how you want to open your chest, peel it back bone by bone until the thing rolling and shifting in your chest escapes. You can’t bear to tell him about how on these days red is your favorite color or how good it would be to step out of your skin. You will never tell him about your feverish need to feel the wind as you fall from a great height. 

Waking up like this feels like waking up in a coffin with your hands bound. There is a shriek caught in your throat between your lungs and throat. It sits there sharp and unreachable. You feel so small. 

You shift, looking into the soft glow of your screen. You type Kon’s number.  It’s easy. You don’t think too much about it. At least not until the dial tone. 

You sniffle brushing away the tears as if he could see. 

The dial tone keeps ringing. 

He hates you. 

You massage your throat. You test out your voice. It comes out a mockery of itself.  It’s scraggly and unpleasant. 

The dial tone keeps ringing. 

He hates you. 

You brush away the tears again. They won’t stop. They streak down like fat rivulets of syrup down your face. 

The dial tone keeps ringing. 

He hates you. 

You hang up. You’re shaking and sniffling and you can’t stop crying.  Your body is caught between existing and not. There isn’t enough of your mind there for you to feel substantial. 

Once your nerves settle and your body reforms into something tangible, you pull on a sweater. Your feet touch the floor.  It’s cold like you expect but the solidness of the feeling makes you jump back. You look at the clock. It still makes no sense.  

You slink out to the balcony. You wrap your arms around yourself, phone burning in your pocket. 

You lean you over the railing, head in your arms, eyes fluttering closed as you drink up the scenery.  You can hear the honking of car horns and the flutter of wings. The city below you was alive. A living creature with flowing blood and a beating heart. 

Living was what happened to other people. For you, there was no room for it. Not when you are filled with everything else. It was just a skill you never quite got a hold of. You think this as the wind whistles past your face.

You open your eyes a fraction then shut them again mimicking the shuttering of a camera. Behind your eyelids, you can see the glittering lights of the city. 

Your phone rings. You flinch. Maybe it’s your boss. Or a coworker. Or…

You fish it out of your pajama pants. You debate on whether to answer it or just let the phone fall. 

From this height, your phone would be obliterated. Completely. You balance it carefully between your fingers. If it falls, you’ll have an excuse to ignore your boss. But you’ll have to pay for a new one and more importantly, you won’t be able to listen to Kon’s voice mails. You make an exasperated noise and decide to answer. 

“Hey sugar,” comes the smooth cream of Kon’s voice. It kind of reminds you of freshly made custard. You smother the catch of your breath by pressing your mouth into your sleeve.  “Babe, you ok?”

Of course, he heard. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you breathe, voice sounding frighteningly robotic. 

“Liar.”

“Prove it.”

You can hear the playful hum in Kon’s voice. “I can make you sing all kinds of tunes, hun,” Kon teases. You can just picture him winking. “I’ll make you talk, doll.”

“Hilarious, Kent, ” You bite out, fighting down a blush. 

“Seriously, Sugar, what’s up?”

You hate the concern in his voice. No, no. You don’t. You love your boyfriend. You just- You just hate that you made him worry. “I- I’m just a bit down, Kon. I promise I’ll be better tomorrow.” You run your hand through your hair and you bury your face further into your arms. “I promise.”  

“Babe, tilt your face up.” You sigh, shaking your head but thankful for the change in subject. You tilt your head, keeping your eyes closed. “Kon, wha-” You feel the press of warm lips against yours. They’re chapped ever so slightly and you can smell the scent of leather and popcorn on the wind. Kon smiles against your lips, mischief tugging at his them. Slowly, you open your eyes and you’re greeted by the column of his throat. It takes the span of a few seconds to realize that Kon is hanging upside down, limbs angled like he’s Spiderman hanging from his we b. Your eyes widen in surprise and Kon laughs, realigning himself to face you properly. 

“Lemme guess, you guys watched the original Spiderman trilogy?”

“You know us so well.”

“I just know that there's only one of you that owns a  flat screen the size of my wall and that bastard is a nerd.”

“Don’t call Tim a nerd. That’s extremely rude.”

“He deserves all the rudeness I have to give after last week’s… what’s the word?”

“Fun?”

“Fun?” you snort. “If you find being thrown by a supervillain fun, then yeah.”

“I just call that kinky.”

“I’m going to hang up.”

Click.

Ring.

Click.

“YOU ACTUALLY HUNG UP.”

“I stick to my word.”

“Lil’ shit.”

“I’m your little shit.”

Kon kisses your nose. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“Did you need anything, Kon?” He hums floating away from you drawing out the silence. You are going to smack him. Probably not but you like to think you can stay mad at him long enough to follow through with the threat. 

“I want to show you something,” he says, extending a gloved hand towards you. “It’ll be good. Promise.”

You stand on the balcony railing, feet feather-light. You hold on, gripping the wall tightly. Your eyes do not wander down even as a rush of wind blows the hair out on your face. Your blood is thumping in your ears.

“Trust me?” The words  weigh too heavy sending you into a dizzying vertigo. He can’t ask that of you. He just can’t.  You almost slip. You don’t know whether you would fall forward or backward. You take a breath, long and deep. 

“Kon, do I seem like the kind of person who would just stand on a balcony railing just for anyone?”

“Dunno, babe, you’re quite the Romantic.”

You blow out a breath, shaking hands steadfast on the wall. The drop is dizzyingly long from this angle. The length of it feels mind-boggling and uncertain. 

“C’mon, gorgeous,” he coaxes, voice honeyed iced tea. The taste floods your mouth mixing with the bitter doubt clambering your throat.

He reaches his hand out, grey eyes alight with sincerity. You swallow even when your mouth is bone dry. You take his hand, feet peeling away from the metal as you let Kon’s powers take hold of you. Your skin tingles, gooseflesh prickling here and there. It tickles and it’s almost enough to distract you from the hundreds of feet of empty air beneath your feet. 

You’re light, insubstantial. Your breath ceases. Your body braces for gravity to take hold. Your eyes screw shut, lips brushing against Kon’s neck as you breathe in his familiar scent. A scream is burning in your throat until you feel Kon’s hands firmly on your waist, his chin resting on your hair. 

“Don’t let me fall,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. 

Kon gently cups your face. “Wouldn’t dream of it, gorgeous,”  he winks, “I have better ways to make you scream.”

You laugh, pressing your lips against his, your laughter passing as vibrations between your lips. 

“Are you gonna open your eyes yet, gorgeous?”

“Nope!”

“Not even for lil’ ole me?”

“Why would you pull that on me you manipulative shit?”

“Because I love you?”

“You are the definition of ‘you’re lucky you’re cute’ ”

“No, I think I’m lucky cus you’re cute.” You open your mouth to protest but the syllable die on your tongue. 

Above you is a tapestry of stars extending beyond eternity. Below your bare feet is a sea of lights, incandescent in its vividness. The wind in your chest rises. Wonder and awe and miracles swimming in your veins as you go through vertigo for the second time that day. It was like the first time you saw the racing roll of a jet. A marvel. Pure wonder plucked from the abstract and made solid.

Your breath catches as you take everything in. The world is so wonderful. Your grip on Kon loosens as you maneuver your body so you could see it all. Your mouth whispers something that is lost in the wind. 

“What do you think, sugar?”  Kon asks, grip on you firm. He won’t let you fall. You are slack jawed and speechless. Eyes wide as you stare back into his, all the lights above and below you making his glitter in a barrage of colors. He pulls you close, one arm wrapped around.  A gloved hand brushes a tear away from your face. He kisses your forehead, all softness and warmth. He doesn’t beg you to stop crying or tell you that it’s all going to be ok. He just lets you be. Your head bows, forehead pressed against his shirt. You let the tears fall towards the bustling city. 

Kon rests his chin on your head and you feel the rumble in his chest before you even hear the tune. “Fly me to the moon~” he sings into your hair as he holds you close, his hands sliding to your waist,“let me play among the stars~” You sniffle, resting your head on his. You smile against his shoulder. You feel a giggle tugging on your lips as you two sway in rhythm with his singing. 

“”Let me see what spring is like on, A-Jupiter and Mars~” 

“You are so fucking cheesy,” you laugh, sore and bright and genuine. 

"Still your favorite cheese ball though," he chuckles. You do not argue. You simply press a kiss to his jaw and watch the twinkling lights around you.

"Fly me to the me to the moooon~" This time you sing along, careful not to step on Kon's toes. He presses his forehead against yours as you both sing off key and sway haphazardly in the wind. 

You sing and dance in and above the starlight. 

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

Thanks fir reading!!! Happy New Years. I will edit more later.

Tag list:  @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

[the-gay-trashmouth]

So I’m the worst. As soon as I started the Newsies Gift Exchange my mental health took a nose dive and my school decided to ramp up the assignments to 100. I never forgot and I have been working on it when I had the time so here it is! I'm so sorry I'm late @annihilatedthenightstalker . I hope you enjoy my very very late gift. I am so sorry. 

Prompt- Jack's really scared for some reason and David sees him cry for the first time, its then he finds out just how touch-starved Jack is.

If there was one thing David knew, it was that Jack Kelly would be the death of him. He wasn’t even mad about it, it was just a simple fact of life that he had come to accept.

That's what he thought as Sarah shoved him awake, telling him in no kind words that his Cowboy was at the window and he needed to go take care of it. He yawned before pushing off the bed and making his way to the open window where Jack did, in fact, sit waiting for him.

He leaned out the window, fixing him with an unimpressed look. “What are you doin’ here so late? Don’t ya have a bed waitin’ at the lodge?”

Jack shrugged, but he was shaking like he’d seen a ghost. David’s expression went from annoyed to concerned as Jack spoke.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t sleep none and I thought- well you like all that star stuff and the skies real clear so-” he gestured shakily, “I thought we could go watch some, may-maybe you could tell me all that stuff you learned about the patterns and stuff.”

David watched him carefully, watched the way he couldn’t sit still, the way he was glancing around like something would pop out to get him any second now. After a moment he sighed, “yeah… yeah okay Jackie. Lemme get dressed and I’ll meet ya on the roof, a’ight?”

Jack nodded quickly, already climbing the ladder. David watched him for a moment, concern twisting in his chest. He turned back to see Sarah watching him with tired eyes.

“That’s not what I meant when I said make him go away,” she said flatly.

David shrugged, “he doesn't look too good, Saz. I can’t just let him go wander the streets like this,” he argued, though Sarah didn’t look convinced. Thankfully, she didn’t push it, just rolled her eyes and laid back down.

“Whatever, don’t complain to me when you're exhausted tomorrow.”

He sighed, tugging a patched sweater over his undershirt and fastening his suspenders to his pants. She had a point, but he wasn’t about to admit it. Besides, he couldn’t just leave Jack to his own devices, not when he’s like this.

When he pulled himself up to the roof, the first thing he saw was Jack, still pacing with his hands still shaking. David tried to shake off his anxiety as he pushed himself to a stand, but the lingering clench of concern twisted around his heart. He didn’t like seeing Jack like this, it hurt too much.

“You’re gonna walk a hole in your shoes if you keep that up,” Jack jumped at his voice, but a shaky grin still found its way onto his face.

“Oh well, you could patch ‘em up for me, couldn’t ya Dave?”

David rolled his eyes, nudging Jack’s shoulder as he passed, “might could, question is would I?” he pulled one of his sheets down from the line before sitting down.

Jack just grinned, taking his place beside him, “‘course ya’ would, what kind a partner wouldn’t?”

He snorted, nudging Jack’s shoulder with his own. He was right, of course, Dave would do anything he could for him- Jack knew damn well he would too. Everyone did.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, Kelly.”

Jack grinned, nudging him back before leaning on his hands to look at the sky. David followed suit- Jack was right. It was an incredibly clear night. He could see so many stars, he could even make out a few major constellations.

After a moment of silence Jack elbowed him in the ribs, pointing up to the stars, “That one there’s the big dipper, ain’t it?”

David followed his finger, trying to connect the pattern he was seeing. It was a bit difficult because his hands were still shaking. “Yeah, I think so- ya know the big dipper’s just a part of a bigger constellation, Ursa Major. A bear.”

Jack tilted his head, dropping his arm to his side and squinting at the sky, “don’t look like no bear to me.”

The other boy snorted, using his own hand to point out the rest of the pattern, “yeah see- there's the head and the big body, and those little stars make the legs- see? Bear.” Jack just tilted his head farther, blonde hair falling into his face.

“I don’t- hang on, yeah. Yeah I see what you mean, ‘s like one of them stick figures, right?”

“Yeah, basically, I mean it’s really abstract. See, right near it is Leo, it’s supposed to be a lion.”

Jack followed his finger again, watching as he pointed out the stars and traced the lines. Jack squinted at it, “yeah- it just looks like a bunch a dots to me”

David snorted, looking over to see Jack watching him with a soft smile. He tilted his head, nudging Jack’s shoulder again. As much as he would love to go on and on about the stars and the stories behind him, he had to find out what was wrong.

“So, I know ya didn’t come here lookin for a lesson on astronomy. What’s wrong with ya? Somethin’ happen with the boys?”

Jack froze, still staring at the sky. David could see him trying to keep his easy grin but it was forced. Somehow that hurt worse than a frown.

“Nah Dave, nothin’ happened with them…”  he trailed off, picking at the concrete beneath him.

“Well what’s wrong? And don’t say nothin- I know when you’re lyin.”

“Aw c’mon, you wound me! I don’t lie-”

David cut him off, rolling his eyes, “fine. ‘Improvin’ the truth’ or whatever- not much of a difference.”

Jack chuckles, leaning forward to rest his chin on his knees. “Yeah, you’se too observant for ya’ own good sometimes.”

“And you’re too stubborn for yours,” he shot back, taking a breath before continuing to speak, voice much softer this time, “what’s eatin’ at ya, Jackie?”

Jack shuddered, face hidden behind his messy bangs. He was quiet for a moment before he muttered something just under his breath.

“I can’t hear ya, Jack,” he said plainly, leaning forward to try and catch his eyes. Jack just looked away,

“My Pa…. he’s… Spots just got news that he got out a’ the pen,” David’s breath caught in his throat as Jack spoke, his words shaking.

“Oh shit,” he breathed. For once, The Walking Mouth had been rendered speechless. Jack laughed, rough and strained.

“Yeah.. oh shit..” he pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. David set a hand on his shoulder, mind too frantic to linger on the way Jack tensed under his touch.

“Are you okay? He- he don’t know where you’se stayin’ does he? Shit- he can’t- Jackie..” now it was David’s turn to shake, the hand not gripping Jack’s shoulder running through his curly bed head. Jack shrugged, adamantly refusing to look at him. David cut himself off, words dying in his throat.

“Jackie…” he dropped the hand from his hair to his lap, “what are you gonna do?”

Jack shrugged again, but David could feel his shoulders begin to shake. David waited for a moment as Jack sucked in a shaky breath. “I don’t know Dave… I mean I don’t- I don’t think he knows where I’se stayin’ but what if he does?”

David let the hand on his shoulder drop to his back, rubbing small circles into the thin fabric of his shirt like his mama would do when he was in a state. He didn’t know what to say and his mind was racing to come up with something. Something to fix it, something to make it all better.

Nothing came to mind.

Jack was still shaking but he leaned into Davey’s touch, taking in shuddering breaths as he hid his face in his knees. “Dave I- I don’t know what I’m gonna do…”

When he finally looked up, there were tears in his eyes. Davey’s heart clenched as he sucked in a harsh breath. Jack never cried- sure he got upset, angry enough to punch a hole through a wall or anxious to where he couldn’t breathe, but he never cried.

Davey didn’t know what to do with that.

“I’m scared, Dave…”

That was the final straw. David gripped Jack’s shirt with shaking hands and jerked him into his long arms. He wrapped around him, using his height to his advantage as he enveloped Jack in a shaking embrace.

“Oh Jackie…” he buried his nose in his hair, pushing back his own tears.

Jack froze for a moment, just long enough for David to worry he’d gone too far before there were fingers digging into his back and Jack “Cowboy” Kelly was sobbing into his shoulder.

“I- fuck Dave-” David shushed him as he cried, arms tightening around him as the older boy cried his eyes out into his shoulder. He could feel his sleeves soaking through but that was the least of his worries right now. He was too busy trying to comfort the shaking mass of boy in his arms to give a dmn about his stupid shirt.

“It’s okay Jackie- let it all out. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. You can stay with us or- or hell I'm sure Spotty would let ya crash at the Brooklyn Lodge if he shows up in ‘Hattan,” he spoke frantically into Jack’s hair, trying everything to reassure him that there was no way his father would get anywhere near him. Jack just shudder out something between a laugh and a sob.

“Spotty don’t let no one but Racer stay at the lodge,”

“Spotty ain’t gonna leave you on the streets Jackie,” David pulled back just a bit, ignoring the soft whine that came from Jack, “none of us will, for that matter. You’se family, Jackie, an’ family don’t let family suffer.”

Jack blinked at him, tears still flowing from his eyes. When he spoke it was broken and strained, “you’re too good to me, Dave-”

David cut him off, thumbing away his tears, “no- people just ain’t been good enough.”

Jack sniffled, leaning into his palm. “Can I…. shit, can I stay here? Just for tonight. I don’t.. I don’t wanna walk back alone…”

Davey managed a smile, hand still cupping his cheek, “Jackie, you can stay as long as you want.”

[buckybarnesthehotshot]

iv: i hate you but i’m too tired for this shit (bucky barnes x reader)

i hate you but masterlist

summary: bucky and y/n can’t stand each other, but y/n needs help with her sister’s kids (enemies to lovers au)

word count: 2061

warnings: swearing, arguing, death, and this is not proofread

taglist is CLOSED

       “Do you know where y/n is?” Bucky raised a brow at Sam as he pulled a carton of milk from the now-replaced fridge.

      “Why? Are you gonna accuse her of burning the kitchen down again this time? I don’t think she burned down any kitchens today,” Sam chuckled, his gaze wandering around the newly repaired kitchen.

       “No, it’s not tha—” Bucky tried to explain, only to get interrupted by Sam breaking out in a fit of laughter.

       “Man, you’re in love with y/n! That’s why you’re always pissing her off!” Sam exclaimed excitedly, earning a smack across the shoulder from Bucky.

       “Why do you always assume people are in love with other people? Last week, you said the guy in front of us in the café was in love with the barista just because he took ten seconds longer than he was supposed to for ordering a drink,” Bucky rolled his eyes at Sam’s childish remarks.

       “You should’ve seen him! He was making heart eyes at her!” Sam exclaimed, holding his arms up in defense.

       “He was on the phone with his girlfriend, Sam!” Bucky pointed out.

       “Okay, that was a mistake on my part, but why are you looking for y/n?” Sam raised a brow at Bucky as he crossed his arms.

       “She borrowed my van four days ago and she never came back,” Bucky shrugged.

       “That’s because she went on an indefinite break from staying at the tower and all her Avengers duties. She even sent Fury an email about it,” Sam chuckled before pausing as his eyes widened, “wait, you let y/n borrow something you own?”

       “She was doing that weird thing with her eyes; you know the one she uses to get information when we’re undercover?” Bucky scratched the back of his neck, struggling to describe what exactly it was y/n did to get him to hand over his van keys.

       “You fell victim to her puppy eyes? Damn man, I thought it would take more than to get you to crack,” Sam broke out in a fit of laughter as Bucky scowled.

       “Yeah, well, she did this thing where she held onto my shoulders and started shaking me!” Bucky exclaimed defensively. Sam shook his head as his laughter slowly began dying down.

       “Man, so if HYDRA decided to capture you and gave you the puppy dog eyes, you would give up all the information they want you to give up?” Sam raised a brow at Bucky. Bucky, as though in deep thought, averted his gaze as he swiped his lip with his tongue.

       “Well, no but—”

       “Man, I should tell Fury to start looking for a replacement now,” Sam quipped.

       “All I’m asking is you know where she’s staying? I wanted to pick up a few things from the hardware store, but since y/n has my van, I can’t really do that,” Bucky questioned, pouring milk in his cereal bowl.

       “Can’t you have FRIDAY call her? Wait, she’s your teammate, you should have her number!” Sam pointed out as Bucky attempted to argue with a mouthful of cereal.

        “She banned,” Bucky paused to swallow his food before continuing, “from contacting her through FRIDAY or via her phone number.”

       “That’s all on you, Barnes,” Sam chuckled before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and walking away.

       “FRIDAY, can I have a location on y/n?” Bucky requested as soon as Sam was out of earshot. To Bucky, talking to someone he couldn’t see was a little weird at first. Sure, when he was in Wakanda, he’d seen Shuri do it plenty of times, but he just assumed she had someone on comms. That was why the first time FRIDAY greeted him, he was startled—and whether or not he’d admit it, he pissed his pants a little too.

       “Unfortunately, Agent l/n blocked any requests for her information,” FRIDAY explained. Bucky groaned in frustration; he just wanted his van back. Was that too much to ask for? That was when he was struck by an idea.

       “FRIDAY, can I please have a location on my van?” Bucky requested, silently praying that his van did not somehow end up in another state.

       “Your van is parked outside an apartment complex in downtown New York. Shall I send the coordinated to your mobile device?” FRIDAY questioned.

       “Yes, please,” Bucky responded as he downed down the leftover cereal milk in his bowl.

       Bucky checked his phones from any notifications from FRIDAY and there it was on his lock screen: y/n’s home address.

       “FRIDAY, set my GPS on my motorcycle to the location of my van,” Bucky requested.

       “The GPS on your motorcycle has been set,” FRIDAY responded.

       Bucky left his bowl on the counter and headed into his bedroom to grab a pair of sneakers and a pale green jacket. He stared at the dark glove on his nightstand in consideration for a moment.

       Even after he’d been pardoned for his crimes under HYDRA, people always had that underlying fear that Bucky would revert to his ways with HYDRA and the Avengers would be unable to do anything about it. Luckily for him, the people of New York only ever recognized him when his vibranium arm was on full display. After all, not that many people in New York sported a vibranium arm and a perfected scowl.

        After careful consideration, he decided to ditch the glove for the day and hope the jacket would cover up the arm the way he wanted it to. After all, he was just heading to y/n’s apartment and he would head back to the compound.

       He pulled his—well, it used to be Steve’s before the old man gifted it to him—motorcycle keys off the hooks on the wall and headed to the parking basement where he kept his beloved Harley Davidson. He mounted the bike and sped off, following the directions in which the GPS directed him through.

       A grin found its way to the super soldier’s face. He was brought back to his younger days as he and Steve rode through the busy streets of Brooklyn whenever the Howling Commandoes didn’t have any missions to partake in—which was pretty rare. He felt young and carefree as his wind blew through his dark locks.

       He remained like that for a while; in a state of nostalgia and an uncharacteristically happy grin on his face as he dashed through the busy streets. He only broke out of it upon hearing FRIDAY’s voice announcing that he was at his location; a shockingly large apartment complex.

       “Shit,” he swore upon realizing y/n would be a bit tougher to locate than he thought. He didn’t think y/n’s life outside the tower would be as glamorous or at least not boring as it was. He was, of course, proved wrong at the sight of the massive building. Did y/n live in an apartment or a condominium?

       Luckily, as Bucky entered the buildings (after having some complications with the metal detector, of course) he noticed there was a concierge stationed at the front desk. He silently prayed to whoever was listening that the lady stationed there would tell him which floor and which apartment number he could find y/n in.

       “Good morning, sir, what can I help you with?” the lady—she couldn’t have been a day over thirty—greeted Bucky, a soft smile on her face.

       “Hi, uh, I’m here for y/n l/n. Do you know what unit she’s in?” Bucky questioned, leaning closer to the desk. He didn’t want to raise his voice; the whole lobby of the complex just seemed like such a peaceful place he didn’t want to disrupt.

       “Just a moment sir,” the woman smiled before dialing a number on the telephone and speaking to who he just assumed was y/n, “She’s in unit 8E on the eight floor, sir.”

       “Thank you,” Bucky smiled as he headed into one of the thankfully empty elevators. He didn’t know why, but since his first elevator ride, he always found riding an elevator—an enclosed metal box—with a stranger filled him with unease.

       Bucky arrived at the beige-carpeted hallway of the building as he passed by the abstract paintings hung on the wall and the doors with the unit number engraved in them. A, B, C, D; he passed by them all until he reached y/n’s door. He brought his fist up to the door before realizing there was a slight racket going on from within the door.

       That was when he panicked; was his teammate in trouble? No, there would’ve been more noise if y/n really was in trouble. Of all the times he’d worked with her, y/n was known to let out a battle cry here and there whenever she got into a physical confrontation.

       He relaxed, flicking his wrist against the smooth wooden door and waiting a moment for it to swing open and reveal a very tired-looking y/n who carried a wailing toddler in her arms.

       “You’re not the gelato guy,” y/n frowned, pulling a chuckle from Bucky.

       “And there’s no way in hell you’re y/n. You didn’t tell me you had a kid!” Bucky exclaimed, shocked at what he was seeing.

       “First of all, we aren’t close enough for me to disclose that kind of information with you. Second, she’s not mine. Well, she kind of is but not really,” y/n shrugged, “wait, why are you here?”

       “You borrowed my van,” Bucky raised a brow as he crossed his arms.

       “Oh yeah, you might want to take a seat, though. I know it’s somewhere here, but the past days have been pretty hectic,” y/n chuckled dryly, stepping aside and letting Bucky into her apartment. The action itself shocked him a little. In all his days living with y/n, she’d never once invited him into her room or any room she was in whenever he needed something. On a normal day, she would’ve shut her door for a while and opened it as she chucked the item right at him before slamming the door shut again.

       Bucky took in his surroundings; y/n’s apartment looked as though it was supposed to be a peaceful place. The spacious apartment’s furnishings matched those of the compound’s, yet it all felt more like an actual home compared to the compound.   However, it didn’t take him long to realize some things were placed where they weren’t supposed to.

       There were articles of clothing on the floorboards, a toy or two there, a pack of diapers in the corner of the room, and a child wrapping his arms around a sobbing teenage girl on the couch. Wait, a child and a teenage girl? How many people did y/n live with?

        He awkwardly took a seat on one of the seats by the plush velvet sofa, trying to avert his gaze from the two on the couch near his seat. His super soldier hearing, however, betrayed him as he heard every sob and every word that fell from the teenager’s lips.

       “I just can’t believe it!” the girl sobbed, her eyes red and puffy.

       “It’s gon be okay, Livvy. Mommy’s gonna go back,” a smaller voice came to comfort her. A smile found its way to Bucky’s face as he heard the child’s attempt to comfort ‘Livvy’. God, it had been so long since he’d seen that kind of innocence in his life.

       “I found your keys,” came y/n’s voice from behind him as she pressed the cold metal against his flesh hand.

       “Did you kidnap these kids with my van?” Bucky quipped, his brows furrowing as he watched the interaction happening on the couch.

      “Look, I’ll explain everything later if you end up sticking around. I’m too tired to even banter with you at this point,” y/n shook her head. As if on que, a knock came at the door and she swung it open to reveal the gelato guy!

       “So, you’re fine with me just, staying here?” Bucky raised a brow in suspicion.

       “Join us for breakfast if you want to. Just, try not be such a pain in the butt, Barnes,” y/n sighed. Bucky noticed how uncharacteristically tired she sounded. With a small nod, he took a seat at the dining table in her kitchen area. It wasn’t like he had much for breakfast, what harm could a little more food do?

i hate you but taglist: @sarcastic-britt​​ / @kmuir1​​ / @shower-me-with-roses​​ / @justab-eautifulmess​​ / @thomasthetankson​​ / @x-abi-sharp-x​​ / @intovert-gone-wild​​ / @brittanymcsharry​​ / @leaving-the-past-behind​​ / @xoxabs88xox​​​ / @mylifeiscrazy0423​​​ / @howliebucky​​​ / @i-cry-so-much​​​ / @witchything​​ /   @naimalove143​​ / @simplybarnes​​ /

Forever tags: @spatium-viatorem​​​​ / @sxphiiwrld​​​​ / @strangersstranger​​​​ / @nerdy-bookworm-1998​​​ / @cutie1365​​​ / @valeriiaaass​​ / @adorkably​​ / @whatinthyworld​​ /

MARVEL TAGLIST: @captainamerica-is-bae​​​

BUCKY TAGLIST: @missmidnightxo​​​ / @tinymalscoffee​​ / @howliebucky​​ /

[stuckonvenus]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 » Ellie & Becca

 Ｊｕｌｙ ３１ｓｔ， １９９８

The saying goes as such: the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb... or whatever. Honestly I have only ever applied this proverb to my relationship with my sister whenever we weren’t in mortal peril. While I have plenty of friends and acquaintances who I’ve shared battlefields with (i.e. the morning after a party), that never made me any closer to them in a real crisis. I would say about seventy-five percent of the time that the blood is thicker than the water, and the remaining twenty-five percent is when the water isn’t necessarily thicker, but more pressurized. That’s the only time in our lives when we’ve ever come together as sisters.

Well, this is the twenty five percent, and never has the feeling of being sucked and trapped against a fissure at the bottom of the Challenger Deep been more realized than now. It doesn’t help that my bladder is about to implode and leak the citrus-flavored toxic waste I’ve consumed in rapid succession over the past half hour into my visceral fat and contaminate all my vital organs. 

I waddle awkwardly through the narrow doorway of Page One and slam my tiny palm onto the countertop. A bookkeeper who I can recognize as my lab partner from sophomore year chemistry pokes his nose out from the novel he’s immersed in. Moby Dick. Jesus, who reads school assigned books after graduation?

“Hey, Drew-Drew,” I greet him, a lopsided grin fitted on my lips as he brushes his hair out of his eyes and offers me a smile in return. He has a lot more charisma than I remember. I think his eyes have gotten bigger and bluer, too. It reminds me of the water’s surface I’m staring up at from the very bottom of the ocean. “Where’s Becky at?”

Drew dog-ears his page — which is kind of disgusting to me, do they not sell bookmarks in this busted ass joint? — and he points toward the graphic novel section. “Over there, we just got Spider-Man #76, she’s stocking up.”

“... Didn’t #76 come out in January? Of last year?” I ask him. He opens his mouth so he can answer but I stop him with a raised hand. “No time. You’re lookin’ good, Drew-Drew, considerably less like a delicious pepperoni pizza. Keep it up with the Oxy Pads.” I say before pushing away from the counter and venturing off to my destination.

Indeed, my older sister is crouched down and rustling with a display, slightly disgruntled by the symmetry of the copies of Spider-Man she’s stocking. I don’t really have any witty remarks as a smooth enough introduction, so I settle with, “Need help?”

She whips around and I can almost hear the crack in her spinal cord from the velocity. “Lily?” she half-whispers. I forget that I haven’t seen her since late May, and also that I swore I’d never see her again.

“In the flesh,” I confirm and do a curtsey, which threatens my full bladder. I really need to piss soon or else I’ll die a terribly death in the shittiest bookstore on the eastern seaboard. “Do you have a sec? It’s 9-1-1.”

Becca’s expression shifts from awe and minor annoyance to something resembling concern as she pushes herself off her knees. “What is it?” she asks me, crossing her arms over her chest as a last resort defense mechanism. 

I don’t hesitate to hold up the plastic Walgreens bag I’ve carted with me for two blocks. She recognizes the items inside and her eyes go all moony and her jaw slacks a bit. I jerk my brows up expectantly and she assumes the position of utter bewilderment.

“Do you have a place I can empty the biohazardous contents of my bladder? It’s about to necrotize,” I hiss at her. She reaches down, digs in her pocket, unearths a bronze key and walks ahead of me at full speed. I have to waddle after her like a newly hatched penguin chick. It would be more humiliating if over half the population of Eden were literate, but alas...

Becca jams the keys into the lock and just about bodychecks the door so we can enter the rectangular bathroom. It’s cramped and the lighting resembles something out of a Hitchcock film, but who the fuck am I to be picky about where I take the most important whizz of my life?

I place the bag on the counter and take out the three empty full-sized cans of Surge I used to fuel my bladder before picking up the grossest thing I have ever held: a pregnancy test. I keep it in my grasp for a few passing beats, nearly crushing the box underneath my iron-tight grip before man-handling it open and tearing out the plastic stick that will determine my fate.

“This is by far the most unholy fortune telling experience ever,” I decide to joke as I witness my sister cower in the corner. You’d think by the looks of it she were the one whose life was about to change forever. “You think if I shake it a genie will come out and grant me three wishes?”

“... Only if it’s negative, as a gift,” Becca chimes in at last. “Otherwise not even God can save you.”

I let out an involuntary snort, because while my reflexes register this as a funny joke, I am actually scared shitless.

I stare at the porcelain toilet bowl. I feel sicker now looking at it than when I’ve genuinely been at risk for vomiting up my lunch. I could still do that, I’ve been puking like a bulimic for weeks now. The thought is almost comforting. Almost. I bite the bullet instead and yank my pants down, my boy pants, which I normally wear as a boy when I’ve got slightly wider hips and more junk to hide and taller legs to protect with denim fabric. Fuck me.

“I just... Hold it and piss, right?” I ask her, as if she’s gone through this before. I know for a fact she hasn’t, or else this wouldn’t be our first time. I’m surprised it’s our first time, actually, thinking that karma would’ve caught up with me a long time ago. 

“Just don’t get any on your hand.” Becca replies. Very helpful, I think, but rather than respond verbally I give a sigh of defeat and do what needs to be done. When my bladder is emptied an eternity later, I pull up my oversized pants and briefly grieve my dick before I place the test on the counter.

I glance over my shoulder at Becca, “It’s seasoned. Just gotta let it marinate.”

“Gross.” she says with a scrunched up nose.

I turn around and slide down the wall, an action she mimics a couple seconds later. I stare ahead, up at the light that’s screwed into a 70s pendant-shaped fixture, and pass the silence by making them flicker. I do this as a distraction from the materializing tension between us. Normally, this doesn’t happen, but then again our peril has only involved either extreme intoxication, pedos on AOL (during high school), or something about her and Gabriel’s arguments, which felt like walking through Reactor 4 in Chernobyl.

She’s the first one to say something.

“Whose is it? ... If it’s a thing,” she wonders, and as I look over at her I notice that her eyebrows are knitted together and her mouth is fixed downward. “... Please don’t tell me Topher’s.”

I chuckle at the idea. “I think if it were a thing and Topher’s, it’d have grown like a xenomorph baby and ripped itself out of my stomach by now,” I tell her. “I’d deserve that kind of karma for getting knocked up by him.”

“Xenomorph?” she says, and I open my mouth to offer an explanation before she finishes, “Alien. Right.”

“... Yeah, exactly,” I nod along. How in the hell did she remember that? We only ever sat through Alien and Aliens once, and I could’ve sworn she was too preoccupied reading a magazine to actually notice what was happening on screen. 

I also notice that she’s wearing my favorite striped turtleneck. Stone cold bitch.

Some things never change, huh?

Shit, I think I might cry.

This is why we’re siblings, I think, so I can hate her for wearing my favorite turtleneck while sitting by her side as we await Satan’s final decision on the state of my cursed uterus.

Tears prickle my vision but I blink them away. 

“Whose is it, then?” she wonders again. I visibly tense. This is probably where our unspoken, once-in-a-blue-moon loyalties end. How do you tell your sister that her ex-boyfriend is the reason you’re sitting in the dingy bathroom of her workplace with a piss-riddled stick inches away?

In the end, I don’t have to say anything at all. We look at each other simultaneously and she reads my expression with ease. Her features soften and I can see a glint of hurt in her eyes, and I expect ripples of betrayal to make themselves known across the rest of her body soon enough. But those ripples never come. The water I thought was loosening from around me doesn’t make a goddamn move. 

I’m still at the bottom of the Deep, but she’s with me now.

Her hand grips mine. Tight. I can feel our pulses match up in our paralleling wrists.

“I think it’s been enough time.” I say eventually. She doesn’t release my hand. Our shared warmth creates a comfortable friction between us. “... Will you hate me after this?”

Becca squeezes my hand. A heart beat jumps out from her touch to mine. “I think I’ve hated you enough for one summer.”

A smile flickers on the corner of my lips and I slowly depart my hand from hers. My palm is slick with sweat but I don’t mind. I stand up and feel my equilibrium struggle to steady itself before I’m ready to approach the counter. The test is still there, so I know this wasn’t an abstract fever dream I’ve had after discovering so much eerily similar history.

I’m not a fucking coward. I’m looking this shit straight on, no matter what. Do you think I’m afraid of a sign? Totally not. I lean over and stare down, my gaze idling at the base before finally fixating on the panel.

+

Holy shitstickers.

“... Becca?” I call out, my voice half gone from unknown forces. She perks up and I see her reflection in the mirror with widened eyes. “Do you have five bucks? I’m gonna need more Surge.”

[writers-block246]

Jughead x Reader Part 3- “Skates”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Chapter 3:

You stare intensely at yourself in the mirror, once again finding the flaws in the dress you’re wearing.

This is the sixteenth dress i’ve tried on and it still doesn’t feel right. Maybe pants are the move?

You look over and check the time.

7:34

Damn

Realizing that you need to hurry up and change, you throw off your dress and replace it with a a pair of ripped jean shorts and a tight-fitted tee.

Now this feels like me. It’s just missing one thing-

You reach into your mom’s antique jewelry box that’s shaped like a crescent moon. Inside is a beautiful necklace with a crystal pendant hanging from the chain.

Mom always said, “Wear it whenever you’re in need of good luck, and fate will take care of the rest.”

It was the last thing your mom gave you before she died. It means the world to you.

You carefully clasp it around your neck and take one last look at yourself before grabbing your sneakers and walking out the door.

You nervously fumble around for your keys in your pocket, before starting the car and pulling out of your driveway. You inhale, and relax your shoulders.

Here we go.

Less then twenty minutes later, you find yourself in the abandoned drive-in parking lot. The letter board on the sign still reads Rebel Without A Cause from the last movie that was played here.

You turn your car off and find yourself sitting in total darkness and silence. You check your phone for the time.

8:02, did they go home already?

You flinch suddenly when you hear a large crash coming from the old concession stand. There, you can see silhouettes of people standing by the building, throwing cans and rocks. You catch a glimpse of a familiar figure, barely being able to make out the shadow of his beanie.

That’s him. Even his silhouette is sexy.

Mustering up a little bit of courage, you step out of your car and lock it behind you. You push away the voice in your head saying to turn back as you walk towards the concession stand.

“Skates! You made it!” Jug hollers to you when he sees you walking towards him. The comfort of his voice soothes you.

“Hey, Jughead. What are you guys doing?” You ask as you see his friends start to gather around you.

“Just waiting for you to show up so the real fun can begin.” He pulls you in and puts his arm around you in a playful way. Despite being surrounded by a gang, you don’t feel threatened. “Guys, this is Y/n, but I call her Skates. Skates, this is Toni Topaz, Cheryl Blossom, Sweet Pea, and Fangs Fogarty.” He points to each person as he says their names aloud and they smile and wave, which you reciprocate.

They seem friendly enough.

“What are we waiting for? She’s here. Let’s picasso this joint,” Sweet Pea encourages.

“What does he mean by ‘Picasso this joint’?” You turn to ask Jughead, confused. He leads you towards a torn apart cardboard box on the ground. It’s filled with multiple colors of spray paint.

“Spray paint? We’re gonna spray paint the concession stand?” You start to panic.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? Its just a little spray paint,” he tries to assure you. Already, the serpents are graffitiing the walls of the building. Aimlessly letting the paint splatter against the wall, they continue to spray can after can.

Just a little spray paint?

“Isn’t this considered vandalism? This is still private property,” you try to explain.

“I thought you said she was cool, Jug?” You hear Toni Topaz call out to him.

“She is cool, Toni!” he hollers back. “Sorry, she’s a little territorial when it comes to inviting new people into our friend group.”

Seems like it.

“But, if you don’t wanna do it, you don’t have to,” he assures you, making you feel more secure.

No, I’m cool. I’m totally cool. If I want to get to know Jughead, I have to get along with his friends, right?

“Give me a can.”

The serpents cheer for you as you pick up a can of green spray paint. Adrenaline rushes through your veins and to the tips of your fingers as you push the nozzle on the can. A tingle rushes down your spine as you continue to let the guilt rush out of you.

I feel.... alive.

Your nervousness is masked by the thrill of watching the plain wall become your blank canvas. Using this to your advantage, you start spraying random lines and zigzags to create an abstract masterpiece.

“Give me another can,” you motion to Fangs, who is near the box. He tosses you an orange can and you start to shake it up. Before you can even get the cap off, you hear shouting from the distance.

“Hey! Kids! Stop that, right now!” Though you can’t see anyone, you know that it’s the cops. You can see the fear on the other Serpents faces.

Oh no...

“Shit, we’re dead. We can’t out-run cops,” Sweet Pea nervously realizes.

All the guilt you pushed away while holding the spray paint instantly comes back. You drop the can in panic.

I’m dead. This is it. I’m going to jail.

“What do we do, Jughead?” Cheryl asks him.

“We surrender, there’s nothing we can do now,” he says in acceptance. You swallow hard, trying to think.

There has to be a way out of this, I can not get caught. Wait a second-

“Guys, my car!” You suddenly realize. “I brought my car!”

Instinctively, without saying words, you all take off running towards your car, which is still parked in the parking lot.

“Get in, get in, get in!” You holler as everyone piles inside. You immediately turn the key and start pulling out of the parking lot, barely getting out of view of the cops as they arrive on the scene.

“Do you think they saw us?” Fangs asks out of breath.

“I don’t think so,” you reply as you turn out of the drive in. Everyone sits in silence, trying to lower their heart rates.

“Omg,” Toni whispers after a while. “That was awesome.” The tension releases when everyone lets out nervous chuckles, resulting in you all erupting in laughter.

“Thank god, Y/N, for your car, or we would’ve never gotten away,” Sweet Pea thanks you.

“Yeah, Skates is pretty awesome, isn’t she?” Jughead turns to smile at you from the passenger seat. He reaches his hand over the armrest and puts his warm hand on your thigh.

Don’t blush. Don’t blush.....too late.

You feel your cheeks subconsciously turn bright red, but before you can try to hide it, Jughead is already chuckling at you.

“You’re pretty cute when you blush, Skates,” he compliments you, which only makes you blush harder.

As you continue to drive around Riverdale with the Serpents, you subconsciously reach for your necklace.

I guess this necklace really is good luck...

But instead of feeling the metallic chain and crystal charm, you are struck with a horrific realization.

“Guys,” you say to the others, catching their attention with your shaky tone.

“My necklace, my mom’s necklace. The last thing I have left of her that she gave me!” You start rambling, trying to force back tears so you won’t cry in front of them.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Jughead tries to get you to respond.

It’s gone. My mom’s necklace, it’s gone

More to come!

-Admin Bria

[inspectormila]

Mirror’s Edge || Sharmila & Erin

TIMING: Current (POTW)

PARTIES: @inspectormila​, @corpse--diem​

SUMMARY: Mila goes to discuss Erin’s recent fire. Things don’t go well, but not for the reason you think. 

Sharmila wasted no time once she returned to White Crest in opening and reinvestigating each and every fire that occurred in her absence. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her department to do a thorough job, it was just that they weren’t that great. They weren’t her. Every accidental fire and explosion case she could convince the chief to hand her was now splayed across her dining table in loosely organized chaos. Most looked like accidents, but there were a few questionables. The explosion at the morgue, for instance, but she would grill Cece about that later once they’d had a few drinks. The second was also close to home, Nichols’ Funeral Home. Not only were there people trapped inside, one of their own had actually been killed in the blaze. Mila didn’t know Roland well, but he had always been nice to her when they passed in the halls. It was still a tragedy. And it was still suspected arson. Why it had been shoved by the wayside was beyond Mila and she would make damn sure she got to the bottom of it.

She hadn’t given Nichols much of a heads up, calling the woman when she was already on her way, notebook and tape recorder in hand. If the reports were correct, she was seen having an argument with an unknown person just before the blaze broke out. Mila wanted to make sure she caught the woman off guard in case she had something to hide. Most arson cases in town were owner caused, more often than not because of insurance fraud. How silly. She would always find the truth, didn’t they know this by now? The sun was just beginning to dip low behind the trees when Mila’s louboutins clicked their way up the driveway. Reaching out a perfectly manicured finger, Mila rang the bell and called out. “Hello? Ms. Nichols? It’s Agent Darzi? I called on my way over?”

Erin didn’t have a chance to appreciate the anxiety that brief phone call had given her. Just knew that some Agent Darzi was on her way to her apartment right now with some questions regarding the fire that brought down half of the funeral home. This wasn’t her fault--not this fire, anyway--but how was she supposed to explain herself here? Sorry, some asshole with magic fingers and a vendetta torched the place? Also, please don’t worry about the recent arrest on my record? She probably didn’t need the caffeine but she put on a pot of coffee anyway to busy herself while she waited. When the doorbell rang, Erin ran a hand down her mouth, trying to steady her heartbeat, reminding herself she hadn’t been the one to physically set the building to flame. She wasn’t innocent but this part she couldn’t take all the credit for.

“Agent Darzi,” Erin smiled tightly, nodding her head in greeting, a little taken aback by how young the woman was. Age hardly mattered when it came to whether or not she had the ability to toss Erin right back into that depressing holding cell. “You can just call me Erin. Come in, please,” she insisted, moving aside to let her in. The coffee was already set up on the table and she guided her towards it. “Coffee?” She asked, trying to loosen some of the tightness in her throat and started pouring two mugs before Agent Darzi had the chance to decline or accept. “You said you had some, uh--questions? About the fire?”

Sharmila smiled and entered the apartment, glancing around casually before following her mark towards the coffee. She breathed in deep, inhaling the warm scent before placing her things on the table, making herself quite at home. “Oh I would love some, thanks!” She reached out, letting the cup warm her hands. “I didn’t get a chance to inject any caffeine this morning, so this is a godsend!” She chuckled, attempting to put the woman at ease. Mila knew all too well how stressful law enforcement home visits were and in her experience, you caught more flies with honey than vinegar. “Yes,” Mila frowned, taking a small sip. Dark and bitter, just like she liked it. “I’m so sorry about your losses, I’m sure it’s come as a great heartbreak. Unfortunately, as arson is suspected, we have to do a thorough investigation. You understand. Just making sure everything’s in order!” Mila set her coffee down and began rummaging through her bag, pulling out a few folders. “Now, did you have any insurance policies on the building or business? Unfortunately money is almost always the real cause for these things.” She raised her perfectly plucked brows in a gesture of innocence. “Not that I’m blaming you for that! Just the facts, really. We want to make sure whoever is responsible is dealt with accordingly and if you do have a good insurance plan, we want to make sure you can get back up and running as soon as possible!” She smiled, tapping her pen expectantly on her pad of paper.

The woman sure was eager, wasn’t she? Erin would’ve appreciated the enthusiasm more if it wasn’t her case she’d decided to double check. “Totally understand. You’re just doing your job, here,” she smiled, trying to be gracious about Agent Darzi’s efforts. God, that would be nice, though. Kicking the insurance into gear, getting construction underway, going back to work. Her smile lifted more genuinely at the thought. “I’ve got all of that information right here. All that I could find on such short notice, anyway. Not much from my office made it out.” She tried to ignore the crackling of fire in her ear or Blanche’s screams of terror. Still felt as real as it did two months ago. She cleared her throat and pushed the folder towards her. “The only thing that’s changed in the past few years is the policy owner, from Jack Nichols to myself. There’s a few extra things because of the nature of my business. Equipment’s expensive to replace, but that’s about--”

Erin took one short look at the coffee pot, then another, longer this time--and jolted back with a start. A woman’s face hovered beside her own, obscured and abstract due thanks to the shape of the pot yet horrifying. She looked… dead. Pale skin cracked around the curves of her face, darkening to almost black around the eyes. “Jesus!” She yelped, turning to look behind her, knocking her full cup of coffee all over the place. There was nothing there, and nothing in the coffee pot when she looked again. What the fuck? She jumped again when the hot liquid dripped onto her lap. “I--shit, I’m so sorry. I don’t know--” she started, standing up, limbs shaky from the sudden fright as she grabbed some towels from the kitchen and started to clean. The papers were covered in coffee. “I thought I saw--something.”

Mila nodded, her lips pouting a bit. “Of course, so sorry to spring this on you again, I guess I don’t know what to do when I’m not working so I like to dive in head first!” She reached out and began flipping through the documents. Nothing looked out of order, no expansive insurance policy that would pay for her second home in Cabo. But then there was that mention of an argument...Heated arguments were explosive in cases like this. “Now, I’m so sorry to ask but do you have any enemies? Old coworkers, competing businesses, anyone who would want to see your home burn? There’s a note here-” Mila looked down to her file a split second before coffee and papers went flying. She jumped back, swatting a few stray droplets from her Chanel pants. “Oh! Are you ok??” Mila set about drying off her papers, bristling at the idea that maybe there was something suspicious in here after all, but one look at Erin’s face told her maybe not to jump the gun. Her hands hovered over the papers. “Ms. Nichols, are- what’s wrong? Are you alright? You’re shaking...Here just hand me some paper towels, I’ve got this. No use crying over spilled coffee, right?”

“No, no, I’m fine!” Erin insisted, trying to take a deep breaths. She was just seeing things. That’s all. Stress, lack of sleep, and a trick of the light would do wonders to mess with anyone’s mind a little bit. That’s all it was. Besides, this place was fully warded against anything even resembling a ghosts. Even fires, thanks to Nell’s helpful addition. Blanche had even come to double check them all. They had nothing to worry about. Nothing. “God, I’m sorry. This probably looks… not great.” She had to laugh as the adrenaline slowly started to loosen itself from her limbs. Her nose crinkled at the ruined paperwork and she slid a worried hand down the side of her face. “Whatever you need from me, I’ll be happy to replace. I’ll get the insurance company to send over more copies too, if you need them?” She asked, hoping that her blunder hadn’t made her look even more guilty than before. With the table cleaned, and the coffee pot reflection free, she sat down once more, trying to smooth over this shamble of a meeting. “You were asking about… enemies?” She stiffened, narrowing her eyes, shrugging innocently. “Nope. None that I can think of. I mean, competition for funeral homes isn’t exactly stiff in this town, if you know what I mean.”

Mila knelt down and collected what she could, handing back a few of the more ruined documents to Erin. “It’s fine, really. I would like to have some copies, but maybe...let’s email those over to my office directly?” She gave a small smile. Whatever had spooked the woman seemed to be gone now, but it raised the question in Mila’s mind, what if something similar had happened with the fire in question? That would make it an accident, not intentional arson. She scribbled down a quick note before looking back up. “Luckily all of this,” she waved her folder casually. “Is backed up multiple times. Can’t work in the business of fire and destruction without assuming accidents might happen to you too.” The lamia tried to center herself back into the task at hand, hoping Erin wouldn’t be quite so jumpy for the rest of their meeting. “Are you- oh good lord.” Mila grinned, slapping a hand on her knee. “No, I suppose it isn’t is it? No one plotting for your business, hm? Now…” Her face fell a bit, shifting from her jokes. “There was a witness who saw a man speaking with you just before the fire. Can you tell me about that?”

Oh good, they were both full blown punning now. That was a good sign Agent Darzi wasn’t about to find her guilty and slap some handcuffs on right now, right? The thought was ridiculous of course but after her first go around, Erin wasn’t anxious for another. An easy laugh fell from her and she sat back in her seat, trying to push the image of the woman in the reflection out of her mind. This was fine. “Plotting for my business. That’s a good one,” she pointed towards the other woman. “No, no. Believe me, my life is ridiculously boring,” she answered, lying so seamlessly it almost felt true. More of a wish, than anything. Her nerves had finally seemed to settle when she saw it again--just behind Darzi in the mirror on the wall. There was no mistaking it this time. Erin froze, no longer listening, just stared back at the wretched and angry face locked on hers. The woman’s black lips parted, gaping open as a wail burst from her throat, inhuman and raspy. “MURDERER!” the voice bellowed, pointing in her direction.

Erin flew backwards in her hurry, taking the chair down with her, an icy fear shooting up her spine. What the fuck? What the fuck? Another scream left the woman in the mirror, her finger pointing in Erin’s direction. Suddenly, she was in every part of the room, all at once, in every reflection. Pointing and screaming “Murderer!” at the top of her lungs. It was almost as if she didn’t even see Agent Darzi. Murderer. Guess that was her. Fuck. “Run!” she hollered at the other woman anyway, scrambling over some of the moving boxes on the floor on her way down the hallway.

If she was honest, Mila hoped this woman was innocent. It was always hard to file a case against the good ones, nice people who maybe just needed some extra money or in an accidental passion sent their home or business up in flame. Hell, wasn’t she a little hypocritical at this point? Not that she ever lit up anything important or owned by someone else. “Ridiculously boring can still have it’s sharp edges,” Mila replied, tapping the end of her pen against her leg. Mila watched as Erin’s face went blank, white as a ghost. She was familiar with the look of horror, but it wasn’t aimed at her. Instead her eyes were focused on a point behind Mila’s head. “Ms. Nichols? Are you- what are you-” Before she could finish the question, Mila slapped her hands to her ears. The inhuman screeching echoed around her brain and she cursed her lamia parents for giving her perfect hearing. “What the hell was-” Mila didn’t have to ask. Suddenly in front of her were fractal images of a pale, horrific woman, screaming. Murderer. Mila’s eyes went wide and she jumped back from Erin. She’d never committed a single crime against another person, there was no way in hell she was a murderer. She’d never eaten a person, only animals, and nothing sentient. Her parents had always been adamant about that. Erin screamed at her to run, and while she was hesitant to follow an apparent murderer, she did just that. The alternative was to hang out here with a bloody mirror ghost and Mila wasn’t overly fond of that option. She dashed back through the hall, following Erin’s lead. “What is that thing??” She cried, wondering if this is what Ms. Nichols thought a ‘ridiculously boring life’ would entail.

Erin didn’t look back to see if the agent was following her, just booked it down the small hallway. This was absolutely the part of the movie where she’d be screaming at herself to run out of the apartment but--here she was anyway, fucking off into her bedroom. “Murderer!” The accusing, angry voice yelled again from the mirror above her dresser. From the window next to her bed. Even the half empty glass of water on the table. She was everywhere.  Pointing still, directly at Erin. She didn’t know how she knew, or even who the hell this woman was, but she was relentless in whatever the fuck this pursuit was. Justice? Truth? Erin reached for the closest thing near her, a lamp, and tossed it at the mirror. The glass splintered, breaking off into pieces, but the woman only appeared again and again in each fragment, like an inescapable nightmare. “What the f--” Her eyes were wide and she looked for Darzi. “I don’t know! I don’t know. You’re--you’re seeing this right?” The reflection shifted from a two-dimensional horror into a very tangible reality as the woman reached out from the picture frame directly beside Erin. She didn’t have time to dodge the cold hand that grabbed her, wrapping around her throat, holding her to the wall as the rest of her slowly eased out of the reflection.

Panic overwhelmed her better senses, pushing Mila further into the home after Erin. She toppled into the bedroom moments after she heard glass shattering, only to see even more ghastly faces reflected back. “Yes I’m seeing this! But what is THIS??” The ghostly woman had no heat signature, obvious that she wasn’t among the living, but Mila had never seen a ghost. That’s what this had to be, right? It’s not like zombies crawled out of mirrors and attacked people- which was exactly what this bitch was doing. “Oh my god!!!” Mila shrieked, throwing herself towards Erin, unsure what, if anything, she would be able to do here. “Get off her- you- BITCH!” Her hand wound around cold flesh that wasn’t really flesh and she yanked with all the strength she had. It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for anything that might help. God, where was a giant sword when you needed one? “Hold on, Ms. Nichols!!” The woman’s gasping was sending new waves of panic through her. She barely knew this woman, but she refused to let her die, not like this. With no knowledge of whether or not it would work, Mila set her sights on the mirror the ghastly woman was currently climbing out of, raising a stilettoed heel and bringing it sharply down on the glass, sending the woman into fragments. “OK let’s get the fuck out of here!!”

Darzi was on her attacker, fast, and Erin was never more thankful for the agent’s impromptu visit. Her vision was beginning to blacken when she heard the mirror shattering beside her head. The air rushed back into her lungs the second the ghostly woman’s hand dissipated into thin air and she took greedy gulps, stumbling forward into a full out run. “What the fu--” Erin yelled hoarsely, starting and stopping through every turn in her relatively small apartment. It wasn’t big but every reflective surface taunted her with that face, again and again. She didn’t think, just booked it right out of the apartment, leading the way for the agent. The woman was everywhere still. In the windows, the framed stock art on the walls, even the full reflection in the elevator. Relief came in the form of a dim stairwell. No reflections--just concrete, steel and the low glow of the exit sign. She dared to pause, just for a moment to catch her breath, clutching her throat. The woman’s hand had been so cold--like Dale’s had been. A shot of anger piggybacked her sharp fears. “Shit--are you okay?” She managed to ask, leaning against the wall. “Thank you for that--christ, she nearly killed me,” she huffed out incredulously. Still trying to stabilize her breathing and heartbeat, eyes flickering constantly around the room, before landing on the other woman again. “What the fuck was that? Who the fuck--?”

Mila didn’t pause, following Erin out of the apartment as fast as she possible could. Everywhere they turned, there was the woman ‘s face, now staring menacingly at herself too. Fuck. Her heart hammered in her chest as they reached the stairwell, a blank canvas, not reflections in sight. She didn’t even dare pull out her phone for fear the woman would appear in the screen. “Yeah,” Mila replied breathlessly, her hands on her knees. Thank god she was used to running in couture footwear. “Yeah I’m ok...how’s your neck?” Her eyes scanned Erin, looking for any readily apparent damage, but other than the choking incident, it seemed more of a mental fuck than anything. “Do you...What- you didn’t recognize her or anything?” Mila leaned against the cold concrete and rested her head back, thinking. She’d lived in White Crest long enough to know a thing or two about strange occurrences, she knew there were ghosts and werewolves and vampires and obviously the more exotic creatures like herself, but this thing...it was undead. But unlike anything she’d ever experienced or heard of. It wasn’t possessing any one, it came out of a goddamn mirror.

“No, I’m fine,” Erin shook her head, rubbing her neck as if to emphasize the fact. Something was wrong--obviously, but there’s no way that a ghost could have gotten into her apartment, bypassing wards put in by an experienced exorcist. Blanche had even double checked her work to be sure. Was it even a ghost? “No fucking idea,” she raised a brow, her eyes still roaming the walls as if suddenly she was going to pop out again. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. Her face burned as the words repeated in her mind, the woman’s finger and eyes locked on her. No, nope. She wasn’t going to think about it - she had done what she had to. That was all. She hadn’t allowed herself to sink her teeth into those emotions just yet and some murderous ghost bitch wasn’t about to get her to start now. Not with Agent Diaz already questioning her about the fire. Standing straight, she tried to shake off the nerves clawing at her bones. “We should, uh--we should go.” Erin sure as hell wasn’t heading back to her apartment tonight. The stairwell exit opened up to more barren concrete halls. This was fine. For now, this would be fine. “You know, you’ve got a hell of a right hook with that stiletto,” she tried to tease now that the air was coming back to her in shorter intakes. “I’m so impressed, I won’t even bill you for the damage.”

Mila nodded, running a hand through her hair. She hadn’t forgotten what she’d heard, what that thing had been rasping...but murder wasn’t exactly in her job descprition. She eyed the woman carefully, not sensing that she could be a murderer, but then again, you never really knew people and she’d only spent what, an hour at best with her? “Maybe...don’t stay at your apartment tonight,” she offered as they exited the stairwell, carefully checking for any reflective surfaces. “Is there someone who could take you in for a night?” She would offer, but the whole investigation would crumble, not to mention the whole murderer thing. Not that Mila couldn’t take care of herself. “Thanks,” she smiled, popping one of her feet into the air. “Not only fashionable, but a deadly weapon against mirror monsters,” she chuckled. Suddenly Mila felt the earth shifting. Tiny, miniscule grains, rolling against the smooth ground. She stopped in her tracks, throwing an arm out to halt Erin as well. “Stop...I don’t- something’s not right…” Slipping out of her heels, Mila felt the cold tile on her bare feet trembling. Something big was coming, growing, with each spec of...was that sand? “Ms Nichols, I don’t think we’re quite finished yet…is there another way out of here?”

If Mila had caught on to whatever the woman in the mirror had been screaming at her, she wasn’t pressing Erin on it. Not yet, anyway, and she was thankful for the reprieve anyway after such a close call. “Yeah, I’m good, I’ve got people,” she assured her, knowing she’d most likely end up crashing at Skylar and Nic’s again. Sounded pretty nice right about now, actually. She smiled her way, letting the relief trickle into her chest. “I’ll have to remember that. Maybe sharpen the heel on my pumps for when I get back to work--” she froze suddenly, realizing these jokes and this audience really didn’t mix. But Mila was barring her back, a new sense of alarm on her face. Sand? She didn’t know what to think, just knew on some level inside of her, the one had grown familiar with this sort of supernatural fuckery, that Mila was right. “What now?” She nealy grumbled, but there was no time to question it. Sand seeped into the stairwell from every nook and cranny, slicking the floor with a thin layer. The only other way was back where they came from--or up. “C’mon,” she grabbed the other woman’s arm, shielding her eyes and mouth from the sand trickling in around them as she made a run for the rooftop.

They just couldn’t catch a break today. Mila glanced over at Erin and wondered slightly if the woman was cursed, actually cursed. How else could you explain two clearly supernatural oddities attacking within an hour? Even for the Crest, that was pushing it. Taking a step back, Mila felt the sand growing, shifting and forming of its own volition, gearing up for something. This was not good. “Shit.” Holding her heels in one hand and Erin’s hand on her other arm, Mila spun and made for the stairwell again, hoping beyond hope they could get to the roof. Once they were there, she hadn’t the foggiest of what they would do next. How did you fight sand? Mila charged forward, sneaking cautionary glances around corners to make sure they didn’t run into that fucking mirror thing again. Sand poured in on them from all directions, gathering so loudly it was almost overwhelming. Mila threw a hand over her head, trying to shield her face. She’d never been so happy to have a third eyelid, praising her lamia heritage. Mila slammed her entire body weight against the metal door leading up to the roof and blinked against the sunlight, feeling a single grain of sand catch under her membrane. “Fuck,” she grumbled, ushering Erin out before slamming the door closed. For a moment, the sand trickled under the door, a thin layer of moving earth. The lamia rubbed at her eye, attempting to free it of the grating foreign matter. She couldn’t be distracted, not now, not when they were under attack. “Is it still coming?? What do we do now??”

Miraculously, Erin had burst through the rooftop door without getting even one grain in her mouth or eyes, thank god. Her hair, her clothes, her shoes? That was another story. She was still shaking it off as she ran behind a vent, waiting, watching with Mila. “I don’t know, I don’t hear anything,” she whispered, staying still and alert. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what ominous thing was awaiting them on the other side of the door that was capable of sweeping a small beach worth’s of sand. “You alright?” She asked, noting the red eye and the way Mila was rubbing her eyes. It was still quiet though, too quiet, even as the sand continued to blow out from under the door. Erin glanced around, grabbing a piece of rain-battered plywood that had been left up there. It wasn’t much but it was all they had, save for Mila’s heels. “Stay here,” she instructed. “But keep those heels ready?” She tried to smile, but she couldn’t hide how terrified she was of what was possibly waiting for them on the other side of that door. She knew she sure as fuck wasn’t going to wait around for it to pounce though. Taking a deep breath, she paused, then yanked the door open, holding the plywood up, ready to strike. The door opened to--nothing. Erin waited, gripping the wood harder, but the sand just blew quietly on to the rooftop. But nothing. It was quiet, again. Eerily so.

Mila crouched behind the vent, still rubbing furiously at her eye. She couldn’t see well normally, and this was really putting a damper on what little sight she had. Instead she turned to her other sense, letting her bare feet feel the vibrations. Erin’s footsteps echoed through her body, and the soft drifting of sand, but no thunderous rumblings, not like before. She peeked out from her hiding place, her heels at the ready. “Do we need the heels?” She called, wishing there was a way for her stilettos to actually help. “Is it...I think it’s gone? Whatever the hell it was?” Whatever had been moving the sand, maneuvering it after them, seemed to have abandoned it’s hunt. One eye blurry beyond belief, Mila glanced around for any reflective surfaces. “Are we- is it fucking over?” She stepped out carefully, slipping back into her shoes. “I swear, most of my home visits aren’t quite so...eventful.”

The hall was empty, save for the layers of sand wisping around Erin’s feet. For now, the danger seemed to be gone but the foreboding feeling left in its wake was hard to ignore. It felt… unfinished. They’d gotten way too lucky to have run from not just one but two mysterious whatevers that had decided to knock down their doors and mirrors today. Tentatively, Erin stepped forward into the hall doorway, ready to swing if necessary. “I think we’re… okay?” It didn’t feel right to say it either. Her heart was still racing and she kicked some of the sand in the stairwell, as if she was waiting for it to spring back to life. She looked to Agent Darzi, letting out a breath. “I hope not, otherwise I’m going to have to decline a follow up.” She ran a hand down her face, contemplated dropping the plywood, opting to grip it a little tighter. Nodding at the other woman, she kept her eyes on the stairwell. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked one more time.

Mila smiled lightly, brushing the sand off her clothes where the grains fell lifelessly to the ground. “Don’t worry, I think if I have any further questions I’ll just email.” They made their way cautiously back down the stairwell, the building looking menacingly...normal. “Me? Oh yeah, just...tired I think.” Tired was an understatement. The pain in her eye subsided, making way for an indescribable fatigue. Then again, she had just run from two mystery monsters, in stilettos no less. “And I’m not even the one who got strangled. Make sure you get some rest, and uh...drink some tea?” Mila shuffled closer to the exit. “And I’ll send my assistant by to pick up the paperwork, I really ought to get home.” She could feel her muscles aching to lay down and honestly, she wanted nothing more than to take a long, hot bath in a room with absolutely no mirrors.

[akemiozawa]

Lunchtime Shenanigans

Because of @edda-blattfe and her opinion shifting about Vil after the Admission Experience Videos, I thought of something from the getgo and this is inspired by the “Lana got Coned” scene from The Princess Diaries movie. Enjoy!

And this is also a scenario to when Trina and Vil first meet.

———————————————————

Ah, lunchtime. The best social hour of Night Raven. The students from dorms alike and different can gather and talk with their friends until the next bell signals for classes.

And Trina was no stranger to it. Most days, she felt like staying cooped up in Ignihyde, but today felt like a good day to get out and meet up with some new people. Well, hopefully. She rarely made friends around Night Raven, aside from Wende, Ren and Sol, not much. Yet.

After eating, she managed to swipe a cup of Double Midnight Chocolate and Snickerdoodle Soft Serve Froyo with a dash of sprinkles on top. Where she got it? Don’t ask.

The mess hall was jam-packed with just a fraction of the student body. Chatter resounding around the walls, lively debates dotted here and there. It was a sight.

‘If only someone would be smart enough to start a food fight in here.’ She thought smugly, already scheming ahead for the future.

She started walking around, looking for a place to sit.

There weren’t any free spots. Just her luck.

With a sigh, she decided to head back (and on such a Beautiful day no less), and as she turned to leave until,

“Trina!!!!”

That was Lilia’s Voice.

Turning back, Trina saw the Black and Pink haired male wave frantically from his seat, while Sebek was trying to push him back into his seat.

Smiling, she jogged over to their table, and saw the Diasomnia Four gathered at a section of their table. She greeted them separately,

“Lilia!” She waved sweetly, which the latter returned.

“Malleus.” She smiled and bowed slightly.

“Sebek.” A small nod of the head from the other.

“...Silver.” A sharp tone of cold seeped in near the end.

After her greetings, Lilia invited her to sit with them, which she accepted within hesitation.

However, just as she was seated, Trina saw another female with them. Her hair was a beautiful cornflower blue and elegantly braided to the side with pieces framing her face, fair skin with a light dash of freckles, thin pink lips, bright blue eyes and pointed ears.

“Oh! Sorry! Didn’t notice ya there!” The female waved it off.

“Oh no! It’s okay! I didn’t notice you either. But it’s nice to meet you! I’m Blue!” She waved.

“Trinity Homura. But most people call me Trina.”

“So, how do you know Malleus and the others?” Blue asked.

Before Trina could answer, Lilia jumped into the conversation, reciting the story over dramatically by heart.

“Oh, it was a grand story! Our dear Mal-Mal didn’t have a partner for one of Divus’ experiments. But Trina walked into class just in time and when asked, she volunteered to be his partner! Despite the fact that she nearly caused the entire class to burn down, yet all throughout, she treated him like a normal person! Now, don’t get me wrong! It’s painfully obvious everyone’s scared of Mal-Mal, but Trina...it’s like she didn’t see him like that! It was a miracle! Even Mal was speechless at her actions!” And with that, he laughed his guts out.

Blue listened carefully to the story, but smiled nonetheless.

“Well, that’s amazing, how you see everyone as normal people.”

“Technically, not ‘normal’ per-se, rather, I hear about people and who or what they are. Even if they hold that title as if it’s something extremely amazing to others, I don’t see it as such. Human or not, I still treat everyone as equal in my eyes. Like the saying goes: ‘Never judgeabook by their cover.’ It’s simple as that.” Trina explains while scooping up her froyo. Blue nods in understanent.

“Indeed. There was something...intriguing about Trinity that made me surprised beyond anything. And thus, naturally, she joined us. Even if she’s not of our house.” Malleus concluded, trying to conceal his small smile.

“Believe me, Milord, if she did join us, this Demented Woman would be trying to kill me with all she’s got.” Silver muttered the last part. Trina stares at him as if she wanted to stab his eye out with her plastic spoon.

Before Blue could say anything else, an awfully familiar voice exclaimed,

“Malleus!”

Immediately, the Diasomnia Lead rubbed his temples in annoyance. Trina tried to suppress a groan. There’s only one person who could cause both her and Mal mini migraines.

Vil.

And speak of the devil, the blonde haired lead strutted his way over and placing a gloved hand on Mal’s shoulder, saying,

“We’ve got a dorm leader meeting next Friday. Don’t be late!” And turned to leave. But before he could do that, one look at Blue and the first thing that flew out of his mouth was,

“Blue, my dear, I just wanted to know: the sweater you’re wearing: was it made like that or did one of your spells go awry and turned it into that ugly little thing?”

Trina could see it immediately. Blue was trying not to cry. Her face could say it, but her eyes said another story.

Looking at her sweater, Trina saw nothing wrong with it.

A sheer baby blue, probably a purl knitted one, with sleeves that covered half her hands, with some colors of aqua, navy and turquoise thrown into to give off a bit of an abstract vibe. It seemed fine to her.

Vil walked off, chuckling under his breath, not caring to hear a retort.

‘Oh no you don’t, Shit-Head!’ Trina snarled in her mind.

Sebek turned to see Trina slowly rising from her seat.

“Homura, no! Whatever you’re thinking don’t it! You’ll get in trouble!” He hissed, but with one sharp look from Tris, he shuts up.

Trina immediately walked up behind Vil. Without thinking, she tapped him on the shoulder sharply. The Pomefiore leader turned to see her. Once he was fully facing her, without thinking, Trina raised her cup of froyo and smashed it straight onto the front of Vil’s uniform. She smeared it just to be sure it caused a bigger mess.

All suddenly went silent. Nobody dared move. Everyone watched the two in fear, pure surprise and glee.

Vils mouth was agape. His amethyst eyes were filled with complete shock.

Trina kept her glare on him, daring him to make a move as she stepped back, smiling deviously at her work.

He followed her line of sight: down to see the damage. Dark and sugary brown dripped onto the tiled floor, caked the front of his deep purple vest and blazer jacket. A multitude of colored sprinkles dotted the dark puddle like stars in a sky.

He shook. He trembled. He stuttered. Then, he screamed.

“Y-You! Look what you’ve done!!”

Tris didn’t bother hearing him speak as she turned back to her spot and grabbed her bag and stalked out of the mess hall. But not before flipping Vil the finger, angering him further, along with with spitting,

“Two-Faced Fag!” In a banshee-like yell.

And with that, I kid you not, the ENTIRE hall erupted in wild laughter. Some pointed at Vil, others just laughed in general. Then, a certain Ace of Hearts, stood on his hair, and started chanting,

“Vil got Coned! Vil got Coned!”

Then groups of people joined in and made the chant grow more wild than the laughter.

Trina smiles at the scene before her. She caught the eyes of Mal, Lilia, Sebek, Silver and Blue. Mal has a look of pure shock in his eyes, Lilia was smiling like crazy, Silver looked like he just shit his pants, Sebek wanted to die of embarrassment, and Blue had a look of admiration, and fear.

She smirked and mouthed to them, ‘We’ll talk later.” And left the mess hall with laughter and chanting resounding out loud.

She didn’t know what came over her. But whatever it was, it felt fucking awesome!

Yea, she’ll be more than likely to pay for the damage, and get called into the headmaster’s office, but for now, she’ll enjoy the moment.

Now...back to her room to get the footage of the event...

But first: another cup of Froyo!

[xoruffitup]

Adam in Burn This (6/12)

I saw Burn This again on June 12th and HOO BOY, for this show I’ve got nothing but flail! I think I’ve already worked through most of my critical analyst urges already, so this is gonna be just pure, chaotic Adam fangirling. :’)

The man was robbed of his Tony. Pale is this character who I would absolutely hate on the page or in abstract. But then Adam, the utter jerk, barges and flails his way on stage and makes Pale so human and compelling and just absolutely riveting to watch that hating him becomes physically impossible. I mentioned before how the play functions to make the audience Anna’s proxy (down towards the end of the second section here), and never has that been truer than last night. I literally was Anna, okay. I was repelled and intimidated and scandalized by Pale’s uncontrollable, massive presence; his encroaching, searing physicality; his unpretentious, guileless anger and passions and frenetic creative energy.

One second, you’re watching this massive brickhouse tumble into crying, sniffling pieces so vulnerable and wrecked it could tear your heart out. The next he’s cracking a joke, flirting, cussing, and every single swing is so bracingly authentic that you’re literally pulled to the edge of your seat, unsure if in attraction or revulsion. Either way, you’re along for the wild ride with him every step of the way, feeling the same conflicted and unwilling compulsion towards him Anna is. Pale doesn’t just unwittingly seduce Anna; Adam absorbs every single audience member’s attention like a black hole and before you know it the audience is caring for him even before they have any hope of deciding whether they even like him. (Evidenced by the collective gasp of fear that rises from the audience when Pale, drunk, climbs outside onto a fire escape.) To call him magnetic, electric, a revelation to watch – They’re all woefully inadequate descriptions. He’s a literal inferno, blazing even when he’s silent.

So even though I have yet to reach a personal resolution on whether I accept Pale from an ethical perspective, I am nevertheless complete trash for him because Adam really leaves me no choice in the matter. Damn him. <3

Last night I sat in the upper balcony for the first time, but my friend brought binoculars we passed back and forth (lol, yes really) and I actually saw so many new, detailed nuances to Adam’s acting. I’ll go through the moments that really stood out – though it’s honestly hard to pick because he really is that Extra during the entire damn play.

Act 1

When he puts his leg up on the couch to show Anna how “fucked up” his pants are, then kind of realizes he’s standing there with his leg all weird up on the couch, asking her to look at his pants… Then just smoothly lifts his leg over the table before he lowers it, then makes the coyest face ever at her while he does this slow, deliberate twirl with the most shit-eating look on his face. The audience dies, then he cracks “I coulda been the dancer,” and the audience falls apart again.

The way you can feel his momentum and buzzing energy begin to darken, right before he breaks down completely. When he stops pacing around for the first time and his voice changes, going soft as the guilt and sorrow creeps up on him in the form of physical pain he feels driving straight through his heart. And it’s alarming, when he goes still for the first time.

I swear I’ve never seen him cry so much as last night. Once he broke down, the sniffling was constant, with these utterly, completely broken sounds mixed in whenever he tried to talk.

“Nah, this ain’t me…” “I’m trying to picture him here.”

And he keeps aggressively pushing his hair back while he’s crying, as if he can force the tears away with brute force.

OKAY so watching their first kissing scene through a pair of binoculars was like being personally undressed and ravished, holy god. A bomb could have gone off in the theater and he wouldn’t have looked away from her, he had such consuming focus. When he slides close to her, the first thing he does is slowly lift a hand to touch her hair, his eyes darting between where his fingers brush the strands and her face, gauging her reaction. And then when he leans in so slowly for the kiss, watching her first before his attention shifts to her mouth, and the kiss is slow and deep and….

Yeah I felt things.

From up in the balcony.

Adam’s kissing sex appeal is literally so flaming strong, I felt that heat from the damn balcony. I dare you to show me another man with such raw, intense sex appeal. Go on, I’ll wait. He asks her, “You okay?” when he pulls back, and she says in a sort of daze, “I’m fine.”

….Girl, I feel it too.

AHEM ANYWAY MOVING ON.

And then in the next scene, as if totally oblivious that he’s a literal tornado of sex, he just sweeps out the door with an over-the-shoulder “Alright I’m outta here” and it’s so blasé and masterfully hilarious.

Act 2 When he’s laying on the couch alone, half-asleep, and starts vaguely waving his arm in an attempt to remove invisible blankets. Then, without a single word, he reduces the entire audience to hysterics when he spends a solid two minutes pulling at the collar of his coat in a completely futile effort to take it off. That’s the level acting we’re dealing with here. He’s one-hand fighting his own coat and trying so damn hard and it’s the most entertaining thing of your entire year like WHAT EVEN.

God alsdfjsdlakjf okay when he comes out in the kimono robe and it’s open at first, for like 30 blissful seconds that massive, toned chest is out there to see above those tight black briefs and it is SO MUCH I blacked out and couldn’t even process the sight the first time I saw the play. …. Then he closes the robe, carefully ties it, fights with the sleeves because they clearly aren’t built for massive fuckin arms like his, and in an instant he’s the softest being I’ve ever seen and I’m confused as hell as to how I’m aroused and ‘omg bb’ adoring at the same time??? I think I need therapy? Or Adam needs to stop being massive and sexy but also awkward and soft at the same time, for the sake of my sanity?

I fail to imagine an image that will make my life more than giant Adam in this tiny bright purple silk kimono that barely reaches his thighs, bare foot, tying a dish towel around a pot of tea he just made like a tea cozy, then oh so carefully carrying the tea pot over to the table with his one arm still out of the sleeve and this look of intense focus on his face. I was overwhelmed and could not even begin to name the feels.

Let’s make it even WORSE shall we? When he hands Anna a cup of tea, kisses her forehead twice, says “That tea’s no good for a bad stomach. You want some milk?” then strokes her hair back, then asks “You want some eggs?”

GOD PALE GET OUT WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT

(^ We are all Anna)

The part where he sneakily picks up the phone to eavesdrop on Anna and Burton’s phone conversation, and stays completely silent for a long minute before hilariously bursting out, “YA GOT SOMETHIN’ TO SAY, BRUCE?!” And then AND THEN Anna angrily storms out of the bedroom and the bastard hides his face behind the empty robe sleeve and bats his eyelashes at her and bends at the knees in this cutesy little sorority girl squat and IM….?! “Real cute,” Anna says, trying real hard to be unimpressed, while the audience is in an uproar and everyone’s desperately trying to process all these newfound perplexing Adam Driver feels (WELCOME TO HELL, BITCHES. IT DOESN’T GET BETTER)

Okay okay there are SO many juicy bits during the exchange when Anna’s explaining she wants things to end between them. I was watching through the binoculars and when Anna says, “We’re apples and oranges.” He immediately gets this hella adorable smirk when he goes, “Oh yeah? Who’s the apple and who’s the orange?” Then the smirk grows when he’s all “Ever had an apple tart glazed with marmalade?” And then he’s just grinning because he’s so damn proud of how clever he is and he’s still in the FUCKIN purple kimono and he is ridiculous, I’d hate it if he didn’t own me body and soul.

Then it gets BETTER when he says, “You told me you ain’t been with no one else since you was with me a month ago. Me either. I figure one more time and we’ll have ourselves a hat trick.” And oh my GOD the shit eating grin! He looks at Larry, just grinning like a 5 year old and Larry gives him this hysterical disapproving, unamused shake of his head, but Pale just looks back at Anna full-on sunshine smiling and I’m like WHY ARE U MY PERSONAL BABY

(PS: JJ – That is what we need to see on Ben Solo’s face in TROS. You better deliver!)

He says some of my favorite dialogue here – The bit about “people walking down the street don’t mean a thing they’re doing.” He grows somber here, and this is a portion of the play’s call to its characters to strive for both emotional and artistic authenticity no matter what the price.

And then the scene gets heavy…. He stands up, disappears to get partially dressed, comes out, they start arguing, he’s still determined to make her see what’s clearly between them… And then she drops the definitive bomb over everything: “I don’t like you and I’m frightened of you.”

I watched his face through the binoculars while she delivered the blows, and it was literally like seeing a candle snuffed out. His expression melted like ice – Resolute and hard and determined one moment, and the next moment her words rush over and visibly crush him as the certainty melts from his face and leaves him empty and shell-shocked. Three seconds of silence when nothing moves but the set of his mouth and the light and strength in his face, but you’ve seen a grown man utterly crushed.

Ah, the last scene. In the first performance it was devastatingly, beautifully heartbreaking. In later performances it was humorous even while tragically inevitable. Either way, it’s brilliantly written and exquisitely acted. (Though as I’ve expressed before, I do prefer the more serious, helplessly sad versions.) I’ve never seen the two of them clutch each other as desperately and heart-rendering tenderly as they did in this performance. She fell into him on the couch, and he cradled her entire body to himself – Reaching a hand down to her thigh to pull her across his lap so his arms could engulf her entirely. They rocked together, and she clutched his arms still tighter to herself, and he kissed all over her hair while they made sounds near tears. And then Pale does break open a bit with something approaching a sob, before he curses and objects “I’m gonna cry all over your hair.”

But he only holds her tighter, as if they’ve both lost all conscious control over their bodies at this point, in the face of the all-powerful compulsion drawing them into each other’s orbits. The ending of this performance was absolutely stunning, leaving you with a myriad of unraveled emotions that are at once painfully incomplete and ill-defined, and yet just as bitingly complex and untamable as the most compelling moments of reality.

Over all, it’s nothing short of incredible to see how Adam continuously succeeds in upping his game throughout the course of the play’s run. He already brought the house down at the very first preview, and yet he manages to find new twists and interpretations to embody each and every time. What struck me this time is how boldly natural he’s become in the role – The way he leans into the accent like he’s really spent his entire damn life using the hard edges of the pronunciation like verbal brass knuckles. Adam has gotten to the point where just a single emphasized vowel sound brings the audience to hysterics:

“I heard that mollaaases you were pourin’ over maaam. Needed a shot o’ insulin.”

“Good niiiight, sleep tiiiiight.”

“Drinkin’ and thinkin’, man. Worse than drinkin’ and drivin’.”

“Fuckin’ hate Christmas. Look out… ribbons.”

“Get outta here; You’re useless!”

“Lemon will kill yaaa!”

“That was me and youuu up there.”

He has mastered how to pitch his voice for perfect, killer comedic effect. What’s more is how effortless he makes it seem; How utterly guileless. How he can swing from ugly crying to casual insensitive quip in the span of a minute, and make it just seem like the routine (if highly irregular) over-active synapses of a guy on coke. Even just his body language, the way he paces around the apartment in Act 1, completely out of sorts and out of his depth, like he’s never seen a coat rack or a stove before; A physical embodiment of his discomfiture with the emotions that don’t feel like they belong within him. His presence is imposing and even threatening, and yet his body language is alert and defensive, sometimes even self-flagellate. He embodies so many idiosyncrasies and tensions, it’s easy to see why his emotions burst from him in such tidal, chaotic floods.

I’m so thankful to have tickets to the final performance next month! I shudder to think of the feels I will drown in over how absolutely legend-level powerful Adam’s performance will be at that point. What a talent. What a man. 

I’d be overjoyed to receive any and all questions/thoughts about the play! :) Thanks for reading!

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

A Girl’s Best Friend (Peter Parker x OC) - Part 6

Synopsis: Diamonds are man’s best friend- or dogs are girls’ best friends, wait… how does the saying go again?

Warnings: Family issues; Peter has a crush and it’s complicated; mention of assault; good dogs; College AU; aged up! characters; TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WE ALL LIVE IN A HAPPY PLACE CALLED DENIAL

A/N: In this story, Peter has Tom’s dog, Tessa.The dogs in the story play a minor but key role.

Word count: 2.5k

Part 5 <<< >>> Part 7

MASTERLIST

                He couldn’t believe she was once again teasing him, getting a thrill out of his reaction. It was a real skill she had.

“Don’t be so modest, I saw the way you threw the ax, Parker. I don’t know what you’re trying to hide under that baggy sweatshirt of yours, but I admit I’m getting curiouser and curiouser. Makes me wonder how jacked you are under there.”

                Peter’s face went through fifty shades of red in the span of five seconds, and Emmeline was beyond proud of herself for making him blush like that. She did seem to have a certain talent in embarrassing Peter; hopefully he knew it was all in good grace and she didn’t mean ill.

                 She twirled her empty cup between her fingers, smiling wickedly.

“You just love to see me wriggle in my chair when you say something like that,” he accused her.

“I’m not lying, though.” She raised a brow. “Emmeline Gerard only has one word, and it is true.”

                Emmeline Gerard was also a huge flirt and if Peter wasn’t so dense, he would notice it. That was a typical male thing: to not see when a woman was openly hitting on them and then complain that they are always the ones who are expected to take the first step.

“Don’t care.” Peter crossed his arms over his chest – maybe to show off his biceps, maybe to show her he was mad, he wouldn’t admit to either. “I feel objectified all the same.”

“Here, have a cookie, you’ll feel better,” Emmeline enjoined him, pushing the treat towards him. “I didn’t mean it, quit sulking.”

“Oh, so you think I’m fat?” he asked in mock-offense as he grabbed the cookie and bit into it.

                They both laughed and she swatted his shoulder for acting like an idiot.

“I’ll forgive you on one condition,” he started, the laughter dying down as he looked at her, locking his gaze on her and uncrossing his arms.

                Her smile dropped.

“I’m not going to like it, am I?” she asked in a sigh. “Alright, I guess I brought this on myself. What do you wanna know?”

                He wasn’t surprised that she had guessed what it was about. He hadn’t been able to think about anything else since she talked about her parents an hour ago. He just needed to know what went on in her life – Emmeline was so secretive! He was the one with a secret alter ego, yet she acted like she was secretly Batman.

                He began to fidget, brows furrowed as he proceeded to tell her something he rarely ever brought up.

“It’s more of a request, actually. I- euh, I’m an orphan too,” he stated, making her drop her jaw and stop playing with her empty cup. “I understand better than anyone why you don’t like to talk about your parents, biological or adopted. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you ever want to talk to someone… you know, instead of throwing sharp deadly weapons around-“ He smiled a little and she mirrored the expression. They had both sobered up pretty quickly after his opening statement. “You can talk to me.”

                She shrugged.

“I don’t remember much; I wouldn’t know what to say even if I wanted to talk about it. I was so young…” She sighed, eyes not leaving his. “My adoptive parents are the only ones I know, and they are basically strangers to me. What about you? Any luck in that area?”

“I wasn’t really adopted like you think.” Peter chewed on his lip and rubbed his chin. “One day my parents left me in the care of my aunt and uncle, and they just never came back. Plane crash,” he explained. “I can remember them but sometimes I forget what they looked like. It’s scary to think that I could forget them entirely one day.”

“How’s life with your aunt and uncle?” Emmeline pushed him, the eagerness visible in the way she stared wide-eyed, fingers tugging at her sleeve.

“My uncle died when I was in high school, during a robbery gone wrong.” Jesus Christ, it hurt to talk about it, more than he had anticipated, but he could see that his words finally reached her, moved her. They acted like a key unlocking something. She was drinking up his every word. “Life was good with them. Aunt May is the best, and I couldn’t have asked for better parents than them.” He swallowed with difficulty, wondering what kind of parents he had before that fateful plane crash.

                His increasingly dark train of thought was interrupted when he felt a warm hand resting on his closed fist. He looked up again, finding Emmeline’s concerned eyes set on him.

“But enough with the pathetic story of my life.”

                Slowly, he loosened his fist, relaxing under her touch. Emmeline didn’t move her hand, rather she let her fingers slip in his now unstrained fist.

“I’d drink to that if my cup wasn’t empty,” Emmeline chuckled, humorlessly. He watched her mood shift under his eyes, becoming bitter. She sucked in her cheeks and focused on their joined hands. “Did you vote for my father at the last election?”

“… yes,” Peter admitted, feeling it wasn’t the right answer though it was the truth.

“I didn’t. I told him I did, of course. He never even considered I could vote for someone else; it was a given that the family would vote for him.”

“Why didn’t you?” Peter asked in what was barely above a whisper. Her aura exuded rancor.

“I’m not a difficult person, or at least, I don’t think so. I never wished for all the things I have today, all the… the money, the reputation, the social status… It was all so abstract to the little girl I was. I just wanted parents, you know?”

                Peter nodded; he thought he knew where she was going.

“But it wasn’t what I got. I would often cry about it to my friends in the beginning, but quickly got shut down. I found out at an early age that people do not pity the rich, even if it’s a crying little girl who longs for some form of parental love,” she spat out the last part, still resenting the people who had turned their back on her when she needed them. It was Peter’s turn to squeeze her hand. “So, here you go. That’s why I’m such a stuck-up bitch today. No one’s ever told me it was okay to talk about how I feel, until a few months ago.”

“What happened a few months ago?”

                Peter’s entire body had tensed up at this point. He could hear his blood pulsing in his temples and waited for the bomb. He already knew the answer, but it would have been strange not to ask. He was the one who told her to talk to a friend, that someone cared, that someone would listen.

                Emmeline seemed to recompose herself and shook her head a little, letting him go and pushing away her cup, clearing her throat. When she looked up, the dark clouds in her eyes had dissipated.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” she said with a forced laugh, turning her attention to the window. “I hadn’t realized it was already dark outside, I should get going. Bella’s waiting for me.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?” he asked, accepting that this was as much information he would get for today and thinking about nothing but the night he found her being pressed against a wall, blouse ripped open, a man with a hand down his pants all over her.

                He saw the hesitation cross her face, but she must have had the same thought as him; she stood up and grabbed her coat before looking at him.

“Yes, please.”

  *

                  That night Peter broke one of his own new rules and stopped by her place on his way back from a mission. He couldn’t help it, as much as he had tried.

                When he knocked on the window, Bella immediately began to jump excitedly, pawing at the glass and barking. It must have been double glazing because he barely heard a thing at all. Emmeline soon walked into the living room, toothbrush in her mouth, raising her arms in a “what the fuck man” gesture. At least, that was how Peter interpreted it.

                She walked back where she came from, and reappeared a minute later, with no more toothbrush.

“Thought you wouldn’t come here again,” she said as a way of greeting him when she opened the French window, letting Bella out to greet him properly.

“At least someone’s happy to see me,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her as he sat down to play with her dog. “I totally just came to see Bella by the way, you can go back inside.”

                Emmeline wasn’t amused and she let him know.

“Alright, alright. I just wanted to see how far along you were this that deal of ours,” he told her, raising both hands in surrender.

“How-“ she made a helpless hand gesture. “How do you know? How can you possibly know that I finally talked to someone today? Who the fuck are you?”

“Ugh, language, young lady,” he giggled, standing up to talk to her at eye-level. “Let’s say I have a spider sense that tells me those things.”

“This is very weird.”

“How is it any weirder than feminine intuition? I’m listening.”

“Half the human population has it,” she stated, point blank. “It’s a real thing, unlike your… spidey- tingle.”

“Spider sense,” he corrected her.

“Same difference.”

“You are being very difficult tonight. I thought you’d be in a lighter mood now that you unburdened yourself a little bit,” he whined, pointing a finger at her. Emmeline didn’t give two shits that he was Spider-Man, she swatted his accusing finger away and took a step forward.

“Tone it down a notch, Spidey-boy,” she warned him. “I held my end of the bargain, now I get to be in whatever mood I want.”

“It wasn’t a bargain; I didn’t promise anything in exchange.”

“Well then I want something.” She planted her feet firmly on the ground, and her hands on her hips.

                Peter sighed, regretting this impromptu visit already, though he couldn’t deny he loved their superhero and civilian banter. The way she stood up to him would have made him shrivel away a few years back, but he was glad he had grown out of his awkward teenager phase and could stand up for himself now.

                Though the awkward teenage still showed once every now and then, most of the time when she said something saucy.

“I’m not swinging you around New York,” he warned her. “Last time I did that, the girl got sick.”

“That’s not what I want,” Emmeline scoffed, waving her hand to dismiss his idea. “Who would ask for that anyway? We’re in December, my nose would freeze and fall off.”

“Alright, name your price then, princess.”

“Do not start using pet names, or I will wipe the floor with your ass, Spidey-boy.” For a second, he thought she just might. “Just promise make sure that what happened to me doesn’t happen to another girl, yeah? That’s my price.”

                Peter wasn’t expecting this request, but he nodded without thinking about it. It was a given.

“I will.”

“Good. Now fuck off of my balcony. I was going to bed,” she shooed him away, like you did to a stray cat.

“You’re so mean to me!”

“It’s tough love, baby!” She laughed and waved him goodbye through the window, waiting until he left, and Bella strutted back inside to close the door. “He’s a bit strange for a superhero, don’t you think?”

  *

                  Emmeline never talked about Spider-Man to Peter, but he could still see the way their late-night chats affected her moods. She was often less grumpy when he visited her. It made him feel terrible because they were both becoming dependent on his visits, and as odd as it might sound, Peter was jealous of his alter ego. Jealous because Emmeline seemed to like Spider-Man better than Peter Parker.

                But Emmeline didn’t sit next to Spider-Man in class, she sat next to Peter, and for that he was infinitely grateful. She was better than him in physics anyway, it was a nice change from always being the nerdy one. Then again, when you’re a biophysics post-grad, the chances of you being the only nerd in the room were very slim.

“Will you be my partner?” she asked him, bursting his little bubble of silent contemplation. He hadn’t realized he had zoned out in the middle of class until she spoke up.

“Uh?” was all he was capable of answering.

“The assignment. We should do it together, partner-up,” she clarified. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

                Peter flinched and grimaced a little, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No?”

“You’ve being doing that a lot lately. Don’t you sleep at night?”

                Not as much as I’d like, he thought. Somehow, when he wasn’t visiting her as Spider-Man, it was because he was hanging out with her as Peter Parker, and the rest of the time he spent on Spider duty. He knew he was heading towards burn out, but he couldn’t hit the breaks either.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he replied in a failed attempt to sound cool. She narrowed her eyes at him. “But I’ll do the assignment with you, sure. I’ll need your notes though, I have some catching up to do.”

“Not a problem.” She pulled out her agenda to scribble something down. “Since you were daydreaming again, let me recap for you: the assignment is due January 8th, jot that down. I’ll bring my notes this Thursday when we meet at the library, is that okay?”

“You’re the best,” Peter told her with a crooked smile that was meant to be charming. Emmeline rolled her eyes.

“Don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation.”

“When should we start working then?” he asked, changing the subject. Another thing he noticed: she didn’t like compliments.

“We can start tonight if you want. You won’t need my notes to decide on a topic and get started,” she suggested. “My place, 7p.m.?”

                A resounding alarm began to pound in Peter’s head, reminding him that one meeting with her dog would give him away on the spot.

“Didn’t you say Bella doesn’t like strangers?” he questioned, trying to find a way out of this. “We won’t get much done if she’s busy barking up at me.”

“She’s not home at the moment. She must have eaten something bad because she kept vomiting and whining. I brought her to the vet, she’ll be back at the end of the week.”

                Peter knew how much she loved Bella, and the pitiful sigh she let out at the end of her explanation constricted his heart. There he was, trying to dodge out of a study session with the girl he liked to preserve his secret identity, while she was lonely in her huge apartment because her beloved four-legged companion was sick.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure she’ll be alright.” She nodded and forced a smile. “And tonight works fine for me.”

“Bring Tessa, I haven’t seen her in a week.”

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