#LOGO SWARM GO

[kply-industries]

[banj0possum]

Sweet Hero Of Mine

Yandere! Antihero x GN! Hero! Reader

im back little stinkers <333

Edit!! Nsfw mentions removed! Replaced with..Elias being a dork ?

CW: Stalking, Creep behavior, Suggestive talk about reader, slight masochism

🪲 Elias was never into the whole Superhero thing.

🪲 He hated the constant swarming of reporters and fans screaming for his attention. He didn't want to be treated like a celebrity; he just wants to fight crime where people refuse to help.

🪲 That's why he avoided ever displaying himself like that. He preferred to stay in the shadows and kept his deeds out of the picture, but there are always rats scurrying around ready for another big scoop.

🪲 He could only scoff amusingly as he sees his little escapade last night being reported on tv with a blurry photo of him on the rooftops with the words "Mysterious Vigilante Strikes Again!"

🪲 He can admit, seeing them being so absorbed in what he does is pretty entertaining, he can feel his ego go up a bit.

🪲 Soon enough he gets tired of the incessant yap of interviewees talking about him and reaches for the remote.

🪲 His body freezes though when the reporter mentions some 'new hero' and he turns back to the TV.

🪲 His eyes are blessed with the cutest sight of a person dressed in a hero outfit with a logo on their chest. Their warm smile seems to radiate happiness as they talk to the reporter. Is this the new hero they've been talking about recently?

🪲 They ask for their opinion on the vigilante situation and he almost melts over their soft voice.

🪲 "I believe this guy has good intentions. Which is great and all but if it's endangering people and their properties, I think it's time they think about how running around and punching people in a suit isn't being heroic, it's being obnoxious!"

🪲 There goes his ego..

🪲 And perhaps his clean pants..

🪲 He starts researching all about this new hero. Who do they think they are?! This little brat has to be taught a lesson!

🪲 He stalks your social media, every fan account, every news atricl about your deeds, everything.

🪲 For for blackmail of course! Maybe he can find some dirt on you..in this fan account that makes thirst edits of you..

🪲 Soon enough he starts tracking you and your appearances. Every fight with a villain or any burning building with people that need saving, he's there with a high-grade camera that can snap all the rips and tears in your suit...for blackmail!

🪲 He's real happy that he wore a trench coat to your most recent battle or else everyone would have probably seen his growing boner whenever you throw a punch that connected to your opponent.

🪲 He's combing through the photos he took of you and shivers over your sweaty form and aggressive face.

🪲 He imagines meeting you, perhaps having a battle of his own, being pinned down by you, having your arms grappling and squeezing on his body. Perhaps you'd even say something degrading to him with that sweet voice of yours..

🪲 So that's what he does.

🪲 You were doing some last-minute night patrols after a long day of crime fighting and interviews when you hear a deep gravelly voice behind you.

🪲 "Hey there hero~"

🪲 You look back and see a large muscular man in a suit that looked like the armor of some insect.

🪲 "Huh, didn't expect to meet you here vigilante!" I joke.

🪲 "Oh please, call me Beetle~" He smirks as he walks closer to you. God you're even cuter in person..

🪲 "Well, Beetle, you are aware that you're kinda sorta wanted for a lotta stuff right?"

🪲 "Is it worse than the shit those pieces of scum done? Unlike youre pretty little ass I'm actually gettin bad guys off the streets.~" He teases, putting a hand on the wall and leaning close to your face. He's trying not to swoon over your stern face.

🪲 "Unlike you, I'm keeping people safe! Although I do commend your...unique sense of justice.."

🪲 *internal squealing*

🪲 He's a little surprised that you're so nice, unlike some other douchey heroes he knows.

🪲 He lets out a chuckle "That's new..Thanks goody-two-shoes.."

🪲 You give him a teasing face "Hey I'm not that much of an angel!"

🪲 "Oh~? Well o me you are, sweet hero of mine~"

🪲 You two become quick friends, even having missions together.

🪲 His obsession got worse from there.

🪲 Riding in your superhero vehicle, he rarely looks anywhere but at you driving, explaining to him the mission that he barely cares about other than the fact that it's an excuse to be with you.

🪲 Every time you take his hand to lead him somewhere, he makes sure to burn the feeling into his mind. Oftentimes he's the one doing whatever it takes to have physical contact with you, but it's way better whenever you initiate it.

🪲 You love taking pictures together. Of course he never smiles when you take one but when he's back at home, he's staring at it with the biggest, goofiest grin.

🪲 He loves taking pictures too, only he prefers ones with you and you alone. Sometimes it would be things you like so he wouldn't forget.

🪲 You blush, flattered over him remembering your favorite drink.

🪲 He'd memorize anything you say and put it in a top secret file named "My Love"

🪲 Oh my god please degrade him jokingly.

🪲 Bully him, push him around, be playfully rough with him!! Sure it's all in good fun but he's feeding his guilty pleasure whenever you treat him like shit while also being so sweet to him.

🪲 Pull him down suddenly by his suit's collar whenever you want to whisper something to him or show him something, he loves it. Although be warned, he might moan a little..

🪲 He's crazy for you, insane even, bonkers almost!!

🪲 He comes home seeing you in a superhero gala at one of the fanciest buildings in the city.

🪲 The bone-breaking grip on his beer bottle almost cracks the bottle when he sees you being accompanied by some other hero.

🪲 They're being all close with you and making you laugh, he can feel his jealousy rise within his body at the sight of your adorable smile, one that wasn't because of his jokes, his company!

🪲 Maybe it's about time he gives this superhero thing a try..

[xxfangirl365xx]

alright kids, gather around. I have some things I'd like to say regarding last night in a very organized list format

OVERALL SHOW THOUGHTS

Overall It was beautiful. I cried watching the stream. But sadly went to bed before it was over because I was feeling very unwell from staying up so late ): I missed blood,I'm not ok and Helena on stream but that's ok <3

MCR5,NEW TOUR?

-Did not expect them to release anything about that last night since it was night one of two. More likely they would do it tonight so I'm holding out hope for tonight since it's the more likely option

SOCIALS/ONLINE PRESENCE/POSTS

-Frank has NOT posted anything regarding MCR only dunes, which is very unlike him. As we know Frank loved MCR to death. He's the no 1 fan of his own band so I find it odd and very intentional that he has not posted anything about MCR at wwwyf only dunes

-along the same lines Mikey has not posted anything. Few weeks ago we got practice from him which was good, but all we have from him r 2 pics of him and his wife which r adorable, but not relating to MCR. also seems a little intentional to not have said anything about them playing at all

-MCR'S socials r DRY like bone dry. With swarm tour they posted things about "tonight were playing in (blank) at (blank time)" or something like that but they didn't post anything about WWWYF apart from when tickets went on sale for both days which is a little odd in my opinion

for all of them the silence seems ominous. Like they r trying to build suspense

OUTFIT'S, STAGE,GEE'S HAIR

-All black outfits head to toe, they looked good but it was very lacking black parade tbh (not a bad thing they looked so cute tho)

-STAGE-

-Only projections of spiders,tree (during cancer),swords,bridge (?),worms (?)

-SPIDERS PROJECTED

-swarm logo=fly

-spiders= eat flies

-"Witch" was leaked earlier this year. Paper kingdom was the album meant to come right after black parade. Their aesthetic kinda similar. Whites,blacks ect.

-some of the visuals like the swords was giving very paper kingdom 100% and if I rly did see a bridge projection in the background that's also very much the vibe. but most this stuff was done in short flashes across the backdrop

-Gee's hair-

-New haircut (stunning btw)

-new era? Gee had changed his hair for new era's. bullets/revenge it stayed pretty much the same apart from random dye jobs here and there but during black parade he got it real short and bleached it. Danger days ht dyed it red. hair is a big thing when it comes to Gee.

-New hair since shrine show (2019) pretty much. He's had long hair since MCR has come back together. U could argue it was to look nice but think about all the other stuff he's done that was also a big deal like umbrella acad final season and stuff. Why didn't he get a haircut then? Why now? and why was he hiding it?

-The last vid we got was earlier in the week the birthday one and he had the long hair still. It was recent like he did this JUST for the shows.

-i'm 100% taking this is a way of moving into a new era for MCR

MERCH

-some people were kinda bummed there was no new cool merch from the festival apart from the DEAD! zip up which is pretty cool ngl

-kinda looked like they were trying to get rid of older stuff before making something new perhaps?

-spending more time and resources on NEW shirts for a NEW album makes more sense than spending all the time and resources on designing new shirts for black parade when they can do that pretty much any time

HOPES FOR TONIGHT'S SHOW

I will not be staying up this time sorry guys. I slept 4 hours last night and feel very unwell from it. So i'll be sleeping tonight sadly but here is my hopes and predictions for tonight.

-MCR will play just like last night with the visuals and stuff but will maybe play one new song or announce it some how with the backdrop and "Paper Kingdom" will be announced to be released on OCT. 31

-Their socials will go live with all the info immediately

-Shortly after the album comes out there will be tour dates announced for spring/summer of 2025 INCLUDING warped tour

-END-

thanks for listening to my rambles if I think of more i'll add it to the list but I wanted a cohesive place to put all my findings and thoughts to share

[wordsofwilderness]

Crowded with You

Thank you to @likeprongstostars for the inspiration for this one!! (Link to inspo post)

This one is definitely too long for a Tumblr mircofic, so I'll put everything before the first POV change here, and then you gotta go to AO3 for the rest :D

Day 3: Omegaverse (rut) - Jegulus Kinktober - @jeguluskinktoberr - 875 words (out of 6.6k) - EXPLICIT

The metro train car was nearly empty when James and Regulus stepped into it. The few people scattered throughout were the usual Saturday evening crowd—the tired on their way home from some dinner event, and the tipsy on their way out to the clubs.

James had jumped at the opportunity to keep Regulus company on the way home from Sirius and Remus’ housewarming dinner party. The two of them moving in together had been a long time coming, mostly on account of Sirius not wanting to abandon Regulus to live on his own after their reunion only a few years back.

What James hadn’t thought through was that never before had it been only them alone together like this, only him and Regulus. They’d always interacted in the context of their wider friend group, either at Sirius’ place with Regulus therefore also there, or with Sirius dragging Regulus along to their plans.

But surely it would be fine. It wasn’t like James had been instantly attracted to Regulus from the moment they’d met. Well, actually, it was exactly like that. It wouldn’t have been such a problem if it hadn’t developed into more, at first just a crush, but with every encounter he’d fallen further. And today? Today, he was hopelessly and deeply in love with a man who’d shown up on Sirius’ doorstep.

How could he not love Regulus? James had seen him shed the shyness that had been forced upon him by his archaic family due to being an Omega. He’d seen him grow into a fierce determination, and flourish with it.

The problem was twofold. Firstly, this was finally his chance to make an impression beyond being Regulus’ brother’s friend, someone he had to put up with due to circumstances out of his control. But James only had precious little time before Regulus had to get off at his stop. Sure, he hadn’t mucked it up yet, but they hadn’t said much beyond small talk about the dinner, which absolutely would not do. He should be cracking jokes, maybe even flirting a tiny bit, he should be trying to impress Regulus.

And that led to the second part of the problem: his brain was too muddled to think clearly. He hadn’t expected being around Regulus in a context that wasn’t dulled by the familial or friends to make such a difference. Yet it did. Regulus’ scent had always smelled good. It was the kind where even the faintest whiff of it would have him swirling around to find its source—the kind where he wondered how even the people who didn’t have his Alpha’s attunement to the scent weren’t obsessed with it. But this was on a different level. There were no distractions, no one else nearby to mute the power it held over him.

So far, he was pretty sure he’d succeeded in keeping his struggle to himself. Regulus was leaning up against a divider wall, talking about the new bookcases I’d been debating getting now that he had more space. He seemed completely unaware of the impulse James was fighting—to lean in and inhale, deeply.

Both their heads whipped around at the sound of the doors to the metro opening. Outside were a large swarm of people, all piling into the train car. They were all in various states of drunk, scarves and shirts bearing the colours and logos of some sports team. The mass milled inside, pushing James and Regulus into the corner. Regulus shuffled closer to James, eyeing the crowd warily that somehow kept spilling in, jamming everyone further and further together. An Alpha reeking of sweat and beer bumped into Regulus’ arm.

“Oi, watch yourself,” James snapped at them.

Turning around, the stranger leered at the mating gland on Regulus’ neck covered by a transparent protector and scoffed, “He’s not even yours.”

“And what does that matter to you?” James shot back, squaring his shoulders as he put an arm around Regulus. He ran his hand over the spot where the Alpha had dared to taint Regulus’ sweet scent, he needed every particle of it gone. James narrowed at the potential threat. They sized him up in turn.

“Don’t,” Regulus warned, placing a hand on James’ chest. James’ eyes flicked to Regulus. He looked rather amused at the entire situation, comfortable even.

After a prolonged stare-down, the Alpha huffed at James before turning away, probably coming to the conclusion that a brawl in a packed metro car was actually not the best idea. And good, there was too high a chance of Regulus being caught in the fight, he couldn’t have that. James’ arm tightened around Regulus. However, it was rather disappointing that he didn’t get to break the idiot’s nose for daring to touch what wasn’t his.

Regulus tilted his head at James, his eyes roaming over James’ face, searching for something. He was so close. His scent filled James’ nostrils—so sweet, so enticing. He needed more; he needed him closer. With a simple tug, Regulus’ back was against James’ chest. The world around them dimmed down, narrowing in on Regulus in a sharp focus.

His other hand curled low on Regulus’ stomach, pressing them together as he groaned in a whisper, “Regulus.”

Find the rest over on AO3:

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

The Birdcage

Jurassic Park: It's Ironic, by Meig of A-Dinosaur-A-Day

What follows is a retelling of the Jurassic Park story, mainly based on the 1993 film, with portions of the original novel used to supplement the story. The main point of divergence occurs when the park is unable to find workable nonavian dinosaur genetic material for cloning, since - as in the real world - dna degrades much too rapidly. Instead, the park consists only of extinct dinosaurs that can be brought back - birds from the last 2.5 million years. What happens after that is, as Ian Malcolm would say, an emerging pattern.

Thanks to beta readers @plokool, @killdeercheer, and @otussketching! Thanks to logo artist @i-draws-dinosaurs for the killer logo! Happy 30th anniversary of the Jurassic Park film!

Fic Chapter Masterpost

Prologue: The Peck of the Raptor

Robert Muldoon had seen much in his forty-odd years on planet earth. A pride of lions tearing into the carcass of a giraffe. An elephant kicking an African leopard into the air. A swarm of hyenas attempting to hunt the wildebeest, only to flee in panic from their hooves. Nile Crocodiles and Hippos fighting over river space, with no obvious winners. Wild dogs hunting him, with coordination and planning he wouldn’t have believed if he hadn’t seen it for himself. Indeed, if someone were to have asked Robert Muldoon if he had seen everything nature had to offer, he would be tempted to say yes.

At least, until today.  

It was a simple transfer operation. Take the new asset from the hatchery complex to their permanent enclosure. Introduce them to their new flock members. Try to not drown in the torrential rain, to hear each other over the violent wind. Remember that humans are warm-blooded and no matter how much the rain soaked to the bone, warmth would return. Go home in time for dinner.

The thought now, of course, made Muldoon snort out loud, though of course no one could hear him. Flock was the moniker the higher-ups had chosen, ages ago, but he knew flocks. This was no flock. Better, really, to call this grouping a pack. Not that it mattered. After this, Muldoon was certain of his course of action.

He had to recommend termination.

Everything had happened so fast. The loud calls of the other assets, anxious for their flock member far away. The container, raised to the pen entrance. Locked in, safety verified. The animal was silent, but they usually were during transfer. Muldoon had chalked it up to fear or hesitancy, though it was odd that it wasn’t calling back to the others. All workers were in their proper positions, so he called for the gate to be raised. And then, before he could register any of it, the asset had rocked against the container, shaking it loose. It managed to reach out, grab onto Jophery’s hand – the scream chilled Muldoon down to the marrow – and suddenly there was no more Jophery, apart from his second hand, grabbing for dear life to the side of the container. On instinct, Muldoon grabbed his hand, and pulled as hard as he could. Jophrey was still screaming, the other workers were shouting and scampering, alarms were blaring from the cage, a gun or two going off pointlessly. The asset, still, remained silent. It didn’t even bite, or claw, or crunch, or tear.

All it had to do was peck – at the temporal artery

Peck again – at the leg – near the femoral –

Peck again – on the neck – blood was everywhere –

A final peck, Muldoon couldn’t even see where, there were feathers and limbs and blood and screams and –

Jophery went still.

Only a few more seconds, and the asset was also down, multiple tranq darts sticking out of various places. Muldoon hadn’t even had a chance to insist on lethal ammunition, but there was no point now. The asset was neutralized. No one was in immediate danger. The alarms were still blaring, and Muldoon was starting to lose his hearing from it, as loud as it was in his ears. But he couldn’t undo Jophery’s grip – it had been so strong; it didn’t even need rigor mortis to lock in – and he found that the slippery blood oozing from Jophery’s neck and face down the arm weren’t helping matters. But Muldoon had been hired for this position for a reason – a few, actually – and he managed to take a deep breath, grit his teeth, and remove the hand from his.

Now he was walking, slowly, to his employer’s office, tracking mud and rain and blood down the hall with him. People were running, talking in hushed whispers, angrily arguing. He didn’t much care for these lab rats who never entered the tropical sun, never mind interacted with the very things they were working on. Even now, when their concerns should be one and the same, he heard mentions of rehabilitation, modification, and genetic integrity – worries from individuals who did not have blood on their hands refusing to dry in the humid air. So antiseptic they had removed their own humanity.

Muldoon couldn’t wait any longer. The image of Jophrey’s clouded eyes hung in his mind as he shouted into the hallway.

“HAMMOND.”

Ray Arnold stuck his head out from the control room, eyebrows raised over the rims of his glasses. “Hammond isn’t here. Shouldn’t you be getting cleaned up?”

“We have to shut it down.”

Arnold sighed, “You know he won’t do that, Robert.”

“This is the third worker.”

“Yes, but –“

“Third. If you think officials across the water will ignore it at this point, you’re out of your god-damned mind.”

“People die on construction projects, Rob. All the time, in fact.”

“Their corpses don’t usually come back littered with peck marks.”

“We’ve managed all crises up to this point. Hammond insists on moving forward with this asset.”

“All because his impossible pet project didn’t work out, we have to insist on these uncooperative, murder-minded –“

“They’re no more murder minded than a lion or a wolf.”

“Says someone who has never interacted with any of them.”

Arnold sighed, fidgeting with his tie. Muldoon had moved to face him directly, but Arnold continued to look at his computer screen, the lines of code reflected in his glasses.

“I’ll talk to Hammond. If we can’t even get them in the enclosure, maybe it is time to pull the plug.”

“Finally,” Muldoon spat out, “Thank you.”

“Uh-huh.” But Arnold was already back at his computer, not even facing his torso towards Muldoon. So Robert turned and walked back, through the hallway, muddy bloody footprints showing his short journey down the hall and back.

It was time to call up another family.

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Olympics AU - Beginnings Part 2

Part 1

A properly written version of these Paris Olympics headcanons. Gale is on the U.S. equestrian eventing team, Bucky is a U.S. gymnast, and they meet on the plane to Paris.

Author's note: Part 2 because brevity is not my strong suit!!!

---

Crazy. He’s crazy. He’s fucking crazy. 

That’s all Gale can think as he approaches the dining hall around 4:00 that afternoon. He keeps nervously running a hand through his hair and then frantically trying to fix it again, not wanting to look like too much of a mess for this… thing. That he isn’t sure is a date. Or not.

On his way to the dining hall, he realized belatedly that there’s a bit of grain staining his shirt sleeve, courtesy of Whiskey begging him for ear scratches while she finished her feed. He was already a few minutes late, and going back to his room to change was not an option. So he stepped into one of the bathrooms in the village and dabbed at it frantically with water, trying to get it out, but eventually resigned himself to the fact that he’s just destined to make a fool of himself. Luckily it’s only a small spot on the back of the sleeve. With any luck, it’ll go unnoticed. 

He can’t believe he’s doing this. That’s the theme of today, and it will continue to be the theme of today. He almost wonders if it’s actually happening. If he and John actually agreed to wander around together in lieu of doing it with any of their existing friends. But they’d remembered to exchange numbers this time, and there is no doubting the text on his phone that says ‘I���m outside the dining hall! See you soon!’ with a little smiley face emoji at the end. It makes Gale’s chest feel funny. 

“Buck!”

Gale turns his head to see Bucky standing by a bench outside the dining hall, and Gale waves, willing his heart rate to calm the fuck down. “Hey! You’re here.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at him as he approaches, and he holds his hands out to the sides. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

“No, I just…” Gale shakes his head at himself. “I’m glad you’re here.” He’s blowing this already, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind.

“Looks like I’m not the only one that stained your shirt today,” Bucky muses, reaching out to tug at the back of Gale’s shirt sleeve.

“Whiskey,” Gale says by way of explanation. Then he rushes to add, “The horse. Not… not like the alcohol.”

Bucky lets go of the sleeve, smoothing it back down over Gale’s bicep. “I know.”

“I didn’t have time to change. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

“Well.” Gale motions ahead of them, towards the Seine across the road from the dining hall. “Shall we?”

They set off in a random direction along the water, suddenly very aware of the fact that neither of them know where they’re going. They turn away from the river after a few minutes, wander past a few training facilities, run across the road in front of a bus that honks loudly at them, find out exactly which buildings they have the clearance to access. They grab an early dinner of ‘artisan’ sandwiches at one of the cafes, and Gale laughs when Bucky accidentally drops his last bite on the ground and is immediately swarmed by pigeons. They stop to take pictures – both genuine and silly – at multiple Olympic logo statues, and Bucky fights the urge to post a photo of them together on his social media, not yet ready to invite that kind of media storm. It’s nice, in a way. Just getting to exist with a person without worrying about the press. Even if it can only last a day. The media will be all over him again as soon as podium training starts, and he knows Gale will have his fair share of reporters after him with his events coming up right after opening ceremonies. 

But for an afternoon, they don’t have to be Olympic athletes. They don’t have to worry about medals or training or their image. They can just be together, enjoy the company, enjoy the beautiful, blue-sky day. It’s so simple, a few hours spent walking around aimlessly with someone he just met, but it gives Bucky a sense of calm that doesn’t normally exist within him.

By about 7pm, they find themselves in some bar not far from the Olympic Village, promising to themselves that they’ll be proper tourists and take the city by storm another day. As they weave their way through the crowd, hearing a babbling mix of different languages that drowns out any actual intelligible words, Gale trails behind Bucky towards the bar. A young, attractive bartender greets them as they snag two empty seats.

Gale turns toward Bucky and leans in, cheek to cheek, so Bucky can hear. “What do you want?”

“Oh, uh,” Bucky stammers, thrown off. “Whiskey?”

Gale nods and motions to the bartender. “Puis-je avoir un verre de whiskey pour mon ami, et… ah, un French soixante-quinze, s’il vous plaît.”

Bucky’s brain stops working. Suddenly all he can do is stare at Gale’s face and watch as he leans on the bartop, nodding and smiling at the bartender.

The bartender is smiling back. “Avec du cognac ou du gin?”

Gale tilts his head. “Que recommandez-vous?”

The bartender presses his hands against the bar top, leaning in close, conspiratorially. “Le cognac.”

“Ah oui, je veux ça.” Gale nods and grins at the bartender again. They continue speaking back and forth using what are probably words but to Bucky sounds like pretty, cursive gibberish. He recognizes that twinkling look in the bartender’s eyes, the suggestive upturn at the corner of his mouth, the way he leans too much on the bartop in an attempt to be close, friendly. He’s flirting with Gale, quite shamelessly. Bucky just can’t quite figure out if Gale is flirting back.

So Bucky does what any rational person would do when the near-stranger they're crushing on is getting flirted with by someone else. He leans in close to Gale, getting his attention, and he reaches a hand up to gently stroke a loose strand of hair back off of his forehead. He pushes every ounce of sweetness and softness he can into his smile so that Gale focuses those pretty eyes on him instead. The bartender takes the hint and goes about preparing their drinks.

“Jealous?” Gale asks lowly as he turns around on his bar stool, so he’s leaning back against the counter. Bucky doesn’t really answer, just makes a noncommittal huffing sort of noise. Gale shakes his head. “You barely know me, John.”

Bucky shrugs, leaning against the bartop. “I know enough.” He hesitates over his next words, but what the hell. “I want to know you.” Gale takes a deep breath that settles into a smile, and Bucky knows he didn’t fuck up even as Gale looks straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. “What did you just say to him?”

“I ordered you a whiskey, and myself a French 75. He asked if I wanted cognac or gin, I asked what he would recommend, he said cognac, and I said I’d take that. And then he asked if I wanted to hook up when he got off work.” Gale looks casually over at Bucky, who is not making any attempt to hide the alarm on his face, and he chuckles. “I’m kidding. He just asked if I’m here for the Games, and we talked a bit about that.”

“He totally wanted to hook up with you though.”

“Did he?” Gale shrugs and looks out over the crowd of people filling the room.

“How did you not notice?”

“I’m already here with someone else who I can’t take my eyes off of.”

As Gale levels a suggestive look back on him again, Bucky wills himself not to blush. He knows he fails. “I didn’t know you spoke French.”

“Oui,” Gale teases. The bartender sets a glass of whiskey down in front of Bucky, and then hands Gale his cocktail. Gale’s attention is all on Bucky now though. “Est-ce que tu aimes ça?”

Bucky takes a shaky breath before sipping his drink, looking at Gale over the rim of his glass. “I don’t know what you just asked me, but yes.”

Gale laughs and lifts his glass to his mouth, lets the taste of the cognac and champagne linger on his tongue. He looks back at Bucky, who hasn’t taken his eyes off of him. “You’re really something else, you know that?”

“Is that good or bad?” Bucky asks. His voice sounds confident, full of suggestion, but inside he’s teetering on an edge, waiting to see if Gale’s going to push him off or drag him up.

“Mmm.” Gale takes another sip, lets Bucky stew in silence, as if he has to think about it. Then the corner of his mouth pulls up in that way that Bucky is coming to love, and he says, “it’s good.”

So Bucky leans towards him, grabs the hair at the back of his head, and he kisses him. The taste of whiskey collides with notes of cognac and lemon, smokey and sweet. He kisses Gale in a way that he’s rarely kissed anyone else before: gentle and wanting, asking and taking, soft and smooth like a love song. And Gale lets him.

The night goes by in a haze after that, full of laughter and stories and casual touches. They both order a second drink and toast to the Games. It feels like they could talk forever, and it would still never be enough. John has never in his life believed in soulmates, but he also can’t come up with a better explanation for the way Gale Cleven just casually wandered into his life, flashing a smile and booking a rent-free stay in his mind like he was simply coming home.

John Egan never really thought he was the type of person someone could find a home in. But maybe he could be. 

When Gale’s phone rings in the middle of their maybe-probably-definitely-date, he mutters something by way of apology and accepts the call. “Hi Marge.”

“Benny says you’re not in your room. And you’re not with me. So where are you?”

“I’m fine, how are you?” Gale replies. He can hear Marge rolling her eyes.

“Gale, where are you?”

“I’m out. With a friend.” His eyes dart over to Bucky, who is making a show of not listening in too much.

“All your friends are here with me,” Marge counters. “So… how does that work?”

“I’m… with John?”

He hears her take a deep breath, can picture her nodding and putting her head in her hand. “The gymnast. Seriously Gale, you went out with the gymnast?”

“You told me to be social,” he points out.

“That’s not what- okay, you know what. Fine. That’s fine. Good job. Gold star.”

He tilts his head back with a fond smile. “Marge, I’m a big boy. I can go out if I wanna go out.”

“I know-” she pauses. “You’re not sober, are you?”

This almost makes Gale laugh. Almost. Marge knows him too well, can parse out nearly everything he’s thinking and feeling from his voice alone. “Mmm, almost. Mostly. I’m not drunk if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I know you’re not drunk, you idiot. You don’t get drunk.” This is true. 

“I’m fine, Marge. I’m good, actually. John’s… I don’t know. I’m having fun. He’s… well, he’s amazing.” He looks at Bucky again, and this time his eyes are locked right onto Gale. He looks pleased, as if no one has ever said that about him before, which Gale knows is definitely not true. What he doesn’t know is that Bucky has never particularly cared if people like him or not, never cared what they said about him. Until now.

Marge sighs. “Just be safe, okay? Don’t… don’t do anything stupid. I know you won’t but I have to say it anyway. And don’t have unprotected sex!”

“Marge!”

“And I want to meet him.”

“Goodbye, Marge!”

“Love ya babe.”

Gale hangs up the phone in exasperation, and when he looks up again, Bucky is stifling a laugh. “Girlfriend?” he asks, and he’s only half joking.

Gale shakes his head emphatically. “God, no. I love Marge, but not like that.”

“She’s on the jumping team, right?” Bucky remembers reading about her. Gale, Benny, and Marjorie. The three young hotshots on the U.S. equestrian team, all from the same training facility.

Gale stirs the remains of his drink, listening to the ice cubes clink against the glass. “Yeah. We grew up together, actually.”

“She sounds like a good friend.”

“She is. But I don’t wanna think about her right now.” Then Gale leans over and kisses Bucky again, short and sweet. When he pulls away, Bucky wishes he wouldn’t, even though they’re in the middle of a crowded bar.

He asks Gale if he wants another drink. Gale politely refuses. “I don’t drink much,” he confides. 

Bucky starts to nod; they are Olympic athletes, after all. But then he pauses, squinting at Gale like he’s trying to calculate exactly what those words mean. “You don’t drink much,” he repeats slowly. “But your horse is named after alcohol?”

Gale laughs, and Bucky momentarily wants nothing more than to make that happen again. “She’s named after a plane that my great grandfather flew in World War II,” Gale explains. “Hundred Proof.”

And why does that make all the sense in the world? Everything Gale says makes Bucky fall a little more. “That’s… unexpected. And amazing.”

Gale looks pleased in that way that he only seems to when talking about his horse. “A special name for a special mare.”

And a special guy, Bucky thinks.

Even so, the drinks Gale did have were strong, and he can feel it in his head, in the way the world takes just a fraction of a second too long to catch up when he turns around. He’s on that edge where the alcohol is still making him pleasantly relaxed, but it’s almost to the point of reminding him of things he’d rather forget. Plus, he has to be up early tomorrow, and he’s sure Bucky does, too. Bucky must see something on his face, some sort of discomfort or unease, because he puts a hand on the small of his back, stilling him as he looks him in the eye. “Wanna head back?”

Gale nods. “Yeah, yeah sure.” And then Bucky is grabbing his hand, and Gale’s foggy brain spends too long focusing on how big Bucky’s hand is, how it nearly engulfs his own. He thinks about what hands like that could do and it makes him shiver before he chastises himself for wandering so far.

“You okay?” Bucky is looking back over his shoulder at him, a concerned little smile teasing at the corners of his mouth, and yeah, Gale is okay. This whole day has been wildly outside of his comfort zone, and yet he feels okay. John Egan feels safe, somehow. And Gale wants to wrap himself up in that feeling.

He nods again. “I’m good.”

–

It’s 10pm, and outside, the sun is just setting over Paris. “I can’t get used to that,” Bucky muses. “Sunset is so late here.”

Gale looks at him, and he finds that he can’t look away. “It’s beautiful, though,” he says, and he wonders if Bucky knows he isn’t just talking about the sun.

As darkness falls over them, they half stumble their way back to the Olympic Village. Neither of them are drunk, but they are just this side of tipsy. And they can’t stop talking and laughing as they try to figure out where the heck they are and how to get back to their little apartments. They’re still hanging off of each other, like it never occurred to either of them to let go.

“That one!” Bucky yells, pointing enthusiastically towards a building to their left.

Gale pulls back on his hand though, shaking his head. “No, it’s not the right color.”

Bucky stops and tilts his head, squinting at it even though it’s dark now and there’s no way squinting is gonna help. “You sure?”

“Yeah, our building is white. We need to go closer to the river.”

Gale is right. Their building is right on the Seine, and it is, in fact, white. By the time they find it, it’s nearing 11pm. They stop outside of Bucky’s door, hands locked together as they stare at each other like awkward teenagers after a first date. “I guess this is goodnight, then,” Gale says hesitantly. 

Bucky shrugs, uncertain, but then he shoves out the next few words before he loses his nerve. “You could come in.”

“Aren’t you sharing a room with Curt?”

Bucky smirks, darting his tongue over his lower lip, and the way Gale clocks that movement is very satisfying to him. “Curt’s not gonna be back for a while yet. Trust me.” Bucky has absolutely no idea where the guy went, and he’s not sure he wants to know. All he knows is that Curt told him he’d be out late, so if he wanted to bring his little blonde horseback rider back home with him, that would be alright. Bucky punched him in the arm, and Curt insisted he was just doing his duty as wingman. That and he legitimately wasn’t going to be back until late anyways.

“Alright then,” Gale whispers, and the way his voice goes all deep is enough to make Bucky practically drag him through the door.

Bucky’s room is pretty much the exact same as Gale’s. That is, minimal. Small, with white walls and wood floors, basic furniture including an open wardrobe and some shelves. And, of course, Paris 2024 comforters spread over top of two of those cardboard, anti-sex beds that everyone has heard so much about. For sustainability, the Olympic committee said, as the “intimacy ban” from Tokyo has supposedly been lifted. Right. Bucky, however, knows for a fact that such a ban didn’t really work anyways.

“Cozy,” Gale quips as the door closes behind them.

“They like to make us feel special,” Bucky agrees sarcastically, tugging on Gale’s hand again to pull him closer.

Gale lets himself be pulled forward, so he and Bucky are almost nose to nose. “Wouldn’t want us thinking too highly of ourselves.”

Bucky tilts his head and looks down at Gale. Gale has never in his life felt short or small in any way, but Bucky is a good couple inches taller than him and has quite a bit more bulk. When Bucky wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him even closer, though, Gale thinks he likes it. And Bucky is completely obsessed with the way Gale is blinking up at him, his lips parted, watching Bucky like he’s a puzzle he wants to solve.

“I think pretty highly of you,” Bucky murmurs. Then he kisses Gale again, slow and sensual and nothing like he’s used to. But it feels right somehow.

Gale pulls away and looks down at his feet, putting a hand on each of Bucky’s rock-solid biceps. 

“Is this okay?” Bucky asks him.

Gale looks back up at him and bites his lower lip with a breathy laugh. He can’t believe he’s doing this. Letting himself be propositioned by someone he just met at the Paris Olympics. Benny and Marge will have a field day if they find out. Gale himself can’t quite sort out how he got here. All he knows is he doesn’t care; he wants this. So he nods and says, “definitely.”

Then he pushes Bucky back against the wall and… wow. Bucky isn’t used to that. It’s usually the other way around for him. He finds himself gasping as Gale’s surprisingly strong hands grip his shoulders, as soft lips find his own. He can feel the cold wall through the back of his shirt, but he focuses on the warmth radiating from Gale’s body pressed against his and lets his hands settle on Gale’s slim waist as he relaxes into the kiss.

Gale pulls away and Bucky tries to follow, but he opens his eyes to see Gale looking at him, pupils blown wide. “You know,” Gale says. “Part of the reason I flirted with that bartender was to see if you’d care.”

So he admits it. He was flirting. “I cared,” Bucky tells him.

“I know.”

Bucky nuzzles Gale’s neck, nipping at the fragile skin, and he relishes the way it makes Gale’s breath catch. “Is that okay? That I cared?”

Gale tilts his head ever so slightly, giving Bucky better access, and Bucky thinks he has his answer. But he wants to hear it. “I liked it,” Gale confesses. “And I liked the way you touched my hair, too.”

Bucky pulls back so he can look Gale in the eye again, and he reaches a tentative hand up toward the side of Gale’s face, where a wayward strand of blonde hair has fallen down over his forehead, right above his eye. With gentle fingertips, Bucky brushes the strand back, just like he did in the bar, and it makes Gale’s cheeks flush as he averts his eyes, looking down at Bucky’s other hand firmly holding his waist.

“Like that?” Bucky asks. Then his fingers trace a line to the back of Gale’s head, where he twines them in soft hair and grips it experimentally, urging Gale to lift his head again. He presses their lips together and bites gently at Gale’s lower lip, swallows the gasp that follows. “Or like that?” He whispers against the corner of Gale’s mouth.

“Tout ça,” Gale says quietly. All of it.

Bucky puts both hands on Gale’s waist again and spins him around, so they’ve swapped places. Gale now pressed between Bucky’s body and the wall, Bucky kissing him with more passion than Gale’s ever been kissed with before. 

“Do that again,” Bucky growls as he tugs at the hem of Gale’s shirt with insistent hands. 

Gale lets him pull it up, over his head. “Oh? Ça te plaît?” The shirt drops to the floor at their feet and immediately Bucky’s hands are back on him, running up and down his sides, exploring his chest and abdomen and the small of his back with a desperate curiosity. 

“À votre tour. Allez,” Gale grunts, tugging at Bucky’s shirt. “Only fair.”

Bucky obliges and pulls away just briefly to pull his shirt off, letting it join Gale’s on the wood floor below. He sighs deeply when Gale’s hands touch his bare skin, gliding gently over his broad shoulders, his biceps, his back. “I want to look at you,” Bucky whispers.

He takes a step back, his fingertips tracing down over Gale’s arm as he pulls away until only their fingers are brushing, keeping them linked together. He inhales deeply as he takes in the sight of the man he’s so readily invited into his world. This perfect, perfect person. Piercing blue eyes analyzing him, messy blonde hair just begging to be pulled, rock solid abs and strong shoulders tapering into a narrow waist, where Bucky’s hands have decided they belong.

“My god, Gale, you’re…” He doesn’t have the words.

“Parfait,” Gale breathes, eyes roaming up and down Bucky’s body. Strong and imposing, nothing but well-trained muscle, equally messy dark curls that Gale wants to feel between his fingers, the broadest shoulders he’s ever seen up close. Everything about Bucky’s body screams power, and yet everything about how he looks at Gale, how he touches him, is affectionate.

Gale rushes forward, letting his fingers grip Bucky’s soft hair as he kisses him, hard. Their hands can’t get enough of each other, touching everywhere they can find. Bucky stops him, though, when Gale pushes him towards the bed.

“No,” he pants. “It won’t hold our weight. Trust me.”

Gale quirks an eyebrow at him, amused. “Make a habit of bringing athletes into your room?”

“Just once,” Bucky admits, leaning in again to suck at Gale’s collarbone. “I was young and stupid,” he mutters.

“And now?” Gale asks, his hand on the back of Bucky’s head, urging him to keep doing that.

Bucky laughs against his skin. “Might still be stupid, but the decision to bring you here sure wasn’t.” Spending time with Gale today was quite possibly the least stupid thing he’d ever done. “Hold on,” he murmurs. He’s tired of this standing against walls business.

He slips out of Gale’s hold and grabs the thin comforter off his bed, laying it out on the hard floor. Then he takes both of Gale’s hands in his and guides him down, until they’re both on the floor with the comforter underneath them. Bucky’s back is pressed against the cardboard base of the bed, Gale effectively in his lap, straddling him.

Gale presses forward and nips at Bucky’s ear, at his neck, at his jaw. Bucky’s head is spinning from the feeling of Gale’s bare skin under his hands and against his chest. Gale has an absolute fascination with Bucky’s shoulders, unable to keep himself from running his hands over them again and again, his fingernails scraping gently across them and making Bucky shiver. They’re grinding against each other now, and they both feel dizzy from the pleasure.

Bucky starts working at Gale’s belt, trying to get it off, but that’s when Gale pulls away. Bucky worries he pushed too much, but Gale has that soft half-smile on his face. “Hey now,” he says gruffly. “Buy a guy dinner first, why don’t you?”

And seriously, the way Gale’s eyes are twinkling at him like that and the way his soft hair is already a mess just from Bucky running his hands through it over and over, the way this man makes Bucky’s heart beat too fast, too fast, too fast the entire time they’re together… He can’t stand it and he never wants it to end.

So he pulls his hands away from the belt, puts one back on Gale’s hip and the other on his cheek and says, “Tomorrow. I’ll take you for dinner tomorrow.”

Gale nods, pleased, and kisses him again, rough and beautiful and better than anything Bucky has ever experienced before. And he knows that he’s already falling for Gale Cleven. Has been since the plane.

It’s going to be one hell of an Olympics.

---

---

Next part

[cyberl33ch]

Excuse Me, Miss? Chapter 1

masterlist, part two, part three, part four

summary: Neighbor turned business partner, romantic or conflict of interest?

tw: angst, eventual smut, conflict of interest, alcohol consumption, & hopeless feeling.

pairing: Neighbor/BusinessPartner!Abby x NepoBaby!Reader

Graduating university for some people is freeing but for you it was just another thing on your checklist. Being a multi billionaire's daughter with a happy childhood doesn’t really leave you wanting anything but the newest Hermes or Birkin handbag. So as your fathers daughter you drown your issues at the local bar (which your dad happens to own).

You were perfectly fine talking to one of the random girls who had swarmed over to you as soon as you sat down at the bar. Starting to get sweaty and overwhelmed with all the chitter chatter around you, you walk outside for a quick smoke.

As you destress on one of the benches outside your phone starts vibrating in your pocket. Quickly taking it out of your pocket you identify the caller. “Ughhh” You slur out rolling your eyes, before picking up the phone. If there was one thing your father knew how to do it was kill a buzz immediately.

“Get in the car.” Your father says demanding. Standing up you take a look around the street and spot the white limo with the company logo spread across it. Picking up your purse off the bench you walk towards the limo and get inside.

Closing the door you look at the bane of your existence. “I need you to do something.” He says not even sparing a glance. “It better be worth it.” You sit back in the seat slowly relaxing. Your father knocks twice on the roof and the car starts to pull off.

“I hope those…” He pauses to squint at his computer ”5 shots of tequila were worth it.” Making you roll your eyes, it was typical of your father or anyone at the company to monitor you and your intake.

This is why you have always been hounded about who you date, never why because they already know. You’ve always said that if you had complete control over your life you would’ve never been in such a lose-lose situation with life.

“What do you want?” You say groaning out rubbing your temples. “You’re going to pick up Marissa's job for a month.” He blankly says following it with a sigh. “See that’s the thing you never make it an option- Wait, did you fire her?” You remark with a raised eyebrow. “Wouldn’t dream of that.” This is the first time he dares to lock eyes with you, even though he immediately looks back down at his computer.

“Your shift starts on Monday…see you there.” You step out of the limo in front of the lobby of your penthouse. Closing the door you walk through the doors of the lobby sighing in relief that the interaction ended. Walking past the front desk you choose the elevator with only one person in it, stepping in you go to click your floor button but see it’s already clicked.

Since you’ve only just passed the 12th floor you finally realize you’ve stepped into an elevator full of boxes. “Oh, are you moving?” You said stepping out of the way. “Yeah sorry, all the other elevators were full of people…my name’s Abby.” She extends her hand out to give yours a FIRM shake.

After getting through the casualties, somewhere along the line you ended up agreeing to help her move some boxes to her place. I mean it couldn’t hurt right she’s just across the hallway, literally your doors are peephole to peephole. What the hell, it's just a couple of boxes, they’re not gonna hurt anybody.

Putting down the box you exhaustingly wipe the sweat on your forehead plopping down on the stairs next to you. “You’re trying to kill me.” You mumble in between breaths, making Abby chuckle while putting a bigger box like a pillow. “Would you like something to drink? At Least my kitchen is put together.” She motions towards the bar stools in the kitchen getting something out of the fridge.

You take a seat on one of the barstools hoping that something cold might help you catch your breath. This is the first time you take in how warmly decorated Abby’s place is, in comparison to yours less marble more wood. Well you didn’t have control over the decorations in your condo, hell you didn’t even have control of where you lived.

Your thoughts are once again interrupted by Abby slipping a glass full of lemonade into your open hand. “You space out a lot.” Abby says truthfully. “I have a lot to think about.” You say while taking a sip from your cup, eyeing her physical response over the top of your cup.

You might’ve been a functioning alcoholic that night but if there was one thing that was for sure it was that Abby was quite the woman. Not just from a physical standpoint but from a personality one, you two had so much in common.

Same music taste, you guys both loved journaling, not to mention the most romantic of them all…you both love the exact same authors. But being the awkward person you were, you didn’t know if this meant that the energy you put out was getting reciprocated or even noticed at all.

After all it was a long night and your shift starts in a few days, and you really feel the urge to call and tell your father off. “Hey Abs I think I’m going to call it a night.” You speak to Abby who is seemingly in her own world as well. “Yeah, I’m getting a little tired myself.” Abby knows she's lying, her life was lonely, it was nice to have a new personality in her space, refreshing even.

After finishing your nightly routine you plop down on the bed with an exhausted sigh, you wish you could sulk over your life. But after years and years the tears stopped coming and the situation never got better so what was the point?

What was the point when you could just drown your sorrows in the nearest bar wishing you were drowning yourself instead.

Waking up in your bed that was clearly too big for just you is always comforting, like a big hug you’ve never had. You get up to take a shower and do your morning routine when you get a call from your dads secretary.

You don’t really have a problem with her, she's just always…there and that can get really annoying. “How can I help you Karla.” You say rubbing your temples. “You’re late.” You can hear her teeth grinding through the phone. “Jeez Kar don’t rip all your hair follicles out like last time.” You remark letting a chuckle slip.

Karla clears her throat regaining her composure before speaking “You're taking over Marissa’s shift right?” She questions. “Yes..” You respond vaguely, rushing to check the calendar on your fridge. “Wait…it’s Monday.” You screech audibly it was just like you to forget what day it was but for the hangover to get to you the next day. “I’ll be on my way.” You say briefly before ending the call and rushing to put on business attire. You know for a fact that Karla is on her way to laugh with your dad about your slip up.

Walking into the building with slightly messier hair than you would like, attracting unwanted glances before reaching your desk. Finally something you can hide behind, gosh don’t people know what hard times look like.

Before you have the chance to do anything someone taps you on the shoulder. “Yes?” You turn around with a raised eyebrow meeting gazes with a very sculpted facial structure.

“Hello I’m Kev, your assistant here to help you with anything you need during your time here.” He says robot like. “Well Kev I like your tie but you can relax around me.” You say slightly nudging his shoulder with your fist. Kev lets out a sigh and starts listing off the duties he’s going to help you with, this is going to be a very long month.

You have 30 minutes left of your shift meaning you weren’t even doing your work, you were watching youtube on your computer. Completely swallowed by the drama showing on the screen.

The office phone on your desk starts ringing, letting out the biggest exhale ever when you pick up the phone “Front Desk.” You say with fake enthusiasm. “Bring those papers you printed out to my office.” You hear your father on the other side.

Hanging up the phone without any further explanation you snatch the papers out of the printer and practically stomp towards the executive elevator. Getting out of the elevator you step into your fathers office to find it empty, you just leave the papers neatly on his desk before departing you see pictures of you when you were younger.

Of course they’re among his new wife but you’re just surprised he didn’t burn a hole in your mothers face. “Excuse me, Miss?” Your reminiscing is interrupted by a familiar voice. You turn around to lock eyes with none other than…Abby?

my masterlist

(tell me in my ask my anything's if you have a request!)

(divider by @gigittamic)

[its-avalon-08]

Hi! I would really like to see an excerpt with Mika Hakkinen. It appears that y/n is a Ferrari driver and Michael Schumacher's partner. And they have a strained relationship with Mika because of the opposing teams. And in one of the races, y/n gets into an accident, which makes Mika realize that in fact, his love for y/n is hidden under the confrontation and tension. And Mika confesses his feelings to her and it turns out that these feelings are mutual.

look at us (mh9)

✦ pairing - mika hakkinen x female!reader

✦ genre - crash, enemies to lovers, confessions, tears, fluff

The Hungarian sun beat down mercilessly on the Budapest paddock, turning the asphalt into a shimmering mirage. Sweat clung to my temples as I adjusted the scarlet cap perched atop my blonde curls, the prancing horse logo a stark contrast to the silver swarm of McLarens buzzing around the opposite end. Today was a particularly tense day; qualifying for the Hungarian Grand Prix, and the championship battle was reaching a fever pitch.

Michael, my teammate at Ferrari, was nowhere to be seen. Probably strategizing with the engineers, his laser focus a stark contrast to my current state of simmering annoyance. The culprit? Mika Hakkinen, the stoic Finn from McLaren who currently held a slender lead in the championship.

He was by the McLaren motorhome, his tall, lean frame clad in their trademark blue. Even from a distance, I could feel the icy aura radiating from him. There was a time, back in the junior categories, when Mika and I had a grudging respect for each other, maybe even a flicker of something more. But that was a lifetime ago, buried under the avalanche of team loyalty and championship aspirations.

A shadow fell across me. I looked up to see Michael, his steely gaze scanning the paddock. His jaw clenched when he spotted Mika. "There he is," he muttered, his voice laced with barely concealed disdain.

"Always a sight for sore eyes," I replied, my tone flippant but laced with a bitterness I couldn't quite hide.

"Don't let him get to you, (Y/N)," Michael said, his hand briefly brushing mine before pulling away. "He's just trying to play mind games."

"Mind games or not," I retorted, "he's leading the championship. We need to focus on closing that gap."

Michael nodded curtly, then strode off towards the Ferrari garage, the tension between us as thick as the Hungarian goulash wafting from a nearby vendor.

A glint of silver caught my eye. Mika was walking towards the McLaren garage, his head down, a frown etched on his face. As he neared, our eyes met. Time seemed to freeze. His expression, usually unreadable, flickered with a hint of something...else? Annoyance? It was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Well, well," he drawled, his voice a low rumble, "the Scuderia sweethearts out for a stroll?"

"Just soaking up the pre-race atmosphere, unlike some who seem perpetually grumpy," I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended.

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. "Always the firecracker, aren't you, (Y/N)?"

"And you're always the iceman," I countered, a childish urge to throw my half-eaten energy bar at him warring with the professional need to maintain composure.

He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Maybe that's what makes this rivalry so interesting, wouldn't you say?"

Our eyes locked again, a spark of something electric crackling between us. Before I could respond, a voice boomed from behind me. "There you are, (Y/N)! Let's go over the telemetry."

It was our race engineer, effectively shattering the charged moment. Mika gave a curt nod and disappeared into the McLaren garage. I turned to follow my engineer, a frustrated sigh escaping my lips.

The battle lines were drawn, the tension between us palpable. As I walked away, I couldn't help but steal a final glance back at the McLaren garage. Mika was nowhere to be seen. But a strange feeling lingered, a premonition that this race, and this season, would be anything but ordinary.

🏁🏁 race day🏁🏁

The race at Monza was notorious for its high speeds and hairpin turns, and today was no exception. The stands were filled with eager fans, and the atmosphere crackled with anticipation as the drivers lined up on the grid.

“And we’re off! A fantastic start from Michael Schumacher, but look at Y/N in the Ferrari, right on his tail!” the commentator’s voice blared over the speakers, capturing the intensity of the moment.

Mika Häkkinen was just behind them in his McLaren, eyes focused, hands steady on the wheel. As the race unfolded, the battle between Ferrari and McLaren grew fiercer with each lap.

“Y/N is really pushing that Ferrari to the limit today!” another commentator noted. “She’s neck and neck with Schumacher and Häkkinen!”

But as they approached the infamous Parabolica turn, disaster struck. In a split second, Y/N’s car clipped the edge of the track, sending her spinning out of control. The Ferrari smashed into the barriers with a sickening crunch of metal.

“Oh no! Y/N’s had a massive crash at Parabolica!” the commentator’s voice was filled with shock and concern. “This doesn’t look good at all.”

Mika’s heart dropped. “What the fuck was that?! Is she okay? What’s the status on Y/N?” he demanded over the radio, his voice tight with worry.

“Stay focused, Mika. We need you to concentrate on the race,” his engineer responded, but Mika couldn’t get Y/N out of his mind.

“I need to know she’s okay for fucks sake,” Mika insisted, his voice betraying more emotion than he intended.

“Mika, stay with us. We’ll update you as soon as we have news.”

As the safety car was deployed and medical teams rushed to the scene, the tension in the air was palpable. Mika’s eyes kept darting to the spot where Y/N’s Ferrari lay crumpled against the barriers.

“Come on, Y/N, you have to be okay,” he muttered to himself, gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The commentators were in a flurry of speculation and updates. “The medical team is with Y/N now. We’re hoping for the best. This is a tough moment for everyone involved.”

Minutes felt like hours as Mika continued to race, his mind split between the track and the worry gnawing at him. Finally, an update crackled through his radio.

“Mika, we have news. Y/N is conscious and being taken to the medical center. She’s banged up but stable.”

A wave of relief washed over Mika, though his concern remained. “Thank you. Please, keep me updated on her condition.”

As the race continued, Mika’s performance was driven by a new sense of urgency. His heart was no longer just in the competition but with Y/N, lying in the medical center.

After crossing the finish line, the race results were a blur to him. He parked his car and hurried through the paddock, ignoring the looks and questions from the media.

“Mika, any comments on today’s race?”

“No time,” he muttered, brushing past them. “I need to see someone.”

He found his way to the medical center, his heart pounding. There she was, lying on a bed, looking pale but awake. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, the tension and rivalry between them dissolved.

“Mika?” Y/N’s voice was weak but carried a hint of surprise.

He rushed to her side, his expression softening with genuine concern. “Y/N, thank fucking god you're okay. I just...” he trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

“You were worried?” she finished for him, a small, teasing smile playing on her lips.

“More than I’ve ever been,” he admitted, taking a step towards her gently. “I know we’ve had our differences, but seeing you like that… ”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes softening. “I guess it took a crash to break through that thick skull of yours, huh?”

Mika chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. Mika took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s. The medical staff quietly stepped back, sensing the gravity of the moment.

“When you first came to Ferrari,” Mika began, his voice shaky but determined, “I saw you as just another rival. Another driver I had to beat. You were Schumacher’s teammate, a part of that scarlet machine I was always chasing. But… you were different.”

Y/N’s eyes searched his, trying to understand the depths of his words.

“I remember the first time I saw you on the track,” Mika continued, his tone softening. “You were fierce, fearless, and so damn good. I was impressed, but I didn’t want to admit it. I couldn’t. You were my competition, and I had to keep you at arm’s length.”

He swallowed hard, the memories flooding back. “But the more I watched you, the harder it became to see you as just a rival. You were more than that. You were… captivating. Every time you overtook me or fought for a position, I felt this strange mix of admiration and frustration. I tried to ignore it, to push it down, but it only grew stronger.”

Mika’s voice grew more intense, his emotions bubbling to the surface. “I hated how you made me feel. Vulnerable. Human. I wasn’t supposed to care about you, but I did. I found myself looking for you in the paddock, wanting to see you smile, even if it wasn’t at me. And when I saw you with Schumacher, laughing, talking, I felt this burning jealousy that I couldn’t understand. Why did it matter to me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident. “I tried to convince myself it was just competition, that I wanted to beat you more than anyone else. But it wasn’t that. It was you. Your strength, your passion, your kindness. I couldn’t stop myself from falling for you, even though I knew it was impossible.”

Mika’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, his voice breaking. “Every time we exchanged those snide comments, every time we clashed, it was my way of dealing with what I couldn’t say. I was afraid. Afraid of what it meant, afraid of losing focus, afraid of you.”

He took a deep breath, his hand trembling as he held hers. “But today, when I saw you crash, everything became clear. All those fears, all those walls I built—they crumbled in an instant. The thought of losing you… it was unbearable. I realized I’d been lying to myself all this time.”

Mika’s grip tightened, his eyes locking onto hers with a fierce intensity. “Y/N, I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, and I’ve been a fool to hide it. You mean more to me than any race, any victory. You are my heart, my soul, and I can’t bear the thought of living without you.”

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face, her hand reaching up to touch his cheek. “Mika, I…”

He pressed his forehead to hers, his voice a whisper. “Please, Y/N. Tell me it’s not too late. Tell me you feel the same.”

Y/N’s lips trembled as she nodded, her voice choked with emotion. “I do, Mika. I’ve always felt the same way, but I was just as scared. Scared of not being good enough for you. Of not being the one you wanted. But every day I used to search for you. Search for your eyes in the crowd. Mika, I love you too. Maybe we've been too caught up in this rivalry to see what's been right in front of us."

Mika's heart skipped a beat, a smile breaking across his face. "Y/N, I..."

"Shh," she interrupted gently, reaching out to touch his cheek. "Actions speak louder than words, Mika Häkkinen."

Mika let out a shaky breath, his tears mingling with hers as they held each other, the weight of their confessions lifting, leaving only the raw, beautiful truth of their love.

With that, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, a gentle but unmistakable declaration of the feelings they had both kept hidden beneath the surface of their rivalry. In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of the race and the scent of the paddock, Mika knew that their relationship had taken a new and promising turn—a journey from adversaries to partners, both on and off the track.

[frangipanilove]

How TBOC 2x5 explain how Beth survived after 5x8 Coda

(And how Ash and Daryl deliver some of the season's finest Beth callbacks and dialogue parallels)

Spoilers for TBOC 2x5 and 2x6 below, beware!

Because this episode hasn’t aired yet, I’m not going to dwell on where we are in the plot, because it’s not terribly important in this context. This is mostly about some very specific Beth callbacks and dialogue parallels from 2x5 and 2x6, and I’ll just jump right into the narrative.

So, Daryl and Carol are out looking for Ash. He’s their pilot and obviously they need him to get home to the US. He was supposed to stay by the plane, but when they return to where it’s hidden, he’s “just gone”. They ask around, and get intel suggesting he might be at Maison Mere. They go there to search for him. They can’t find him immediately, but from a window they can see something that catches their attention:

Daryl remarks “there definitely someone in there”!

An image like this should scream “suspicious” to everyone who’s followed TD for any length of time. While all us TD’ers probably have our own individual theories on how Beth survived, there seem to be consensus around the fact that the trunk of a car would most likely be involved somehow. We’ve also seen from the flashbacks in 5x9 WHAWGO that they at some point were overwhelmed by walkers, so the theory was quickly formed that most likely, they initially meant to bury her, but were overrun by a walker horde, and had to leave her behind to escape the horde and save themselves. They put her in the trunk of a car, or inside the back of a car, with the intention of returning for her when the walker horde had passed. But when they did return, she was “just gone”.

I’ve previously written a bunch of theories around suspicious cars. I personally believe that officer Lichari’s Dodge Magnum could potentially be THE car she was put in, because we’ve had a lot of symbolism around Dodges, and we’ve seen a lot of symbolism around rams, which is the Dodge logo. We actually saw this symbolism at play as recently as in TBOC 2x1, when Carol misspoke and called a car a Dodge, while it definitely was a Ford Mustang (which are also cars steeped in resurrection symbolism, read more here).

Back to TBOC 2x5. Daryl and Carol decide to investigate the suspicious car that is swarmed by walkers. Our first hint of some serious Sirius symbolism ahead, is the dog eating walkers as Daryl comes through a tunnel on his way to the car. Beth’s is a Sirius figure on the show, and Sirius refers to the Dog Star that disappears from the night sky for a while, only to “resurrect” some time later. It’s resurrection symbolism.

Daryl approaches the car, systematically taking out the walkers. Carol is right behind him.

Once they make it inside, they find none other than Ash. Unconscious, but alive. He got knocked out when he hit his head on the car door.

Let me pause here for a minute. If you were tasked with writing a scene where an unconscious Ash in a car specifically were meant to represent Beth after Coda, and he needed some visible evidence of the cause of his unconscious state. Where would you place the head wound? Would you place it exactly where Beth got shot? Yes you probably would, wouldn’t you?

And if you were to further enhance the connection to Beth, would you have him say one of her iconic lines as he woke up? Again, yes, you probably would:

Carol is thrilled to find him alive. She offers a tentative diagnosis, which I believe very well could be the diagnosis Beth would have received after her close but not fatal encounter with a bullet in Coda:

And now they need to get out. They’re stuck in a car, which I’ve often likened to a tomb, because of the resurrection symbolism they’re surrounded by:

We see imagery which we’ve seen in scenes and episodes where there’s a heavy presence of Beth/resurrection symbolism...

…such as here from 5x9 WHAWGO (which I've written about here)

Which is interesting, because WHAWGO also happens to be the episode right after Beth was "killed" and supposedly placed in the trunk of a car. It's the episode where she was last seen, in a hallucination, playing a guitar:

...which again is super interesting, considering how in 2x6, Daryl randomly finds a guitar, in the trunk of a car no less...

I legitimately ugly cried during this scene. Give Norman all the awards! And just to have mentioned it; that guitar is brought home to the US...

Back to Daryl, Carol and Ash in the car/tomb. To be stuck in a tomb sounds ominous, had it not been for the fact that tombs sometimes have an “emergency exit”. Don’t believe me? Take it up with Jesus Christ, he’s the one who made escaping tombs trendy some 2000 years ago. Later, we’ve seen it countless times in TWDU, my favorite is this little sequence from 4x12 Still:

Beth and Daryl hide in a trunk (tomb) for the night while a walker horde passes by. When morning comes we watch Beth open the closed trunk (tomb) from the inside, and climb out, into the daylight. That’s car/tomb symbolism paired with resurrection symbolism, and just like this scene from TBOC 2x5 is a retelling of what happened after Coda, the scene from 4x12 Still foreshadowed what were to happen in Coda.

And luckily, Daryl, Carol and Ash’s car (tomb) has an "emergency exit":

This is also something we’ve seen before, back in 7x12 when Michonne and Rick had a similar type of experience with being stuck in a car(tomb) surrounded by walkers:

Later, Ash perhaps gives us an estimate of approximately how long Beth spent in the trunk of the car, or alternatively, how long it took for TF to return to the car to retrieve her:

And it turns out it’s no coincidence that it is Ash who is given the task of being the Beth proxy in episodes 5 and 6. After he’s been saved from the Coda-esque nightmare in the overrun car, they together prepare to leave France. Ash and Daryl go out in search of some extra spare parts for the plane. They start talking about children. As I’ve already mentioned briefly here, having kids and losing kids is the overarching theme throughout this entire season, and I maintain that this is the season where Daryl becomes a father. It’s a huge, groundbreaking development for him, something which makes the following even more astonishing.

Ash asks what happened to Laurent’s parents:

Daryl knows Ash once lost his son, and offers his condolences. He explains how he was there when Carol lost Sophia, and adds that it’s something he wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

Then the Beth callbacks and dialogue parallels kicks into high gear:

And here we actually have Daryl, in TBOC 2x6, adding to Beth’s commentary from TWD 4x2 Infected:

…which in my opinion is a rather extraordinary thing. Did TPTB actually, in a roundabout way, sneak in a proper Bethyl conversation after all these years? Did Beth speak to Daryl from "beyond the grave", so to speak, and Daryl replied? Did Beth actually “speak” to Daryl as he's in the middle of the emotional process of becoming a father? Of all times to include this type of callback, they do it as Daryl is accepting the responsibilities of fatherhood?

And more importantly, why? Why would TPTB do something like that?

Because they’re preparing for her to return, that’s why.

That’s also why they threw in like 1500 super potent Beth callbacks and dialogue parallels in 2x2, which I wrote about in the Green(e)land post here. And as I mentioned, that was the episode with Daryl’s first ever onscreen kiss! His very first onscreen kiss is accompanied by a wide selection of exquisite Beth callbacks, and now they're out here (sort of) discussing parenthood???

And what's more, people, keep in mind that the Green(e)land storyline was PURE symbolism. It did absolutely nothing to move the plot forward, it was exclusively a tool for sprinkling a bunch of Beth references all over the kissy-episode. And again, we should all ask ourselves why!

(Having said that, I don’t think we should downplay his feelings for Isabelle. I’ll elaborate more in a different post, but I’ll say again that I don’t believe one relationship cancels out another. Love can take different forms between different people. He can love Isabelle in one way and Beth in a different way, and they’re both valid. But that’s for a different day.)

But basically, as I keep saying, TBOC is full of Beth callbacks and dialogue parallels, and like I've shown here, they're not chosen randomly.

[writing-bakugo]

Working on a Kirishima fic and have no direction so thought I'd share my biggest headcanon that I've been keeping secret but can't anymore because its TOO good.

Kirishima's Significant Other

Everything weighed him down. Yes, he had his dream job. Yes, he worked close with his friends. Yes, he saved people.

But no one told him how lonely being a pro would be.

Kirishima was trying his hardest. He truly was. But after the third dead person he couldn't save in a single week? It was no secret his smile had started to shrink when he wasn't working and his shoulders slumped more and more.

Of course he did what he could. He was a good man and went to therapy every week and did exactly as the therapist recommended. He even did service projects where he would go help cook or clean at orphanages or homeless shelters.

But no one warned him being a pro would be like this. There was no preparation for the weight that pros carried on their shoulders. And it didn't matter that he was alone.

Kirishima was so terribly alone. After watching all his high school friends get married one after another—even Bakugo, the most unstable man in existence—Kirishima wondered what was wrong with him.

It's not like he didn't have a plethora of fans dying to date him. But none of them lit so much as a spark under him. It wasn't their fault, he just...wasn't interested.

But maybe if he had someone waiting at home for him the weight wouldn't be so bad. If he had a home to come home to, maybe the stress could melt away and he'd finally relax.

His weeks had a routine to them. Monday-Wednesdays were patrol days, Thursday was his day off, Friday-Sundays he was on call. Which he tended to get called in.

So that left Thursdays being the only day of the week that he could do his laundry, clean his kitchen (like his mother taught him), buy groceries, meal prep (Kirishima has a strict diet), and go to therapy.

Hectic, methodical life. Always in motion but never participating. So Kirishima dragged himself to the store and unsurprisingly was swarmed by fans who wanted his autograph.

One even had the gall to ask for his number. She looked like she was in middle school.

And then he was finally in the frozen food section searching for frozen chicken. He always bought the same brand, same packaged chicken. Not for any particular reason, but because it was easy to remember with the bright red logo.

He tossed the last bag in his basket and made to leave when you appeared and frowned at the empty freezer. You wore loose mom jeans and a plain t-shirt with purple stains on it. Your hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and you didn't even bother with makeup.

When you noticed him, you smiled. "You got the last one! Lucky!"

"Oh yeah," Kirishima said and watched you scan the freezer for a replacement. "Do you want it?"

"Huh? No! That's yours! I couldn't!"

"Here." He held it out like some sort of treaty before you shook your head and he laughed. "I insist."

"I suppose if you insist," you said and took the bag. "Thank you! Do you need help finding more?"

"I'm not too worried about it," Kirishima said before reaching into the freezer for ground beef.

You slightly bowed before you went on your way. A few years earlier, Kirishima had a pretty good meal plan surrounded by beef, so he figured he could change it up a bit a make his old recipes.

When he stood in the checkout line, he saw you two registers down. You bowed slightly and apologized before pointing at a cake mix. The cashier set it to the side and Kirishima's eyes widened. Did she not have enough for a cake mix?

The register opened and he turned away, letting the person behind him go before he rushed to the baking aisle and grabbed a cake mix. He didn't really know what he was doing, but it was his hero's duty. And who knew? It could be your birthday or something and you really wanted a cake.

When he checked out, he looked through the doors and wondered if you'd gone far. Kirishima rushed the cashier before he grabbed his three bags and ran out the door.

There you were. You were struggling with putting your bags on the back of a bike and Kirishima grinned when he came over.

"Sorry, I noticed you wanted one of these, so..."

Your eyes widened. "How...thank you." You bowed deeply. "Thank you."

"Yeah, no biggie."

The next week passed. And the next. He didn't see you at the grocery store either times. But, third time's a charm when you appeared and pulled out a bag of frozen chicken.

"Looks like there's enough for both of us, huh?" Kirishima asked when he put a bag in his basket.

"Oh hey! How are you?" You asked. "Thank you so much for the cake, by the way. I didn't know what to do. It was my baby boy's birthday and I wanted to make it special but money's tight right now."

Baby boy. Kirishima stared at you with a drooped smile. He noticed orange stains on your pink shirt and your hair was disheveled like it'd been pulled and of course he would think about someone who already had a family. How embarrassing.

But just like him, honestly.

"No big deal," he halfheartedly said.

You sighed. "Seriously, you were a lifesaver. After his dad skipped town three years ago, it's been so hard."

Wait. Kirishima gawked. "What?"

"Yeah," you deflated and stared at the ground. "My ex went crazy one day and said he wanted nothing to do with us. I'm happy my boy wasn't old enough to remember him or any of it, but jeez. He's five now but I don't even know how men shave. Like do you do just your face or is there other parts of the body? Or even attempting to explain puberty," you shuddered, "and who's going to teach him to tie a tie? And—I'm sorry. You don't want to hear about all my woes!"

Kirishima didn't know why he went home that night relieved that your ex had left. He also didn't know why he was imagining your kid over and over and he didn't know why he found himself standing in the frozen meat aisle just waiting for you to show up on the next Thursday.

And when you did, Kirishima held a bag of frozen chicken out for you and cleared his throat. "Do you want to go out sometime?"

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

I 10000000000% see Kirishima being the kind to fall in love with someone with a kid and 1000000000000% adopt the kid. He'd make the PERFECT adoptive dad. Totally the kind of man who'd say "no it's not your kid it's MY kid." 1000000000% ya'll

[skyward-floored]

At time or writing its my birthday so, yay! Prompt: Time and his family blending in during a community event

So I saw “community event” and kind of immediately thought “county fair” for some reason and kinda focused on that, and it’s blending in but it’s not like totally the focus and... well... it’s not exactly what you asked for..? But I hope you enjoy it anyways at least. And happy late birthday :)

(Requests are closed! I’m just finishing up the ones I have)

————————————————————

Twilight couldn’t help being stressed whenever his family all went someplace in public.

It was probably stupid— check that, he knew it was stupid to worry so much, especially when they were here to have fun. And he liked the Ordon county fair, it was one of his favorite things to do in the summer, he just... he worried.

He worried about Wind being so flippant about using his powers in public, since they were so hard to notice. He worried about Four, that he’d get lost or separated from them. He worried that Hyrule would get overwhelmed, he worried that Wild would use his powers without thinking, he worried he worried he worried.

And most of all, he worried they’d be exposed and have to move.

Again.

The last time was still stark in Twilight’s memory, the stress, the worry... the fear. The looks his parents would give each other, and the conversations they’d had that they’d thought were out of Twilight’s earshot (they weren’t).

So yeah. Despite loving the fair, and eating junky food and getting to pet all kinds of animals and see what his grandpa was showing this year... the moment they got there, Twilight was on edge.

Wild made to run off the second they all walked through the gates, but their father snagged his shirt, clearing his throat.

“Ground rules,” he reminded with a raised eyebrow, and Wild and his siblings sighed as they moved to a spot where they wouldn’t be overheard by anybody. “You remember them?”

“Don’t go off alone, if you see anything suspicious come find you or Mom, meet back at lunchtime at the barn where Grandpa is,” they all rattled off, and Time nodded approvingly.

“And absolutely no powers,” Malon added with a pointed look at Wind.

Wind grumbled and kicked at the dirt, but nodded, and Twilight felt a little bit of his anxiety ease.

“All right. Go have fun,” Time said with a faint smile, and they all split and ran, Wild grinning as he dragged Hyrule off to who-knows-where.

Wind ran after them, and Twilight hesitated, unsure whether to tag along or stay with his parents. Wild could get into all sorts of trouble, though Hyrule wasn’t likely to go along with anything too insane. But with Wind as another influence...

“You want to see if Grandpa is here yet?” Legend asked him with a poke, and Twilight swallowed back his worry. He was here to have fun. He needed to stop worrying about what his siblings were doing, and relax.

He breathed out and nodded at the question, and Twilight and Legend went off towards the livestock, glancing back just long enough to see Time put Four up on his shoulders so he could see over the swarms of people.

At least he probably didn’t need to worry about that group.

Legend and Twilight wandered through the fairgrounds, steadily making their way towards the big barns where all the livestock were kept. There weren’t really any games or food in this area, but it wasn’t boring by any means; lots of companies had stalls along this path, all eager to advertise, and Twilight got three free pens and a cup with the Malo Mart logo printed all over it. Legend ended up with some pens as well, along with a paper fan, a stress ball, a pair of sunglasses that looked like they would fall apart if anyone looked at them wrong, and a balloon, somehow.

He tied it happily on his wrist as they finally reached the barns, and Twilight looked around, the familiar sounds of mooing cows and smell of hay easing the anxiety still twisting his stomach.

“Heya Twi!” a cheerful voice called over the noise of the barn, and Twilight turned towards it, perking up at the sight of the blonde girl waving at him.

He and Legend worked their way through the stalls and people, and Twilight grinned as the girl ran up and squeezed them both, her face excited.

“Hey Ilia,” Twilight said, and she pulled back, still grinning.

Ilia lived in Ordon proper, rather than the outskirts where his grandpa’s ranch was, but he and his brothers often ran around with her whenever they visited. She was a good friend, even if she could be a bit intense sometimes.

“Howdy boys. You here to see the animals this year? Ordon ranch has some blue ribbons in the making, I know it!” Ilia said excitedly, and the goat behind her let out a bleat. She turned around and petted it, and Twilight did the same, the goat happily rubbing against his hand. “The goats miss having you around, Twilight. You need to visit again!”

“It hasn’t been that long. And grandpa really doesn’t have room for all of us,” Twilight pointed out, and she shrugged, giving the goat’s nose a pat.

“Well it feels like it’s been ages since you last came to Ordon. And what’s so bad about being a little cramped for a bit?”

“You’ve never had to share a bed with Wild,” Legend snorted, balloon waving as he crossed his arms. “He couldn’t keep still if his life depended on it. Plus he always hogs the blankets.”

“He’s not that bad,” Twilight interjected as Ilia laughed, and Legend rolled his eyes.

“That’s just because you can get him to stay still with your—”

He cut off rather suddenly, and Twilight froze, well aware Legend had been about to talk about his wolf form. The anxiety roared back as Ilia looked between them, and he felt his heart start to pound.

She’s going to find out she’s going to get her mind wiped we’re going to have to move again we need to leave or she’s—

“With his what? Ilia asked, and Legend cleared his throat.

“Oh you know, he has his ways. Most of them involve sitting on Wild,” he shrugged, and Ilia laughed again, quickly moving on from the hiccup. Twilight swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart, and based on the look Legend gave him, he could probably hear it thudding.

What was wrong with him? Usually he could handle little mistakes like that with ease, and he’d just frozen up?

Twilight swallowed again, stomach still twisting itself into knots. Why was he so nervous?

“Hey boys!”

“Grandpa!” Legend grinned in return, and Twilight calmed down somewhat as their grandpa came up and engulfed both of them in a hug.

“Ah it’s been too long since I’ve seen you kids. You’re shooting up like weeds!” Talon chuckled, patting them both on the back. “You’ve come to see our prize-winning horses I assume?”

“And cows, and goats, and donkeys, chickens, ducks, ponies... basically anything you got,” Legend said, nudging Twilight with a smirk.

Twilight mustered up a smile. “Yeah. Epona’s foals still your stars?”

“As always. One’s already won a ribbon. This way,” Talon said as his mustache upturned in a smile, and the two boys followed, Ilia joining them.

Twilight calmed down again as they walked around the barn with their grandpa and Ilia, petting animals and saying hello to other farmers. Ilia got called away before they reached Lon Lon’s stalls, but she promised she’d come talk to them again later.

Epona’s foals were still sweet and feisty as ever. She’d had one more recently, and the little thing seemed to especially love Twilight, bumping her head against his chest. Twilight smiled and patted her, and she let out a shrill little whinny, prancing as much as she could in her stall.

“Just like her mother, that one,” Talon chuckled. “She’s just here to get used to the crowds this year, but we’ll have her winning ribbons soon enough. We’ve been calling her Little Epona. With Malon’s approval, of course.”

“Well she’s definitely like Epona,” Twilight said, and hummed something under his breath, the little filly going still at the notes. Her ears flicked, and when Twilight finished, she whinnied excitedly, nuzzling at his hair.

He laughed, and Legend snorted, giving the horse a few gentle pets before pulling back. “I’m going to go see if that one guy has the baby bunnies again this year, I’ll be right over there,” he pointed, and Twilight nodded. As long as he could see Legend, he didn’t mind them separating a little.

Legend strolled away, balloon bobbing behind him, and Talon turned to look at Twilight, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“You doing all right Twilight?” he asked. Twilight shrugged, looking back at Little Epona. He didn’t really want to talk about it.

“Okay, I guess,” he said, ignoring the lump still in his stomach and the anxiety keeping him on edge.

“You sure, son? You keep lookin’ around like someone’s fixin’ to take a bite out of you.”

“No, I’m great,” Twilight tried to say in a more upbeat voice, but even he could tell it fell flat.

Talon raised an eyebrow.

“Now that’s a deflection if I ever heard one. What’s eatin’ you, son?” he asked, and Twilight leaned back against the stall, still petting Little Epona. The petting motion helped soothe him a little, and he took a minute to respond.

“I’m just... I guess I’m nervous,” he admitted in a mumble, his stomach giving itself a twist. “We haven’t all been anywhere this crowded since the last time we had to move, and I’m...”

Twilight trailed off, and Little Epona nuzzled at his arm.

“You’re worried it’s gonna happen again,” Talon guessed, and Twilight nodded. “Ah, kiddo. You gotta understand, all of that isn’t something you can control.”

“Exactly, that’s the problem,” Twilight said, and felt his chest squeezing tighter. “I can’t control it. Something might happen any moment where one of us will have to use our powers, and then everyone will see and they’ll get their memories wiped and we’ll have to move again and—”

“Whoa whoa, hold your horses Twi,” his grandpa said, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Calm down.”

“But—”

“Breathe,” Talon said firmly, and Twilight breathed in, then slowly let it out. “Thank you. Panicking never did anyone a lick of good.”

Twilight looked down at his shoes, and his grandpa was quiet for a few moments, his hands still on Twilight’s shoulders.

Little Epona nickered softly, and Twilight leaned back, going back to petting her neck.

“I used to worry about your mother’s powers being discovered,” his grandpa said finally, and Twilight snuck a look at him. Talon was watching him with a look both fond and wistful on his face, and glanced over at Little Epona. “She’d go off to school, and I’d worry she’d accidentally use her horse-soothing voice without thinking, try and talk to some deer that’d run by, do things people aren’t s’pposed to be able to do... any number of things.”

“How did you stop?” Twilight asked softly.

Talon hummed. “I don’t know that I ever fully did. Malon was a bit of a wild thing when she was young... if she’d wanted to use her powers in front of people, I doubt I could’ve stopped her.”

His eyes went distant for a moment, then he sighed, and turned and put a hand on Twilight’s shoulder again.

“But I trusted her to listen to me anyway. I took her by her word, and she took me at mine. That was all we could do.

“I guess what I’m tryin’a say is... you can’t control your circumstances, kiddo,” Talon said gently. “You just have to accept whatever life throws at you, and go from there. It’s not under your control if something happens where one of your family members’ll need to use their powers, or even if they do by accident. The only thing you can control is how you react and respond.”

His face softened, and he squeezed Twilight’s shoulder.

“Have you talked to your folks about any of this?”

Twilight shuffled his feet. “...Not really.” He didn’t want to add something else to their numerous worries. Especially something as dumb as being a little anxious.

“Well I would bet it would help,” Talon said with a smile. “I’m willing to be a listenin’ ear, but your folks will probably have a better solution than I would. And I know it’s hard, but you’re too young to be worryin’ your head off the way you are. Try and take it easy, son. You’re here to have fun, after all. Try and take a break from your worries.”

Twilight gave him a nod in response, not completely convinced, but... feeling a little better all the same. Grandpa always had a way of doing that.

Talon gave him a quick hug, and Twilight squeezed him in return as Legend wandered back their direction.

“All the guy had was turtles, can you believe it? No rabbits, just turtles. Who brings turtles to a fair?” Legend griped, then looked at Twilight and his grandpa as they pulled back. “...Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Twilight replied, and Talon patted his shoulder. “Do you want to go see if Wild won anything at those games he always tries before we have to eat lunch?”

Legend grinned. “Boy do I. How long before he loses his patience and gets Wind to help him cheat, do you think?”

Twilight sighed. “He probably already has.”

Somehow though, the thought didn’t bring with it nearly as much anxiety as it would have earlier.

“See you boys later,” Talon waved, and Legend and Twilight waved goodbye as they left the barn, but not before giving Little Epona some goodbye pats. The filly whinnied happily as Twilight said goodbye, and he smiled as he and Legend went to go find Wild.

His stomach still felt tight as they walked out of the barn, but Twilight put it firmly from his mind, deciding he wasn’t going to let his anxiety ruin his day.

Sure he was still nervous. And worried about his family, and what the day might bring and what the future would hold. But he was going to enjoy himself regardless.

A faint strain of accordion music drifted through the air, mixing with laughter from somewhere nearby, and Twilight smiled as Legend excitedly nudged his shoulder.

He wouldn’t let worry over the unknown ruin the day for him.

[wheels-of-despair]

What If Real Life Is the Nightmare? Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Evil Woman has a dream about finding Eddie's broken body in a dark and awful place full of slimy monsters and red lightning… but it's just a dream, right? RIGHT? Contains: The Event We Do Not Speak Of, angst, dread, tears, heartbreak, panic, confusion about reality, more panic, eventually a happy ending where you can finally breathe again. Words: 3.5k

You'd never heard him yell like that before.

You jumped out of his bed, where he was not, and quickly searched the trailer. He wasn't anywhere.

"Eddie?" you called nervously. There weren't many places to look. How could you have missed him?

You heard him yell again. Outside. He was outside. You threw the door open and skidded out onto the porch to scan your surroundings. Where the fuck was he?

The yelling is louder now, and accompanied by unnatural screeching. What the fuck was that? Lightning strikes and lights up the trailer park… but there's no rain. It's too bright to be far away. Did it just flash red? Is this a dream?

When the sky lit up again, you caught sight of him, fighting for his life in the middle of a swarm. A swarm of what? Birds? Bats? What the hell are those things? This has to be a dream. No way those things are real. Lightning isn't red. Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP!

Eddie screamed, and the sound made your hair stand on end. Your insides churned, and you tried to go to him, but your feet were rooted the porch. Why couldn't you move? You looked down. Are those… vines? Slithering up your legs? What the fuck kind of vines move that fast, outside of a horror movie? This has to be a dream. WAKE THE FUCK UP!

You fought the vines like Eddie was fighting the monsters; with everything you had. You kicked and flailed and finally, one leg came loose. You used your newly freed leg to push the creeping vines down your entangled one, and then stomped the rest of the horrifying things off of you.

You jumped off the porch to get away from the writhing plants, turning back to make sure they weren't coming after you. They stayed put. Where's Eddie? You whirled around. The monsters were still swarming where you last spotted him, but you couldn't see him anymore. Where was he? Was he okay? Why couldn't you hear him?

You screamed his name. No response.

You ran toward the cloud of monsters, not caring what they would to do to you. You didn't fucking care about anything but him.

And then… the monsters let out a horrifying collective shriek and started falling to the ground. Thump, thump, thump. The ground was littered with them. Bats? Were they bats? You raced through them, trying to step on patches of grass instead of the slimy-looking creatures, on the way to where you'd last seen Eddie. What the fuck are these things, and why do they have so many teeth?

You slowed when you spotted him. On the ground. Chest heaving. Rips and dark spots on his white Hellfire shirt. Blood. It was soaking through. Soon you wouldn't be able to see the logo at all.

"Eddie," you breathed, falling to your knees beside him. You wanted to touch him, but were afraid of hurting him more.

He looked up at you with tear-filled eyes and blood trailing from the edges of his mouth. You reached out to wipe his tears and cup his bloody cheek. He was trembling. Or was that you? You'd never been so scared in your fucking life. You brought your other hand to the bandana covering his head, because it might be the only part of him that wasn't in tatters. It was the skull one you'd given him for his birthday. His favorite. And you just got blood on it.

He won't be mad. "It's more metal now," he'd say, as soon as he noticed. "You did me a favor."

He smiled at you. Through all the blood and tears and the pain he must've been in, he smiled. You felt a pain unlike anything you'd ever felt before; like someone had reached inside you and ripped your heart out through your throat.

"Don't you dare leave me," you whispered, knowing it was too late.

His eyes slid out of focus. Your grip on him tightened.

"Eddie."

No response.

"EDDIE."

You shook him, but he didn't come to.

"EDDIE!"

You shook him harder. His body moved, but he wasn't inside it anymore. There was no light in his dull eyes. No smile on his full lips. No beat in his heart. The heart he said belonged to you.

You were staring at him, frozen in terror, when you felt one of the monsters crawling up your back. It latched onto your shoulder.

"Don't fucking touch him," you cried as you swatted at it. It wouldn't let go. Its claws dug into you and tried pulling you away so it could finish him off. "You can't have him!" you sobbed, leaning over and trying to cover his body with yours.

Another one of the monsters latched onto your leg. You gripped Eddie's wet and bloody shirt in your hands, pulling yourself closer to shield him. You didn't care if they ate you alive; what's the point of living without him anyway? You covered his limp body with your own and screamed until you didn't have any breath left in your lungs.

"WAKE UP!"

You still feel the monster's claws digging into your shoulder.

"HEY!"

Something wet splashes your face. Is it blood? Did one of them get to Eddie? Your eyes fly open with a gasp. You can't breathe. You can't see anything. Everything is a blur. Did they eat your eyes?

"Honey, you had a nightmare. You're okay. Just breathe."

It takes you a second to realize that it's your mother talking. You close your eyes and try to focus on breathing. Your eyes burn. Your lungs ache. Your clothes are wet. Your entire body feels weak and defeated.

You open your eyes slowly to let them adjust to the light. Your mother is sitting beside you, on the edge of your bed, staring at you. Your brother is standing at the foot of your bed with wide eyes and an empty glass in his hand.

You look around the bed. The sheet is tangled around your ankle. The rest of your blankets are on the floor. Your hands are still gripping your soggy pillow. Your shirt is wet too. You've been fighting so hard, you've even worked the fitted sheet loose.

"Are you okay?"

And then you remember why you were fighting so hard.

Your face crumples, and your chest feels like it's being ripped apart. You draw your knees up and hug them, hiding your face as you sob. It felt so real. You've never had a dream feel so fucking real before. Could it really have been just a dream?

You have to see him. You have to make sure he's alright. You won't be able to breathe again until you make sure he's alive and well and it was really just the worst dream you've ever had. You scramble out of bed and head for the door.

"Where are you going?" your mother asks, putting herself between you and the door.

"Eddie," you croak. It's all you have in you.

"Honey, it's the middle of the night."

You shake your head and try to side-step her, but she blocks your path.

"You're not going anywhere until you explain."

Your eyes fill with tears again, and you give her a pleading look.

"Not until you explain."

You shake your head.

"Why?"

He's gone. You saw it. You saw the last tear trickle down his cheek. You saw the light leave his eyes. You felt your heart break. You've never felt anything this intense before, asleep or otherwise.

You push your hands into your aching chest as if you're trying to hold it together. It's not helping. You blink, but it doesn't stop the tears from pouring down your face. You fight for each and every breath.

You have to say it. She won't let you leave unless you tell her why. But if you say it, it's real. And you would give anything, you would do anything, to keep it from being real.

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out.

She looks at you curiously, but doesn't get out of your way. Can't she see how desperate you are? Why can't she see that this is real?

"I'll take her," your brother offers. One piece of your broken heart slides back into place.

"You and what driver's license?" she looks at him and challenges.

"Mom. Look at her. Just let her go."

She turns back to you.

"You're not driving like this."

You clench your fists. You'll walk if you have to. You just need to go.

She draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I'll take you if you put on some dry clothes first."

You grab the first clothes in reach and start changing. Your mother is gone, and your brother is standing in the hallway when you come out of your room wearing dry clothes.

"Sorry about the water," he says quietly, holding out your jacket. "You wouldn't wake up."

You slide into it and take a second to squeeze his shoulder, hoping he knows how much you appreciate him, before you hurry to the door. You jam your feet into a pair of sneakers and go out to wait by the car.

Your mother exits the house, what feels like an hour later, with a robe over her pajamas. You wait impatiently for her to unlock the doors. Your door slams shut before she's even seated.

The drive is silent, and seems farther than usual. Like everything's moving in slow motion. Or the vines are holding you back. But there's no lightning. Nothing flying, at least not that you can see.

You unbuckle your seatbelt when she pulls into Forest Hills. You lean forward, looking up at the sky through the windshield, looking for wings. You hold your breath when she drives over the place you saw Eddie die. No blood on the cracked pavement. That's a good sign.

You see the soft glow of the Munsons' outside light when she rounds the corner, and when you get closer and see Eddie sitting on the porch with a cigarette, you nearly pass out. You have to coach your worthless limbs on how to get out of the car, as if you're being held down by the vines again.

You hear your mother's voice, but her words don't register. You stand on shaky limbs, and all you see is him. He's alive. He's dropping his cigarette in the coffee can he uses as an ash tray and coming to you.

He steps down off the porch and opens his arms, and you're drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Your arms wrap around each other, and for the first time in what felt like years, you allow yourself to breathe. It comes out in sobs and gasps against his t-shirt, but you feel like you've been holding your breath since you woke up. This will do.

"What the hell happened?" he asks. God, that voice. You thought you'd never get to hear it again. You want to respond, but all you can do is cry. You hold him and weep and thank any god who's listening for letting him be alright.

You're vaguely aware that Eddie and your mother are having a hushed conversation over your head, but you don't absorb a word of it. He's okay. He's alive, and he's right here, and you're never letting him go.

"Baby," he says eventually, snapping you out of your daze. "You're staying with me tonight. Wanna go inside?" You nod into his chest. He waits for you to let go, and when you don't, he begins backing toward the porch. You follow blindly, too scared to open your eyes. What if it was too good to be true? What if the monsters were real, and this is the dream? What if real life is the nightmare?

Somehow he gets you into the house and onto his bed.

You've stopped crying, but are still too scared to look at him.

"Hey," he says softly from in front of where you sit, lifting your chin with a gentle and familiar nudge of his fingers. "Can you look at me? I promise I'm not as hideous as people claim."

You slowly open your eyes and see him resting on his knees in the floor in front of you. You swallow, although it accomplishes nothing. Your mouth is dry; all the liquid in your body has been turned to tears. And you're finally out of those too.

"Wanna tell me about it?"

You shake your head, eyes on his neck, scanning for signs of damage.

"Okay." He looks down, smiles, and gently removes your shoes. He sets them aside and puts his hands on your knees. "Your mom said it was a nightmare, and guesses that it was about me."

You nod.

"You dreamed something bad happened to me?"

You nod.

"Look," he says, standing up. He smiles and holds out his arms and turns slowly in a circle. "I'm fine. The very picture of health. When people look up 'handsome young man' in the encyclopedia, they will see this glorious specimen."

Something inside you tells you that you're supposed to laugh, but you can't remember how. His smile becomes a frown.

"This dream really fucked you up, huh?"

Your tear supply has begun to replenish, and you feel them brimming in your eyes again.

"Baby, I'm fine," he says, dropping back to his knees in front of you and resting his hands on your hips. "And you are too. We're both okay. It was just a dream."

"Didn't feel like it," you croak.

"Oh good, you can still talk. I was getting worried there for a minute. Without you to keep me in line and yell at me when I need it, I'd rip through town like the Tazmanian Devil. Hawkins wouldn't even know what hit it. It'd be chaos. It'd be pandemonium!"

You blink, and another tear falls.

"Okay," he sighs. He moves to the bed to sit beside you. He puts his arm around you. You lean into him and wrap your arms around his middle.

The middle that was slashed and torn and leaking dark red blood through his white Hellfire shirt earlier tonight. This shirt is black.

You tilt your head and lift the corner of his shirt. Just skin. No bites or slashes or blood. You slide to the floor and kneel between his legs, lifting his shirt more. He looks at you curiously but helps you out, taking it all the way off and tossing it aside.

You trail your fingers along a place you remember the blood seeping through. He flinches, and you scramble back. Did you hurt him?

"Sorry," he grins. "Your hands are freezing." Your chest twinges. "What are you looking for?"

"Bites," you breathe.

"What?" He furrows his brow.

"Bites," you say a little louder.

"Babe, I assure you, the only bite marks on my body are from you and mosquitos," he says proudly.

You reach forward and touch another spot you remember seeing blood seep from. He doesn't flinch this time. He lets you trace the imaginary marks on his torso, and when your hands drift up to his neck, he captures them in his and kisses your fingertips.

"C'mere," he says, pulling you to him. He lays down on his back and lets your head rest on his chest. You can hear his heart beat. You don't know why you didn't think of this before. You reposition your head and close your eyes as you listen to the amazing sound of Eddie Munson's beating heart.

His hand trails up and down your back. You're still wearing your jacket. You're warming up, now that you're close to him and listening to proof that he's alive, but you don't dare move away to take it off.

"You okay?" he asks after a while. The steady beating of his heart had finally relaxed you; almost lulled you to sleep, even.

"Am now."

"You gonna tell me about it?"

"You really wanna know?"

"Uh… yeah? If it fucked you up this bad, I don't want you to carry it alone. Share the load."

You take a deep breath and stare at the wall, holding him a little tighter.

"You died."

You pause, trying to remember the events that got him to that point, and you can't remember anything before waking up... in the dream.

"Was it at least in a cool, badass way?"

"Monsters."

"I was slaying monsters? Was I a hero?"

"They got you," you whisper. You close your eyes and gather your courage and let it all pour out. "They had fangs. And claws. And they looked like bats. And then they all screeched and fell from the sky. And you died. In my arms. In the street. Crying. Cut up all over. Blood. So much blood. I woke up and I couldn't breathe. It felt so real. Eddie, it felt so fucking real. I thought you were gone." Here come the tears again. You choke out another sob.

"Hey, I'm okay," he reminds you, turning on his side to hold you even closer. He holds you until the latest wave of sobs turns to sniffles. And then he kisses the top of your head. "I'm okay. And so are you. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm sorry," you sniff.

"What are you sorry for?"

"Showing up in the middle of the night. Crying all over you. Overreacting. Take your pick."

"Are you kidding me?" You can hear the smile on his voice. "Nobody's ever cared this much about me before."

"Hush," you mumble, burrowing further into his chest with your cheek. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again, by the way. Hope that's cool."

"Fine by me," he mumbles into your hair. "I love you."

"I love you, too." The words send a burst of warmth and comfort through your exhausted body.

You lie there for a while, focusing on the sound of his heart. The warmth of his skin. The familiar scent of his soap. Now that you're calm, you begin replaying the events of the night. The sheets that held you hostage like vines. The monster clawing at you that turned out to be your mother. Protecting (and crying on) your pillow like it was your Eddie.

"Why were you awake when I got here?" you ask.

"Your brother called me," he yawns. "I'd have yelled at him if he hadn't sounded so freaked out. You scared the shit out of him."

"I owe him one… or several."

Eddie chuckles, and it's one of the most amazing things you've ever heard. You relax into him and trace what you hope feel like slow, random patterns on his skin… even though you're really spelling out things like 'I love you' and 'don't leave me'.

"Okay," he eventually says, shifting a little under your touch. "I've got some good news and I've got some bad news."

"Okay…?" you prod.

"The good news is, your mom said if I couldn't get you calmed down and back to sleep soon, you didn't have to go to school. So we're both staying here today. The bad news… is that I really gotta pee. So you're gonna either have to let me leave your sight for a minute, or this relationship's gonna get a whole lot closer."

You chuckle sleepily. "Alright," you sigh, reluctantly releasing him. You glance at the clock, then at him. "You have 30 seconds."

Eddie grins, kisses your forehead, leaps out of bed, and runs out of the room. You sit up to finally take your jacket off, and notice that the dry shirt you threw on earlier is inside-out. You're too tired to fix it now. You use the last of your energy to haul yourself out of bed and straighten the tangled pile of blankets... and notice that your brother's shoes are where yours should be. Oops. You roll your eyes at the human disaster you've become and crawl back into Eddie's bed to wait for him.

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm here," he chants when he thunders back into the room. You hold the blanket up with a sleepy smile, and he dives under it to be with you.

You eventually drift off into a dreamless sleep, and wake up to the familiar sound of his soft snore. You crack an eye open and lift your head just enough to see the clock; you've slept until afternoon.

You lie there in bed wearing the same smile you fell asleep with, completely content just to watch Eddie Munson's chest rise and fall with each breath. He's alive. He's safe. He's yours. And you are never, ever letting him go.

Bonus Blurb: What If Real Life Is Good? (a fluffy lil follow-up fic about Evil Woman going home the next day)

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Weaponize anything

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)  

Alien: Is that a sword on your back? Human: Why yes it is. Alien: How stupid are you? Alien: We have literal laser guns, and you think a sword will stop us? Human: Normally no. Human: But that was until we put lasers on these as well. Alien: Wait, what? Human: *Rushes alien with space laser sword* ----------------------

Alien: What is that lump of metal in your hand? Human: A weapon. Alien: What kind of weapon? Human: Sonic. Alien: You use sound as a weapon? Human: And a torture device some times. Alien: What? Human: Trust me. Human: If I play the baby shark song fifty times you’ll be begging me for death. ------------------------- Alien: Do I even want to know? Human: Lightning cannon. Human: It shoots random streaks of concentrated electricity in the direction you point it in. Alien: Wouldn’t that make it highly inaccurate? Human: When you fire a weapon this cool does it really matter if you hit what you want? Alien: Yes. Alien: Yes it does. ----------------------------

Human: Want to see my magnet gun? Alien: What could possibly be deadly about a magnet? Human: *Points it at random nearby alien and fires it.* *Target alien begins convulsing violently as all the microscopic metal fragments in their body are ripped out and pool together in a ball of gore* Human: I like to call it the “Therapy Gun” myself, because once you use it you just know you’re going to need some serious treatments to get over these mental scars. ---------------------------

Alien: Did your sword just twitch? Human: Huh? Oh yeah. Human: *Pulls out sword* Human: I made this by forging sentient metal into a blade. Alien: Sentient metal? Human: We ran into these rock like aliens a while ago and one of them was made literally of metal. Human: So I used a shard of them to forge this blade. Alien: Is it also sentient? Human: Not sure. Human: Although when I hold it I can hear a voice in my head telling me to kill everyone. Alien: I think you’ve had enough fun with the magic death sword. ------------------ Alien: Please stop inventing weapons. Human: But we just made time altering ammunition. Alien: Oh gods. Human: By using some unstable particles, when you get hit by these it’ll reverse age you backwards by a random amount. Human: One second you’ll be fighting a thousand year old matriarch and the next you’ll be watching a child break their collarbone when the weapon recoil damn near takes their arm off. Alien: I’m not even surprised at this point…. Human: Really? Guess we aren’t trying hard enough. Alien: Wait, NO! --------------- Alien: Our weapons are useless! Alien: We fire at those ghostly beings but our bullets just pass right through them! Human: Use these. *Tosses custom made weapon* Human: They fire concentrated energy beams at randomized frequencies, meaning that the entities won’t have time to alter their bodies fast enough to allow the projectiles through them without causing damage. Alien: Why do you have these on hand? Human: You’d be surprised how often we’ve had to kill ghosts on our home planet the same way. Alien: Your people have killed….ghosts? Human: Well, some people wanted to humanly capture and release them so we had to do that for a while. Human: They had a catchy theme song and logo. -------------------- Human: Fire in the hole! *Chucks grenade* Aliens: *Braces for explosion* *No explosion* Alien: What kind of grenade was that? Human: Pheromone grenade. Alien: What do those do? *Hears loud screaming coming from enemy and alien looks up* *Enemy are covered in swarming insects that are slowly devouring them* Human: Mostly provide nightmare fuel or a crazy weekend in vegas depending on the strain. -------------------------- Alien: I see the enemy are very afraid of that new cannon you brought. Alien: What does it fire exactly? Human: *Shrugs* Depleted uranium canisters mostly. Alien: What in florps name!?! Human: I know, right? Human: Either the sheer kinetic force will kill them, or the still radioactive shrapnel that’ll cover them after these canisters burst against their target. Alien: Are you not concerned about the horrific environmental damage you are doing? Human crew: *Looks at each other and shrugs* Human: It’s not our planet.

[haircoveredwriter]

Reunion Speculation

After analyzing the Book of Carol promo for the 100th time, I have a theory about how the Caryl reunion might go down in season 2.

To start off we know Carol is trapped inside a car swarmed by walkers until something splatters brain matter over the front windshield. Sadly her earlier seen travelling companion looks to be deader than dead in the rearview mirror, so we know it's not him coming to her aid. There is then a hand that touches the back of the car ... a fingerless glove wearing hand attached to a dark trench coat adorned arm ( I wonder WHO that could be? LOL)

In case my sarcasm is weak, I believe it's Daryl.

I think Carol and her dead compadre could be trapped in a car at Maison Mere. We saw in ep5 when all the people arrived to "celebrate", a large portion arrived in cars and I think it's safe to assume that when the bullets started flying and walkers running around free commenced, everyone didn't think to wait to retrieve their cars from the valet. Also Daryl, Fallou and co know where Maison Mere is -having just been there - and Genet may look to move operations to a more secure area as to not have them ruin dollar store Bill Nye's experiments.

**Season 2 filming spoiler** We've also seen a bunch of military vehicles with the Pouvoir logo driving up to and around the Louvre. Seems to be more secure to me.

Daryl & group could be heading back there as a pre-empt effort so the people at The Nest will be safe once Daryl leaves to go home or because there is important info/supplies left to grab. Either way, we know Daryl isn't the type to leave someone in need to die - and walkers clamoring at a car the way they are in the promo means something is alive in there. (It goes back to the early sesons of TWD, in 3x10 where Daryl chose to save a random family and baby on the bridge from walkers while Merle wanted to mug them for their supplies. Not to mention the most recent saving Laurent from being a beach party snack instead of getting on the boat to go home). He's the type of person to help "whoever" is in there, but he's about to get the shock of his life.

[someone-always-cares]

Progress update

Edit: laptop broke (hard drive issue), so thing will either be delayed a week or A Lot depending if my shit is recoverable. Back up your files regularly yall

Realised I should probably update yall on how things are going! Things are almost ready, just need to stich the book together together and finish a couple things, then I can order a sample of the book. I don't want to start the kickstarter until I have a book sample in hand that I'm happy with.

Admittedly looking like my original timeline isn't quite going to fit but such is life. its a close enough timeline so im not too annoyed just not in time to advertise it this weekend

to thank yall for your patience with this, here a sneak peek of the stickersheets made because I'm very happy with them and also because I just approved the proofs the manu sent me for those samples:

disclaimer: colours may vary depending on how the samples turn out (converting rgb to cmyk, my beloathed).

[id: two stickersheets, one of characters from chapter 1, and the other chapter two: chapter 1 sheets has: rami (civilian clothes), his whole team, tsunami, inkmaster, swarm, sound flood, and mori. as well as some smaller stickers: a sparkling wave, rami's logo, two diamond shaped sparkles, a small fireball, swarm's butterly, and three hearts with the ace, trans, and rainbow pride flags. chapter 2 sheet has: lewis and sound flood (both in civilian clothes), iris, faete, mindforce, and omen (super costumes). also several smaller stickers: mindforce's eye, a yellow and pink rose, a snowdrop, faete's sword, iris's notebook (with the words "stay safe"), a starry sky with city view, rami's hand holding a rose, and 5 blue pink and white hearts. end id]

also here's the cover (minus the blurb)

[id: image of the cover design, layed flat. aka the front cover is on the right side, back on the left, and the spin inbetween. designed to look like a corkboard with photos pinned to it, and red sring connecting things. on the back there are photos that are from various panels in chapter 1 and 2 (redrawn, specifically faete after transforming, cam readying her forcefield, lewis on the roof, and tsunami riding his wave. the back also contains enamel pins: a trans flag, an ace flag, and mindforce's eye. as well as the corner of a missing persons poster, a business card for "cullen's bowls 'n' bowls", and a blank sheet of notebook paper where the blurb should be. the spine has some starry washi tape with the title written on. the front has a piece of blue paper torn off at the end with the title on it, and stickers of a silver star and rami's logo. below is a large image of rami sitting in the water staring intestly at the viewer, light emerging behind him. around him, hands all strech out towards him, hands belonging to the significant character significant in chapters 1 and 2 of sac. end id]

so specifically what is left (no particular order):

spellchecking

adding page numbers to the bottom

finishing the rest of the not comic pages (aka the thank you note, about the author, deciation and the bit where im going to add names of people who pledged to the kickstarter) 75% done

character bios (admittedly optional i just want to do them)

bonus pages for art and sketches (i have collected all the art and sketches, its just deciding which ones to ue and which ones to save for next time because it makes more sense to put them with the more spoilery chapters 3-5 specific arts)

assembling these and sending a sample off to print

actually starting the kickstarter (once i have decived book sample back and am happy. i am not starting it without knowing 100% that i can fufill it right then and there)

(in the intrest of transperency: while these are all easy and mostly quick (aside from character bios. havent started that one yet), i also have some upcomign events that will have to take priority. that being a convention this weekend, next weekend, and my sisters wedding the weekend after (and the wedding gift, which is custom artwork of my sister and future brother in law. like a wedding painted but not on the day and also digital. so that will take up a bit of time after [another reason i wanted to get this done before then but ah well])

for real though one day i hope to be able to do art stuff full time because i am. so tired of doing a day job

also also there are versions of lewis and rami stickers in super outfits, they'll be seperate stickers

[id: drawings of lewis and rami, same as the stickers in the sheets, just seperate and in different outfits, the drawings have been placed close together, so it looks like thye're holding hands. end id]

you can make them hold hands :)

[msfcatlover]

Tim walking into Corruption!Damian's room, and gently placing a weird package down on Damian's desk while Damian watches. Tim giving Damian what Tim probably thinks is a meaningful look, taking in Damian's blank expression, and snorting. Tim rolling his eyes and just saying "You're welcome," before walking out again.

Damian has absolutely no idea what to make of it, until the eggs hatch.

A month later, Tim walks in with a slightly different package and does the exact same thing. Desk, stare, "You're welcome." Damian opens his mouth to ask, but Tim's already gone.

Tim keeps doing it, sometimes when Damian's not even in the room; Damian will just open his bedroom door, and there's a new package on his desk. Which would all be weird enough, if it weren't for the fact that the packages are all different. Different labels, different brands, different logos, even different languages on the labels & instructions.

Damian doesn't know what to do with all these moths. He can't let them loose, this isn't their native environment. He can't send them back, they're too fragile; he's terrified something will happen in transit, killing them all. He'd love to adopt them into his swarm, but Damian is unsure of exactly how that would work—he's never added anything, the moths simply chose him— plus, he doesn't know where the limits of his patron's generosity lie. At this point , Damian has more caterpillars than biomass to potentially hold them, and Damian doesn't want to crowd out the few resilient moths he has left, while also making life worse for the new ones.

(Damian probably shouldn't worry about that, given Jane Prentiss had a literal flood of worms at her command, but then, Damian's relationship with his swarm at this point in time is a hell of a lot healthier than Prentiss's. And the Corruption doesn't really do "healthy" in any way shape or form. So maybe he's right to.)

.

Damian ends up with a new greenhouse. He fills it with plants from around Nanda Parbat, but especially caters to the ailanthus trees he has shipped in. A perfect little Eden for his moths to inhabit.

Tim seems annoyed by this outcome. Damian finally loses patience, demanding to know what Tim thought the outcome would be. (What Tim's intentions were.)

Tim frowns, bemused. "You need more genetic diversity." Damian has no idea what he's talking about. "For your swarm," Tim clarifies.

"My swarm is fine!"

"Dames, you told me you had like 10 moths when you made it to Gotham." Tim raises his eyebrows, like he's stating the obvious. "You have to know that's not a healthy number. Right?"

Damian presses a hand to his chest, a protective tic Dick encouraged despite Damian learning years ago not to give away his feelings (especially not when they might risk his swarm.) "They're strong," he says, voice soft but firm, "they survived Grandfather, the Pit, my—recovery." (Damian doesn't like to think about those months, when his swarm was trapped under his skin, re-burrowing their tunnels, unable to spread their wings. The pain of his flesh being re-molded to its chosen purpose was nothing compared to the weeks Damian had thought the creatures he'd poured his whole being into nurturing, the special moths who changed in order to bond just with him, were extinct.) He glares at Tim. "We don't need your help."

"That's not what you said when I got back," Tim says with a smirk, and Damian looks away. Tim sighs. "I was going to stop soon anyway. Just... consider it, okay? None of us wants to deal with it if it turns out they're weak to the flu."

"They're moths," Damian snaps, more on instinct than anything else, "they can't get the flu."

"Actually, modern studies on transmissible disease—"

Damian scoffs and storms off. (Tim pats himself on the back for definitely winning that argument.)

.

Damian does not add Tim's foreign moths to his swarm. But... he does spend a lot of time in the greenhouse, reading or drawing, and letting his swarm run free. (Damian's their Hive, not their keeper. It's none of his business what his moths get up to when he lets them out to play.)