#LIKE WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO PUT HIM THROUGH THAT TORTURE MACHINE AGAIN LOL

[extrahorribledynne]

honestly who could even want a season 3 this is literally 'the everything else' of gravity falls. i'm not left wanting. i'm feasting on everything from the book of bill and thisisnotawebsite. the only thing i want is to rewatch the entire show again

like it leaves it in 'our' (the readers) hands. what do YOU see in ciphers corpse? is it the end? is it only the beginning? we were invited to participate both in the book (literally, with it making asks to write this, put your hand here, etc) and the website code hunt. its up to you. here are the pieces of everything after the end. have fun.

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

Putting aside how painful it is seeing the boys suffer like that thanks for that lol, got a question about the Lofi chapter.

So in Twin Animatronics one of the elements that seemed to sway Bob's attitude was Sun calling Ted "Dad". But here Sun says it multiple times and there's no reaction.

Is Bob too drunk/grief angry to notice? Or is there something different about the way Sun says it in Twins that softens Bob up a bit?

YES!!!

I was honestly hoping that someone would ask this question.

But Bob does have a visceral reaction to Sun calling Ted "Dad" here.

But Sun's visual processes are bunked, so he can't see the micro expressions that Bob twitches into.

In fact, the whole reason why Bob doesn't turn the pain receptors off, (despite Sun's screaming likely being a hassle and headache for him) is 100 percent because of what Sun said.

Bob said a lot of things to Sun that neither Sun could hear over the pain and screams, and things Bob himself forgets.

Bob can't prove anything. But he knows what the Daycare Attendant did to his coworker. A horrible gut feeling. Bob knows the Daycare Attendant's capabilities more then anyone. He's the one who built the blueprints Ted provided him with and was there the entire testing process.

From Bob's perspective, this killer machine, who you know but can't prove, slaughtered your best friend. And you just have to go to work and pretend the man never existed. Told by the Security Guard and your Boss that he got in a car accident and died.

You know it was no accident.

You know what your friend was building him for.

You couldn't stop him then.

And now, by Fazbear standards, he never existed.

And this thing.

This monster he created.

Has the audacity to call it's victim their father???

What a joke.

If you can't scrap it, can't get it to admit what it did.... You will hurt it. Just hurt it as much as possible. Hurt it like Ted felt hurt.

Maybe you'll feel some sense of justice.

And yes, Bob does remember the anger and emotions he felt that day, as well as the physical pain the machine put him through......

But the catalyst for him to feel that strongly, he forgot. He forgot the words said and the words he said.

Just that Sun babbled some nonsense and pissed him off, so he tortured the bot and he got a lot of scars in the process.

I wanted to wait to reveal this in twins or Dadler lives, but because we see things from Sun and Moon's perspective, we aren't privy to a lot of this information.

But we at least know why Sun was so frantic and worried about not calling Ted "Dad" again in front of him.

[rillils]

what hurts me most is thinking abt people realizing just how YOUNG bucky actually is

it's so fucking unfair, it just breaks your heart to even think about it, doesn't it?

consider catfa. here you have a young man barely into his late 20s, when you're technically a fully grown adult, but really you're most likely still trying to get your shit together, you know, still figuring out how Adulting™ really works - and then it's one tragedy after the other for him

Bucky has his whole life ahead of him, and instead of getting to choose a path of his own, of building a life for himself, he is:

drafted into a war he never even wanted to be a part of

captured, forced into hard physical labor and ultimately experimented on against his will

kinda roped into going back to the front lines after being rescued (not against his will this time, but let's face it, there was no way in hell that he would have gone home while Steve was still out there putting his life on the line)

captured once more when his whole team thought him dead, tortured in every possible way, taken apart, experimented on some more, quite possibly put on god knows what kind of substances, either to further improve his physical performances or to aid in keeping him docile and easier to manipulate - or, well, for both of those reasons I guess

brutally stripped of his identity, his memories, his free will, his humanity, and reshaped into a killing machine, a weapon to be used whenever necessary, and, as they say, put away wet. and then rinse and repeat for sixty-nine years.

the truly horrifying part is that they didn't just hurt him, they also forced him to hurt other people. people whose lives were taken by his own hands, when he was barely even an unwilling passenger in his own body. so here he is, just… grieving,

both for himself - the years he lost to torture and brainwashing, and can never get back again; and the life he could have had, with all the people he loved, in the place he used to call home - and for all the victims of the Soldier and their respective families, left to mourn their loved ones, often without even knowing why.

he could have lived a normal, quiet, happy life, but all of that was taken away from him.

BUT but but butt butt

here's the thing.

actually, here's a couple of things.

you see, pieces of crap like Endgame will try to convince you that, if things didn't go exactly your way the first time around, you should just give up on your future altogether and fuck off to the past, where you can live out an unhealthy fantasy and have a creepy, dystopian-coded life as-- well, not even as yourself, just as somebody else wearing your own face.

don't listen to pieces of crap like Endgame, they give the shittiest kind of advice.

because! because even after everything he went through, Bucky's still alive! his life isn't over. and that's the beauty of it! he SO can still be happy, and do all the things he didn't get to do back in the day. sure, the timing might not be what he originally thought, back before the war, but just because his plans got derailed doesn't mean that he can't build his own life now. and that's exactly what he's going to do, one step at a time - and YES, with Steve by his side, if I get any say in this (and this being my answer to an ask on my blog, I get all the say lol)

so I hereby declare that Bucky gets to be as fucking happy as can be! like, SO MUCH FUCKING HAPPINESS, YOU CAN'T EVEN QUANTIFY IT. so much fucking happiness, you'd think he might get sick of it!!!! but he won't!!!!!!

I think he does find that calm he so desperately needed. I think he gets to find himself again, gets to meet all the parts of him he thought he'd lost, the ones even he had forgotten. I think, he even gets to meet some new sides of Bucky Barnes he hadn't had the chance to discover yet.

I think he learns that some days are worse than others, and on those days, he learns to show himself a little kindness, and a little forgiveness for not being who (he used to think) he was supposed to be, and a little love for who he is.

I think he also learns that, while there are some bad days, and there will always be, most of them are actually, surprisingly, good days. I think he learns that he has the right to have good days. I think he learns that he deserves to have good days. I think he learns that it's okay to feel good; that there's nothing silly or lazy in just sitting outside in the sun, and basking in its warmth like a happy little lizard, and wishing you never had to move from that spot at all.

I think he gets to be the nerd he always was deep down; science nerd, space nerd, book nerd, any sort of nerd flavor he can find the time and will to explore.

I think he gets to build a home for himself, with the man who always meant Home to him, more than any house ever could.

I think he gets to wake up to good-morning kisses, and to good-morning fingers carding tenderly through his hair, and good-morning playful groping under the sheets, and good-morning "sorry I just kneed you in the groin, lemme kiss it better for ya", and good-morning giggles because Steve's bedhead achieves epic levels of Bird's Nest first thing in the morning, and good-morning pretty eyes looking back at him from Steve's pillow, drinking him in like no sight in the world will ever be as heartrendingly beautiful as Bucky waking up next to him in their big, big bed, and good-morning "how do you want your eggs?", and good-morning "let's skip eggs and have french toast today", because today, today he's feeling good.

and that's only the start, honey 💕💕💕

[jyndor]

“So did cassian find bix before he went on hugging another woman and die? BECAUSE DUDE THAT GIRL TORTURED OUTTA HER MIND (because of u) AND STILL TRUSTS YOU” - a very idiot comment someone made under a post of Jyn and Cassian pictures on Twitter. ISTG some people who joined the fandom after Andor don’t have a single working braincell like wtf dude

lol for as smart a show as andor is, I really wonder about some of its viewers 🤣🤣

first off, again I have to remind folks that rogue one was written first and by different people, so if you have a problem with something that happened in the show because it doesn't necessarily track with the film... just because YOU saw the film for the first time after the show doesn't mean the film is wrong for not having perfect continuity with the show.

we can use our brains and recognize that tony gilroy didn't like idk time travel to make cassian fall in love with the main character of the film instead of, what, apologizing to the character he created years after the film came out. it's one thing to criticize the writers of the show for putting bix through a more graphic trauma than almost any singular character in the show (save for cassian but I mean he's the titular character and we knew he was gonna go through shit) and doing it for the sake of a male character's story arc - a criticism of the writers, an out-of-universe analysis. it's another entirely to make an in-universe criticism of cassian for... well let's go through the chain of events:

cassian listens to his mother when she said to leave her behind because he is wanted for killing the mall cops (they don't know that the empire is looking for him bc he is a link to luthen)

he gets profiled and brutalized by the cops on his little vacation, thrown into a labor camp and is unable to go back for her like he said he would because again, he's in a CONCENTRATION CAMP.

maarva is unknowingly inspired by cassian's team on aldhani which is partly why she doesn't want to leave ferrix (it's her home, I can't fault her for that even though she is Not my fave) and decides to rebel by... idk not taking care of herself (actually some interesting commentary on how activists burn themselves out and don't take care of themselves but that's for another post).

because cassian respects maarva's wishes for him, he is not around to help take care of her - which we know other community members like bix have done before anyway

bix and brasso along with the daughters of ferrix etc are trying to get maarva to take care of herself, but maarva is getting ill because she's older and over-exerting herself for a non-existent rebellion - which hey again cool no problem, she's trying to fight the empire even though everyone else is complacent.

bix sees that maarva really needs help, knows that cassian is gone because in part SHE told him to fuck off, wants help from luthen so she can find cassian and uses the secret comms in the paaks' shop to reach luthen.

the imperials arrest salman, torture him and then arrest bix and torture her. salman is executed.

but this is missing a critical first point: the imperial occupation of ferrix. everything else is a response to the empire and to imperialism. everything: cassian kills the mall cops (tools of the empire) in episode one because they are xenophobic and profile him; they are an immediate threat to his life. that brings mr cereal over, who fucks up the "investigation" that no one wanted so badly it ends in a full blown imperial occupation. but the empire is already present in their use of the corporate mall cops to marginalize working class communities like ferrix.

the first violence is the occupation and the imperial machine (and im not even talking about the republic and the cis's colonialism but we can include them too because its all part of the problem). everything else is a reaction to an oppressor. kassa and the kenari kiddos go after the separatist ship and try to attack the people on board because they are the likely reason for the exploitation of their planet and the probable genocide of their people. cassian kills the cops because they threaten him due to their fragile egos and xenophobia. he has to leave ferrix and his mother because as maarva says, he can't stay and she can't leave (I guess although lol I mean she could). and so on.

actions don't just have consequences. actions have reactions. everything cassian does is a reaction to oppression- he tells jyn as much in rogue one ("everything I did, I did for the rebellion"). and for all of my critiques of the show, andor sticks to its thesis that rebellion can look like many things and that cassian does nothing but resist oppression his whole life.

to blame cassian for the empire torturing bix is such a shockingly bad read of the show because the show's very foundation is that the original act of violence is imperialism and fascism, and its victims are not to blame for their reactions to it, no matter how pragmatic or radical or violent.

cassian didn't get bix tortured. the empire tortured bix because it was trying to play divide and conquer with marginalized people, and it didn't work.

lol now I have to go to work but just a side note: I wouldn't trust anyone who has that kind of take on a fictional show about imperialism and fascism to stand with real world marginalized groups when they fight real world oppression.

[mercy-burning]

Hangover Duty

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader’s birthday party leads to some rather endearing drunk antics. Category: Fluff Warnings: Mild language, alcohol consumption, mentions of the prison arc (is that a proper content warning? idk lol) (As always, if there’s anything I missed, please let me know what I should include in content warnings! I always want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 4.4k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Funny story, I woke up at like 3 in the morning last night and just sat up and cranked this out in one go, unprompted. I’m not sure why inspiration struck that late (early?) but I’m rather proud of this one considering I just woke up to edit it a few hours ago 😂, I hope you like it!

***

Watching her gradually get more drunk as the night went on had to be the most amusing and incredibly endearing way to get back into the groove of things. It was nice, actually, being able to have a good time with his friends without constantly being reminded of what's happened in the past year.

Especially considering this year Spencer was determined not to miss Y/N's birthday. Last year he'd been in prison, and rather than being able to celebrate with her and their friends, rather than getting her a card or writing her a letter, she'd written him a letter that detailed in depth how she refused to celebrate until her best friend was there to celebrate with them. Of course he felt awful about the whole thing, and when JJ had dropped off the letters that week, he made her tell Y/N how sorry he was and how he wished more than anything that he could have been there.

And naturally, after dealing with Cat another time and settling his mom down, the first chance he got, he told Y/N himself.

She was in the hospital after that incident with Mr. Scratch. She was the first person he saw in the hospital, and she was fine, arguing with the doctors about leaving to help her team. But once he showed up, telling the doctors he could get her to sit down, they left, and he pulled her in for the biggest hug they'd ever shared.

And the first thing he told her was, "I'm sorry I missed your birthday."

She'd only laughed and squeezed him tighter, replying with a short, yet simple, "Shut up."

He promised to himself then that no matter what happened, he would never miss another one of her birthdays again.

Since it was the first one since all that had happened, Spencer planned something a little extra special. Weeks ahead of time, he talked to Rossi about being able to rent out a bar for the night, Y/N's favorite bar to be exact. Just for themselves. As to be expected, it took a bit of convincing, but eventually they'd been able to successfully rent out the bar for one night, and though Rossi was insistent on paying everything, Spencer wanted to offer as much as he could.

Penelope, of course, insisted on putting up decorations. She roped Luke into helping her, and though he played off like it would be torture, for one thing he was happy to help celebrate his friend's birthday in any way he could, but he also was terrible at hiding the fact that he was more than happy to help Penelope with anything she needed, whether it actually pertained to the party or not.

Everyone told her they were all just going to meet up for drinks after work that day. Y/N was more than okay with it, explaining to them how she was just happy to be able to spend her birthday with her friends no matter where they were. They told her to meet at 7pm when in reality they would all be at the bar an hour and a half early to set up and make sure everything was perfect.

When Y/N actually showed up, Spencer had never seen her so radiant. Even as she was swarmed by Garcia putting on a pink party hat for her that promptly read "Birthday Girl", her hair slightly out of place because of its placement on her head, she was the perfect example of human perfection. She greeted everyone with a huge, beautiful smile accompanied by lots of 'thank you's and 'I love you's, and when she finally got to Spencer, he tried not t hold her to him for too long.

One of the reasons Y/N loved this specific bar was because of the karaoke machine. In fact, drunken karaoke was a decent weekly occurrence with the BAU, and while they'd been no strangers to the act, it only became more frequent when Y/N joined the team. For years now they'd spent many hours singing just as many songs as anyone could think of. And even while drunk, Y/N was a natural. She slipped up on words and slurred them together once in a while, sure, but her voice was easily the most impressive of the bunch, not to mention she never failed to get anyone and everyone to join in.

All that to say Spencer made sure they would be able to use the karaoke machine before they rented out the place. He even attempted to teach himself how to work it, but try as he might, he ended up calling on JJ to help him do it.

Throughout the night they all took turns singing songs, and at one point Y/N finished a song and made a speech, standing up on the bar. (Deep down Spencer was a little nervous that she would hurt herself, or that somehow the owner of the bar would find out that she'd broken one of many rules he had about renting the place out. But that was neither here nor there when he saw the glowing smile she had on her face, looking at all her friends with the most love and admiration he'd seen anyone carry in a while.)

"I'm jussali'l tipsy at the moment, so m'sorry if I don't make any sense," Y/N slurred together, obviously very drunk. Everyone laughed and she continued, clutching the microphone in one hand and placing the other over her heart like she was going to say the Pledge of Allegiance. "I jusneed to say how much I love y'guys. Thank you for celebratin' with me and makin' my birthday real special. I'mean, you fricken rented out a whole-ass bar! That's so nice!"

As she squealed out the last sentence, Spencer couldn't help the wide smile that broke out on his face. She was just so radiant, glowing with warmth and love and happiness and everything good in the world.

She was also struggling to get off the bar. He rushed forward to help her, and she fell forward, into his arms with a giggle.

"You okay?" he asked, his concern blowing away in the wind when she looked into his eyes with another winning smile.

"No thanks t'you," she answered, promptly 'boop'-ing him on the nose before she reached over to the bar and grabbed a full shot glass. After downing the drink, she brushed passed him with a slap on the butt and another giggle, right before she loudly asked Penelope to cut her another slice of cake.

Spencer knew she wouldn't have been so bold had she been sober, but the whole situation still made him feel all warm inside, like he'd taken a shot of whiskey himself.

Luke came up to him, clapping him on the back and snapping him out of it. "This mean you and the birthday girl are finally a thing now?"

"W—what? I don't know what you mean..."

He was obviously lying, and Luke could tell. He laughed a little, nodding towards Y/N, who was currently laughing with Emily and Penelope, a bright blue smudge of frosting on her nose. "She really missed you when you were gone, man. Even put her birthday on hold until she could celebrate with you."

"Well, we've been best friends for years, and she loves her birthday. It was... A hard year. It makes sense."

"Okay, that's fair, but do you know how bad it was? No presents, no birthday wishes, nothing. She demanded we act like it was any other day. And when I brought her a cupcake, she just set it on your desk and left it there. It sat there for about a week before she finally threw it out."

Spencer looked at where she was standing, eating more cake and swaying lightly to the music that was now playing over the speakers. "Really," he mused, not even thinking about it.

Luke sighed beside him. "Look, you can... believe what you want, but we've all noticed it. You two are practically inseparable, and the way I'm seeing you look at her right now tells me everything I need to know."

Even being called out like that, Spencer couldn't make himself look away. And even if he did, he wouldn't have really known what to say. Because all that was running through his mind at the moment was how right Luke was. How much he couldn't help but feel warm and safe when he was in Y/N's presence, and how she made him feel like the only person in the world sometimes.

He wondered then if maybe in the next day or two he should tell her how he felt.

One by one each member of the team eventually left the bar to go home. Each time one of them did, Y/N gave them the biggest hug and mumbled an abundance of 'thank you's and 'I love you's, much like at the start of the night, only this time her words were slurred and higher-pitched and very much laced with alcohol.

The only three people left at the end of the night were her, Spencer, and Emily.

Y/N came up between them and wrapped both her arms around their shoulders, pulling them in for a messy group-hug. "How'r we gonna clean this place up?" she asked dramatically, looking around once they all pulled away.

"I'm going to clean this place up," Emily said, giving Spencer a knowing look. "Since it's your birthday, your best friend here is going to make sure you get home safe and sound."

He definitely didn't see that coming, but somehow he felt like he should have. Regardless, he was more than happy to take the job. Especially when Y/N jumped up and down and threw her arms around him, giving a big old, "Yaaayyyy!" into his neck. She pulled away and gripped his shirt, bouncing on her feet with a large grin. "We can take my car and we can listen t'that CD I was tellin' you about and when we get t'my house we can have a sleepover!"

"Anything you want," he told her with a smile. "Go get your stuff together and we'll go."

As she wandered around the bar to find her shoes that she'd taken off somewhere along the line, Emily nudged Spencer with a smile. "She loves you, you know."

"She's drunk," he countered.

And as if on cue, right then she held one of her shoes up in the air with a triumphant gleam in her eye. "One down!"

"Okay, well, even when she's not drunk, she still loves you."

Though his heart swelled at the thought, he changed the subject. "You don't have to clean everything up. I was going to come back tomorrow morning and do it myself anyway."

"Eh, don't worry, I'm happy to do it." Emily nodded towards Y/N, who was walking around with one shoe on and picking up the other on the floor next to the cake table. "Besides, something tells me you're gonna be a bit preoccupied with hangover duty."

I wouldn't want any other job, he thought to himself.

And even though the nearly-impossible task of getting her into the car should have stressed him out (she kept getting out of the car as Spencer walked around to the driver's side, until finally he promised her a cheeseburger if she would stay), he still wouldn't have had it any other way.

They stopped at McDonald's on the way home, like he promised, and she was practically buzzing with happiness with the food in her lap. She made him sit in the parking lot and wait until she was done eating so she wouldn't spill anything. And in the dim light of the car, parked under a streetlight and watching her eat her food while she rambled on about the most random things, Spencer didn't think he'd ever felt more content.

He tried to keep her quiet as they made their way up the steps to the third floor of her apartment building. They were going to take the elevator but Y/N insisted it would eat her alive, and he quickly agreed to take the stairs as not to make a scene and wake everyone up with her crying. Her shoes came off again on the second flight of stairs, because she kept tripping and then laughing, pretending to fall back and almost scaring him to death.

Now he was unlocking her apartment door with her shoes in his other hand as she clung to his side. As soon as the door was open, she pushed past him and called out for her cat, Murphy. It didn't take long before the white cat jumped up on the counter to meet her, and she squealed and enveloped him in a crushing hug, picking him up and spinning around to meet Spencer, who was closing the door behind him and setting her shoes on the ground.

"Say hi to Murphy! He loves when you come to visit!"

It was true. Though he never really found himself fond of cats, as soon as he visited Y/N's apartment for the first time Murphy clung to him immediately. It didn't take long for the two of them to become as well acquainted as Y/N had been to either of them. Whenever he came over, Spencer liked to think of them as a small little family.

"Hey, Murph," he said, reaching out to pet the cat's head as he wriggled a little under Y/N's strong clutch.

She dropped him after shoving her face in his fur, and wasted no time taking Spencer's hand. "C'mon, I've got some vodka in the cupboard."

As she dragged him further into the kitchen, he squeezed her hand and tried to pull her to him, away from the cupboard. "Y/N, it's almost one in the morning, you need to go to bed."

She turned to face him and whined. "But it's my birthday, you can't make me."

"Well, technically it isn't your birthday anymore since it's past midnight. So, really, I can make you. Come on."

She whined again as he dragged her along to the bedroom. Once they got inside, he sat her down on the bed and reached out to pull off her party hat, which was lopsided and almost placed on her forehead like a unicorn horn. But when he touched the string, she grabbed his hand.

"I wanna leave it on," she said softly.

"It's not safe, you could choke yourself in your sleep," Spencer countered, brushing her hand away and taking the hat off. As his fingers brushed her cheek, she sighed and closed her eyes, a few seconds before letting out a little giggle.

"That tickled," she laughed as he set the hat on her bedside table.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him, and he started to feel all warm again. "Sorry," he whispered, taking the time to memorize the way she looked right then. The curls in her hair had fallen flat, and her makeup was a little smudged, but the lazy smile on her face and the way she blinked up at him with her big, beautiful eyes would always be worth remembering. He could have stayed in that moment forever, just sitting in that comforting silence.

But alas, she was drunk, and unable to be quiet for more than ten seconds.

Y/N lightly poked him in the chest and laughed. "Hey, d'y'think Murphy ever gets tired?"

"I'm sure he does," was all Spencer said, trying to get her to lay down. She did so as she spoke, rambling on about what she thought her cat might have done when she was away at work. But she stopped talking altogether when Spencer tried to put a blanket over her.

"No," was all she said, kicking her legs up.

"You don't want a blanket?"

"No, I want you to be in the blanket with me."

He thought about it for a second before motioning for her to scoot over. "I'll lay with you for a little while, but you have to promise me you'll go to sleep, okay?"

She giggled triumphantly as he laid down beside her and draped the blanket over their legs. "I told'ya a sleepover would be fun."

Spencer reached out and lightly rubbed her arm, knowing that always got her to fall asleep. "I know you did."

But she didn't close her eyes. She was unusually quiet though, just silently staring at his face before she sharply pulled her arm away. "You're tickling me again."

"I thought you liked when I rub your arm, it helps you sleep," is all he said.

Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled it up to lay between them on the pillow, separating their faces. She placed it palm up and rolled up his sleeves so she could rub his forearm, too. Her touches weren't as light, but she giggled all the same. "Am I tickling you?"

He wanted to tell her the truth, which was that she was not tickling him, and it actually felt really nice. But because it might make her feel better, he lied, and told her, "Yes."

"Good," she laughed, moving her hand faster. Now she was just tracing his forearm with her middle finger like she might rub out a stain on the carpet, and Spencer tried to wiggle his arm away.

"Y/N..."

He didn't say it to be mean or irritated, in fact his voice was level and soothing as not to alarm her at all, but all the same she gasped and immediately pulled her hand away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?"

"No," he reassured, moving a little closer to her. "You didn't hurt me, I'm ok—"

"Let me kiss it and make it feel better," she continued, ignoring him completely. Before he could stop her, she grabbed his arm and brought it to her mouth, pressing gentle lips to the crease of his elbow trough the fabric of his shirt, then moving the tiny kisses along up his arm until she made it to his wrist. She didn't stop there, continuing to kiss the palm of his hand and even along his fingers, right until she reached his fingertips.

He laid there, completely still and mesmerized as she flipped his arm over and worked her way down again, kissing the backside of his hand and keeping her lips pressed to his wrist for approximately four seconds. Then she flipped his arm over again and kissed the palm of his hand once more, repeating her many kisses until she got to his middle finger.

He should have seen it coming.

He was so caught up in the feeling of her lips pressed against his skin that it completely slipped his mind that she was still drunk. So when she wrapped her lips around his middle finger and sucked it into her mouth with a laugh, he pulled his arm away and sighed.

She actually cackled with laughter, slightly flailing her legs under the blanket. "Gotcha!"

"Ha-ha," Spencer deadpanned, wiping his finger on his shirt.

He wasn't really sure what to say once her laughter died down, but once he opened his mouth to suggest they try sleeping, she spoke first.

"Can I have a glass of water?"

He studied her for a moment. "You're not going to try anything funny, are you?"

She laughed, leaning forward and brushing her nose against his for the briefest of seconds before retreating and looking him in the eye. "I wouldn't dream of it."

There was no way he could say no. "Alright. I'll be back in a second."

Spencer got out of the bed and turned to leave, but she leaned forward and grabbed his hand. "Wait! I have to tell you a secret first."

If he stayed and listened to what she had to say, it was probably dangerous territory, because in the movies this was always the moment where there were drunken confessions of things you never wanted to say out loud, right? And he didn't want to do that to her, but realistically she was probably going to say something ridiculous about Murphy. Right?

Nonetheless, Spencer turned around and looked down at Y/N. "What is it?"

She pulled his hand, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. "Come closer. It's a secret."

He leaned down, but she pulled him again. "Closer!"

Finally, he made his way down to her face, turning his head so she could whisper in his ear.

But she didn't. Instead he felt her press a kiss to his cheek, emphasized with a loud smooch-ing sound when she pulled away. He looked down at her to see the biggest smile on her face.

"S'all I wanted to say. You can go now."

He smiled back at her before nodding and leaving the room, his cheek and arm practically burning from where she'd kissed them.

And when he came back with her water, she was fast asleep.

***

More than anything she just wanted the banging to stop. But once she realized it was in her head, and it was there because she'd been drinking all night, her irritability was even worse.

"Fuck," Y/N grumbled as she struggled to open her eyes. When she did open them she found Murphy curled into a ball at the foot of her bed, his white fur a stark contrast to the deep maroon color of her comforter.

The next thing she noticed was the smell of something... burning? But there wasn't any sound to be heard other than the beating of her head, so she had to wonder if maybe somewhere outside there had been some kind of fire. Or maybe she was just imagining it.

She wasn't going to investigate, but then she heard her front door open, and despite the pounding in her head, Y/N sat up straight, almost scared out of her mind. Instinctively she reached beside her, knocking over a pink party hat in the process, and grabbing the baseball bat she kept there in between her bed and the table.

As quietly as she could, Y/N crept through the bedroom until she reached the door, pressing her ear against it to hear anything more. She heard plastic bags rustling around, and though that was fairly innocent in terms of menacing sounds, it still didn't quell the feeling that punched her in the pit of her stomach. Though, to be fair, she was certain a lot of that had to do with the copious amounts of whiskey and other liquor she drank the night before.

She took a deep breath before slowly swinging the door open and taking a few quiet steps into the hallway, just before she had to turn the corner to get into the kitchen. The noise got louder as she approached, and after taking another slow, deep breath, Y/N jumped out and held her bat out in front of her.

"FBI! What Are you doing in my house?"

"Holy shit!"

Spencer was standing in her smoky kitchen, clutching his hand to his chest. "Y/N, it's just me! Put the bat down!"

It clattered to the ground as she sighed out and shook her head. "What the hell, man, you scared the shit out of me!"

"Right back at you! I was just bringing you some breakfast..."

Y/N surveyed the kitchen and found that, sure enough, there were what looked like wrapped sandwiches on the counter. "Why is it all... burn-y in here? What happened?"

Spencer looked around nervously, his hands fumbling at his sides. "I, uh... tried to make you French toast. I know it's your favorite, and I know that greasy food is supposed to help with hangovers, so I tried to make some bacon, too, but it turns out that I really suck at multi-tasking in the kitchen, and I burned it all... So, I went with gas-station breakfast, which I figured was the next best thing."

The way he spoke reminded Y/N of a little kid who got caught doing something they weren't supposed to. He was extremely apologetic, almost in a way that made her think he thought she'd yell at him.

Now she remembered just a little of what happened the night before. She remembered drinking a lot and then Spencer taking her home, but she was so tired and out of it that all the little details weren't clear. Or present at all, really. All she knew when she looked at him in her kitchen right then, was that she'd never been more happy to see anyone while hungover. Especially since that someone happened to be her best friend and brought her breakfast.

She smiled and walked over to him. "That was really sweet of you, thank you."

Spencer looked down at her and smiled. "Sorry about scaring you."

"Eh, don't be. It was a good wake-up call," she laughed. "What would I do without you?"

He reached his hand out and brushed some of the hair from her face, at which she almost melted. "I think I should be asking you that question."

Something came to her mind just then, and she wasn't sure why. But she took the risk anyway, turning her head and kissing the inside of his palm.

"W—what was that for?"

Y/N shrugged. "I don't know. Just felt right."

She didn't know how long they stood there, smiling at each other, but it felt different, like suddenly the air around them had shifted overnight into something palpably electric. And it's that energy that urged her to say something she'd been afraid to say for so long.

"Hey, I uh... I don't know if this is weird timing, and you can say no even though it was my birthday yesterday, don't feel pressured to say yes, but I—"

"Yes."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I don't care," Spencer said simply. "Whatever it is you want, it's yours."

"So, if... If I asked you to dinner tonight—"

"Yes."

Her stomach churned, but this time it had nothing to do with the hangover. The pounding in her head was more of a dull thrum now because the pounding in her heart overpowered it. And it grew even more intense when her best friend took a step closer, placing his hand to the side of her face.

"I wouldn't kiss me right now if I were you," she warned, tilting her head to the side. "Hangover breath is basically a bio-hazard, and you're going to completely rethink going out with me."

Spencer shook his head and leaned in even closer. "I don't care."

As he kissed her, she lost herself in him completely and came to the conclusion that he was the only hangover cure she would ever need.

***

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes

[obkkfkr]

Reasons why Obito "snapped" and didn't return to Konoha but rather worked towards achieving the Infinite Tsukuyomi And why he's a much deeper character than just "he did it for a girl lol";

1. Team Minato were just kids fighting in a war.

Kakashi, Obito and Rin were 12-year olds fighting against adult Jonin level shinobi during the Third War. They were only kids and even the enemies mocked them for being nothing more than cannon fodder.

2. Rin was kidnapped for intel

You may say anything goes in a war but Rin was a medical ninja of Team Minato. Their enemies didn't hesitate before using a Genjutsu on her and possibly planning torture to get anything out of her. She was just a kid.

3. Kakashi's fear of being ostracized like his father

Once Obito heard the story of Sakumo, he finally understood what Kakashi went through and where his fear of abandoning the mission to save a comrade came from. Lives meant nothing for the village high-ups, what mattered was that the mission was completed. To the point Konoha drove one of their strongest shinobi to suicide, calling it a mistake. Obito saw Kakashi wasn't a jerk, after his father's suicide Kakashi purposefully distanced himself and fought his own feelings.

4. There were high expectations of Obito from his clanmates.

The Uchiha were known for their Sharingan and Obito was constantly pressured to not only awaken his Sharingan quickly. He also had to perfect Katon Jutsu of a higher tier to earn the approval of the clan's head.

5. Minato came to their rescue too late.

Although Kakashi was appointed as the team captain during the Kannabi Bridge mission, they all still relied on Minato to come to help them. Kakashi, Rin and Obito were up against too many enemies to deal with. Minato was someone Obito looked up to, so when he didn't come to them on time, Obito was hurt, disappointed or even felt betrayed. He wanted to believe that Minato, as someone who wanted to become the Hokage, would look after his students, comrades and value their life.

6. They never went to retrieve Obito's body.

Obito spent a good half a year in the cave recovering and during this time not once did he get any info that someone from Konoha was searching for him. Sure, Zetsu might keep it a secret, but not getting any news like that hurt.

7. Madara told Obito he was naive.

This one is self-explanatory. But if Obito had any doubts by the time he met Madara, they were certainly fueled further. Obito wanted to stay optimistic but every day he was losing the reasons to hope. Agreeing with Madara later made sense.

8. Rin was kidnapped by Kiri.

Once again, the least dangerous of the Team Minato, the person who trained to heal her teammates, was taken to be used as a ticking bomb. The Sanbi was put inside of her just to sacrifice her later. No one had any regard for human life.

9. Kakashi was the one to go rescue Rin.

I'm not calling him incapable by any means. But once again, we have Kakashi, who isn't even 15 yet, leading a team and eventually going in solo to rescue his teammate. They weren't up against normal Jonin-ranked shinobi but Kiri ANBU.

10. Kiri ANBU fought two kids just trying to get home.

ANBU are professionals, trained to be killing machines. Rin and Kakashi were alone, just trying to get back to Konoha. They didn't infiltrate Kiri to steal anything. They didn't kill anyone on their way out.

It was the culmination of all of those events, that seeing Rin die was the last thing that completely crushed Obito's hope. The entire time he saw all these faults and tried to keep being positive but he had to realise it wouldn't change naturally. He had to change it by force.

It's partially the fault of the anime for focusing on Rin too much. If you compare how many times Obito thinks back to Rin in the manga, it's significantly less.

And to top it all off, let me remind you something Obito said himself but everyone just loves to overlook to keep their stupid narrative of "You let Rin die" being Obito's sole reason to do the things he did.

I'm sick and tired of people claiming Obito started a war and ruined lives because the girl he loved died. If you still think I'm wrong, then just go. Don't even bother responding. I love Obito BECAUSE he's such a deep character. He's the best villain in Naruto for me. Period.

[phoebe-delia]

For the song prompt, let’s hear your track 5 lol

Lmaooo this made me laugh, thank you. I've already done my 13th track and now I get to do Track 5! (If you don't know why Track 5 is significant, it's because Taylor Swift puts her most emotional songs as the 5th song on every album).

My Track 5 is, fittingly, a Taylor song; not only that, it's "gold rush," which makes me happy because 1. it's a great song and 2. I actually wrote a fic based on it for the first EVER Drarry as Taylor fic--before I knew this would become a series. It's from Draco's POV, and it can be read here.

I'm so glad to take another crack at this song. This will serve as a sequel/companion piece to the original, but it can stand on its own. Enjoy.

For the first time in his life, Harry was too excited to sleep.

Unlike Dudley, he hadn't spent Christmas Eves and the hours before his birthdays anticipating presents and sweets. He'd never had anything to look forward to, nothing to keep him up at night in anxious glee.

But now, as he stared up at the ceiling, his new roommates sleeping soundly around him, he found himself able to calm his exhilarated mind enough to rest.

He knew that the red and gold curtains that hung around his bed meant that he was in Gryffindor, and he mentally thanked the magical hat for not sorting him into Slytherin with that Malfoy git.

Irritation rose in his chest at the memory of Malfoy insulting his new friend, Ron. Harry'd decided then that anyone who could look at Ron and decide to be so rude to him must be someone to avoid. He knew a bully when he saw one, and bullies, in his experience, didn't change.

Harry turned onto his side to stare out the window, marveling at the novelty of sleeping somewhere with a view other than cramped, blank walls.

He curled up into the warm blanket, finally letting the exhaustion of the day lull him to sleep.

________

Third-year Charms, Harry decided, wasn't any more interesting than it had been the first two years.

He sat next to Ron, who was watching Hermione take notes with machine-like speed and precision. While the sight of Hermione in action was entertaining for a minute or so, Harry didn't understand why Ron stared at her all the time.

Not for the first time that class, Harry regretted not sitting toward the back of the room. Malfoy was sat next to Parkinson at the table just behind them, and Harry knew it was unwise to turn one's back to one's enemy. It was much more prudent to stare at one's nemesis for as long as possible, using subtlety and stealth to make sure one's observations went undetected.

Ron stared at Hermione almost as much as Harry stared at Malfoy, but surely Ron didn't think their friend was up to something.

Well, unless you called memorizing every comma of Hogwarts: A History nefarious.

“Remember, class, your homework for tomorrow is seven inches on the history of the Summoning Charm. You are dismissed," Flitwick turned to the board, casting a cleaning charm to erase the notes.

Harry was startled out of his reverie by the sudden announcement, as well as by Ron, who nudged him and gestured to Hermione, whose head was still bent over her desk as she wrote furiously.

"How long d'you reckon she'd stay here and write if no one stopped her?" Ron muttered.

Harry let out a short laugh and opened his mouth to respond when he caught sight of Malfoy darting quickly out of the room.

Harry frowned. But before he could voice his pondering over why Malfoy'd all but sprinted from the classroom, Hermione had finally snapped out of her note-taking daze and joined Harry and Ron.

As they walked along the corridor, Ron and Hermione continued to squabble over whether or not they needed to go to the library during their free period.

"But 'Mione, it's called a free period. A period of freedom. Don't you want to be free?"

"I don't want my mind to be enslaved to ignorance, Ronald! Information is freedom."

"Merlin, fine. But I have to go get my textbook from the dorm first. Harry, you coming?"

Harry nodded. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the two of them before giving them a mollified nod. Clutching her books tightly, Hermione turned on her heel and walked briskly toward the library.

"C'mon mate," Ron said, tugging at Harry's sleeve. "Let's take the long way."

Ron prattled on about quidditch, and Harry tried to listen, he really did. But his thoughts drifted inevitably back to Malfoy. He kicked himself again for not choosing a better surveillance point in class; maybe if he'd been watching he'd have seen why Malfoy'd fled class at the end.

He and Ron ventured outside, through the courtyard and into the open area beside the lake. Harry felt a surge of victory and relief at the sight of Malfoy sitting on the bench, his head tilted back with a soft smile as if enjoying the warmth on his face. His hair glittered golden in the sun.

Without thinking, Harry started walking toward him, an animated Ron following along.

“But Harry, they haven’t got a chance! Look, the Cannons--”

Ron stopped talking as Malfoy turned to sneer at them.

“Can I help you?” Malfoy drawled, “Or do you mind taking your boisterous conversation elsewhere? I was here first.”

Ron glared. “Shut up, Malfoy. We didn’t see you, or we wouldn’t have come any closer in case being a prat is contagious.”

Malfoy smirked. “Unlike you, I wasn’t raised in a barn, so I don’t carry diseases. But we snakes do bite, so mind your place, Weaselbee.”

Ron started toward Draco, his fists clenched, but Harry grabbed his arm, despite the rage swelling in his own chest.

“Ron, he’s not worth it. C’mon.” Harry said, eyes narrowed at Malfoy in a clear warning.

Ron gave Malfoy one last glare before he let Harry steer him away from Malfoy, who widened his smirk in satisfaction. They walked away, Ron continuing his rant as they made their way to Gryffindor Tower. Harry looked over his shoulder, catching one more glimpse of Malfoy basking in the sunshine.

________

“P-Potter,” Malfoy gasped, trapped between the bathroom wall as Harry crowded him, his face inches away. “W-what—?”

Harry shook his head, smiling softly. “You heard me, Malfoy.”

“I-I’m not sure I did, actually. Might you repeat it?”

Harry chuckled. “Why don’t I show you instead?”

Harry lifted a warm hand reached up to cup Malfoy’s cheek, leaned in and—

Harry woke with a gasp, sweat beading on his forehead. A hand scrubbed over his face as he wiped the sleep from his eyes and felt his four-poster ground him to reality.

After the last six years, he was no stranger to waking up in the middle of the night from strange dreams, but his subconscious--or rather Voldemort--usually tortured him with disturbing images and nightmare scenarios.

This time, it seems Voldemort had left Harry's subconscious to its own horny, teenaged devices--and it apparently had a twisted sense of humor.

That moment of blind rage in the bathroom haunted Harry enough during the day that he wasn't surprised that it would make its way into his dreams--but his chest hurt with the knowledge that perhaps it might've gone differently. Might've ended in whispered apologies, explanations, and soft, exploring kisses.

But if Malfoy hadn't hated him before, he certainly did now, and Harry couldn't blame him.

Harry knew a bully when he saw one, and during that moment, he couldn't pretend it had been Malfoy.

He raised a hand to the scar on his forehead and wondered when he'd changed.

________

“Draco Malfoy, you are hereby sentenced to three months house arrest, followed by one year of probation,” Kingsley banged the gavel, the sound reverberating in the large room before chatter rose from the avid audience.

Harry watched with a small smile as Malfoy and his mother sat together, their cool masks wavering with emotion for just a second before shifting back into place.

He decided to give them a moment before approaching Malfoy, but if he didn't get this over with now, he'd never have the courage.

Suddenly, Malfoy rose on shaking legs and walked over to Harry, who quickly stood to meet him in the middle. Harry regarded him with a tight-lipped smile.

Malfoy tipped his head slightly. “Thank you, Potter.”

Harry nodded. “Sure, Malfoy.”

Malfoy nodded before turning away, stopping when Harry, acting on impulse, reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Wait, Malfoy. I have something for you.”

Malfoy looked at him in confusion as Harry reached into his pocket and handed him his wand, stifling a chuckle when Malfoy’s eye widened.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it,” Harry said, his voice quiet.

Malfoy nodded again. He took the wand from Harry’s hand, closing his eyes. Harry let in a sharp breath at the sight of a soft smile on Malfoy's lips as he reunited with his wand. The image was more compelling than Harry imagined, as evidenced by the butterflies that filled his stomach.

Harry cleared his throat. “Well, er, I’ll see you around, Malfoy,” he said, nodding one final time before turning to leave.

He smiled as he heard Malfoy's quiet, "Goodbye, Potter," as he walked away.

________

Harry pressed his lips together in a grimaced smile as a few younger students gathered near him at the table in the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione shot him sympathetic looks, and he gave them an apologetic shrug before turning to sign another autograph for a wide-eyed first year.

If this would be an indication of what his eighth year would be, Harry wasn't sure how much longer he'd last.

After promises to fulfill the fans' requests later, the giggling group left the table to let him eat in relative peace--it was rather hard to enjoy one's dinner while half the school was staring at you.

His eyes flickered to the Slytherin table, where the students ate mechanically, their faces blank. Malfoy, who'd sent surprisingly genuine apology letters over the summer, looked thoughtful; not calculating or analyzing, but pensive.

Lying in bed that evening, Harry remembered the image of Malfoy at the Black Lake with his head tipped back in the sunlight. He thought of the rare smile Malfoy'd had when he held his wand for the first time after his trial, and the feeling that had bubbled up in his own chest at the sight.

Harry looked out the window at the night sky and wondered if happiness would be a constant thrum under his skin, or if it could be found in stolen moments tucked into his heart. The stars glittered in silent answer, shining with anticipation.

[xxcyj]

Comfort 2.0

Comfort pt 2 is finally here! I hope you guys like it. Honestly this was kinda hard for me to write lol Anyway requests are open so feel free to request anything~ Masterlist << right here 

Part 1

Genre: Fluff Word count: 2.7k Summary: Confession time 

The sun rise was truly beautiful, you wondered why you never watched it before. You made a mental note to watch it another time. Maybe after a full night’s rest? This was your first time watching the sun rise and it was all Choi Yeonjun’s fault. You were tossing and turning the entire night and barely slept a wink of sleep; finally giving up at 5 am and just sitting at your desk and busied yourself by browsing the net. 

It had been like this recently as Yeonjun seemed to occupy your mind. Absolutely making it hard for you to concentrate during your classes and assessments. You were praying to any gods out there that this torture would end before your exams started. Studying was already difficult as it was.

Your thoughts were interrupted with a good morning text from yours truly, Yeonjun. In the past, you never really thought much of it. Yeonjun and you would just text each other good morning to annoy each other to see who was awake first or to remind the other person that it was the morning if they had been pulling an all nighter.

Good morning munchkin~

Normally, you didn’t pay mind to whatever cute and cheesy nickname Yeonjun had thought of that morning as he only used them because he was a major flirt. However, this morning, you found your heart skip a beat and flutter. You tried your best to shrug it off and rolled your eyes while writing your reply.

‘Morning junnie 

You set your phone down only to hear a familiar ping go off as you were about to roll back into bed.

We’re gonna be in the recording studio today~ wanna come?

A blush spread onto your cheeks as you read the invitation. It really wasn’t a big deal, Yeonjun often invited you to their recording sessions as you found the whole process fascinating. So why were you blushing a like a fool as you stared at the message on the screen. You found that your thumbs hovered over the keyboard as you hesitated answering the question. 

Yeah sure, when?

Good enough. Yup.

12! We can hang out before my session  [ attached selfie ] See you there munchkin!!

Dammit. He just had to add that selfie. It was a little obvious he had just woken up as his face was still swollen and his hair was a mess, poking out in multiple directions. However, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking how incredibly handsome he looked. There goes your heart again, skipping another beat like it’s playing jump rope or something. Placing your phone on your desk, you walked over to your bed before burying your face into your pillow. 

“Why did my feelings decide it was a good idea to catch feelings for my best friend” You muttered into the pillow as you let out a frustrated scream before turning around to look at your phone that rested on your desk.

It had been about two weeks since that walk to the bus stop. And you had been acting like a fool in those two weeks, getting flustered easily while trying your best to seem like everything was normal. You had talked to some of your friends about it and they all suggested to confess along with saying that it was time you finally realised you had feelings for him. 

The thought of confessing did occur to your but you backed out and just planned on letting the crush fade. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship with Yeonjun, the thought of everything going down the drain because of a simple confession made your insides churn. Not that Yeonjun would be a jerk about it but you knew it would probably make everything awkward. You knew Yeonjun and knew that he would try his best to let you down easy and pretend nothing happened but that would just make everything worse. 

Your thoughts swirled into a mush as your eyes finally felt droopy as you were thankful for finally being able to sleep.

You opened your eyes to the sound of your ringtone. What? Still a little froggy, you walk over to your phone and answer without looking at the caller ID.

“Y/N? Are you still coming?” Yeonjun’s voice startled you as you take the phone from your ear and check the time. 12:25. 

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I fell asleep.” You reply back put your phone on speaker and start scurrying off to the bathroom to get ready.

“It’s alright. Taehyun’s in the recording booth first so I’ve got sometime to kill. Wanna get some food?” You tried your best to listen to him but the running water drowned out most of what he was saying. 

“Ummm yea sounds good! Text me the details.” You call out as you finish washing your face and start brushing your teeth. Hurriedly, you finished brushing your teeth and wiped your face with the towel from the rack. “I haven’t had breakfast.”

“Perfect! Ok, I’ll text you the address of the cafe. How long do you think you’ll be?” He asked, you stood there not having single idea. Usually in situations like this you would just throw on a pair of leggings and a hoodie with a bare face before calling it a day and leaving. 

But here you stood in front of the mirror suddenly feeling a little self conscious.

“Y/N?”

“Oh, give me twenty minutes! I’m so sorry!” You profusely apologised as he just chuckled and assured you it was fine. 

“Alright see you soon Y/N” Yeonjun said before ending the call. You quickly rushed over to your closet and examined it before nodding to a skirt and a long sleeve shirt. As for makeup, you didn’t have much time so you only put on bb cream, eye shadow, lip stick and brows. Looking at yourself one last time in the mirror, you decided to just leave your hair down before calling for a taxi.

Yeonjun sat at the corner of the cafe dressed in a grey shirt with a green flannel and a pair of black jeans. Although he was wearing a mask, you could tell it was him by the hat you had bought him a few months back. Subconsciously, you fixed your hair before walking up to the table where he sat. 

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late. I’ll buy your drink to make it up to you.” You said, catching his attention. He looked up at you, even with his mask you could tell he was smiling by his eyes. 

“It’s alright but we should get the drinks to go and just have them at the studio.” Yeonjun said as you both walked to the counter.

“I’ll have a caramel macchiato and a salmon beagle please.” You spoke to the cashier before asking Yeonjun what he wanted.

“I’ll just have an iced americano please” Yeonjun answered before taking out his card to hand to the cashier.  

“Wait no, sorry I’ll be paying.” You interrupted and pulled out your card. However, Yeonjun just shook his head and pushed your hand out of the way before giving his card to the cashier and typing his pin on the machine. 

As you both walked off to the side to wait, you stared at him until he finally looked at you.

“What?” He said leaning in and lightly tapping your forehead. “You didn’t think I was gonna make you pay did you?” 

“Yeonjun, I said I was gonna pay for you to make up for me being late.” You pouted and put your hands on your hips. Instead of intimidating him, this only made him chuckle and ruffle your hair, making your heart beat faster. Please don’t be blushing, you chanted in your head. 

“It’s ok, you can make it up by buying dinner tonight.” Yeonjun cheerfully said. 

“Actually, I can’t have dinner with you tonight. I have plans.” You reply as you thought about school. You had a group project due at midnight and still had a little bit to do until you were finished. Yeah, you had to admit you were a little slack on this group project and honestly you didn’t have a good enough excuse. It’s ok though, you were all getting graded individually so your group mates’ marks won’t suffer due to your poor time management. “But next time for sure.”

He gave you a strange look and just as Yeonjun was about to speak, your orders were called up. You both collected your items and started to head towards the Big Hit building. The two of you walked in silence as you munched on your beagle. You stole glances here and there at the man walking beside you.

“What is it?” Yeonjun finally asked as you reached the building and made your way up to the studio. He finally took his mask off and sighed before putting the mask into his bag. A little flustered by his question and not wanting to say it was because he looked handsome even with a mask on, you thought for a second before giving him an uneasy smile. 

“Just feel bad about being late and having you pay for my things you know.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He replies back with a smile before leading the way into the studio. You politely said hello to the producers and sound engineers before sitting on the couch. Taehyun was just wrapping up for today’s recording as you gave him a little wave.

“What are you doing tonight anyway?” Yeonjun asked as he skimmed past his lines. Not wanting him to scold you for your academic habits, you avoided his eyes as you answered. “Oh, just you know, meeting up with a friend.”

Yeonjun looked at you and seemed to be biting back a reply as he left to go into the recording booth. Taehyun said a polite hello and goodbye as he left to go off to the practice room. You sat on the couch sipping on your drink as you watched Yeonjun do some sound checks.

You couldn’t help but admire how passionate he looked when he was recording. The way he would carefully listen to the producers feedback and write little notes on his lyric sheet. The way he would smile and cheer a little when he got something right. Everything about him looked so admirable, making you realise you how much you respected him and his dedication to his dream. 

Your phone vibrated on the table and you were quick to check it as to not disturb anything. The caller ID read your groupmate’s name making you let out a silent curse before excusing yourself from the room.

“Hey what’s up?” You tried your best to answer.

“Y/N are you finished?” She sounded a little impatient through the phone, making you feel even more guilty.

“Almost. Just the final finishing touches. I’ll have to done by tonight, don’t worry.” You tried to reassure her.

“Ok, but I need it by 9 so I can check it before I send the manuscript for the presentation to the professor.”

“Yup. You bet, it’ll be sent by 9.” You replied back before you heard her sigh and hang up. You let out a sigh of relief before entering the room again. Your eyes met Yeonjun’s as he raised a brow at you as if to ask what you were up to. You gestured to you phone and just gave him a thumbs up with a smile before continuing to listen to him record again.

“Who were you on the phone with?” Yeonjun asked as he exited the recording booth. Not wanting him to find out it was your group mate as he would surely ask what it was about, you just replied with “Oh, just my friend.”

The two of you were walking along the hallway when you took a peak at the clock, reading 3:45. Shoot. You really didn’t have time to hang out with Yeonjun any longer, your presentation was begging you to finish it.

“The same friend you’re having dinner with tonight?” You stared at him as his voice sounded with something that you couldn’t pin point. He stared back at you as well as he leaned against the wall. 

“Uh, yes. Actually I have to go right now, I promised them I’d get there around 5.” You gave him a sheepish smile and was about to press the button for the elevator and wave goodbye when he spoke up.

“Are you going on a date?” The question flustered you. 

“What? What makes you say that?” You asked as you stood there trying to read his face. 

“Well, you’re all dressed up with makeup and everything. And you’re leaving so early.” He walked closer to you and suddenly you were very aware of how small you were compared to him. 

“Am I not allowed to dress nicely? I just wanted to look good today.” You simply stated feeling your heart pounding in your chest as you crossed your arms across your chest. 

“Sure sounds like you’re trying to impress someone, that could only indicate a date. You never dress this nicely just to meet up with a ‘friend’” A rush of confidence hit you as he spoke. Something about him staring at you with heat woke something in you.

“So what if I was going on a date? Anyway, look it’s not a date ok?” You challenged as you carefully watched his expression. You waited for an answer but nothing came, it was as if he was trying to find a response. “Yeonjun, I really need to go.”

“Then why is your outfit so cute and your makeup so good? You never try to dress up when you’re with me.” He finally replied, sounding a little...disappointed? His lips were slightly pouted and you didn’t know if you were seeing things but was that wistfulness in his eyes?

You looked down and played with the hem of your skirt before meeting his eyes once again. Seeing him like this made your heart ache slightly. Letting out a sigh, you mentally shook yourself. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t just let this crush fade. 

“Yeonjun, the only reason I dressed up today was because I was coming to see you. I’m not meeting up with a friend at all, I’m leaving early to finish up some school work.” He looked a little surprise by your answer. 

“Dressed up for me? But why?” You found it adorable watching him look like the confused pikachu meme. 

“Yes you. I-” Here it goes. Now or never. “I like you.” You turn around and quickly hit the elevator button, thanking the gods out there when it opened. “I need to go.” And with that you hopped in the elevator button, regretting setting in rather quickly. 

You had ruined it. You just ruined your friendship with him. Great. Wonderful. You were too deep in thought that you realised that the elevator hadn’t moved. Dammit you forgot to press the button for Ground floor. Looking up, you noticed Yeonjun’s body at the door frame of the elevator thus preventing the doors to close.

As you were about to ask him what the hell he was doing, he stepped forward to cup your face and let his lips meet yours as your eyes widen in shock before closing as you melted into the kiss. The kiss was the type to make your knees feel like jelly as it was deep and almost hungry. Just as you thought he was about to pull away, he held you closer as he slightly bit onto your bottom lip before sucking on it. Your mouth opens a little to gasp as his tongue made its way into your mouth making you stumble back a little. Your hand held onto his shoulders in order to stand up as you felt your legs wobbly a little. His kisses began to trail on your neck before they made their way to your ear. He nibbled on them a little before he stopped, his ragged breath sending shivers through out your body. 

“Good, because I like you as well.” He whispered into you ear before pulling away. Your eyes met you and you watched him smile as he kissed your lips once again, this time it felt soft and innocent. As he pulled away, a shy smile graced your face as he stared at you with such adoration. 

“You’re so cute.”

[twoidiotwriters1]

Iron 3 (Peter Parker x F!Oc)

Words: 1,756

Masterlist

Chapter 2  / Chapter 4

Tony Stark's trip to showcase the new Jericho missile is a success with the military, but when soldiers take him back, they’re intercepted and the billionaire is kidnapped.

Both Lily and Pepper find out by watching television. The call from Colonel James Rhodes confirms their fears. Although the information isn’t much, the important thing is that they’re doing everything to find him.

Pepper Potts concentrates on everything she has to do for the company without her boss. Working for Tony for so many years has formed a special connection, even if it is not the conventional one. Sometimes thoughts of possible horrible scenarios come to her mind, but she pushes them away.

Something she can be thankful for is the company of little Lily, who also can't help but worry about the man. He may not have been kind, but no one deserves to be tortured.

The tension remains for three long months, the wait for news from Tony along with the paternity results in the envelope which has not been opened. Nobody knows what to do in a situation like this.

Rhodes keeps searching for his best friend with the help of the army. Pepper and Happy take care of the little girl. The relationship between Tony and Lily's small circle has been strengthened in all this time, even Rhodey receives some calls from her asking if he’s okay and if he has found Tony. Regardless of the test results, they would protect Lily.

At the end of the three months, the new news give everyone a great respite. Tony Stark is alive and returns home.

Although Lily wants to meet Tony along with Pepper and Happy, they won't let her. Surely there would be a lot of reporters and they’d ask a lot of questions if they see the girl.

For those cases, Pepper had already arranged a babysitter. A difficult task, but she managed to find a twenty year old girl, she has no idea who the girl is, nor who hired her. The contact was a Stark Industries worker. With that problem solved, they both wait in Pepper's apartment.

Jessica the babysitter isn't so bad, Lily thinks. The only bad thing is that she spends a lot of time on her phone.

Lily searches all the channels for any news about Tony and finds one where they’re broadcasting a press conference with him eating a hamburger.

"That man must be crazy," Jessica says from the couch.

"Why?"

“He just said that he will no longer make weapons. His company produces the most. He’ll run out of money,” She explains.

Lily frowns.

Why would Tony stop producing what makes so much money?

***

"Did you think I wasn't going to find out about the girl, Tony?"

“Obie…”

Obadiah Stane raises his hand to interrupt him.

"It hurts me that you don't trust me.”

Tony sighs.

"I didn't have much time to explain everything to you and after my obligatory vacation, I couldn't do it.”

"Is she yours or not?"

“I don't know, I haven't seen the results. But, I don't think you called me for this,” Tony tries to deflect that topic as soon as possible. He can't handle this now.

They walk through Stark Industries until they reach the room where the Arc Reactor is. They argue about the actions of the company and how it affects Tony's decision. He tries to show Stane another form of energy, but in the end he fails to do much.

Happy waits for him in the limousine to take him back to the house. Tony gets in the car.

"Sir, Lily asked me to give you this," says Happy, handing him a folded paper. "She's already at your house," He informs and starts the car.

Tony unfolds the paper, finding a drawing made with colored crayons. A big house, the sea behind and three people standing in front. The names Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper are written under each person in crooked letters. The man can't help but smile, but what he’s really surprised about is seeing the fourth person in the air with outstretched arms. It's him with a big smile and the words 'I'm alive' next to him. He doesn’t know whether to feel fear at those words or simply laugh at the idea.

The truth is that during his experience in Afghanistan, he did think about her. How his life would be if the test was positive. If he’d manage to get out of that situation and return to have a family. Images from his childhood, everything he lived with his parents came to his mind.

Howard Stark was not the best father in the world. Tony doesn't remember loving or encouraging words from him, no matter how hard he tries. He discussed this with his assistant and his friend Yinsen, who was very helpful in giving real advice, but even so, he still doesn't believe that he’s capable of raising a girl. He doesn't have a clue how to do it.

“Sir," Happy interrupts his thoughts. “We’re home.”

***

"You're good?”

“Yes."

"You don't look good.”

"Well, I am," Tony answers, arranging some things in his workshop.

"Did you like my drawing?"

"It could be better.”

Lily frowns. It’s not the answer she expected. Maybe that means he wants more drawings, to see how much I can improve, she thinks.

“Okay.”

Tony takes off his shirt and leans back on a table. He connects several cables to his body. Lily looks at him curiously and notices the circle in the center of his chest.

"What is that?”

"You wouldn’t understand.”

"Doesn't it hurt?"

“No."

"How does it work?"

“You wouldn’t understand-"

“Try me,” She cuts him off. She’s sick of that answer. Tony sighs.

"This little wheel of light,” He touches it. “It's what keeps me alive, it works so that the shrapnel doesn’t reach my heart.”

"What is shrapnel?"

"Fragments of a missile that tried to kill me.”

She nods.

"And what are you going to do now?"

“Update it. Jarvis, call Miss Potts.”

"Can I ask another question?"

"You already did.”

"I'll ask another question," She informs. Tony brings his lips together to avoid a smile.

“Okay."

“Your dad was also an inventor. Did he answer all your questions?"

Tony frowns. He could never ask so many questions to his father. Howard kept him as far away as possible, but he had other teachers or he did research himself.

Pepper's arrival interrupts them. Her steps are nervous, she thought that finally her boss would want to know the result of the paternity test, but seeing that he needs her for something else, she leaves the envelope on a table.

The man explains what she has to do to replace the reactor in his heart with a better one. Lily looks amused as Pepper panics and Tony tries to relax her, but it only upsets her further.

"It's like the game ‘operating'."

"What is that?" asks Pepper scared.

"I know what it is, can I try it?"

"No!" The two adults answer. She makes a face.

When the machines sound faster on alert, Lily freaks out and looks around for something she can help out with, but she doesn't know what all of Tony's toys work for. But Pepper manages to solve it in time and everything ends.

“You're better?" She asks approaching again.

“Yes, Kid. Back off,” He answers, pulling her away a bit.

Pepper wipes her hands. Tony explains what she has to do with the old reactor, she nods, but after she clears her throat.

"We have a pending issue,” Tony turns to see them. Pepper points to the girl.

���Right," He sighs. "Just tell me if she's mine or not.”

"Don't you want to see the papers?"

Tony sits on a bench and looks at Lily.

“No."

Pepper opens the envelope carefully. Reads every detail and sighs in relief. She smiles and looks up at her boss.

“Lily's your daughter, sir.”

Tony doesn't take his eyes off the girl.

“Fine."

Pepper notices the tension between them.

"Just fine?"

"Yes, that's it,” Now he stares at the redhead. "Thank you, Miss Potts.”

The redhead nods unsure and leaves the workshop.

Tony makes a face and returns to the girl.

"You got scared?" He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“What did you think?"

"I don't want to lose my dad so soon,” She cocks her head. "I just found him.”

"I should take you to an orphanage.”

“You'll do it?"

“You’d be better with someone else.”

"But I don't want to be an orphan.”

“Nobody wants to be. I am.”

"Is that why you're always sad?"

He opens his mouth thinking of an attack, but he decides to avoid it.

“This is a bad idea. Being my daughter, I don't recommend it.”

“Well, not that I have a choice. My mom is no longer at home and…” She sighs. "I don't think she wants me back.”

Tony puts his hands to his face and groans.

“Fine," He gets up and looks around. "I have other things to do. Pepper will handle the paperwork."

“Can I help?"

Tony walks to a desk and touches the surface. Holograms of plans and folders are projected in front of him. Lily approaches the desk, Tony looks at her from the corner of his eye, maybe he can admit that it is nice to have someone who’s easily impressed.

He and Jarvis talk about a secret project, outside of any Stark Industries business.

"I don't want this to fall into the wrong hands.”

"What about mine?" Lily asks. She raises both hands showing him her palms.

He sighs.

“They're still wrong, but,” He cocks his head. “I guess you're a Stark now. That's enough,” He crouches down to her level. "You can’t tell anyone about this.”

"Not even Happy?"

“I'll take care of Pepper, Happy and Rhodes. This shouldn't get out of here unless I say so. Okay?" He offers his hand.

“Deal," They shake hands. “Can I help?"

"Only if you follow my rules.”

"Which are?"

“Don't get in the way. Do exactly what I tell you and don't ask so many questions.”

She frowns at the last rule.

"I can't help it, how can I help you if I don't know what to do?"

He rolls his eyes.

"Fine, we’ll have a limit of questions.”

“Fine," She answers in a deep voice, imitating his. She smiles looking at him, but she stops when he doesn't.

"This will be more complicated than I thought.”

Taglist

If your username is crossed out it’s because Tumblr didn’t let me tag you, sorry. If you want to be removed from the taglist, you can tell us, we also make mistakes, lol

@stardusthigh​   @sarcasticallywitty15​​ @silenthappyplace​​ @yourbonesareinmybody​​  @aylauwuuniverse @tyb1​​ @skittles-skittles​​ @hufflepuffzutara​​   @poetryislife0715

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Something Held | Feeding Habits Update #8

Hi all!

Not me not realizing it’s been 3 months since I posted a Feeding Habits update hahahahahaha. Today let’s chat chapter nine, SOMETHING HELD. This also marks the last chapter in Harrison’s POV so prepare to say goodbye to this icon!  TW: body horror, mental illness, trauma

Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.

Scene outline, excerpts & a little reflection on making difficult decisions that my not particularly benefit the book but benefit you as the writer under the cut because this update is GIGANTIC.

General taglist (please ask to be added or removed):

@if-one-of-us-falls, @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @shylawrites, @ev–writes, @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories @eowynandfaramir, @august-iswriting​, @aetherwrites​

Scene Breakdown

Scene A:

It has been two weeks since Lonan found Harrison at his shared apartment with Suzanna and things are getting strange. Lonan and Suz are getting closer, Harrison is getting more distant and slowly losing it. One morning, Harrison wakes hearing Lonan and Suz’s laughter, and crawls to the kitchen to investigate. When he reaches them, Suz is evening out Lonan’s hacked haircut and they’re both sobbing.

Scene B:

Shortly after this bizarre encounter, Suzanna steps out of the apartment for a breather because her son is sort of terrifying her! So Lonan and Harrison double-team to clean up Lonan’s hair shavings. Harrison begins eating the hair while Lonan stares and they have a conversation about the state of their friendship.

Scene Ba:

This scene is gross and confusing! More hair is ingested. My god.

Scene Bb:

After the above ordeal, both boys rinse off because they’ve been rolling?? around?? in??? hair?? but also?? things don’t stop being a little gross

Scene C:

An air of calm finally settles over the apartment. Lonan brews earl grey tea for him and Harrison to share and Harrison asks if he abandoned Lonan in the final chapter of Moth Work. Lonan doesn’t really answer this question so Harrison continues on his confused, but finally lucid (one-sided) conversation, admitting he understands he burdens his mother, who still has not returned. They circle back to the question of abandonment and Lonan answers Harrison the way he wants to be answered (yes), and this is a moment of freeing, where he feels some sort of responsibility in this irresponsible new life he’s led in NYC. They sort of agree to be friends again.

Scene D:

The boys head into the city to find Suzanna, heading to a bakery near the Hudson River. Lonan drives in his used car, a strange experience since Harrison has not seen him drive in years. Taking the opportunity, he searches through the car and finds a map in the glove compartment. The map is erratically scribbled over and it takes him to moment to realize this is Lonan’s map and the first indication that Lonan, who he has assumed is this stable, perfect person, is not as unscathed as he seems.

The boys pass the waterfront and Lonan nearly crashes the car into an oncoming truck. Harrison regains control of the vehicle tucking them into a side street. Shaken, Lonan apologizes for the mess he’s created both physically from his nosebleed and between Harrison and his mother, which gets Harrison a little antsy because he doesn’t like the suggestion that he’s going to leave. Lonan clarifies, stating he won’t if that’s what Harrison wants.

Scene E:

Later, everyone is back at home and Harrison wakes up to a Lonan-less bed. He gets up to investigate the strange dripping coming from the bathroom and opens the door to find Lonan precariously teetering over a sink filled with water. Harrison, concerned, moves him away and tries to ask why Lonan is presumably going underwater, but doesn’t push. They both stand on opposite sides of the bathroom until the sun rises.

My process:

Honestly, writing this chapter was a huge up and down. The first half of it came much easier to me, but the rest was a literal hellfire to get through. I think I was incredibly fatigued with writing in Harrison’s POV as I’d been writing it since June (I finished this chapter in either December or January). This book has been a pain in the ass to write despite me liking what it is, and I really think it being the only place I’ve physically “gone” since the pandemic makes it even harder to write. I felt claustrophobic in Harrison’s POV since I’ve been writing it for half a year, and in a lil ~breakdown~ my beautiful sister reminded me of something she’d previously told me, “it's not about what works, it's about what you want”.

Let’s chat about this for a sec! I think I was watching a Harmony Nice video on her “hard-to-swallow” self-care, and she basically outline (I’m paraphrasing here) that it’s critical we care for ourselves in ways that might not necessarily be easy to do. Honestly, leaving Harrison’s POV is one of those hard-to-swallow self-care things I literally had to do because my mental health was not happy with me! Y’all know my boys are very close to me, and I’m not picking favourites but Lonan is 2500 times easier for me to write with at the moment. I think Harrison’s situation and how he deals with it is much too similar to mine but in a way that is difficult to place (Lonan and I are unfortunately similar but in a way that is easier for me to understand about myself!). From the beginning of writing his POV I’ve been in Struggleville, but kept pushing through hoping the next chapter would be “the one”. Not to burst my own bubble but there is no such thing in the state of mind I was in! I was pushing myself to find something that doesn’t exist because my brain was really not equipped to do what I needed it to do. I really, really did not want to quit on Harrison’s POV, but I had to, not because I don’t like him (he’s my baby) but because I needed a moment to myself. I felt way too seen in ways I don’t really know how to address in myself, so writing him was horribly frustrating at all times (my fault, not his).

My characters really do live in my head rent-free lol. They live in there! They take up space! They take up energy! They take up concentration, and resources I need for myself! Empathy is so integral to my process, that I give a little part of myself in everything I write. This is a blessing because I really get to dig my heels into the mind of another person, but a curse because I’m not a machine (and sometimes I forget that). It is a lot of emotional energy and labour to give everything you have to fictional people. I don’t think an artist needs to be tortured to create good art (this is not it!) but I never truly practiced this well? In my attempt to be empathetic, I was torturing myself a little bit, not going to lie!

So to combat this, I decided I needed a change. Hence, this chapter is imperfect and probably needs some stuff added to it, and while I’ve only written little of Lonan’s second POV, I’m feeling a lot better! It’s nice to get “outside” in a different place lmao this is so sad (pandemic writing things).

Excerpts:

I wrote the beginning of this in a livestream I hosted on my YouTube channel! There’s also a shoutout here to my dragon tree Lisa <3 miss u boo

Two weeks go by. Lonan sleeps on the couch. Harrison wakes up at dawn—no earlier, no later. Suzanna buys a plant: a Madagascar dragon tree she names Lisa. June grows into the collar. Lonan plays sudoku in the newspaper. Harrison learns to bake focaccia, gluten-free, whole wheat. Suzanna learns to palm read, tells Lonan he’s experienced great betrayal (they stop the reading immediately; Lonan goes back to the newspapers). Harrison begins burning incense at sunrise—frankincense. The dragon tree nearly dies (Lonan saves it). It rains every weekday that contains the letter T. Lonan shifts stacks of soggy newspapers onto the breakfast table, answers crosswords with the help of Suzanna (four across, nine letters, Something held). Harrison burns a baguette. Suzanna buys a hanging basket of pothos. The power goes out for two days and the icebox floods the kitchen tile (Lonan mops it with old newspapers, the ink running like jellyfish). June barks for the first time. Harrison eats a bundle of dried bay leaves. Suzanna waters the plants with rainwater, icewater, wrung into a coffee tin. Harrison leaves the stove on while sautéing shallots (he eats them whole). Lonan wakes up feverish and fills out four newspaper crosswords, then falls asleep on the coffee table. Suzanna moulds panna cotta in coffee mugs and shares the batch with Lonan when they won’t tip out. Lonan teaches her how to propagate the pothos and soon they have twenty empty cans of cuttings poking from the windowsills. They rearrange the furniture, the couch facing the kitchen instead of the TV, the dining table right outside the bathroom, then put it all back the next day. They birdwatch from the tiny window with binoculars and a magnifying glass. They sort coupons. Whittle soaps. Watch Norwegian films without the subtitles. Discuss cliff diving. Make matching anklets (blue beads, elastic string, the plastic clacking how Harrison knows they’re coming). All of this they do as Harrison lies on his bed for two weeks, counting the corners of his ceiling and trying to determine a way to multiply them telepathically.

This is the very next paragraph!

At first he assumes they’re laughing. The sun nearly rising between other high rises, blotting his room with dawn. This is not a surprise. They are probably making pancakes out of buckwheat and discussing the hilarity of whole grains. They are probably laughing at store-bought cherry preserves. Too sour. Their cheeks puckered. But then the laughs get louder, and the sun rises higher and it’s not laughing at all, but gasping.

Here’s Harrison crawling!! is this straight out of the exorcist probably!

Harrison’s instinct is to crawl. As if his smallness against the ground will stop anyone from hearing him, even before he unlocks his door. On hands and knees he shuffles from his bed to his doorframe, edges the door open with his shoulder. On hands and knees he hikes through the hallway, the gasping getting louder, shuffling until he sees them. Lonan sitting on one of the kitchen stools, a grocery bag wound around his throat. Suzanna clacking scissors in two hands so their blades ping in the sun. Her fingers loped around his hair, knuckle-deep, the blades snipping, the gasps growing, them both sobbing, the hair falling, the sun stalking, their bodies rocking. Harrison takes it in from his crawl. Experiences it all on his knees.

So this excerpt seems really you know, normal:

They clean up the hair. Harrison with the dustpan, Lonan with the broom. Harrison still kneels. Lonan still cries. The only thing that has changed since crawling into the kitchen is that Suzanna is taking a walk around the apartment complex. She needs air. Room. If she cries long enough, a cigarette. So Lonan sweeps. Harrison collects. This repeats.

The kitchen smells of nutmeg. Freshly grated from a whole club over espresso, Harrison imagines. He smells this as he tracks Lonan with the dustpan, hovering its open belly for clippings of hair. And Lonan is so compliant, brushes cuttings of himself onto the plastic surface so Harrison can trash it. As Harrison looks on from his knees, Lonan diffuses in sunlight, the window illuminating only his edges. A body so familiar Harrison knows exactly where it flares with light or absorbs it. A body with skin like mulberry silk. A body he could recreate in charcoal with his eyes closed. His archangel translucent and luminescing.

Skip this excerpt if you don’t want to read about Harrison eating hair!! i’m sorry!

Harrison picks a bundle of fallen hair from the dustpan. It’s airy from being recently shampooed, smells faintly of pear, maybe even ginger. This hair, touched by a woman, or a few women, and cut by one, or a few, in different contexts. Eliza’s hands deveining the roots, and then Suzanna’s, trying to fix them. So Harrison eats it. That bundle like a toothpicked cube of cheese. He puts it in his mouth and swallows.

Lonan watches like he’s unconcerned. He watches this feral animal—Harrison must be something feral, starved of something and ravaged by that hunger. Chewing mouthfuls of hair like that will quell of him of what is missing, if there even is anything missing, something unidentifiable in this bland circuit of New York City, this time-loop of sonhood, this fresh start a dousing of flatness. As Harrison eats, he understands he consumes that something like it’s holy communion, reuniting with that something by absorbing it. And still, that hunger moves him, from finishing the dustpan of hair, and closer to Lonan.

“Do you think I’m a bad friend?” Harrison asks, wringing the corner of his lips clean from loose hairs. From this perspective, Harrison on his knees collecting hair, Lonan’s eyes look bluer. Maybe their saturation has nothing to do with the angle, but Harrison feels this is true; his eyes are so crystalline, they are temptingly edible. Like two plump blueberries. Or a matching set of clear glass marbles. Harrison swallows. He repeats, “Do you think I’m a bad friend?”

Lonan swallows, adjusts his grip on the broom. “We’d have to be friends for me to answer that.”

“Aren’t we?”

And here’s the rest of this scene!

“You’re my mother’s friend,” Harrison says. “She trusts you.” He crawls closer to Lonan. “You’ve got secrets. Rituals. Tell me her favourite finger-food and who she wants to marry.”

“I don’t know your mother that well.”

Harrison wraps a handle around Lonan’s ankle. A muscle there jumps like a dolphin breaching the water. He’s memorized this plane of skin, could rebuild it from single grains of sand while blindfolded. He furls his hands across its surface, unfurls.

“You garden with her,” Harrison says. “You share a plate for dessert.”

“She’s kind to me.”

“You cook her breakfast.” Harrison tugs on Lonan’s ankle, knowing it won’t raze him, knowing he’ll come down anyway. “You know the exact temperature she drinks her coffee down to the last digit.”

“I’m trying to be hospitable.”

“You’re trying to be a son.”

Lonan kneels. Crouching so they’re huddled over each other, so it’s nearly impossible to distinguish one body from the other, which one sinks, which one rises.

“My mother’s only got one son to live with,” Harrison says, his voice thin from a clogged throat. He reaches for Lonan’s scalp, scrapes a line down the centre, now an even plane of cropped hair. “And it isn’t me.”

“You’re unstable,” Lonan says, burrowing his face either into a cabinet or Harrison’s shoulder—neither can tell. “You won’t let yourself have friends.”

Farther, toward the tile they go, a pile of hair scattering. “My mother wants me to forgive you by replacing me with you.”

“She’s grieving,” Lonan says.

Harrison loses his hands. He doesn’t know where they disappear to, if he touches skin or tile. “I haven’t died,” he says. Skin or tile. Skin or tile.

Here’s an excerpt from scene C ft. this memoir bit from the time I was shocked that this university I visited had real FANCY teabags:

Lonan brews tea. Earl grey, from a tin. Harrison doesn’t know why he expects it to come from a bag. An individual paper sachet, or if he’s lucky, one of those fancy ones woven from nylon. But it’s from a tin. Two teaspoons into the bottom of a single mug they pass back and forth, wordless at the kitchen table. Strung in the bathroom, Harrison’s t-shirt hang-dries, nearly figure-like, an unfilled phantom. He tugs a throw around his shoulders and stares at his hands. Each crest of cuticle. Each bulb of knuckle. Each maze of fingerprints.

He is material. This is fact. Not just outlines. He’s got skin that goes pinkish when pinched, a pulse that juts from his wrist, two eyes that burn at the scent of lavender, ten fingers. But as he holds his hands up, studying them in the faint moonlight, it is difficult to believe his tangibility. In the city, he has lived as a haze. Fogging over grocery stores, eateries, nondescript. Fresh start has always implied an air of zest, a zing that should have fueled him to plant roots in this restart. But Harrison is rotten, aphid infected, overwatered, underwatered, then not watered at all. He flexes his fingers. He pops the joints. He tries to press his pinkie to the back of his hand. But none of this brings him back to himself. His hands continue feeling like someone else’s. His body invisibly marred in some way he can’t reverse, disconnected in retaliation.

Harrison reflecting on his relationship with his mother:

Suzanna has never left him alone this long, and to her detriment. He imagines her now, living the life she always should’ve lived, the life she lived before he crosscut his way to her most important thing. She’s probably at a salon, having her hair twirled with a round brush, making dinner reservations at some place always too expensive for two (extra points if it has a French name, more if she has to wait a half hour before getting a table). When she talks to her stylist, she doesn’t mention a son, but plans to travel up the west coast, all the way into Canada if she’s feeling adventurous. She’ll buy crime novels she’ll never read at duty-free, reapply a lipstick that cost her a paycheck in the reflection of a hand-dryer. After the salon, she’ll meet a woman at a wine bar, converse about children, and still not mention a son. Suzanna’s singleness will be a celebration.

The boys finally trucing it out <3

When Harrison finally opens his eyes, Lonan is staring at him. His eyes two reels of the Pacific. They cycle in blue. So much of him has changed, and yet he is still the same. Beyond the haircut, Lonan isn’t that much different. He can’t be much different. But as Harrison searches, splaying his palm on the wet table, he knows this is untrue. Lonan is hollower than he was last summer. A little more haunted. They have this in common, then.

“Can we be friends?” Harrison asks. With his pinkie, he finds himself writing against the damp table just as he did Lonan’s scalp not too long ago. Lonan’s gaze follows each loop of each letter, Harrison’s steady left hand.

Lonan is consumed studying what Harrison has written, where each letter connects in near-cursive scrawl. After a moment, he nods, once, twice, and then reverts to staring at the table’s new inscription. On its surface are two words: something held.

The boys in the car like old times <3

Lonan drives. This is strange because Harrison has not seen Lonan drive a car in over a year. Usually, Harrison takes the wheel, but tonight he guides them through the city, in search of Suzanna. His car is clean. This isn’t unexpected. A cherry-coloured hatchback that rattles whenever he makes a left turn. It smells vaguely of cotton air-freshener and the undercurrent of cigarettes.

“You still smoke?” Harrison pokes at the plastic nob for the radio, and it crackles to life. Synth and electric guitar pulse in 4/4 time.

“I bought it used.”

They’ve agreed to get to know one another while they search for Suzanna. Another restart, some attempt at an honest hour. As Lonan changes lanes, Harrison pokes open the car’s glove compartment. A tin of nicotine gum falls on the mat. A hot pink feather pokes from underneath the driver’s manual. Harrison hauls out both, runs the feather along the gum tin, then the back of his hand, and then Lonan’s cheek. When that rouses nothing, he unlocks the tin and removes a slit of gum. Right as he’s about to pop it in his mouth, Lonan says, “I wouldn’t eat that.”

“Why?” Harrison asks. “Did you lace it?”

“Like I said, I bought the car used.”

Harrison puts the gum back, and then the feather. He sticks his hand farther into the glove compartment, feels around until he drags out a map of the state, bilgy and half torn. He unfolds it, careful to avoid the rips, and flattens it against the dashboard. Almost immediately, it wilts against the cold, faded from time in the sun. It’s been marked up. Half with pencil, half with a red ballpoint pen. After a few minutes, Harrison understands the previous owner’s route. Or at least he does at first. Following the red pen arrows, they started at Long Island, then reached Manhattan. Then a much longer arrow takes him from Manhattan to Geneva, and then Buffalo. And then the red pen circles, once, twice, three times, four times, and what is in the centre doesn’t even have a city name. What it does say is HELP, in all-caps, each letter then melting into an illegible scrawl. Harrison sees bits of words: Luke, woe, hands, clay, guard, stray, each wobbly and disappearing into the other, becoming cities of their own, destroying others. He tries to understand the route, but the farther he pours over the map, recircling each line with his finger, the more lost he gets in the ink.

“Is this your map?” Harrison asks. There is no proof that it is. Even the handwriting is all wrong. Ragged. Confused. Desperate. Not like Lonan’s careful, hesitant print.

“Like I said, I bought the car used.”

“But is it your map?” Harrison asks again. Gently, he creases the paper and then slots it back into the glove compartment. Outside, they pass three convenience stores in a row, a flock of couples emerging from a bowling alley, tipsy and cradling leftover deep dish pizzas and mozzarella sticks. They pass two more convenience stores before Lonan finally answers.

“I was confused,” he says.

“This is more than confused,” Harrison says. “It’s disturbed.”

“I’m not disturbed.”

“But something is wrong with you.”

Lonan slows at a crosswalk. A group of teenaged girls whisk by in glitter and lip gloss.

“Yes,” he says.

This is Harrison trying to stop Lonan’s nosebleed after their bizarre swerve which I think is kind of <3 tendy <3

Harrison reaches for him. One hand on the back of his neck, and the other reared toward the red stream. His touch is tactful, so faint his fingerprints wouldn’t even be left behind, but still, the dabbing with his jacket’s hem is enough to redirect the blood’s flow from Lonan’s upper lip to the cuff of leather. The radio is still on, garbled like an unmassing of crepe paper lanterns.

This is the final excerpt for this update that takes us to the very end of the chapter! Harrison has just found Lonan supposedly head-first in the sink and though he asks at first why he is doing that, takes an alternate approach as the chapter closes:

Harrison gets up, his knees popping like gnawed bubble gum. He decides he will handle Lonan at a distance, if he chooses to handle him at all. Like a timid pet owner trying to tame their suddenly-rabid yorkie. Like a friend not trying to tip the full glass. To let its contents film at its surface, but never spill.

Somewhere in the apartment, Suzanna probably listens to them. If Harrison didn’t know her better, he’d imagine her pressed neatly against the door, waiting to hear the shuffle of their bodies or the tang of an argument. Instead, he imagines her at the kitchen table, gripping a glass of water for so long, half of it evaporates.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Harrison says, stepping back until his spine hits the counter’s lip. He curls his fingers under the granite. Looks toward the window, now a faint periwinkle. Lonan heaves. His fingers caging his face, an animal restrained. They stand there until the sun rises.

So that’s it for this gigantic update! I have like four short stories to update you on so I hope to be back soon!

—Rachel

[killian-whump]

Game Night! [Liveblog #3]

Aaaaaaand we’re back! Let’s jump right back into the action with the next drawing in the Drawful game...

Wow. That’s... Wow. I feel like that pen isn’t helping Kat as much as you’d think it might 😂 Is that a foot? A stomach? A stomach-foot? “That looks painful,” Sam says. The players are guessing. Sammy takes this moment to remind everyone that Colin is in the lead. “Pretty significantly,” she adds. Colin is nodding proudly in his little box on the side of the screen. “How many points has he got?” Sam asks. “A lot,” Sammy answers helpfully. Colin is still nodding. Now he’s shrugging it off with a smug grin. I can’t handle him right now.

Sammy: He’s got, I think, 2000. Sam: How many have I got? Sammy: Not 2000.

The guesses come up: “diseased foot” “zombie foot” “smelly footsie” and “athlete’s foot - josh’s foot”. I’M LOOKING AT YOU, SAM. THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T HAVE 2000 POINTS, SAM. Colin’s guess was “zombie foot” and two other players voted for it, so I think he’s gonna do well this round. “I like smelly footsie,” Colin says. “I think that’s a good one.” Yet... he didn’t vote for it. He voted for Sam’s guess with the “josh’s foot” on it 😂

Oooh... Colin’s up to 3000 points now, and Sam’s up to 2500! “It’s getting close now,” Colin says. And it’s time for his drawing...

Remember guys: He went to art school. I have no idea what this is. Actually, that’s a lie. I think I know what it is from seeing other Colin fans’ cryptic comments that didn’t make sense without having watched the video. BUT... were it not for that, I probably would be guessing, like... triple french hammock? XD But the coloring (not pertinent) and the xxx and the hammock also make me wanna guess banana hammock 😂

“I think I saw this one hanging in the Louvre,” Josh says.

The guesses come up and Colin’s grinning again. “artsy fartsy hammock” is my new favorite thing, so thanks whoever did that. The other answers are “french open” “sexy hammock” and “french tennis?” (stop putting question marks, Kat, they’re a dead giveaway). “It is a sexy hammock,” Sam says. “That’s true.”

And it IS... a Sexy Hammock. "Are you kidding?” Sam asks. “There’s no such thing as a sexy hammock,” Josh says. “Well, there is,” Sammy says. “That’s what it is.” “It’s right there,” says Colin.

TIME FOR ROUND 2!! The players are drawing again. “I do not have the skill set for this,” Josh says. “I don’t even understand this game,” Sam says. Colin’s drawing very seriously again. “You’re all artists,” Sammy reminds them all. I’m not sure that’s true, but okay.

Colin finishes drawing and chuckles to himself. “That was a laugh of confidence,” Josh says. “I'm not fully convinced it was, to be honest,” Colin says. “I don’t think that was a laugh of confidence.”

“By the end of this, I’ll be looking for a bottle of Sam’s whiskey to down,” Colin says. “That’s the prize,” Sam says. “You’ll get one.” Sam says he’s halfway through the bottle Colin sent him. I love Colin’s friendships 💗

Okay! Time for the drawings! First is another one from Josh:

Sam says what everyone’s thinking right now: “This is a little X-rated, right?” and then, “What is that? I mean, what is that?” “What is the rating on this game, Josh?” Kat asks. Josh says it’s X, and encourages them to “go for it” with their guesses.

The guesses come in: “cropdusting a party” “Africa” “antebellum south” and “lonely testicle” 😂 I expected four testicle answers, honestly. I’m disappointed in everyone that didn’t put in a testicle answer. It’s clearly the right answer, even if it isn’t the right answer. Josh says it’s funny, because “lonely testicle” was his nickname in high school. “It does look lonely, doesn’t it?” Sam asks.

“Lonely testicle” was Colin’s guess, and I honestly couldn’t be prouder or more assured that I’ve made the right choice in being his fan. Josh missed it on the screen, though, and asks: “Who said lonely testicle?”

“Cropdusting a Party” was the actual prompt! “How do you draw that?” Josh asks. “Well, you definitely don’t draw it like that,” Colin says, and my love for him only grows.

“Colin’s still wildly in the lead,” Sammy announces. And he is. He’s got 4500 points now. Sam and Josh are tied for second place with 3000.

Next up is Sam’s drawing...

I think he’s given up on this game, lol. “I wrote my guess,” Josh laughs. “And it says my guess is too close to the real title.” “I’m pretty pleased with that,” Sam says. I’m now dying to know what the prompt is.

Guesses are in: “Sarcasm” “Sarcasm by Sam” “Sadly not the truth” and “a lie” 😂 THOSE ARE ALL THE SAME DAMN THING Since everybody guessed his drawing correctly, Sam raked in a lot of points. Colin’s still in the lead, though! He’s got 6000 to Sam’s 5000. Time for Kat’s drawing:

“Mmm, that’s beautiful,” Sam says. “That’s just... amazing.” “I-Is that it?” Colin asks. “So judgey,” Josh says. Colin laughs. “Sorry,” he says. “I get competitive. Sorry.” I seriously can’t handle him, you guys, he’s apologizing 😂 Sam asks, “Have you been playing this during lockdown, Colin? Is that why you’re so good at this?” “That’s literally all I’ve been doing,” Colin says.

The guesses are in: “deathbed” “torture device” “a shallow grave” and “pooping on a pinball machine” which is now my new new favorite thing. “Whoever did the pinball machine deserves to win,” Sam declares. It was Josh’s guess, and he wants it on the record that Sam said that. The actual prompt was “a shallow grave”.

Colin didn’t get ANY points this round! He’s still at 6000, but Sam is inching closer with 5500! And it’s time for another Colin drawing...

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I have no idea what this is. It’s hilarious, though. Y-fronts on a TV screen. He clearly got the BEST prompts. “Colin’s Y-fronts on TV,” Sam guesses aloud.

Josh: Yeah, this isn’t fun and games for at least one of us. Colin: I’m in it to win! :D

Okay, the guesses are in... “pointillism” “underpants channel” “underwear advertisement” and “old timey drooling tv” (what?). Again, I say, Colin got the BEST prompts, lol 😂 And the actual prompt was Underpants Channel - and Colin raked in a TON of points for people picking the right answer, guaranteeing he’s won this game 🎉

Sammy: The winner is Colin! Sam: Whaaat the hell? Sammy: And the person who got the most likes, the most brownie points is...

WE STAN A WINNER, YOU GUYS. A WINNER!!! 😂

“Thank you guys, thank you,” Colin says. Josh and Kat are just laughing. Sam is having an all-out existential dilemma in the bottom right corner.

“I’m super depressed,” says Sam.

“Do you guys have time for one more game?” Josh asks. Kat says yeah. Colin says yeah, with a blood-thirsty eager gleam in his eyes. “If I can win,” Sam says.

Will he win? Or will Colin sweep both games? We shall see... in the next installment of Game Night!!!

[imaginingmyloki]

Shift in Reality (pt 2)

Word count: 2,120

A/N: ok so obviously this took way longer than I expected/promised it would. Life has been getting in the way of fun lately. As some of you know, A year ago I left home and moved across country to Arizona to discover myself/make a new life/have an adventure. Well now I am moving back home to Virginia and it has just been a wild few weeks. (more on that later) anyways, enjoy part 2! There will definitely be a part 3! I said in a few answers to anons yesterday that this would likely be the last part but it kinda took off from me and started writing itself haha. I am not going to give a promised date for part 3 but I do have a good chunk of it already written from cutting it out of this lol. I won’t be linking any youtube vids about her powers this time, if you check out part 1′s note there is a compilation video of Daisy Johnson using her powers and she is based off of Daisy. ok byyyeeee

“No this can’t be right... I was just with them. What is going on?” I was frantically looking around the room trying to figure out where the hell I was. “Ma’am you need to calm her down or we will have to sedate her.” One of the white coats told the woman with the familiar voice. The heart monitor next to me was beeping rapidly, adding to my anxiety. She moved slightly closer to me and grabbed my hand and started talking. I couldn’t focus on what she was saying but the familiar cadence of her voice was calming me down significantly. “I don’t understand why I’m here. Who are you?” she looked hurt when I asked her that question. One of the many people buzzing about the room checking on the machines quietly said “Some amnesia is really common in these situations. She will likely regain her memories as time passes.” the woman nodded sadly and kept talking to me even though I was not paying any attention to her and was trying to focus on all the details I could about the room I was in and the different faces coming and going. 

                                                 -At the Compound-

Loki was sitting next to my unconscious form reading when Bruce came in with a machine that looked like a very small version of an MRI. “This is S.H.I.E.L.D.s latest, top of the line medical equipment. It is essentially a mobile MRI but way more advanced in what it can pick up. I didn’t do one before but she’s been out for almost 24 hours and hasn’t even moved so I need to see what’s going on in there.” He positioned the machine near my head and Loki watched Bruce’s face go from curious to concerned in a matter of seconds. “What is it?” He asked. At this point Nat and Wanda had come over to check on me and joined the group to see what was happening. Bruce shook his head, “I have no idea. There is something foreign in her temporal lobe. It looks like it is sending electro magnetic pulses to her brain causing her hippocampus-” He looked around and had to remind himself to use more understandable wording for them,”-uh her memory and dream centers to light up like crazy. I wish we could get in there and see what was happening.” Everyone slowly turned to Wanda who nodded and said, “Ok move the machine out of the way.” as she approached me. 

“Well? What did you see? Is she ok?” Loki demanded when Wanda had finished. She sat on the end of the couch by my feet, “We have to get that thing out of her, guys. She didn’t even see me when I was right in front of her trying to get her attention. It has her in this fake reality where she was in a coma and just woke up in the hospital with someone I assume is meant to be her mother. And the worst part is that we don’t exist in that reality. We are just movie characters. She seems really confused but the doctors are saying she has amnesia and its common for coma patients to wake up thinking they were a part of their favorite fictional world. It looks like she is starting to believe them. She looks so lost and heart broken. I couldn’t pull her out of it.” Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes, no one having words for the situation. Wanda looked to Bruce “How is this possible?” He was quiet for a few more minutes before answering “The only thing I can think of is the Winter Soldier.” He put a hand up to stop the incoming questions from the group as he continued, “With Bucky, their first and most formidable success, they wiped his memory, emotionally and physically tortured him until he broke and they had total, absolute control of him. Until Steve. The programming used on Bucky, while it was effective, didn’t hold up against the memories surfacing. So other than the obvious technological upgrades of this new programming- if that is what’s happening- they realized their fatal flaw. They tried to completely wipe out memories and when they resurfaced it undid everything. Making (Y/N) think that she made us up, that we are fictional characters, and now that she has forgotten her own life will not only break her but it will solve the issue of us breaking the programming in the future. She thinks we only exist in her mind and on the screen. I wouldn’t be surprised if this reality they have her in starts to change into doctors discovering she has a mental disorder that comes with hallucinations. Now, after they wipe her memory, if we start showing up again, she will question her own sanity and not her handler’s orders because her most recent memories of us are going to be that she can’t trust her own mind.” Everyone stared at him in stunned silence. “We need to get Tony and the others in here and brief them now. and we need to find Nelson.” Nat said and quickly left the room.  Loki looked at Wanda and said, “Please keep watching her. I know you haven’t been able to connect to her but at least we will know what she is dealing with.”

                                                   -Y/N’s Mind-

This doesn’t feel right. Something is just off about this hospital, these people. After initially waking up and everyone fluttering around my room to check vitals and ask me 800 questions that I couldn’t answer, they finally left me alone to rest with the promise of checking on me throughout the night to wake me up and see if I remembered anything. The woman- my mom I had been told- was sleeping on a cot in the corner of the room lightly snoring. I had asked her what had happened and the story was that I had been at the beach with my family when a wave had caused me to hit my head on a rock under the surface. I had nearly drowned but my best friend, Paul, had been right there and dragged me back to shore. That was 4 months ago and I had been unconscious ever since. She had spent a couple hours telling me all about our life as I grew up. I was an only child and we had traveled all over the world throughout the years. Because of moving around and experiencing so many different places, I knew 15 different languages by the time I was 18. We had recently moved here to California and bought a house close to my grandparents. She was going to call them and tell them I could have visitors in a few days when my memories started catching up with me but was going to call Paul and have him come tomorrow and see if it would hopefully jog my memory. A nurse came in very early and quietly woke my mother, “Ma’am, we called the friend you asked us to have come in. Mr Nelson? He’s here.” My mother got up and went with the nurse. I hadn’t slept at all and was very tired but that name sent a jolt straight through me. I knew he had to be behind this somehow. I looked around for some kind of weapon I could use when he came into the room. There was nothing but the dull butter knife from my dinner that was still untouched from the night before by my bed. I grabbed it a slid it between the bed and my thigh then, I waited. The door opened and I heard my mother’s cheerful voice, “Oh, Paul, she is going to be thrilled to see you. Well, she may actually not remember you yet. We have been waiting on her memories to come back but so far nothing has.” A chuckle and a chilling voice that sent shivers down my spine and raised the hairs on my neck replied, “No worries at all. I have talked this girl through so many breakups, I’m sure I can talk her out of amnesia.”

As they came through the door, my entire body tensed as I locked eyes with Nelson. It was definitely him but he looked different. Casual and relaxed with almost friendly eyes. “(Y/n)! I am so happy to see you conscious! You gave me quiet the scare.” he made his way towards me and my mother backed out of the room with “I’ll give you two some time to talk.” and a hopeful smile. As soon as she shut the door, I had him pinned against the wall with the knife to his throat. “What is this, Nelson?!” The look of fear in his eyes made me hesitate and he pushed me off of him. “(Y/n), what are you doing? We have been friends for years. Wait, you remember me? But, since when do you call me Nelson?” I slowly backed up until my legs hit the bed and I sat down. A nurse came in to check on the commotion I had caused and Nelson - Paul? - told her we were fine. Satisfied, she nodded and closed the door behind her as she left. “Stop playing games. I know what this is, Nelson. Let me go.” I watched his face carefully but showed no signs of knowing what I was talking about. He gave me a concerned look and slowly made his way to the chair by my bed with his hands raised to show he wasn’t a threat. “(Y/n), I don’t understand what you’re trying to say. Do you want me to get the nurse for you?” I rolled my eyes at his concern. Being trapped and the constant lack of answers were starting to fill me with a frustration that would typically have the room trembling around me but nothing was shaking except for my hands. As I clenched and unclenched my fists and took a few deep breaths to try and steady myself, I caught a glimpse of Nelsons face. It still had the mock concern plastered on like a mask but his eyes had a glint of amusement. He found my frustration and suffering amusing. The frustration bubbled over and I lunged for him, bringing both him and the chair to the ground. 

                                                 -The Compound-

  The compound shook violently as Loki used his body to shield my still unconscious form from the ceiling tiles and dust that was falling. “Why is this happening? Wanda, what is going on in there?” Tony asked as he came through the door followed by Nat, Steve and Bucky. Wanda explained the scene to them, “Nelson is in there with her under the pretense that he is her best friend. She’s on to him and just took him down but now they are fighting. She doesn’t have her powers in there so she’s struggling. Nurses and doctors are starting to come in to restrain her but she’s fighting them too.” The shaking stopped suddenly and Wanda gasped. When she didn’t say anything to explain the sudden calm, Loki inquired anxiously, “What happened? Is she ok?” Wanda nodded but was still watching the scene unfold in my mind. “They started it over. She’s waking up in a strange hospital again but it looks slightly different than the first one. It is exactly the same situation. They are telling her she has been in a coma for months and that she is finally waking up for the first time. Now she’s seen the tv showing you guys in New York again and she looks even more confused.” Everyone rushed around to clean up the area and Tony said “Loki, I set up space for her downstairs to keep anything like this contained and to keep her safe should Hydra try and take her. You and Wanda take her down there and watch over her while the rest of us clean this up.” Loki gently lifted me and he and Wanda headed towards what had once been my holding cell before the team decided they could trust me. 

“We need to bring Wanda back up here.” Nat said to Steve. They had just brought in Nelson. Bruce had figured out that Nelson had a device in his temporal lobe as well that was linked to the device in mine and had been able to track him using that connection. He had been unconscious when they had found him, likely because he was inside the fake reality with me and she knew that Wanda was the only one who may be able to get the information we needed about how to save me.

[randombtsprincessa]

Blackout

All Rights Reserved.

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Jung Hoseok x Reader (2nd POV)

Words: 2.6k

Genre: Smut

Summary: Lights are out. Thankfully Hoseok is in.

Warning: Blackouts, no electricity! lol, Hobi gets handsy, fingering, humping, mentions of sexting, skype sex, etc, riding, unprotected sex, creampie! Be safe kiddos! Basically birthday sex because it’s Hobi and I missed him!

It was probably one of the coldest days of winter. It was February, for god’s sake, and yet the temperature of the day was staggeringly low. You had shivered even before fully waking up in the morning, the shudders that racked your body shooting you towards consciousness in the wee hours of the dawn.

The reason had been your thermostat, a pricey one at that. Hoseok, your boyfriend had spent a pretty penny on it, installing it in your shared apartment. The thermostat was almost always set a little on the warmer side, both of you preferring to bask in the heat rather than shrivel in the cold.

The warmer temperature helped you when he wasn’t there. It kept the apartment toasty and your bed warm when your loving boyfriend wasn’t in bed to hold you against his chest.

So, when you had woken up to a blistering cold, rushing over your exposed skin, since you never bothered with a blanket thanks to the machine, you were pissed.

You’d spat out gentle expletives, ones a mother might use to admonish a bratty child and went to the hallway to see what it’s problem was.

To your shock and horror, it was dead.

It was dead and along with it were all the other electrical implements in your household. To a sleep lacked you, the world had selected you to solely survive an apocalypse. You had rushed out in your robe, worriedly wondering if you’ll be met with inhabitation.

Only, it wasn’t so bad. No, it was worse.

Your region of the city was experiencing a small blackout. All electric lines had been shut off to mend a huge grounding problem. It was going to take a whole day and you were stranded – not even Hoseok there with his cheerful balance to keep you from spiraling down.

You shuffled back into your living room, throwing on a huge blanket that trailed behind you to flop down on the couch. You thanked your good senses to purchase a cloth based one. You shuddered to think the torture a leather or plastic covered couch would release on your sensitive skin.

“This sucks.” You loudly complained to the empty home.

Without electricity, you would be getting no coffee, no hot shower, no entertainment; no nothing. Even your phone battery would die out soon and you wanted to keep it powered; until Hoseok was back at home at least.

It was his birthday after all, and happily the end of his tour. He’d be with you soon enough.

You carefully arranged yourself on the sofa, wondering what to do with yourself. You had done most of the grocery shopping yesterday, picking out ingredients for Hoseok’s favorite meal and snacks. You’d bought chicken – you sat up in a panic. It would go bad if power didn’t come back in the appointed time.

You hoped the fridge would be cold enough for one day.

It was the heat that would be the problem. You were already huddled, curling up against it but with little success.

You had barred and drawn curtains but the cold glass bled the outside chill into your spacious space and it was in times like these that you hoped for a smaller place, or someone to cuddle.

You would’ve taken Mickey, Hoseok’s sister…heck, even his mom but they were all back in his hometown. You were stuck in the city, the only ones to call up your work colleagues and maybe some Bighit employees you’d made friends with.

You refrained from calling any of the boys, not wanting them to be disrupted especially in the last leg of the tour.

Wrapping up tighter, you decided to make yourself useful for what would be a long day.

You dressed heavily, unable to shower and refusing the cold water to sin against you. Draped in layers and one of Hoseok’s beanies, you stepped out, the first orders of business to pump something like a gallon of hot coffee in you.

But of course, the region loosing electricity; caused most of the shops, cafes and restaurant to stay shut that used mainly powered equipment. You chose a small tea shop that offered stove brewed coffee and tea. You sat on the small pouf’s they offered, chatting up the pretty old lady who ran it, talking about how power was not the only thing that offered a good cup of hot beverage.

Sipping from their china, you had to agree.

You dropped papers off at your workplace, taking a small drive through near the riverside before returning to your apartment.

It wasn’t even midday.

Sighing as you shed off the many layers, you watched to see if you’d worked up a sweat or if the apartment had heated up a bit.

No such luck…

You dropped, still in the large sweatshirt and track combo that had once belonged to your boyfriend but no longer fit him due to working out and gaining muscles.

Huffing and grumbling, you yanked out the heavy weight blankets from the top shelf of your closet, dragging them to the large bed. You made your bed painstakingly, each shudder than went up your spine, rendering you further weak.

It was now you understood why SAD was a thing and why Hoseok was a necessity in the winters. Your sunshine always hung about during times like these. Maybe it was instinct.

Burying a snort delicately, you slipped under the mountain of sheets, snuggling in further into your now cozy bed, spreading your own warmth through the fabric and closed your eyes.

Sleep always solved everything.

When you woke up again, you were disoriented. The room had darkened from what you remembered and there was a distinct change in the atmosphere of the room itself.

You tried hard to pin it down; blindly wanting to put a finger on what was different when you smelt it.

A deep musk, sweet in its undertones as it swept up your nostrils. It was familiar, grounding. You took a deep breath, inhaling as much of the perfume as you could, let it seep you to awareness.

The next thing that registered was an extra weight, a presence that hadn’t been there before. You lay still in the cocoon you’d created, an arm draped around you and someone pressed tight against you, snuggled with you. A head lay buried in the crook of your neck, soft snores brushing your hair away. A wide chest warmed your back.

You let your eyes close back again in the embrace you’d missed so, so dearly. He was back. Hoseok was finally back home; and you were warm, safe in his arms and everything would be okay again.

You clutched the arm around your waist, holding it tight to your chest, palm against your heart. He felt warm and the smooth skin of his arm smelt a little like the aqua bubble soap you’d given him for his tour. The idea swelled in your heart.

You didn’t realize the way your soft moves jostled him, nudging him awake. Hoseok crept closer to you, instinctively placing a kiss on the top of your head. You hummed in the affection, reflecting the smile he pressed to your skin.

“Welcome back,” you whispered in the cozy space of the blankets.

“Mm,” he answered dreamily. “Was there a particular reason why you were in bed and asleep when I came home? Not that I’m complaining, I have to thank you. I fell asleep in a pinch.” He grated in a sleep lulled voice.

“We have a blackout; it was so cold; I couldn’t think of anything to do. Your thermostat failed in the face of no power.” You said.

“Ah,” Hoseok seemed more awake now, his hold tighter on you, lips placing absent minded kisses to the skin revealed to him. “I talked to management about that. They say it’ll be back by night.”

“What time is it now?”

“Evening around, I guess,” You both fell silent after that, content in enjoying the warmth of each other’s presence. There would be plenty of time to talk later.

Hoseok let his fingers explore, an unfailing habit. His hand splayed flat where you held it to your chest, the pads of his fingers brushing over your breasts, teasing over your nipples. At one point, this habit of his used to have you wild, intent on jumping him. Now, you had come to realize it wasn’t actually about teasing you or turning you on.

Hoseok was touchy after tours. He admitted to loving the feel of your skin under his after he’d been away from you, now a compulsion that tethered him to the fact that he was indeed home again and had you back in his arms.

It was comforting to him.

Of course, he would sometimes take a chance – steer the events of his handiness to a more indiscreet stream. You absolutely loved it when he did so.

Tonight, he definitely seemed to be in one of those moods.

His hand that usually was satisfied in tracing patterns on your stomach, abdomen, trailed back up to your chest grabbing on to a soft breast and kneading it. The slow, increase in his breath as he caught his fingers around a nipple, letting his thumb roughen it harshly through the material of the shirt was palpable.

“Hoseok,” you groaned, arcing up to push yourself further into his hands.

“Hmm, you feel so hot to touch.” He reasoned, apparently gotten his fill of your tits, drifting downwards again to play with the ties of the tracks.

You curled your hands around his bicep as it kept you trapped back against his chest. He pulled the ties loose, breath hot in your ear. You let your head fall back when he let his hand slip into your pants.

Wanton lips sought contact, connecting with the soft skin of your neck and shoulder, placing kisses on it. You bucked against the hand that stayed on the very edge of your mound, just shy out of touch. “Hobi, it’s cold.” You pouted.

“Let me warm you up then.” You didn’t have to look at him to know the grin that played on his face, knowing he had you where he wanted you.

You strained one last time, trying to see if Hoseok would break enough to give you what you wanted easily and get it done with, leaving you to enjoy the hot blankets and his cuddles. You could have sex later. Of course, he stayed just at the edge of you pleasure, a click of his tongue letting you know he was waiting for you to give in.

And you did; you slumped, loose and pliant in his hold. “Fine,” you whispered, much to his jubilation.

Hoseok became generous. His fingers, lodged in your tracks now pressed where you needed him most. A simple pressure on your clit had you moaning. He wedged his other hand under your body, curving it so he could push your shirt up, revealing your naked chest. He palmed one breast; kneading it in the same pace he rubbed your clit – slow and maddening.

You bucked against him yet again, trying to physically force his fingers into you.

“Is that what you want, baby? You want my fingers?” He asked, muttering low to you and you nodded desperately, trying to control the near panicked whimpers.

Hoseok had been gone for months and while you absolutely loved the self love, the sexting, the photos he sent of him barely dressed in his dressing room or in the bath, the Skype calls where he greeted you wearing nothing, already hard and leaking; this was the best sensation. Having Hoseok pressed up against you, skin to skin and slick as he moved in you, over you, against you, it drove you to his altar mad with just a taste.

So, when he let his middle and ring finger slip deep in you, already coating thickly in your slick, he nearly had you sobbing from the feeling.

It felt amazing, the stretch, but both of you knew what was dearly needed. While you adored his fingers in you, heel of his palm rubbing harshly into your clit, you needed to be stuffed of his cock. That was the only way anyone was getting satiated.

“Babe, I need you to come for me first. It’s been a while; I need to stretch you out.” Hoseok said urgently, panting against you as he increased his pace. You continued to whine, feeling him pull you nearly on top of him to push another finger you, the first three digits he had inside you curling expertly into your sweet spot.

He thrust up against your ass, grunting as he found friction to relieve himself as well. You sat up straighter, back to him as you grinded down harder on the bulge of his cock, dry humping him while he kept you full.

The orgasm that swept through you was so fast; you nearly crashed on top of his face. Writhing in his hold, Hoseok pushed you further up, sitting up.

The blankets fell away from your bodies, the cool air pleasant on your sweaty bodies. Hoseok was quick to lose your tops, hands fumbling with his jeans as you pulled away your tracks, throwing them away somewhere in the darkness of your room.

There was a brief lull, in which Hoseok and you took a moment to look at each other properly. You were naked now; Hoseok’s undergarments pulled down till his knees. It was too dark to make out much but the light that flooded in through the windows from outside, was enough to tell that Hoseok’s dark piercing gaze was intent on you.

You could feel you were flushed head to toe, excited to have your lover near you and pleasing you again.

For the first time ever since you’d started the passionate bout of reunion love making, you kissed him, soft and heady. Hoseok’s groan at the feel of your lips against his made you grunt, grinning at the effect you still had on him.

He wrapped an arm around you, raising you so he could line his cock with you, still kissing you as if he never wanted to stop.

You sunk on him, delicious, halting and full. Hoseok didn’t take his mouth from yours, only letting his jaw slacken at the feel of your wetness seeping around him.

As for you, Hoseok’s hands gripping on to your hips hard enough to bruise, rocking you on him was enough to make you choke on your sobs of pleasure.

“Baby,” Hoseok mumbled, holding you up so he could thrust up in you. You grabbed on to the headboard, Hoseok slouching into the pillows, bracing his feet so he could bounce you on him.

“You like that, sweetheart? This is what you wanted, remember? You told me just a few days ago how you wanted to be stuffed full of my cock.” He gave a particularly hard thrust, gritting his teeth.

You nodded, remembering the exact scenario. He’s been in the bathroom with the water running, calling you for an update and you had given him one of your starved sex lives; he was just making good on his promises.

“Please, please,” you chanted, feeling him bump in your walls just shy of your spot, keeping you on the edge till he was reaching for your clit, fingers wet from his saliva and punishing against the nub.

You cried out his name for everyone in the building to hear, tight, hot walls convulsing around his length, his own loud moans of your name indicating his follow into his own release. Hot cum spurted into you, coating your walls and dripping down your thighs. He pulled out, the rest of it splattering his stomach.

You collapsed against him, forehead pressed to his and breaths intermingling, fast, sated…for now.

“Happy Birthday,” You mumbled to the smirking man under you.

[brynfelan]

...well i mean you asked for writing prompts and who am i to refuse???

Alright THROWBACK TIME

So remember the second ever ask I sent you a whiiiiiiiiile back??? Where Junko despaired Hajime bc he had so many relationships within class 77??? And Komaeda said "Ah, even a reserve course student doesn't want me, I am a BUG!"

That still cracks me up everytime i think of it rip Nagito

Yeah imagine that scenario (Izuru is Hajime's talented twin and KuzuKomaHina are gay af for each other again) but THIS TIME Hajime's able to get his shit together and not be despaired. He's not Junko's slave, yaaaaaaaay

Except not yay because now he's trying to fight Junko's despair tactics all on his own. Keep her away from the Reserve Course AND class 77. By himself. Doesn't tell his friends, brother, and boyfriends anything. Hajime just tries to not think about everything Junko did to him WHILE keeping his loved ones from her despair games.

Because he's Hinata "I'm a dumbass" Hajime. It's in his blood. He's a dumbass.

Someone save him from his dumbassery that i put him through he deserves better 🤣

hajime “what the fuck’s an octagon” hinata trying to beat junko the fuck up while also like... stopping the people he loves from ending up high on despair crack? incredible

he’s gotta be in like a thousand places at once and definitely at some point is spotted sprinting between the buildings with a baseball bat just in case something goes awry since she’s an ultimate

obviously doing this alone is absolutely unsustainable, so he has to recruit somebody - but he doesn’t wanna worry anybody he loves. his solution? juzo sakakura, ultimate boxer, and also the guy that is security for the main course building. this happens because he’s running towards the main course building with a baseball bat (which juzo is not having) and then has to actually fucking explain himself. so, these two boys who have absolutely had enough are running a constant sting operation together. with walkie talkies. hajime doesn’t ask where juzo gets em

it becomes this whole thing where they’re constantly updating each other and coming up with plans, hajime occasionally tells izuru he “had a weird dream” about something related - like, he had a weird dream that there was this girl that was trying to brainwash everybody and he doesn’t know what to do about it and gets weird hypothetical advice that way?

point is, juzo and hajime end up being an absolute well-oiled machine, and do eventually find junko’s hiding spot under the statue. they can’t just kill her obviously because that would be incredibly difficult to explain even with hajime’s  connections to the yakuza through his boyfriend and bad bitch best friend, but they do apprehend her pretty fuckin swiftly. if only because junko gets real bummed out about losing before she’s really begun around the time they’ve got her pinned down and being handcuffed lol just like

“i lost? wow, and i never even got to the best part. that sucks”

the aftermath though is rough because suddenly hajime has to explain why he’s appearing in court to fight a kidnapping and torture case out of nowhere to his absolutely enraged boyfriends and brother, trying to calm them all down isn’t fun in the slightest. oddly enough, after telling fuyuhiko and eventually natsumi, mukuro disappears off the face of the earth. nobody knows what happened to her. funny that innit

anyway i have now thought way too hard and i am going to bed, for anybody else that would like to send a HC/scenario i’ll likely get to it after i’ve slept for at least 4 hours lol

[spacetimewraithwrites-archive]

OC Kiss Week Day 5: Memory

WIP: Thriving series Pairing: Warren x Thrive Timeline: Thriving: Meridian CW: Some, like, pain and stuff. Injury? Uh, if you don’t like reading about people in sustained physical pain, then don’t read this lol. Also, blood. Rating: T Words: 1,729

***

“How bad is it?”

Thrive tightened his fists over the surface of the table, jaw wrenched closed, and shook his head. After a few beats during which the veins in his arms became alarming in their prominence, he released the breath he’d held. “It’s not as bad...as it was the last time.”

Warren cast a worried search over the screen of the organic data extractor from his position in the corner of the room. “Yeah...I’m not sure that’s making me feel better about this.”

Thrive grimaced and a hand reached up as if to remove the electrodes attached to his skull, but instead he pressed his fingers to his temple. “It merely means that Ataneq and I will have to adjust the ratio of input and...and the output of...no.” His face went blank. “I can’t think.” He slammed his wrist on the table and threw his head back, letting fly a lengthy swear in Solnai at the top of his voice.

Warren, understanding how much agony one had to be in to use that particular swear, switched the machine off and jumped to his side, kneeling beside his chair. “Okay, sweetheart, okay. That’s good enough.” He whipped an absorbent cloth from his pocket and dabbed the moisture from Thrive’s forehead, turning his face toward him and registering the swelling relief through not just through their physical connection, but their mental one as well. “You’re doing great. Let’s take a break.”

“I’d rather not,” Thrive rasped. “We’re close. This is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“And I’d rather not watch you fry your beautiful brain to a crisp.” Warren dragged a second chair over and helped Thrive’s trembling hands hold the cloth to his neck and the rest of his face. “Also, this is very much not the most important thing you’ve ever done.”

Thrive grinned at him, as exhausted as he was in doing so. “Well...one could argue that you are the Most Important thing I’ve ever done.”

“If you don’t shut your fucking mouth,” Warren muttered playfully, beginning to take the electrodes off of Thrive’s chest.

Thrive grabbed his hand. “No. One more.”

“Hey, I meant it when I said I was gonna put a stop to this if you punched that damn self-destruction button of yours again.” Warren gripped Thrive’s hand. “This machine is in its infancy and could kill you if you don’t take a break.”

Instead of the belligerence Warren expected, Thrive turned to him with excitement in his eyes. “The solution is right here. We could be moments away from a breakthrough. The entire kingdom is as close to being able to harness th’crode technology as you and I are right this second, Warren. You will be able to store your own memories without my help.”

“Yeah, I kinda know all of that—”

“Do you understand how difficult it has been for me to watch you forget?”

Warren paused. The excitement had fallen away to reveal a deep sadness, remorse he hadn’t seen in quite some time. “...It’s gotten pretty bad.”

“Yes.” Thrive applied pressure onto the electrode Warren had started to remove. “Conversations with you about our shared past have become daily reminders of my misjudgment. My selfishness. You shouldn’t have to rely on someone else to make sure your cherished memories never die over time.”

Warren looked from him to the data extractor. “I still think you need to do this while natural....”

“The point is to test the extractor’s capability on a human subject.” Thrive straightened his spine. “Our physiology may be different in a lot of ways while I’m human, but I’m not about to test it on you in this stage of development. All it needs is recalibration. I’ve suggested putting the extraction points directly on the brain, but that idea was shot down rather quickly.”

“Thank you, Ataneq,” Warren grumbled.

"Let me do this one last time.” Thrive pointed to the machine. “One last time. If it doesn’t work, I will give up for the rest of the day.”

Warren sighed into his hands. “I can’t. I can’t inflict more of this pain onto you. It’s too much. No, I’m saying no. If you wanna torture yourself one more time, you need to get someone else in here to do it.”

Thrive’s eyebrow quirked.

Which is how, ten minutes later, Warren found himself standing next to Thoeala on the other side of the room while Ataneq calibrated the machine.

Warren turned a frown to Thoeala.

“Oh, you think I’m gonna say no?” Thoeala laughed. “You think just because he’s my dad I have an opinion about his well-being?”

“Why are you still here if you didn’t want to do this, Pop?” Ataneq asked, repositioning the electrodes on Thrive’s head.

Warren sniffed. “Because if this doesn’t kill him, I will.”

Ataneq took Warren’s previous spot behind the extractor. “Right. Counting down from five. Father, recall a memory. Let’s keep it simple.”

Thrive screwed his eyes shut and nodded, hands tightly clasped together. “Test designation eight-four-six-four,” he said for the audio/visual records. “Recalling a memory of my last audience with Delegate Sinkship.”

“Simple,” Warren corrected. “Not painful.”

Ataneq swiped a finger over the screen. “Long live the King. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

A high-pitched whine rose from the machine and Thrive placed his hands flat on the table. “Yes...immediate drop in physical discomfort from designation eight-four-six-three.” He inhaled slowly through his nose, then released through his mouth. “My sinus cavities are warm and there is a sharp sting behind the eyes.”

“Holding onto the memory?”

“Yes. Begin transference...now.”

Ataneq had only just done what he was told when Thrive let out an unusual sound. A guttural wail he tried to suppress, hanging his head, face contorting into a grimace. Thoeala bristled beside Warren and Ataneq narrowed his eyes.

“There’s now...” Thrive touched the center of his forehead, fingers shaking visibly, “...severe—severe pain. Frontal and...damn it....”

Warren’s guard raised. Any pain he deemed “severe” could have killed anyone else on the spot. “Thrive, shut it down.”

“How close are we,” Thrive asked through gritted teeth.

“I can’t actually tell. Everything’s going haywire,” Ataneq said. “Your receptors are being overloaded; you need to stop the transference or you’re going to go into self-preservation mode.”

As Thrive opened his eyes, a single rivulet of blood rolled down from his nose. “Hemorrhaging. Numbness in...in the hands.” He swiped the blood away with a thumb and winced again. “And I’m experiencing a burning sensation on the skin.”

“Fuck,” Warren spat. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to do this again!”

Ataneq held up a hand in Thoeala’s direction when she crossed over to Thrive. “Don’t touch him yet. I’ve stopped the extractor but he wasn’t able to cut off the transference. He’s got to come down gradually.”

Thrive’s eyelids drooped and he snapped upright in an attempt to stay present and focused. “I...I’m about to...fall into preservation state.”

“Genius.” Warren leaned over the table and gestured around his eyes to get Thrive to make eye contact. “I have been alive for four hundred years and you wanna know why I’m only now starting to get gray hair?”

Thrive carefully rested his head in his arms, tugging the electrodes’ wires to their limit. “I may have an idea....”

“Yeah, he’s out,” Ataneq said after a second of silence.

Thoeala sighed. “So he did that for no reason?”

“No, he succeeded.”

“Excuse me?” Warren glanced at him in alarm. “...You mean he actually managed to transfer a memory into the databank?”

Ataneq nodded. “It’s not very clear, but it’s there. I can just make out vague shapes moving across the screen. We can work with this.”

Warren walked around the table and kneeled beside Thrive, who didn’t appear to be breathing at all. He felt his neck for a pulse and was satisfied to catch the glacial thrum of his system working to mend his brain. “Babe....”

“Wow,” Thoeala exclaimed, peering at the screen of the extractor over Ataneq’s shoulder. “That is incredible! Yeah, I can see an outline of Sinkship!”

“Thrive,” Warren said, raking his fingers through Thrive’s hair. “You did it. We’ll celebrate when you’re awake.” He removed the electrodes and kissed Thrive’s temple, his ear, and the bit of cheek exposed to him. “You cause me enormous stress but you also never cease to make me proud.”

Thoeala and Ataneq each took turns patting Thrive on the back before leaving the room. “Give us a heads up on how he is.”

“Always,” Warren promised before settling down on the floor.

He was there for close to half a hour before Thrive sank back into consciousness, folding himself upright and wiping the rest of the blood from his nose.

“Welcome back,” Warren said.

Thrive turned, clearly not expecting to see him, grogginess still present in his face. “You waited.”

“Well, yeah...you pulled it off. I couldn’t just leave you here.”

Thrive patted himself down for the wireless electrodes that were used to monitor his physical response to the testing as Warren got up to perch himself on the table. “I'm surprised that it actually worked.”

Warren leaned over to capture him in a firm kiss. “I’m not.”

“I suppose I owe you an apology.” Thrive kissed him again. “I’ll take this as a sign to always do what you say from now on.”

“Oh,” Warren said with a sly smile. “Nice. I don’t even care that you’re making fun of me. I will take full advantage of this.”

“As I’ve no doubt.” Thrive offered him an only half-sarcastic smirk in return. “I believe you called, rightfully, for a celebration.”

“You heard that, huh?”

“I'm...in a word, spent. Would you like to stay the night at the Fertile Patch? We could set up a camp.”

“That sounds fantastic.”

Thrive kissed him one final time before they parted ways to prepare for the hour-long shuttle trip. Warren apprised the kids of Thrive’s state and while Thrive managed to stay awake on the ride over, as soon as his head hit the lush grass of the uninhabited area of wilderness he was down for the count again.

Warren watched the sunset by himself, using Thrive’s stomach as a pillow, lost in thought about the impact the day’s accomplishments would have on the neighboring galaxies.

He’d played a part in history yet again, it seemed.

[kewltie]

i think about how Bakugou's rescue failed & bakugou get brainwashed to be part of the league in a winter soldier-esque scenario but in the haze of torture, there's a boy w/ green eyes who haunts him. so when deku & he meet again, it brings forth conflicting feelings to the surface. when they meet again after so many years (bakugou brainwashing was slow and systemic bc he fought it off desperately) w/ deku a hero & he a killing machine for the league, it's absolutely heartbreaking for deku to find his childhood friend is alive but not all there.

but!! even when bakugou had no memories & only care about his orders, he never let go of the image green eyes boy who had kept him sane through his torture, carrying it w/ him thru every mission. his deku acts as a voice & conscience, crying for every death in his place. he acts as bakugou's voice & conscience even tho bakugou can't always hear it or obey it. in the cold brutal storm of his world, that deku is his only peace ever granted to him so meeting the real deku is so jarring that it stirs something in him. a memory. something lost.

they underestimate how deku is the source of all his emotional turmoil even pre-brainwashing, & now it's even worst bc he had lost everything except this green eyes ghost who followed him everywhere, lingering just on peripheral but his presence is enough of an anchor for bakugou. so meeting the actual & not ghostly remnants of the green eyes boy, it triggers a break in his programming & he knows he can't kill deku rn not when is the key to it all!! so bakugou defected from the league & go rogue but isnt siding w/ the heroes either. he cant trust anyone. not when his consent & trust was constantly violated in the past, he doesnt ever want to be some thoughtless machine again  but he cant leave deku completely alone not when so many villains want him dead so he quietly watches & protect deku as a looming dark specter.

everytime deku runs into trouble or find himself cornered his shadowy knight appeared to save him. & is funny bc bakugou thought he'd lost all his humanity alongside his memories but seeing deku being reckless w/ himself makes him soooo angry that it broke his indifference shell lol. bakugou never met a more stupid & careless hero who put his skin on the line for everybody else but not himself and he just get so mad about it!! doesnt deku knows that he is /his/, how important he is to bakugou reclaiming of himself so why the fuck does he keep endangering himself!! by carefully stalking, monitoring, deku, bakugou is slowly regaining a lil bit of himself at a time bc deku is the /trigger/. and that's how izuku finds himself accidentally taming one of the most formidable weapons that was in the league's by being his dumbass self.

it starts small, bakugou only appearing when he's in trouble so sometimes deku push himself too far & get more risky in hoping to see bakugou. this get to the point where bakugou get so bloody mad over it bc he didnt just saved deku's ass yesterday to have him died on him today, you fucking twit. then it's bakugou dropping by deku's apartment when he isnt there bc there's something about his presence that calms all the whitenoise in bakugou's throbbing head. even his lingering scent, cast all over his room & seeped into his furniture, is enough to calm him down.

izuku knows he has an invited guest breaking into him room occasionally bc he starts to leave food out & lil notes like, "thanks for helping us out today at Z ward", "I hope you still like curry", "did you sleep well?", and, "it's cold tonight, stay warm."

izuku would go home & find nothing out of place, the note is still on the table where he left it seemingly untouched. he doesnt get ever get a reply but the notes always have creased on them like someone had hold it too tightly in their hands and read it a hundred times. it's just enough to make deku feels stupidly happy, until one day he finds something hastily scribbled underneath his words, "not enough spice, put some actual fucking elbow grease into your cooking. how am i supposed to eat this horseshit?"