#Seriously though I think we've been pranked

[liplockveins]

Maybe the real countdown is the phreinds we made along the way

[phossiii]

｡𖦹°‧⭑ monsters: chapter two

synopsis: task force m arrives at the palace. and you and phosphorus come to an agreement.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus, more superpower usage, cute flirting thing going on, little spicy at the end.

"You'd think they'd take these shits down after a while..." you grimaced, watching as you passed by each deformed face. "I mean, seriously?"

"They're family. Who would wanna take down the last known painting of Great Great Grandpa Ugly?" Phosphorus quipped, pointing toward one of them as he walked alongside you. "They even got his good side."

"That's a woman..."

"..."

"Wow."

After arriving in Pokolistan, and taking a rather uncomfortable, piss-ridden ride to the palace, Task Force M had finally made it to the royal castle.

The royal castle where inbreeding seemed to be the fad of the last few centuries.

"Looks like the gene pool was above ground and inflatable, if you know what I mean," Bride remarked, glancing at Flag.

The general let out a soft chuckle, slightly grimacing at the images.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I wonder what this princess is going to look li—Oh."

In front of you all approached a gorgeous woman, with sparkling blue eyes and short, blonde hair.

Flag watched, entranced, as she approached, earning an eye roll from the Bride.

"Schwing," Phosphorus whispered, earning an eye roll from you.

"Dork."

"Richard Bill Flag, Sr," Ilana smiled, resting her hands behind her back. "So wonderful to be meeting you."

"Yes... you, too," he nodded, awkwardly.

"Your middle name is Bill?" Bride raised a brow.

"Yes."

"Not, like, William?" Nina asked.

"No."

"Whose middle name is Bill?" you slightly grinned.

"Mine! Okay?"

You raised your hand in defense, backing off as he refocused.

"Princess Rostovic, it's an honor," Flag bowed, humbly.

"This is not the kind of bow we do in Pokolistan, Mr. Richard Flag," the captain of the guard interjected. "So, unfortunately... we're going to have to kill you."

"What?!"

"Alexi," Ilana tried to reprimand.

"I am sorry. We must only do sacred, customary bow in this castle."

As the guards began to close in, drawing their weapons, everyone went back to back, you igniting your fist with fire.

"Everyone, murder this man."

"What?! Hold on a minute! No one briefed me on what kind of bow!"

Though, it wasn't long before they all burst into laughter.

'The hell?'

"I'm sorry. They're... how do you say it... messing on you?" Ilana apologized, muffling her snickers.

"I am making joke!" Alexi cackled. "For a minute, I think you're going to make mess in your pants, huh?"

"I was never gonna—!"

"Very close to messing his pants," the Bride interrupted with a smile.

"I wasn't even in the vicinity of doing that."

"I think someone else was," Phosphorus smirked, nudging you. "Right, Jumpy?"

"Don't make me hurt you, X-ray," you threatened, sharply.

"We are so much like Americans, yes?" Alexi grinned. "Ooh, we pull pranks like Jamie Kennedy Experiment! We do the Super Bowl shovel! We like to say Wazzup!"

'Jesus...'

"Well, you're certainly current with your popular cultural references," Phosphorus commended.

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome," he leaned in closer to you, lowering his voice to a whisper and pointing to his face. "Sarcastic smile."

"Why are you talking to me right now?"

"Now, I have question for you, skeleton. Where is the beef?" Alexi laughed. "Clara Peller, one of the greats—"

"Enough, Alexi," Ilana sighed, turning to the rest of you. "We've prepared a banquet for you, our honored guests."

You grinned, finally excited.

It had been so long since you'd had a meal that wasn't grey-ish, brown slop.

'Shoulda led with that.'

"Hey, doll face," Phosphorus, chimed, mouth stuffed with food as he glanced at your steak, "You gonna eat that?"

"Don't call me doll face," you shut down, harshly. "And no. I'm not."

"Perfect."

Without hesitation, he snatched it away and plopped it down on his plate, using an irradiated hand to cook it a bit extra. 

Though, once he was finished, he was quick to yoke it up and take a bite out of it like a goddamn raccoon.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you went back to cutting your brussel sprouts.

"Animal..."

"Don't start thinkin' you're better than me just 'cause you're on a diet," he countered, tossing the once bitten steak over his shoulder, sending Weasel to fetch it.

"Vegetarian," you corrected, stabbing a piece of broccoli with your fork. "I haven't eaten meat in years."

"Didn't know Hell had a salad bar."

"Fuck you."

"That would be delightful, actually," he grinned, unbothered, as he ripped the drumstick off a turkey and took a large bite.

Pointedly, you ignored him, opening your mouth and shoveling in some vegetables.

And that's when he noticed...

"Whoa..." Phosphorus froze, slightly, eyes widening at the sight. "You have fangs?"

Your expression fell, swapping for one of annoyance.

"Yes," you answered, flatly. "Are you deaf or something? 'Cause you seem to be having a hard time grasping the fact thatI. Am. A. Demon."

"That's hot," he stated, completely ignoring what you just said.

Taken by surprise, you clammed up, a certain warmth rising to your cheeks at his bold comment.

As crude as it was, no one had ever actually complimented you off your looks before.

This was completely new territory.

"I—Shut up!" you slightly stammered, internally cursing yourself for being so embarrassing.

"Holy crap... did you just stutter?" he realized, giddily. 

"No!"

"You did! Oh, my God! You just did!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"That was adorable! You're adorable."

"I hate you."

"You're not the first."

"Fuck..." you cursed, closing your eyes and biting your lip as your free hand cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your tank top.

Lost in the moment, your breath began to pick up, even more so as you slid your red hand down the front of your panties.

You moaned as you began to massage your sensitive bud, imagining it was someone else instead.

After housing down the rest of your dinner, and take a well-earned shower, you got set your own private room—which you procured by telling Flag you sometimes burst into flames in your sleep.

But now, with the boys keeping watch outside the princess's room, and nothing but time to kill, you settled for the old American past time, dealing with an itch you'd been meaning to scratch for years.

"Oh, shit..." you gasped, slipping your fingers inside, expecting to feel something.

But you didn't.

In fact, you felt nothing.

'The fuck?'

Abruptly, you sat up on the bed, letting out a huff as you looked down at yourself.

You knew it had been a hot minute since you last... y'know... but you didn't think you were that rusty.

"Fuck me," you groaned, flopping back on the mattress in annoyance.

You were already pent up enough, but adding sexual frustration to the mix only worsened the feral urges rising in your chest.

God, you weren't even supposed to be here...

You weren't some hardened criminal, or senseless evil-doer.

You were just a woman.

A woman... with horrible luck, and a really, really bad case of DID.

And a woman who wanted nothing more than to be back at her cell in Arkham, far away from these people and this place.

Quickly, you got up, snatching your shorts off the floor before tugging them on, running a frustrated hand through your hair.

Frantically, you racked your brain for someone to assist you, feeling as though if you didn't get this release, you might go insane.

Just one round.

Just one, quick round.

And you'd be set for however many more years you had at the asylum.

Flag?

'No. He was makin' goo-goo eyes at the princess... and by now she's probably already fucked him.'

G.I?

'Too stiff. I don't even think he has a dick...'

Weasel?

'Absolutely not.'

Which only leaves...

'Fuck. Me.'

Cursing under your breath, you stood there for a moment, contemplating the life choices that led you to this moment before starting for the door.

On your way, your steps seeming to echo throughout the room as you padded across, and only got louder after you yanked open the door and reached the hallway.

At this point, you were desperate.

With no actual options and limited time, you would have to act fast.

And pray that he'd let it go once you were done...

Using your sense of smell, you found his door easily, moving to step in front of it.

You were about to knock, but stopped mid-way, hesitant.

What if he said no? Found you disgusting...

"Whoa, there, doll face... That's hot," his words echoed in your head.

With a deep sigh, you steeled your nerves, raising your hand to knock, but just as you did, the door swung open, scaring you half to death.

And there he stood, six feet of surprisingly attractive radiation clad in a hoodie and sweatpants, sleeves pushed up to reveal his glowing forearms.

'Damn...'

Though, he looked like he was on his way to do something.

"(y/n)... to what do I owe the surprise?" Phosphorus played off, his voice doing little to hide the grin on his face.

In this case, he was glad that his eyes weren't visible to others, as that was the only thing keeping you from smacking him across the face for the look he had on.

Which was utterly shameless.

But fuck... who could blame him when you looked the way you did? 

You exchanged the sexy leather and buckles for a sinfully thin, black tank top and shorts, your curves now even further on display.

If he was being honest, for a moment, he didn't even believe the sight to be real—it all seemed too good to be true.

That is, until you started talking.

"Look, I'm only gonna say this one time," you started, poking your finger into his chest and forcing him back into his room, kicking the door shut behind you once you were inside. "So for once in your life, shut the fuck up and listen. Okay?"

He felt his stomach churn at your touch, your demanding tone and freshly-washed scent doing little to help.

But he silently nodded, keeping somewhat eye contact.

"I have been stuck in Arkham for ten fucking years... and for ten fucking years I've only ever touched myself..." you continued, still moving forward, and still forcing him back. "This might be the last time I see the outside world, and if it is, I'm doing one thing before I go."

Absolutely floored, Phosphorus couldn't help but let his mouth hang wide, completely disbelieving of the words coming out of your mouth.

There was no way.

Were you serious?

Was this really happening?

Had he fallen asleep?

"Sadly, there isn't a buffet of options," you sighed, slightly amused, as the backs of his knees hit the bed, forcing him to fall back onto it with a yelp. "But out of the assortment, you're the only one I can fuck without giving severe burns."

Practically pouncing, you crawled on top of him, sitting yourself down on his crotch and caging him to the mattress.

"But I wanna be clear that this is just sex. I need something... and you probably do, too. So we're just giving it to each other. Nothing more, nothing less."

Phosphorus's brow raised at the statement.

"Figured that," he chuckled. "I'm never gonna see you again. They're gonna ship you back to Gotham when this is all over."

"Exactly," you nodded. "So... you fuck me, help me get my nut, and then I leave. No cuddling, pillow talk, none of that. Am I clear?"

Below you, the man cocked his head to the side, seeming to be searching your face for something.

You tried to keep your expression as firm as possible, needing him to understand how serious you were.

Finally, he nodded, slowly resting a hot hand on your hip, sending a small vibration running right through your body.

"Crystal," he purred.

You shoulders sank with a quiet sigh, relief flooding your body as you leaned down, your face now inches from his.

"Good..." you hummed, moving closer until your lips were just out of each other's reach.

You could finally feel good, for what could possibly be the last time.

You weren't going to waste a single second.

"Now fuck me."

[ddejavvu]

hiya! i’m literally in love with your writing!

i was wondering whether you do another part of the cat animagus collection?

maybe one where no one can find where r is, they spend ages looking for her. when they reach the dorms or something she’s in a really odd spot that only a cat could get to

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

--

After a thorough search of both the grounds and the castle, Sirius Black bursts through the door to his dormitory and looks wildly around the messy room. He sees Remus studying at his desk, James reading upside-down on his bed, several piles of dirty laundry strewn across the floor, but no you.

"Jesus, mate," James hisses, righting himself and looking bewilderedly at his friend, "What's the matter with you?"

'Gimme the map," Sirius demands, and when James doesn't scramble for it fast enough, he barks, "The map, Prongs! Y/N's missing."

Remus's nose scrunches, "She had a headache earlier. She's probably in her dorm."

"I've checked her dorm, Moony," Sirius resists the urge to sneer at the man, "I'm not stupid, thank you very much."

Remus doesn't appreciate Sirius's tone, no matter how restrained it is from what it could have been. He mutters something disdainful when he turns his attention back to his studies, seriously doubting Sirius's assertion of his own intelligence.

Sirius chooses to ignore it in favor of snapping at the map, the trigger words lighting it up in a coffee-brown display of home. His eyes flit to your dormitory first, finding it, of course, empty. Then the library, also devoid of your presence. The grounds show similarly none of you, and it's James who spots your name in their own bedroom, nose scrunching and raising his glasses as he points at the banner.

"Prongs, she's not- wait," Sirius huffs, shooting a glance at the corner of his room where you're supposedly lurking, "She hasn't borrowed your cloak, has she?"

"No, it's in my trunk," James shakes his head, studying the empty space of Sirius's bed and puzzling how you could be there and nowhere all at once, "Moony, is there an invisibility potion?"

"Not one that would last her since we've been here," He doesn't bother turning from his work, "We would have seen her by now."

"Well she can't just be there," Sirius scoffs, studying and re-studying the map like it'll admit to pranking him and showcase your real location in some hidden chamber, "Has anyone been in the closet today?"

"You think your girlfriend is hiding in the closet?" Remus verifies, once more not dignifying Sirius with a glance. It aggravates him, but he withholds from swatting Remus upside the head.

"Well, Moony, she can't have just disappeared, can she? She's gotta be in here somewhere, or else this map is shoddy. And I made it myself, so..." Sirius clenches the parchment in his fingers, grip too-tight and bruising it like skin. His eyes catch an old, out-of-use beater's bat that's protruding from the end of his bed and his words catch in his throat, silencing what would have been a very boastful statement about his magical craftsmanship.

"Hang on," He shoves the map at James, who smooths out its wrinkles with a grimace. Sirius darts for the end of his bed, reaching a tentative hand beneath it until his fingers meet soft fur and the blood rush of a beating heart.

"Gotcha," Sirius hums, peering beneath the space and, though his eyes have to strain in the little light offered by the rest of the room, he discerns that you've managed to wriggle your way into an old jumper of his; likely why you haven't heard their bickering.

"C'mere, darling," He croons, flat on his stomach as he gently pulls you out of the space. Your head comes uncovered and you wake with a start, but he's got a firm enough grip on your furry belly that you can't wriggle away from him.

"You gave me quite a scare," Sirius's tone should be admonishing like his words, but it's light and airy with mirth, "And a lot of exercise, darling. I was running up and down the grounds looking for you."

You knock your face against his in a love-warm apology, the fur lining your features ticklish to his slightly sweaty skin. He feels the stress of the hunt melt off of his muscles as he plants himself permanently on the floor, letting you curl yourself up again, this time against his face.

He should pick you up and move to his bed. He should give his sore body some reprieve on the mattress, but you look so perfectly coiled on the floor that moving you would be a sin. So he gets as comfortable as possible with his bony arm beneath his head, and lets your purrs pulse through his body and lull him into the same sleep that comes so easily to you in this feline form.

[emeritusemeritus]

hello! absolutely love your writing and so happy to find someone who likes the weasley twins too! :D if it’s not too much trouble, i’d like to request a little drabble with fred where the reader adopts a ginger cat and fred finds it funny? thank you! <3

Hi Anon! Thank you so much, we are all definitely Weasley Twin lovers over here! It’s my pleasure, this was really fun to write 😂 hope you enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: minor sexual references, brief talk of curses, fluff and humour, a million ginger jokes, mentions of future kids.

Word count: 1.1k

Ginger Root

"Hey baby," Fred shouts out as he steps through the door to the flat above the shop on his lunch break, instantly loosening his tie and popping open the top shirt button that was slowly choking him.

He briefly waits for you to reply but hears nothing, so he goes looking for you. He's hoping that you'd made him something to eat for his dinner, though of course he didn't expect it if you. The shop had been ridiculously busy this last week and the thought of having to stand and make something to eat in his break hour seemed too far of a stretch for him. He's also hoping for a cuddle, needing to feel you back in his arms for a little while whilst he can, and even more hopefully he wonders if he can convince you to cuddle naked, horizontally on the bed.

He freezes upon walking into the living room, seeing a single ginger cat sat proudly on his sofa. It's comical almost how he freezes at seeing the seemingly harmless cat, looking around the empty flat as if there's an audience waiting for his reaction that he was being pranked.

He walks slowly over to the cat, approaching it with as much caution as he would a hippogriff, squatting down beside the content kitty that barely flicks it's eyes over to the intruder, sitting pride of place in Fred's usual spot.

"Okay," Fred says seriously to the cat, their faces only inches apart as he gives the kitty a questioning look, attempting to level with the feline. "You've either been cursed or you've never told me you were an animagus in the, what, 10 years we've been together?" He waits a moment for any feedback from the cat but hears nothing.

"Give me a little meow if you've been cursed and I'll fix it right away."

"Meow."

You laugh as Fred jumps at your sudden noise, falling back onto his haunches after losing his balance in surprise, arms scrambling to stop himself and failing miserable, which only adds to the hilarity of the situation.

"Godric woman," he grumbles, mock-clutching his heart as he gets up using the coffee table as leverage. He looks towards you and you smile widely seeing his heated cheeks, the look in his eyes devilish as he seeks revenge, especially as he eyes what you're wearing.

You're leaning on the doorframe, wrapped in a fluffy white towel fresh from the shower and enjoying every second of seeing Fred recover from your unplanned prank. His eyes are focused on your towel, the little tuck hidden within the slope of your breasts and the smirk on his face looks almost dangerous as you try and figure out his next move.

"But your lunch!" You squeal as he lunges as you, lips first attacking your neck.

"It can wait," he mumbles, finding his roaring appetite for food suddenly replaced by something else.

"So you found him, or her?"

"Him... I think," you say, pulling a fresh Tshirt on as Fred buttons up his shirt, leaving the tie off for now.

"He was shivering in a box next to the leaky cauldron... I couldn't leave him there Freddie." You hoped Fred wouldn't be mad, that he'd understand your desperate need to rescue the poor little kitty.

"I know sweetheart," he says with a small smile, eyes gentle with understanding.

You walk ahead of Fred as you both made your way back to the living room, pausing briefly to scratch the little sleepy cat on the sofa before you stepped into the kitchen to pull yours and Fred's pre-made lunch out of the fridge. He kisses you as a way of thanks as you both take a seat on the unoccupied sofa and eat the lunch you'd prepared earlier.

"Have you named him yet?" Fred says, taking a massive bite out of his sandwich, hardly able to talk with his mouth full of food. You pull a face of disgust for a moment at his lack of eating etiquette but drop it once you look upon the cute cat app curled up on the other sofa.

"Not yet, still thinking of options," you say, mentally running through the admittedly short list of monikers you'd come up with on the way home.

"Well with that hair he's definitely a Weasley," Fred beams, "very on brand."

"Think your mum will knit him a jumper for Christmas? Or a little scarf?" You joke, earning a snort of laughter from your boyfriend as his delighted face takes another large bite, thankfully not speaking through this one.

"What shall we name you little Weasley?" You say, looking upon your new friend.

"Well it can't be George, s'got two ears," Fred mumbles through a devilish smirk.

"Fred!" You say, scandalised by his words, though you can hardly contain your chuckle that follows only moments later.

"What about Minerva?" You can, casting your eyes towards Fred to watch his reaction, seeing him nearly choke on the last bite of his sandwich at your suggestion.

"Marmalade? Keeping with the ginger theme."

"Garfield?"

"Eh?" Fred frowns, missing the joke entirely.

"It's a muggle thing.. oh! Thomas O'Malley!"

Again Fred gives you a bewildered stare that makes a giggle slip out of you.

"Muggle film, the ginger cat. We could name him after him!  Abraham Delacey Giuseppi Casey Thomas o malley... Weasley."

"Or we could not," Fred says blankly.

"Ron?" You ask, trying to glance at the cat's face to see what else would spring to mind.

"No, it's too clean," Fred jokes, nodding his head towards the cat.

"Squash? Cheddar? Pumpkin?"

"Stop naming food!" Fred calls out with a laugh before he pauses, clearly thinking. "Wait I like pumpkin! Pumpkin Weasley?"

"Our first child," you joke, throwing your legs over his as you lean back on the sofa. You knew he'd have to be going back to work soon so you'd take what you could get.

"Great we can name our children after root vegetables," Fred says with a mock roll of his eyes, big hands coming up to stroke your legs as he pulls them deeper into his lap.

"Ginger's a root vegetable, they'd fit right in," you beam, looking at your boyfriend's fiery locks, secretly hoping that whatever children you'd have would share this certain characteristic.

"Oh yeah! Meet the twins, parsnip and turnip," he jests, laughing as your eyes widen in horror at his words, knowing that it would be just your luck to get your own mini version of George and Fred.

"Who said anything about twins?!"

"Maybe we'll just stick with the cat then," he smirks, joining your gaze towards your new best friend, realising that it might not be a bad thing after all to expand your family.

"We'll start with Pumpkin."

[synnamon-hearts]

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Okay... Okay... Okay... So I have an extension to this here about Ghostface Josh and Ghostface Chris...

NSFW down below! (Warning: Accidental sex with killers! Whoops! 🫢)

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Soooooo after the movie, you realize that these two boys make you feel the most safe. Seriously, they have been your rocks throughout this whole nightmare and you didn't worry one bit while hanging out with them for the night. I mean, you didn't even get a call from the killer so that must mean something, right? You are completely safe with them.

Something about the way these two make you feel has you think that it's making you begin to have feelings for them both. They are your knights in shining armor, and you can't take holding back how you feel anymore. So when the screen goes black, you take them both by the hand and tell them how you feel.

At first, Josh and Chris are shocked. They did so well to deceive you that you actually fell in love with them? This is awesome! It took so much to keep them from both smirking devilishly at your confession, and they did well to each give genuine responses.

"Oh, y/n! We are so glad you feel the same way. We've both wanted you for so long but we didn't know how to bring it up with you... You know, with everything that's been going on and all..."

"Yeah, y/n. We think you are great! It's hard not to fall for a girl as awesome as you are. Maybe... We could be something more?"

Josh and Chris would be lying if they said they didn't have some feelings for you too. Before the prank happened, they actually both wanted to be with you and would argue about who had more of a right to bag you quite often when nobody was around. Even now, they still think you are so adorable.

Just in more of a sadistic way, of course. The fear in your eyes when you get those horrific phone calls or get chased through the house by one of them is just so goddamn sweet. You've become a little more than a victim to them, but their little toy—a doll for them to control.

Before you know it, you are sandwiched between the two on Josh's large king sized bed, taking them both at the same time. Oh, it feels so heavenly. Each time one pulls out, the other thrusts in. No matter what, you are full to the brim and it feels so fucking good. Thoughts are no longer a thing in that pretty little head of yours as you get fucked silly by these two men.

Not only do you feel like you're on cloud 9 being between them right now, but you actually feel as though you are locked away in a small fortress that no evil can enter. You know you are protected from that nasty killer who had been threatening your life for what feels like so long now. You know that as long as you are with them, no harm will come your way.

When you all cum, it's a peaceful moment. You lay between them, spread out on Josh's chest while Chris lays on top of you, caging you between the two. You're feeling dazed from the intense high their cocks and passionate kisses brought you. The room is filled with nothing but overestimatulated groans and heavy ragged breaths, while silent thoughts hang in the air between the three of you.

However, while you relish in the thoughts of how safe and comfortable you feel in this moment, Josh and Chris have an opposite mindset. You are too out of it to see the wicked grins that grows on both of their lips as they share a knowing look.

You barely notice when Josh pulls out a small, white, triangular object from underneath his pillow and brings it up to his lips. At first, you think it's just a pack of cigarettes. That is until you hear a click and the familiar, dreadful voice of your enemy right in your ear.

"Surpriseeeee, y/n." He drawls out, a smirk thick in his tone. Your eyes widen as you look up at Chris, who smiles down at you with almost pride?

Josh tosses the voice changer to Chris. Josh's hold around your waist suddenly tightens as Chris speaks the next planned out line. "What's the matter, y/n? Looks like you seen a ghost."

Before you know it, you're hyperventilating. Suddenly the men who felt like your heroes, feel more like your hunters. And you are their caught prey. Nothing in life would have prepared you for a betrayal like this. You've spent so long running from this unknown person, only to find out that it was the two people you trusted the most. And now you can't get away. You are stuck to deal with the consequences of letting someone in...

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

I thought since Josh was more like the Billy in this situation and Chris was more like Stu for roles of who's in charge and stuff, it would be fun to switch Billy's line to Chris and Stu's line to Josh. I'm really liking this trope so far though so if anybody would like more, let me know!

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

[ronearoundblindly]

I have an idea for “how would…” !

It comes from a prank I’m seeing on tiktok lately of couples staying in a hotel room with 2 beds.

How would the guys react to reader saying they can sleep in separate beds tonight? 😆

Inspo: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP81dBS8k/

That's freaking hilarious, the link, but we've got lots of babes to cover! (Also...guess who realized Jake was missing from the banner? 😳👈 This doof.)

Warnings for, well, discussing couples and bed/bedtime activities but it's not real bad. MINORS DNI to be safe!

James Mace

You know what's tiny? A space bunk. He will starfish like a mothaf**ker on that queen size, and you gotta just give him that from time to time. If the stay in the hotel is just one night (and there's been no other time away from you recently), absolutely he will stretch out, pillows everywhere, each limb under a separate layer,--seriously though why are there nine layers of blankets and sheets? that's nuts--and no alarm if at all possible. However, if the stay is longer or the hotel is for a specific couple's vacation thing, then no, he would never spend a whole night outside of your bed. Maybe a nap after too much sun, or likely some space if he (or you) is feeling ill, but otherwise, Mace is very good at sharing resources with people he likes.

Curtis Everett

Oof. I really had to think about this guy. Some of Mace applies here, too, but Curtis likes the idea of having extra room far more than he likes using the room. I think he would try to fall asleep in the other bed for whatever reason, and then inevitably just crawl back in with you. He has never made it a whole night away, even if he falls asleep on the couch at home. He always has to be within arm's reach by the time you wake up.

Jimmy Dobyne

No. Nope. Not in the slightest.

He doesn't particularly like waste, so he might call down to see if there is a room with just one bed available, in case some other guests could use the two. Jimmy also hates the fuss of cleaning. He's acutely aware of how much effort would go into remaking the second bed (washing, etc) and won't even put things on top of the unused bed for the whole stay. Not your bag. Not your butt. Not a towel. Nada.

Johnny Storm

Few quick questions: this hotel is fireproof, right? The bedding, okay, but what about the carpet? The curtains? Are the headboards made of wood? Is the varnish flammable? You don't know? Shit, well, he needs to know.

I feel like Johnny has to have like a special tarp thing to lay over normal bed linens, but honestly, I can't really see how he's ever safe to sleep outside of his own customized bedroom. People do not have complete control while they are unconscious. That's super dangerous for folks like Johnny. Reed's fine because what's the worst that could happen, his foot actually hangs off the edge of the mattress? If we were talking about Ben, the weight-capacity would be a concern, too, so even if you are fine to sleep in the same bed as Johnny and sometimes get burned a bit...I...I'm just not convinced a hotel would want extraneous furniture in there.

That's not a sexy answer, but it's the one you're getting.

Jake Jensen

Dude can fall asleep any. where. any. time. However, if he is lucid enough to pick where he'll fall asleep, it will always be with you...

...after hysterically jumping around like a kid on the extra bed.

I'll just, yeah, leave you with that image. Have fun. Stay weird, Jake.

Lloyd Hansen

If you two are actively doing something--yes, of course, I mean sex or sexual acts or whatever nasty word Lloyd wants to call it--then you are in the same...general area. That's not limited to a bed.

For sleeping, real sleeping, separate beds are 99% of the time a must. There is one exception to this: if Lloyd has been worn out or injured badly on a job--which is so rare--and if it's not quite bad enough to be in a hospital hooked to machines to keep him alive, then he becomes a sort of energy leech and keeps you very close all the time. This is Lloyd's vampire phase. As you can probably deduce, it is not about you, but he will take whatever he can from you.

Ari Levinson

50/50. Ari is moody. He changes with the wind (not in a bad way but for all the small, subtle stuff), and he sometimes just fancies a bit of something different. Take that as you will--and by that I mean run with it because I am totally talking about all sorts of different things to do in bed. He's the type of man who does better with a bit of alone time, too. Never means any offense by it. Just has spells of needing socializing and needing quiet.

Ransom Drysdale

Literally, I feel like I always have the same answer for Ran: it depends on when this is in your relationship and what the hotel stay is for.

Early on in dating, he aires on the side of caution and goes by his mood and yours. If there's been frustration in the day--due to his family or work or anything--then maybe you need some space. When Ransom is in a relationship, for real, he's actually very attuned to the tone of sex--which, of course, will happen no matter the mood of the day--so a lot of connection and intimacy will tell him it's good to stay close while a simpler, transactional need to get off tells him the other bed might be best.

Ran, however, would not get--or enjoy--the 'prank' of this challenge, and stop goddamn filming him for tiktok!

Steve Rogers

Pardon my language, but are you fucking kidding? The look on Steve's face if you so much as hinted... His head would immediately be spinning with 'what did I do wrong?' and 'what romantic gesture can I make right here right now to fix it?'

He's a simple man, and that is a simple no.

Bucky Barnes

Trickier. Much trickier.

Hmm. How to explain...

This feels like a whole season of 'What If...?' but I'll try to simplify.

Are you an Avenger or agent? Are you two on a mission together? I think Bucky is hardcore about keeping sharp and professional during those times. Sleep shifts. Minimal touching. The whole nine yards because safety is paramount. Is there some reason there could be surveillance of you two and you're supposed to be a couple? Bucky can put on one hell of a show like that. Just saying. I doubt, however, that he would mix business and pleasure unless absolutely necessary.

Are you a civilian? Is he a civilian now? Then no, he's in that one bed holding you until the second (maybe third) snooze cycle rings on his alarm. He's notorious for giving himself cushions of time, so it's never him needing to rush out on the average day. It took a while to adjust, but Buck can now also vacation with the best of them. Takes advantage of all the bells and whistles: minibar, room service, and the 'do not disturb' sign. Champion vacationer, he is, of this I have no doubt.

Thank you for asking!

A/N: Mace is a sleeper fave of mine, and I would do anything for that man, I swear... Also, would someone like to tell me why Bucky gets soooo 🥵 in all of these. My god, what am I feeding that boi?

[Main Masterlist; Who Would...Asks; Ko-Fi]

[alicewritingstories]

Febuwhump Day 19: Death Wish

Central characters: Wild and Warriors

Warnings: implied suicidal ideation and suicide

---

"You need to take things more seriously, Wild."

Wild scowled, kicking a small stone along the path. If he'd realised that Warriors had asked him to come on patrol with him to lecture him, he'd have found a way to get out of it.

"I mean it." Warriors didn't look at him, eyes ahead, back straight and proud. A perfect soldier. Wild wondered if he'd been like that before. But then, suddenly, Warriors' posture drooped slightly, his eyes drifting to the ground in front of his feet.

Wild waited for him to say something else, or straighten up, or even look at him, but the silence stretched, Warriors apparently lost in his thoughts.

"Warriors?" he asked at last.

Warriors startled and finally looked at him, wide-eyed as if he'd forgotten he was there. Then he took a breath and looked forward again. Wild scowled and looked away, wondering how far he could get if he booked it into the woods. There would be consequences later, of course, but that was later.

Then Warriors spoke again. "There are some things you do and jokes you make… they worry me sometimes. And I can't tell… what you mean by them. If you're actually joking or if… you're serious."

Wild frowned, genuinely confused, flicking back over jokes he'd made. Some puns that admittedly had been pretty bad, a prank or two… nothing he could think of that would make Warriors react like this. Shouting at him, sure. But not… whatever this was.

"You're always willing to take a hit for someone else, as if you don't care about your own wellbeing. And I understand that - we've all done it plenty of times. You hardly seem to care about getting hurt when you're climbing or jumping from high places or shield-surfing. And I know you have enough skill that maybe you're just that confident, though I've seen you fall enough times to think you really do need to take more care." Another flicker of that distant look and he fell silent again, once again staring off into the distance.

"I'm not going to stop doing any of those things," said Wild, folding his arms. "Like you said, we've all taken a hit for someone, and I like climbing and gliding and shield-surfing. I'm not going to stop doing half the things I like just because that's the half that isn't useful every day."

Warriors looked at him sidelong. "This isn't about usefulness," he said. "It's about recklessness. And you apparently not caring if you get hurt or killed." He looked away with a heavy sigh and added, "And the number of times I've heard you say offhand that you died in the Calamity."

Wild blinked. "I… I did, though. Or close enough." He waved a hand, trying to brush off the existential dread that lay under the words.

"I know, but… when the two things come together, I can't tell what to make of them."

Wild still didn't understand what he was getting at. Warriors sighed, tilting his head back to look up at the trees.

"I know you lost people in the Calamity," he said at last, carefully. "And I know… you wish you could have saved them."

This was getting too personal and Wild looked away, turning a shoulder. "I don't want to talk about the Calamity, Warriors."

"I know, I just… I actually want to talk about now, but…"

"Then say what you want to say!"

Another long silence, Warriors frowning at the path in front of their feet, Wild keeping his arms folded, his shoulders hunched, ready for whatever was coming.

"Very well," said Warriors suddenly, straightening up and stopping in his tracks. Wild faltered to a stop too, half turning, and jumped as Warriors laid a hand on his shoulder. The captain looked at his face, his expression serious. "Once I knew a man who survived a battle when many of his closest friends did not. He used to make jokes about how he'd died with them back there on that field, and we didn't realize what he meant or put it together as his actions in battle got more and more reckless until at last he didn't come back. I never want to make that mistake again. You worry me, Wild. I need to know whether you're just brave and maybe reckless or…" He sighed again, dropping his gaze and this time his breath caught. "Or if you believe there's no point in being careful because you're already dead." He looked up, into Wild's eyes. "I need to know."

[emma23]

Under surveillance :

Nathan Bateman x reader

The clock blinked 11:47 PM, and Y/N’s apartment was silent except for the faint hum of her TV. She sat cross-legged on her couch, completely absorbed in a rerun of a cheesy sitcom she’d seen a hundred times before. The canned laughter filled the room, making the quiet feel a little less lonely.

Her phone buzzed, breaking her focus.

UNKNOWN:

You can't seriously be entertained by this. I think we've watched this episode already.

Her blood ran cold.

Her first instinct was to look around the room, her eyes darting to the shadows in the corners. “What the hell?” she muttered, picking up her phone to reply.

Y/N:

??

Who is this?

UNKNOWN:

Put on a better show. Or a movie maybe?

Something scary or maybe... Ghostbusters?

Her heart thumped in her chest as her grip on the phone tightened. Was this a prank?

“Okay, not funny,” she said aloud, though no one was there to hear her. She stood, her hands trembling as she moved toward her alarm panel.

The moment she pressed the button to enable it, another text came through.

UNKNOWN:

That didn’t work in the movies. It won’t work now.

The alarm blared, and she screamed, backing away as fast as her legs would allow.

“WHO IS THIS?!” she yelled, her voice cracking as panic clawed at her throat.

Before she could think of her next move, a familiar voice came from behind her.

“Relax. It’s me.”

She spun around, nearly dropping her phone. “Nathan?!”

Nathan Bateman leaned casually against her kitchen counter, arms crossed, looking infuriatingly smug.

“You should see your face right now,” he said, biting back a laugh.

Her panic melted into pure rage. “Are you kidding me right now?! What are you even doing here?”

“Just checking in,” he replied, strolling past her to grab a beer from her fridge.

“Checking in? By pretending to be some psychopath inside my apartment?”

He shrugged, popping the cap off the bottle. “Technically, I never said I wasn’t me. You just assumed.”

She gawked at him, completely at a loss for words. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re predictable,” he shot back, gesturing toward the TV. “Seriously? You’ve been watching the same garbage for weeks.”

“Maybe because it’s comforting!” she snapped, crossing her arms. “Not that it’s any of your business!”

“Oh, it’s my business,” he said, taking a long sip of his beer. “You’re my favorite pastime.”

Y/N sat back down on the couch, trying to ignore the way Nathan’s presence filled the room. He always managed to throw her off balance, his arrogance toeing the line between charming and infuriating.

“Don’t you have, I don’t know, an AI to torment?” she asked, flipping through the TV channels with unnecessary force.

“Nah,” he said, plopping down beside her. “They’re boring. You’re much more entertaining.”

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks betrayed her, warming under his gaze. “Why are you really here, Nathan?”

He shrugged, stretching out and taking up far too much of the couch. “Maybe I missed you.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Maybe I did,” he said, his tone softer now.

Her fingers hesitated on the remote, and she glanced at him, the teasing gone from his face. “Nathan…”

“What?” he asked, his voice low. “Is it that hard to believe?”

For once, Nathan wasn’t smirking or making some sarcastic remark. He was just… looking at her. And it was unnerving.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing,” she said, trying to sound steady.

“No game,” he said simply, leaning closer. “Not this time.”

Her heart raced as his hand brushed against hers, the touch deliberate but hesitant.

“This is a bad idea,” she murmured, though she didn’t pull away.

“Probably,” he agreed, his lips curling into a faint smile. “But when have we ever done the smart thing?”

She hated how easily he could disarm her. “You’re the worst,” she muttered, just before his lips met hers.

The kiss was electric, every bit of tension between them unraveling in a way that felt inevitable. His hands cupped her face, tilting her head to deepen the kiss as her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

“Wait,” she said, pulling back just enough to catch her breath. “What happens when this blows up in our faces?”

He smirked. “Then we’ll deal with it. Together.”

“You’re awfully confident,” she said, though her voice was softer now.

“When am I not?”

Nathan was still there when she woke up, sprawled out on her couch with her cat curled up on his chest. She stared at him for a moment, trying to process the whirlwind of the night before.

“You’re still here?” she asked groggily, leaning against the doorway.

“Of course,” he said, without opening his eyes. “Didn’t want you watching that crap without supervision.”

She threw a pillow at him. “Unbelievable.”

He caught it, grinning up at her. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I left.”

“Not even a little,” she lied.

He sat up, his grin turning into something softer. “Liar.”

As he stood to leave later that day, he glanced back at her, one hand on the doorknob.

“By the way,” he said, smirking, “I changed your Netflix password.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You did what?!”

“Relax,” he said, throwing her a wink. “I’m just making sure you don’t re-watch that garbage again.”

“You’re insufferable!” she yelled as the door closed behind him.

From the hallway, his voice echoed back, teasing and triumphant. “And you love it!”

[changingplumbob]

Shay McClain - Hopeful Bachelorette

Entry for Mad About Dodo by @akitasimblr

Tell us a bit about yourself. What do you do to keep busy? How would your friends describe you?

Okay, well, hi, I'm Shay. I never really fit in at school so after graduation while all my classmates headed to university I wanted something different. I've always liked making stuff so I was looking at getting into carpentry and then one of my dads had the best idea. They both know I love adventure and exploring so they suggested I travel and volunteer with organizations like Habitat for Humanity. I do a bit of carpentry when I'm home to keep the funds up. But yeah I travel the world getting to see cool places, surfing and mountain climbing, and putting my hands to good use making homes for people. Most of my friends are people I've met through that and they'd probably say I'm confident, my dads would probably say over confident, have a passion for making things, especially out of junk but in my defense people throw a lot away too quickly, and... just... a lust for life. But have you looked around? There's beauty in everything.

And why have you applied for Mad About Dodo?

My dad's are worried I'll die alone so have been trying to sort out a way for me to meet people, of course they can't exactly organize a blind date for me when we're in different continents. Don't get me wrong, I would like love in my life, it's kind of the piece that's missing you know. Anyway they sent me the entry details and I have to admit, Dodo is cute. Not that I would just apply because of an attractive person but I was reading about how he's tried other challenges before and I admire his perseverance to keep trying. That's what we have to do at the job sites. So if he's looking for someone to sweep him off his feet I'll do my best.

What do you think of your outfits?

I'm happy they're not just draping us in leaves and calling it a day. I think we've managed to pull together some stuff that'll fit in on an island. But why did we do a cold weather outfit? Aren't islands warm?

How do you see yourself getting on with other competitors?

I've honestly no idea. But I can tell you right now they better keep their pranks away from me. Seriously, a joke that's made at the expense of someone else isn't a joke. Learn how to be funny without punching down.

If you're the kind of person that can spot the good things in life I think we'll get on. I do hate small talk though, let's get to the good juicy stuff! Life's too short to be commenting on the weather constantly.

Tell us about some of your likes and dislikes

Well like I said I really like making stuff. I enjoy fabricating but my favourite is when I can carve stuff like sculptures or furniture. I'm also big into fitness, I like to keep myself in shape. I like yoga to even if I can't balance right half the time.

Dislikes... juice fizzing. I'm not going to go into detail but I had a bad experience. Mischief obviously, I'll crack jokes anytime you like but don't expect me to tie you to a voodoo doll. Programming is also something I just find boring as well as research, so it really is best that I didn't go to university.

What are you looking forward to?

Getting to know Dodo. Hopefully he can be more than a friend. I'm also looking forward to testing out my survival skills. I think they're pretty good with the work I've done but you never know until you're in the situation I guess. But yeah, mainly getting to see if this guy is the one for me, if I can be the one for him.

What are you dreading?

Sunburn! And walking around not realizing I've been pooped on by a bird.

I know most people would probably say lack of bedding and plumbing but I've gone without them before, I can handle going without them again.

Do you have a message for Dodo?

Hey Dodo, if you want someone who can work wonders with their hands I'm here *laughs* No, I'm kidding, please don't tell him I said that. Umm... Hi Dodo, I'm looking forward to building this next part of my life with you in it. See you on the island!

Download SFS

[toujokaname]

Game master / Episode 16

Author: Akira

Characters: Kohaku, Hiiro, Aira, HiMERU

"Yes. HiMERU hates incompetence. It's pointless to get involved, and therefore a waste of time."

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[ Read on my site for a better viewing experience using Ois~su ♪ ]

Season: Winter

Location: Amagi's House

A few minutes later. In a room of the mansion, the final checkpoint of the courage test.

Kohaku: I took a lil look around the mansion.

Still, no soul in sight... Checked some nearby houses too, but they were all empty.

And that feelin' I've been havin' for a while's gone, too. What the hell's goin' on here?

Hiiro: This is truly an abnormal situation.

Before we knew it, everyone in this Amagi Village vanished. While we were following the designated route, they all disappeared without a trace.

Just like the staff of the paranormal program we heard about in the ghost story, they've all gone missing.

Aira: W-What's going on? Seriously, what's happening?

Is it because I called this place a backward village and made fun of it? Did I trigger the wrath of the Amagi God(?) of the Amagi Village and cause them to be spirited away or cursed?!

Hiiro: Calm down, Aira. This should be another phenomenon that can be explained rationally, logically.

The universe is governed by the laws of physics. There are no such things as apparitions.

HiMERU: HiMERU agrees with you as well.

Hiiro: Umu, I think Nii-san would also agree. He's a logical person, after all.

HiMERU: Then allow HiMERU to retract his prior statement and say that he has a different opinion from you.

Hiiro: Wait, why though?

Kohaku: Hehe. Still, we got caught up in somethin' strange, didn't we...?

Of course, this is part of the scripted setup by the producers, but doesn't it feel like more than just a prank?

Aira: I just don't get it... Even if it's a prank, it's being dragged out too long, and I can't grasp the intention at all.

I seriously think we got caught up in some inexplicable phenomenon.

Hiiro: Even apparitions must have some logic. Ghosts may be impossible, but the ones described in ghost stories remain in this realm because they have some kind of lingering attachments.

What could ghosts, or rather, apparitions, stand to gain by pushing us into such circumstances?

Aira: Like I said, it's a curse! We probably angered some divine entity by accidentally breaking a taboo in this backward village!

That's why we're being put in this scary situation! That's how it is, isn't it?!

Hiiro: Umm. We don't really worship any particular deity in my hometown, and so far we haven't broken any taboos to warrant such severe punishment...

Well, I mean, by inviting strangers from outside into our secluded homeland, we've already broken a taboo.

But if that were the case, we would've all been cursed as soon as we set foot in this village.

Aira: So, what's the deal? Explain it so that even an idiot can understand!

Kohaku: Ahaha, Rabu-han's like Crazy:B's Niki-han, huh.

Aira: Chances are you're not complimenting me, are you, Kohakucchi?!

Hiiro: Basically, this situation is highly unnatural. There's no logical explanation, it's too nonsensical.

To put it bluntly, it's a mess.

HiMERU: —Well, HiMERU's viewpoint does differ slightly.

Hiiro: ? What do you mean, HiMERU-san?

HiMERU: HiMERU has long harbored a certain suspicion.

He kept quiet until now, since he was warned in no uncertain terms by Rinne just before arriving here. Yes, HiMERU's nature is that of a person with a strong sense of duty who properly keeps his promises.

Kohaku: Settin' aside your usual self-praise, what's this suspicion about?

HiMERU: It's about that person called Akan.

Aira: Ahh, the producer in charge of Matrix?

I sorta sympathized, being an underachiever who got ridiculed by everyone.

HiMERU: Right. That AkanP is the organizer of this series of events, Matrix. The starting point of all the occurrences woven within this narrative.

And yet, for some reason, there's a bizarre lack of presence exhibited.

Like a ghost, hm?

Such incompetence is far too profound to allow for any meaningful actions—HiMERU thought that might be the reason.

Essentially, AkanP is no more than a mere faceless background character in this story.

Kohaku: Some brutal words ya got there... Well, HiMERU-han's been gettin' real irritated with that person, so I reckon his language's takin' a rough turn.

HiMERU: Yes. HiMERU hates incompetence. It's pointless to get involved, and therefore a waste of time.

"I've" spent my whole life discarding such worthless people without a second thought.

I thought that was the correct course of action. In fact, it's precisely because I carelessly reached out a helping hand to a completely useless fool that I—

Kohaku: Huh? HiMERU-han, talkin' in first person? That's rare.

HiMERU: —Pardon. Anyway, what HiMERU wanted to say is that AkanP is excessively incompetent.

Kohaku: Ain't that goin' too far? I guess Anzu-han's support was a factor, but Matrix seems to be gettin' a pretty good reception for what's been shown, right?

So, wouldn't ya call the project a success?

HiMERU: That's true. Perhaps that was unexpected for the mastermind behind this sequence of events—the culprit.

Kohaku: Culprit, ya say?

HiMERU: Originally, it was intended to be a much sloppier and utterly hopeless event. This Matrix, hardly anyone even took notice of it...

In other words, it didn't matter whether it succeeded or failed; it was meant to be an insignificant program.

Kohaku: Nah, ain't Matrix supposed to be a major event wrappin' up ES's first year? At least, that's the official story, right...?

HiMERU: What if that was just an excuse contrived retroactively?

The much-anticipated big event turned into a sucky project all because of the useless producer named Akan—

Kohaku: "Sucky"... Sometimes you talk real eccentric, HiMERU-han.

HiMERU: —And yet, contrary to that, was there not a fundamentally flawed plan to begin with?

However, with Anzu-san's involvement, that plan turned into something remarkably engaging.

As a result, ES took notice, and Matrix became a major event wrapping up the first year of ES.

Hiiro: In other words, according to HiMERU-san's conjecture, the order of events was reversed.

[ ☆ ]

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[wheredidalltheusersgo]

The Stranded and The Scaly.

Chapter 12: The Boy who cried Gator.

Day 8

Scott tore though the woods, refusing to stop to catch his breath or look behind him. He didn't care where he was going, as long as it was away from that fucking monster in the woods.

The ginger boy gasped for air as he ran, stumbling as he shoved through low-hanging branches and bushes. How long had that thing been there, and why did it look so humanoid? Could it have been an unlucky intern? No, none of that mattered. Scott had to tell the others! That thing was big enough to pick them all off one by one and eat them!!

Scott emerged from the forest, covered in dirt and scratches. He saw his castmates standing near the dock and rushed over, but he tripped over a rock and landed flat on his face in front of them.

"False alarm, campers! Scott is NOT dead as we all thought! He's all gross-looking like a corpse, though." Chris cackled. "Anyways, let me finish explaining your challenge for today!"

"No, no, no!! Wait a second!!" Scott quickly got to his feet.

"I need to tell you guys something! We are all in DANGER."

"Scott, we've been in danger since we set foot on this island. Our situation can't get much worse." Mike rolled his eyes, clearly not amused by whatever prank Scott might be pulling.

"Please, this is serious!" Scott pleaded.

"Hey, maybe we should listen to dust bunny over here." Jo pointed out.

The campers turned their attention to Scott, waiting to hear what he had to say. Chris tapped his foot impatiently and scowled at the ginger.

"I saw something in the woods, it was a mutant!"

"Seriously, Scott? We KNOW there are mutants on this island. Seeing some weird critter in the woods is old news." Zoey looked a little annoyed.

"No, it was HUGE, and green, a-and scaly!!"

"Congrats, you saw a big, nasty swamp gator. Whoop whoop, everyone give Scott a round of applause for his excellent observations!" Chris spoke in a mocking tone, clapping his hands slowly.

Scott's face flushed bright red from embarrassment as he shoved his hands in his pockets and took his place in the line of campers. How stupid of him to think that the others would actually believe him, he was known for lying and scheming! Scott desperately looked at Jo and Lightning, they'd believe him, right? Maybe?

Wrong. Jo glared at him and shook her head, Lightning didn't even glance at him. Well, sucks to be them. If they went into the forest, they'd be toast. Scott had the upper hand here.

Geoff cautiously wandered the forest with the baby gopher in his arms. What did gophers eat, anyways? Were they herbivores or omnivores? He regretted not paying attention in biology class, he didn't know that info would actually come in handy! The gopher sniffled and squirmed in his arms, it was getting hard to hold on to that thing. Geoff knelt down and carefully placed the animal on the ground. The gopher immediately began to sniff the ground and waddle around. Did it know something he didn't? Geoff watched as the gopher stopped and started burrowing into the ground, it seemed to be searching for something. Geoff's questions were quickly answered when the gopher pulled a large, thick root out of the ground and immediately started chowing down. The little munchkin was a herbivore, noted.

Geoff knelt next to the gopher and pet it while it ate, humming a quiet tune. He'd have to go hunt for his own meal later.

Ezekiel was panicking. Geoff was gone, he left his stuff behind, and there were signs of a cave-in. He hoped the other boy hadn't been crushed. The small mutant charged through the vast tunnels and caverns, looking for any clue as to where Geoff had gone. Without looking where he was going, he ran right off a rocky ledge into a pool of clear, blue water. Ezekiel gasped and coughed as he waded to the surface and let his vision adjust to the cave's lighting. He hadn't been in this area before, it was beautiful....

The water glowed a faint blue, along with the crystal formations along the walls, illuminating the cave to an extent.

Ezekiel instantly knew he had to show Geoff this wondrous cave. Maybe they could have a party just for the two of them.

Zeke's thoughts were interrupted when his keen eyes spotted a long, blonde hair drifting on the surface of the water.

Geoff had been here.

He had to keep looking.

He scrambled out of the water and inspected the ground for more clues. His brief inspection revealed large claw marks in the stone, these had to belong to Geoff.

Okay, all he had to do was follow the claw marks in the stone, and then he'd be able to find Geoff. Simple, right?

Ezekiel knew Geoff's scent well, and these caverns carried the faintest trace of it. Not enough to follow, but enough to know Geoff had been here. The claw marks were his biggest lead, and he needed to keep following them.

Zeke would find Geoff one way or another, he knew the mutant boy was large and powerful enough to take down any possible predators, but he couldn't save himself from being crushed by rocks. If he was too late, and if Geoff had died in a cave-in, he'd never forgive himself. Ezekiel hated to imagine Geoff's possible final moments, alone and scared as his bones were crushed by the collapsing cave walls, unable to cry out as the darkness engulfed him.

Ezekiel growled.

No, he'd find Geoff, and he would be ALIVE. He'd bring Geoff back to their cozy little cave and curl up in his arms, relaxing as the sound of Geoff's heartbeat echoes through his ears.

-------

[geekusfemme]

Vamp Pranks

As the warm, coppery liquid flowed down his throat, Astarion's senses heightened. He savored the taste of blood and the rush it brought him, but was abruptly pulled back to reality as he sensed a presence behind him. He quickly raised his head and spun around to face a very startled Karlach, who gasped in shock.

"Holy shit! You're a Vampire!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise.

Astarion nonchalantly wiped the blood from his mouth with a flick of his wrist, his expression daring as he raised an eyebrow. "Yes, and?"

Karlach shrugged casually, trying to play off her initial shock. "Nothing, it's all good. Just surprised me, that's all...though the pale skin and red eyes should have clued me in, I guess," she added, tilting her head as she studied him with curious fascination.

A smirk tugged at Astarion's lips as he responded with an offended huff. "Rude. For all you know, I could have been born looking like this."

"Oh gods...yeah, sorry, I didn't think..." Karlach quickly started to apologize, her face flushing with embarrassment. But then she tilted her head and gave him a lopsided grin. "Yeah, but you weren't. So don't try to make me feel guilty. But seriously, how can you be out in sunlight? Is the parasite responsible for that?"

"That's my theory, yes," Astarion confirmed with a nod, his expression softening as Ishta appeared from around the corner.

Karlach hesitantly glanced at Ishta before leaning in closer to Astarion and whispering conspiratorially, "Does she know? That you're a...you know."

Before Astarion could respond, Ishta's voice cut through their conversation with curiosity. "That he's a what?" she asked as she approached them while meticulously cleaning her scimitars with a cloth.

The setup couldn't have been more perfect.

A mischievous glint flashed in Astarion's eyes as he turned to face Ishta, hiding his amusement from Karlach. He sighed dramatically and spoke with an air of guilt and solemnity, "Oh dear, I was hoping to delay this conversation a bit longer. But there's something about me that I feel I ought to tell you."

Ishta caught on quickly, tilting her head and folding her arms in front of her with a concerned expression. "Oh yes? And what might that be?"

Beside him, Karlach fidgeted nervously as she watched the interaction. She let out a worried murmur of "Uh oh..." and Astarion struggled to maintain his composure, trying not to break into a smile.

"It's nothing big or terrible," Astarion began with feigned unease, his voice trembling for added effect. "Just a small little detail about me that hasn't come up naturally...I happen to be a - what's the best way to put this?" he paused dramatically, glancing at Karlach before continuing, "a Vampire."

He added in an nervous giggle for extra impact and couldn't resist sneaking a glance at Karlach from the corner of his eye. The Tiefling was staring wide-eyed at Ishta, anxiously waiting for her response as if bracing for a fight or flight situation.

And the Ranger did not disappoint.

With a gasp that could startle nearby birds, Ishta stepped back in shock, her hand placed dramatically over her heart. "By the Nine Hells! How could you keep such a despicable secret from me, after all we've been through together?!"

Astarion held his hands up in a pleading gesture, looking at Ishta with mock sincerity shining in his eyes as he implored, "Come now, my dear. Things haven't really changed - I'm still the same sweet, lovable rogue. My smile is just a little...sharper."

Ishta recoiled in horror, stumbling backwards with an expression of terror on her face. Astarion couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the exaggerated performance.

"Karlach, quick! Find me a stake!" Ishta cried out in panic, diving behind an overturned cart for cover. "And slather yourself in garlic!" she added desperately, peeking out from her hiding spot with wide eyes.

Astarion wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought of being covered in the pungent herb. "I highly doubt it would stay on her... but I suppose the smell of burnt garlic is just as effective," he mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

Karlach watched them with wide-eyed confusion, her suspicion growing by the second as she started to put the pieces together. "Hold on a minute..." she trailed off, realization dawning on her.

"Stay back, fiend! I have Shadowheart's canteen and I'm not afraid to use it!" Ishta's laughter echoed through the air as her facade crumbled.

"Ha! Water blessed by Shar would probably make a Vampire stronger," Astarion scoffed.

Amused and slightly relieved, Karlach chuckled and shook her head, folding her arms across her chest. "All right now, you two. Joke's over." She turned to Astarion with an appreciative nod. "You got me good."

Still laughing, Ishta emerged from behind the cart and stood beside Astarion, looking up at the Teifling with bright eyes full of mirth.

Karlach regarded the two of them with a similar twinkle in her eye and grinned widely, showing off her teeth. "You know what? I think I'm going to enjoy traveling with you. I have the feeling we're gonna be good friends."

Ishta's smile widened and she nodded firmly in agreement. "I believe you're right."

And so begin the shenanigans...

[darkenforcer]

permanent plotter / rship call !

YEAH OK... i'll finally post one of these!!!

give this a like and you'll be lawfully and contractually signing up for:

dms (more specifically an introductory one to ask if you have ideas, but it's totally fine if you don't have any yet! we can always figure it out as we go)

more ic ask memes! or dropping into your inbox for funsies

...just dash interactions in general

you can still like this post if we've already thrown ideas around abt our blorbos. bc ur epic

for types of relationships, you can find a handy-dandy list to get that creativity flowing below the cut:

friends. yuri can be an aloof dingus, but this is wayyy easier than one may think. whether or not he actually acknowledges it, he's on friendly terms with a lot of people since he likes good timez -- befriending him just comes with being the target of pranks and sass, that's all. join his ever-growing list of besties...... this can also extend to passing acquaintances, though! they can poke at each other like once a month & he'd be perfectly content.

found family. yuri has a habit of accidentally adopting rowdy kids (for better or worse, depending on who you ask). that is all. seriously, though, vespy heavily revolves arnd a found family, so of course i have a bias. it's common for him to take on a big brother role, but he's still on the younger side of adulthood and makes more than enough dumb decisions to deserve a scolding from older / more experienced folk.

mercenary-based stuff. since he's a sword-for-hire, it's totally possible for him to run into people during jobs! like an unlucky bystander, potential protégé, rival merc, employer, or even... the target!? *gasp*. anyway, the sky's the limit with this one, and it doesn't have to be limited to fight scenarios (murder-y stuff's the only thing off the table, like 99% of the time)! it could be fun.

enemies/rivals. having actual enemies takes wayyy too much energy, so he definitely won't be the one putting effort into making any (not on purpose, anyway). unless your muse is the one trying to beat him up, or if they're corrupt beyond saving, yuri'll probably just ignore them lol. rivalries are more likely, considering he's pretty darn competitive and battle-obsessed. not to mention all the teasing...

romance. hm. he'll flirt w/ ppl who seem interested and all that, but most of what he says comes from a place of banter. i have my own scientifically-based headcanons that make the idea of yuri + love messy as hell (sorry), though that's mostly because there haven't been any reasons for him to confront any of it yet. in other words, it's possible for a serious ship to happen, it'd just need planning and time. aside from that, go wild with the no-strings-attached stuff!

[night-garden-fic]

Chapter Nine: Honey, Ink, Blood

Read on AO3

"If I stay here much longer, I'm going to do something I'll regret."

Chapter Nine: Honey, Ink, Blood

     I am traveling down a shady wooded path.

     It is green and quiet here, but I already know something is terribly wrong.

     As I press on, the path narrows, and the bare branches blot out more and more of the sun.

     So I press on still, in spite of the encroaching dark.

     Something is waiting for me at the heart of this wood.

     (I know this, but I don't know how I know.  I feel as though I've forgotten something.)

     The branches begin to snag my clothes, trip up my legs, scrape against my skin.  I fight in vain to shake them off.

     (Hurry.  It's waiting for you.)

     They brush my face, and it is with great horror that I realize the branches are moving on their own; animate, thinking, haunted.

     And I think the trees are laughing at me.

~*~

     "Hrmgh..."

     Russell fought against an unusually thick caul of sleep, against his dark dream of laughing trees and living branches.

     Soon, however, the enigmatic laughter began to take on a familiar, more mischievous quality.  And, as reality gradually crept into the cracks of his troubled consciousness, he recognized the source.

     Not haunted trees, but a young boy and girl, keening with barely repressed hysterics.

     Not the sharp ends of branches, but a pair of fountain pens, poised menacingly above his face.

     Russell groaned again, and—rather clumsily—threw off the blankets and sat up in bed.  He cleared his throat, straining to speak over their laughter in his hoarse morning voice.

     "Okay, okay...  I'm up."

     The laughter only intensified.  Russell shook his heavy head; trying to clear it, but failing rather miserably.  It was, in his opinion, too early for so much silliness.

     "I don't know what this is...  Just go downstairs and wait for a few minutes, okay?  I'll figure out some breakfast."

     He slipped on his glasses, then staggered to the bathroom.  Instead of going downstairs, the children had chosen to linger in the hall, whispering and giggling all the while.  But that, he supposed, was their choice.

     Just a little cold water, and I'll wake right up...

     Russell coughed painfully, spat in the sink, and drank a few swallows of tap water from his cupped hands.  Then he straightened up, got on with brushing his teeth, and froze in shock at the sight of himself in the mirror.

     At first, he wasn't quite sure what he was looking at, but couldn't rule out some strange disease manifesting itself overnight.

     Then he dimly recalled the hovering pens, the waving nightmare branches.

     Before long, the strange marks on his face resolved themselves into a haphazard pattern of lopsided stars.  In all honesty, he felt more baffled than frustrated or angry, but still couldn't help a little indignation.  He spat out the toothpaste foam disdainfully, then wheeled around to face the open bathroom door.

     "...Seriously!?"

     Out in the hall, the kids went wild with laughter.  Their prank, apparently, had been a roaring success.

     Russell sighed as he set about washing his face; a splash of cold as planned, then a vigorous scrub with hot.  He repeated the process, just for good measure, but none of it was enough to completely wash away that galaxy of crooked little stars.  He considered going through the motions a third time, but decided to give up before he started scrubbing himself raw.

     Cursing himself for springing for the good ink, Russell backed out of the bathroom, right into his cackling tormentors.

     "Yes, yes, we've all had a good laugh at my expense.  Now let's go get something to eat."

     The children thundered down the stairs, with Russell following at a more leisurely pace, taking a mental inventory of the rather sad contents of his refrigerator.

     Surely, there must be something...  It can't have gotten that bad.

     (You know full well it's all going to shit again.)

     Thankfully, he didn't have to dwell on that for long.  A quick survey of the kitchen revealed a bowl of leftover rice, and a few eggs that had somehow escaped the previous night's massacre.

     All of this amounted to some rather inept omelet rice—the eggs stiff and falling-apart, owing to a lack of milk—which the children happily accepted; content to cover Russell's shoddy cooking, not to mention everything else, in great red gobs of ketchup.

     Russell ate slowly; taking care not to rest his arms on the table, which was still sticky with the previous night's honey. The smeared inky stars on his face and the film of sleep still coating his brain were making him feel grimy and disheveled enough as it was.

     That feeling only intensified when he noticed that the kids were both fully dressed, ready to throw on their coats and run out into the night's fresh cover of snow at a minute's notice.  In stark contrast, Russell still wore his rumpled grey pajamas, and soon realized that they weren't even buttoned straight.

     And that was precisely how he felt: rumpled, grey, crooked.  Like last night's pajamas, like the clumsy stars he couldn't wash away.  There were dead leaves in his head, and sludge in his veins.  Dejectedly, he took another bite of his omelet.

     This really isn't very good.  Poor kids.

     Even so, when breakfast was over, they both thanked him profusely, then ran for their coats, eager for the day to begin.  Russell—feeling a bit more apprehensive at the prospect—hung back in the kitchen, making a note of the mess.

     I really need to clean this place...  And get some real groceries...  Maybe I should talk to Neumann about a chair...

     ...Right.  The chair.

     As he mentally ran down his list of tasks, Russell felt the thicket of thorns closing around him again.

     At least I know how to deal with them now.

     No, you don't.  You never learned.

     (That's your whole problem.)

     Well, it's not like I can fix all that today.  It's just another quarter dose.

     (And when that becomes a half?)

     With a sigh, Russell grabbed the back of the rogue chair and dragged it back to its home behind his desk.  Then he sat down in it, watching his daughter and her friend as they used suiting up for the snow as an excuse for yet more horseplay.

     He wondered if he had ever been so carefree.

     "...Daddy!?  Can I walk Nicky home!?"

     In spite of his low mood, Russell smiled.

     "I don't see why not."

     Cecilia pulled on her hat, with an odd purposefulness that reminded Russell, for some reason, of a caver getting ready for a long expedition.

     "And can I play at the beach for a while?"

     Please stay here today.

     (Let her go.  Don't be selfish.)

     Reluctantly, Russell reminded himself that he probably wouldn't be home, either.

     "Of course.  Have fun."

     Cecilia ran to her father, wrapping him in a tight hug.

     "Thanks, daddy!"

     Before long, Nicholas had joined the pile.

     "Bye, Russell!  I had lots of fun!"

     He wrapped both children in a quick, awkward embrace.

     "You know what?  So did I.  See you later, Nicky."

     And then the two of them took off, blowing past Tori as she entered the Library to start her shift.

     She took one look at Russell's scribbled face and carelessly skewed pajamas, then broke into a shy laugh, daintily covering her mouth with one hand.  Russell sighed wearily, with a good-natured smile.

     "...Yeah, the kids got me good.  Anyway...  I have some things to take care of.  Would you mind filling in again this morning?"

     Between the unstoppable giggling and her usual stutter, Tori could barely squeak out a reply.

     "Of...  Of c-course not sir!"

     At this rate, she'll be the one running the place.

     (Well, maybe she should be.)

     "...Thanks, Tori.  You're the best.  I really mean that."

     With that, he slumped upstairs; to his wardrobe, and some decent clean clothes.

     To the crevice of the mattress, and what glowed there in the daytime dark.

~*~

     And so, Russell set about a task that, by now, had become all-too-familiar: attempting to get his entire life together in the space of an afternoon.

     In his opinion, he'd done a decent job of it, all things considered.  Though he was adrift in a numb haze, lightly scummed with smeared ink and ennui, he'd managed to walk himself through the tasks he set out with little complaint, and only once or twice felt the urge to simply lie down in the snow and wait for Edward to scrape him up with a shovel.

     The kitchen was cleaned.  The chair was commissioned.  The groceries were gathered and brought in.  And, all along his way, the curiosity about the scribblings on his face was met with as much good humor as he could muster.

     See?  You're fine.  You just have to put in more effort.

     (From where, pray tell, can I possibly dredge up more than I've already put in?)

     Finally, as his reward for all that effort, Russell ended his day of errands with a soak at the bathhouse.

     Unfortunately, he'd found it somewhat disappointing in its ability to either clear his chest or wash the remaining ink from his face, but a good hour of floating in the sweet-smelling water had cleansed him so well otherwise that he really couldn't complain.  He'd even brought the novel he'd been reading in with him; holding it carefully above the water, so as not to damage the pages or the delicate paper butterfly that marked them.

     Immersed in the familiar story, and in the weightlessness of water, Russell, blessedly, forgot himself.

     And, when he eventually remembered himself again, he felt crisp and businesslike, ready to begin the day's work in earnest.

     Still somewhat adrift, but a bit less hazy, he paged through a publisher's catalog and wrote up several queries.  Then he bid Tori goodbye, locked the Library's door for the evening, and set to work on a decent dinner for his daughter and himself.

     At first, the sheer potential of a full kitchen threatened to overwhelm him, but he eventually settled on one of his few standbys; a simple vegetable stir-fry, rather roughly-chopped and uninspired, but solid and nutritious enough to feel like one more job well done.

     Nevermind that you missed lunch again.

     I didn't just forget.  I was out.  I was busy.

     (Your body can't tell the difference, and your clothes are starting to fit funny.)

     Can't I just have this one decent day?

     While they ate, Cecilia told an elaborate story about a crab she and Nicholas had played with all morning as she fussily picked every fragment of green pepper out of her meal.  Russell decided to let it slide, in favor of allowing himself to become fully engrossed in her little tale.

     Maybe your real problem is that you put in too much effort?

     (...I know I spend too much time thinking about everything I'm doing wrong, so let's just start there for once.)

     Later, while cleaning up after dinner, Russell began feeling a bit peculiar.

     Not ill, exactly, and certainly nothing unbearable.  A little unsteadiness, a little tension behind the eyes, and a mood that threatened to plummet back to the morning's dolorous lows.

     He knew what was happening, because he'd put himself through it before.

     All winter long, he'd been dancing.  He'd danced through the thorny pages of that difficult book, and through the short, dark days of the difficult season.  It had been a sorry, graceless dance, set to an atonal off-key dirge.  But it was a dance all the same, and it carried him when he couldn't bear to walk.

     And now, it seemed, it was time to pay that miserable piper.

     You've taken this as far as you sanely can.  You'll start tapering off tomorrow.

     What about tonight?

     Do what you have to.  Avoid a crash.

     (...Delay.  Delay the crash.)

     Russell found himself reaching under the mattress for the second time that day, searching for the patient glow that waited beneath.

     The dose this time was miniscule; almost homeopathic, barely more than a shining smear on his knuckles.  But it was enough, within the space of a minute, to steady his hands.

     And enough, it seemed, to tear open the fragile, damaged lining of his nose.

     See?  You can't keep doing this.

     Holding his own ink-smeared face in a disgusted, judgemental gaze, Russell plugged the leak with yet another ball of compacted tissue.  Then he proceeded downstairs; to the world where he was still, against all evidence, having a single damned good day.

     Once there, he found Cecilia sitting on his desk, with her favorite origami guide in front of her, and that was all it took to convince him that he'd done the right thing after all.  Tonight, he'd need eyes that could focus, hands that didn't tremble, a mind that wouldn't break under its own weight.

     (You probably should have thought about that before.)

     Thankfully, once immersed in the task, Russell was able to lose himself again.  He was trying to master a rather complicated method for creating a tiny flying dragon, while Cecilia appeared to be determinedly fashioning an impressive swarm of butterflies.

     As he watched the flock of increasingly crisp dragons folding themselves together in his hands, Russell listened as his daughter explained that, since he'd told her that the butterflies could be used as bookmarks, she'd gotten the idea to sell them at the front desk for one gold piece each.  He agreed that this was a splendid plan, and spent the rest of the evening beaming with pride.

     The diligent pair worked for hours; until Cecilia began to fall asleep right there on the desk and had to be carried up to bed, where she immediately slipped into her ever-pleasant, untroubled dreams.

     Russell already knew that he, of course, wouldn't be so lucky.

     With the warmth of their shared evening fading fast, he was already beginning to feel vaguely frustrated and ill-at-ease with himself.  Standing before the mirror again, he blew his nose clear of clotted blood, and tried, for the umpteenth time, to wash the stars from his skin.

     And, once again, they stubbornly remained; if diminished only slightly.

     Russell debated whether he should try again, or just accept his new, grey-spangled life, until he was startled out of his thoughts by something loudly slamming against the bedroom window.

     At first, he instinctively dropped to the floor, arms wrapped protectively around his crazed head.  But before too long—after a few moments of breathing shallowly on the cold tiles—he realized he had overreacted.  It was probably just some frightened night bird that, in its haste, hadn't been looking where it was going.  He would stand up, dust himself off, and go see what happened.

     If it hadn't survived the hit or the fall, he would bury it in the frozen ground, so Cecilia wouldn't have to cry over it in the morning.

     If it was merely injured, Tori could probably nurse it back to health at the farm.  The gentle girl had a gift for such things.

     Hell, she likes you well enough, and that just says it all.

     Warily, Russell crept into the bedroom and approached the window.

     Instead of a fallen night bird, dead or injured, he saw a smallish, bundled figure standing on the snowy street.  It only had to raise one hand in a friendly, exuberant wave for Russell to know exactly who it was.

     Sabrina!

     (But what could she want?)

     Eager to find out, Russell descended the stairs as quickly as he could without waking his slumbering daughter.  He opened and closed the Library's door with painstaking gentleness, and tried to keep the last of the shake out of his voice.

     "Hey, Sabrina..."

     He hadn't quite succeeded, but she didn't seem to mind.  He barely got his greeting out before she took him warmly in her arms.

     "...Hey, Russell!  Aw, I'm sorry...  I know you get spooked.  It was just a little snowball...  I saw the light on in your window, and thought I might get your attention!"

     In that snug embrace, Russell felt the tremble leave his spine, and his rapid wheezy breath slow to a calm, smooth rhythm.  She'd always had a way of sucking the nerves right out of him.

     "...Well, you certainly have it.  Any particular reason why?"

     Sabrina let out a playfully heavy sigh.  In combination with the thick wool hat pulled clear down over her eyebrows, it gave her a comically grumpy aura.

     "I am not cut out for Neumann's schedule.  I mean, who goes to bed at seven in the evening?  And under these stars!  So I was wondering if you wanted to go kill a little time at the Pub?"

     For a moment, they both stared up at the sky, admiring all the grandeur shining through the crystalline winter air as their white breath tumbled up towards the moon.

     Russell smiled; to himself, and to that boundless sky.

     ...And what about Cecilia?

     Sleeping like the dead.  I can afford to step out.

     "I'd like that.  Very much."

     Sabrina's face split in a cheerful grin, breaking any illusion of ill-humor.

     "Well, then let's get going!"

     She gently took his arm, and the pair led one another down the street.  Russell, catching her giddy spirit as he always did, laughed to himself.

     "You know, speaking of Neumann, I actually saw him today."

     Sabrina burst into a laugh of her own.

     "He told me!  Said you bought a chair, and I was just...  'Finally!'  Y'know?"

     Russell smiled shyly.

     "Yeah...  It was time."

     The laughter paused, and Russell swore he could see the years playing through Sabrina's mind.

     "Remember how we'd sit in the chairs, and the kids would just eat under the table?"

     Russell—with a strange, aching fondness—remembered.

     "Oh, they loved it under there."

     Sabrina laughed again, eyes glittering with sweet recollection.

     "You know what they loved?  Nicky loved pretending he was a Chipsqueak in a burrow and making those awful squeaking noises, and Ceci loved putting freezing cold cucumber slices between my toes!"

     Somehow, Russell had almost forgotten all of that, but Sabrina had brought it rushing back, in all its cozy hilarity.  For a moment, he laughed as freely as he had in months.

     Then something caught in his chest, and the laugh devolved into a rattling cough that bent his body double.  It went on for long enough that he felt like he should apologize, though he could scarcely breathe deeply enough to speak.

     "I'm sorry...  I don't know wha-"

     His voice broke, and the cough came harsher and wetter than before.  Sabrina put an arm around his waist to steady him.

     "Russell...  That sounds really bad.  Have you been to the Clinic?"

     At first, he couldn't answer.  It was as though some icy-fisted devil were gripping him by the throat with one hand and driving hot irons into his lungs with the other.  His ribs felt about to fly apart, and he no longer had to look up to be dazzled by a profusion of stars.

     Eventually, Russell was able to take a deep, quavering breath, before spitting messily into his handkerchief.  What he'd brought up was larger than he'd anticipated; thick and sticky, streaked with dark blood from his battered sinuses.

     (You hope that's where it's from.)

     I know I like to assume the worst, and I'm sick of it.

     With a shudder of revulsion at his own body—at all those slimy quicksilver mysteries—Russell quickly slipped the handkerchief into his pocket and out of sight, struggling for a moment to catch his breath.

     "...Few times, yeah..."

     Sabrina kept rubbing comforting patterns on his quivering back.

     "Well, you should probably go again."

     Russell straightened up, clearing his throat thickly.

     "Maybe...  I don't know...  I think it's just...  I had that bad cold back in autumn, and then the weather turned before my lungs recovered...  I really don't know.  It's a pain.  But I don't think anything's really wrong with me."

     To look at Sabrina's face, she was seeing a lot wrong with him, but she didn't seem to feel like pressing the matter.

     "Just...  Take good care of yourself, okay?"

     Go ahead and say it.

     ("...Because I can't be there to take care of you anymore.")

     Russell stretched his aching back and threw on a weary smile.  Whether this one was practiced or not, he wasn't sure.

     "I try.  Don't worry about me."

     Sabrina took his hand, gently interlacing her fingers with his.

     "You know I can't help it!"

     This smile, Russell knew, was genuine.

     "I know, I know..."

     Hand in hand, they walked the rest of the way to the Pub, snow crunching under their boots.  It was only when they'd gratefully entered the golden warmth inside that Sabrina finally let go, raising her hand in that familiar broad wave.

     "Hey, Emmett!"

     The friendly bartender glanced up from the wineglass he'd been intently filling; which sat before Lukas, the young poet.

     "Well hello, you two!  Have a seat."

     Sabrina took Russell's hand again, leading him over to the bar, where she lighted on her stool with the effortless grace of a seabird.  Russell settled in a little more slowly, and was beginning to feel slightly apprehensive.

     This is no different than what you've already been doing.  It was barely enough to do anything, and that was hours ago.

     (If you're so worried, just stick with beer and try not to get plastered.)

     ...This is Sabrina.  When have we come here together and not gotten plastered?

     (I should just see what happens.)

     Once situated on his seat, Russell ordered himself a pint of ale.  Then he turned to Sabrina, who was looking at him rather strangely.

     "...What?  You okay?"

     Sabrina laughed, sounding uncharacteristically bashful and shaking her head.

     "It's just...  Now that I'm seeing you in the light...  Russell, what on Earth happened to your face?"

     Russell, who had all but forgotten about his personal galaxy of misshapen stars, unconsciously rubbed at one inky cheek.

     "...Your son.  Your son happened."

    Sabrina's laugh was full and bubbly again.

     "My son!?  What about your daughter!?  They've pulled the same thing on me.  Twice.  Good thing I buy cheap ink..."

     Still rubbing at the stubborn scribbles, Russell nodded thoughtfully.

     "I'm not as smart as you, evidently."

     Emmett, who had just assembled their drinks, apparently had his own opinions.

     "...I happen to think it looks quite festive!  This first one's on the house!"

     Sabrina took her drink gratefully and brought it up to her grinning mouth.

     "Thanks, barkeep!"

     Russell hadn't caught what she'd ordered, but it was something that looked dark and sweet, with a little wooden-stir-stick and a glacier's worth of sparkling ice.  His own glass of beer looked plain in comparison, but he was glad to have it, and found himself downing a quarter of the pint in one go without thinking.

     ...Hey.  You're pacing yourself, remember?

     He gently sat the glass back down, then turned to Sabrina.

     "So!  It's been a while since we've had a chance to actually talk...  How are you?  How was ice fishing?"

     Sabrina was draining her drink quickly but steadily, with delicate little sips.

     "Oh, I'm good...  I don't think I'm cut out for ice fishing, though."

     Russell took another pull from his drink, though a more prudent one this time.

     "That so?"

     She shook her head brisky.

     "Love fishing, hate ice...  I'm glad I tried it, but I'm from the South, you know?"

     He knew well.  Sabrina was a creature of summer haze, of sunlight glittering on deep water.  Russell remembered her first few years in Kardia, and how she used to drag in winter just like he did.  But eventually, she seemed to grow used to it, and managed to keep a summery vigor in all seasons.

     He, on the other hand...

     (...She'd still stay in bed with me so I wouldn't get cold.)

     He killed that thought with another dangerously long swallow.

     "Yeah, it's hard to imagine you standing out on some frozen lake.  With or without a fishing pole."

     Sabrina shrugged, strong shoulders rusting in her open coat.

     "Well, we had cake and hot cider out on the lake on my birthday, so it wasn't all bad."

     That, Russell could picture.  Then, almost reflexively, he also pictured Edward's little birthday celebration; the glow of the sunset, and the mug of hot wine warming his chilly hands.  He remembered that he'd always thought it would be fun to pick a day between his dearest friends' closely-set birthdays and celebrate together as a trio.

     But you could never get it together and ask, could you?  And now it's too late.

     Sabrina finished her drink.  Russell wasn't far behind, so she ordered a second round for both of them.

     "...So, what about you?  How are you?  How's Cecilia?"

     Russell's beer was placed before him, and he sucked at the foam thoughtfully.

     "I'm...  Good.  Cecilia's great, though.  I always knew she was a clever one, but she's outdoing herself lately.  Right now, she's really interested in making these origami bookmarks.  Wants to sell them at the Library."

     Sabrina poked at the ice in her drink, as though the arrangement needed to be perfect before she dared take a sip.

     "That's wonderful! I'll have to swing by and buy one...  You're just 'good,' though?"

     My dear, I'm not even that.

     "Weather just has me down a little.  You know how it is."

     Hearing this news, she gently squeezed his hand again, then returned her own hand to her drink, to whatever game she was playing with the ice cubes.

     "I know...  But it'll be spring before you know it.  And at least you still go to work...  I swear, that husband of mine closes up shop the second a cloud crosses the sky."

     Russell decided not to mention how much of his slack Tori had been picking up.

     "...Yeah, what's up with that?  What does he even do when it rains?"

     With the ice to her liking, Sabrina took a hearty sip.

     "Mostly, he hangs around my shop, getting underfoot more than Nicky does.  I love the guy, though."

     I'm glad.  I hope he loves you, too.

     The very suggestion of love and marriage seemed to grind their conversation to a sad halt.  But, by the time their glasses were drained, it had chugged to life again, meandering and full of laughter.

     It was Russell who ordered the third round; switching to whiskey, which he drank in careful, measured sips between wisecracks and meaningless musings.

     I'd almost forgotten how easy things were with her.

     (The hard part comes later.)

     Sabrina ordered the fourth round at last call, and they finished these final drinks in the sort of reluctant hurry that always accompanies the curtain falling on a pleasant night.  With their cups empty, they began to head for the door.

     Emmett, as he often did, had other ideas.

     "...Hey, where are you two going!?  I have two new recipes I've been working on!"

     Russell and Sabrina turned around and scurried back towards the bar, like scruffy city pigeons eager to be fed.

~*~

     So much for not getting plastered.

     For the time being, it was at least a pleasant sort of plastered; wheeling and giddy, just dizzy enough to keep Russell on his toes as he and Sabrina laughed and hurled snowballs at each other through the pure starry air.

     The two free drinks they had sampled had been surprisingly strong, and one of them had involved an exotic liqueur, of which small glasses had been offered and gratefully accepted.

     Russell, for his part, had accepted two.

     And, between that and the scant dose of Lamp Grass he'd taken that evening, he was a bit wobblier on his feet than Sabrina.  She occasionally had to pause to steady him, and he tried not to revel too much in the feeling of her small, surprisingly strong hands bracing his shoulders.

     That isn't her job anymore, and you know it.

     (She's acting of her own free will.  Let me enjoy this.)

     Whether it was her job or not, Sabrina seemed to accept it in good spirits.  She guided him all the way back to the Library, where her vigilance finally failed them.

     This time, it wasn't a drunken misstep, but rather an unexpected patch of ice, that sent Russell falling ungracefully to his knees on the jagged ground.

     "Okay...  Ow..."

     In truth, he hadn't been sure how much it had hurt, numbed as he was by the liquor, not to mention the chill of the icy street itself.  He only really reacted because it seemed like the thing to do.  Sabrina, to her credit, was a little more tuned-in, and rushed to his side, kneeling next to him in the snow.

     "...I'll say, 'ow!'  You all right?"

     Russell was starting to become more aware of a rough edge of pain on the horizon of his being, but it still didn't feel like anything to get worked up about.

     "...Yeah.  I think so."

     Sabrina suddenly looked concerned, but he wasn't really sure why until she spoke.

     "Well, you're...  Bleeding, it looks like."

     Without thinking, Russell brushed his knuckles across his nose, but they came away clean.  Then he realized she was talking about his knees; dark stains seeping through his trouser legs, smearing the white ice below.

     "...Oh.  I guess I am."

     Sabrina sighed; sounding slightly exasperated, but not truly angry or annoyed.  It was more like he was just another hapless, beloved child that she had to care for.

     "Come on.  Let's get you cleaned up."

     With her help, Russell staggered to his feet, then fumbled for the key in his coat pocket and clumsily inserted it into the lock.

     The air inside the Library was so warm after the chill night that it made his face tingle and burn, in a way that almost felt pleasant.  But not quite as pleasant as Sabrina's hand on his waist as she gently guided him toward the stairs and up to the dark bedroom, where she deposited him on his unmade bed.

     "First aid kit is still in the bathroom, right?"

     Russell nodded.

     "...Good.  I'll go get that.  You should probably change."

     She disappeared into the hall, and Russell undid his rather complex outer clothing, slithered out of his long underwear, and threw on a pair of clean pajamas; the old striped ones, already well-stained from years of fatherhood and ink-slinging.  Still, he rolled the legs past the bloodied spots carefully, not wanting them to stick.  Then, suddenly feeling strangely lucid through all the haze, he turned the lamp on low and sat down to wait.

     Before long, Sabrina emerged from the shadows of the doorway, carrying a small metal box and several rags.  Though still slightly clumsy with drink, she sat on the floor at his feet with a familiar ease, dabbing at the wounds with a warm, wet cloth.

     "There we go, that's not as bad as it looked...  Just a few scrapes."

     Russell let out a small, wry laugh.

     "...I'm not going to bleed out?"

     Sabrina giggled, dabbing a bit of disinfectant on the corner of a dry rag.

     "I think you're safe."

     She then touched the cloth to his raw flesh, for which he'd forgotten to properly prepare himself.

     "...Agh!"

     Her hand pulled back slightly, then began dabbing at him again, a bit more gently this time.

     "Sorry... I know it stings...  Good thing Ceci's a heavy sleeper, huh?"

     Now that the initial shock had passed, Russell was back to enjoying the feeling of being cleaned up and cared for.  He leaned back on the bed and closed his eyes.

     I wish she could just open up my head and do this to my brain.

     "Sure is...  That kid doesn't take after me at all."

     With another small laugh, Sabrina dabbed the wounds one more time with a dry corner of the rag.

     "Believe me, she does...  She's real smart, and a real handful too.  Just like her dad."

     Russell sighed.

     "...I don't feel very smart."

     Sabrina sorted through the box, finding the gauze and tape.

     "You're just drunk, sweetie.  Neither of us are very smart right now, and I think that's kind of the point."

     Her voice was still slightly slurred, but her hands were careful as she affixed the gauze securely to his skin; made sure his wounds, however shallow, would be properly protected.  When she was finished, Sabrina hopped up on the bed to sit beside Russell, who sat up and leaned forward, delicately resting his elbows on his bandaged knees, cradling his head in his hands.

     "Yeah, well...  I don't feel very smart when I'm sober, either."

     Sabrina wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in slightly.

     "Hey...  Russell...  You're just a little down right now.  You'll feel better soon.  I promise."

     He didn't know why, but his eyes started welling slightly.

     No tears fell, but the rest of Russell's body seemed to liquify, leaning into her familiar warmth.

     Sabrina, almost tentatively, responded in kind.

     Untold miniscule adjustments later, and they found themselves lying down on the mattress; Sabrina holding him the way she did on all those melancholy winter mornings, not so very long ago.

     Cautiously, Russell held her in return, and remembered how right it always felt.  Sabrina was slightly shorter than Lady Ann, and somehow both wirier and rounder.  He'd almost forgotten how solid she felt in his arms.

     As he lay there, he felt his exhausted, drunken mind rolling in and out like a tide, pulsing with her steady heartbeat and the throb of his skinned knees.

     Russell sighed contently, breath rattling slightly in his chest.

     I feel like I can rest now.

     (I could sleep.)

     "...Sabrina?"

     At some point, she had placed her hand in the hollow of his waist, just the way she did back then.  He hoped she wouldn't be disappointed in him.  Or—worse still—worried about him.  But that Monster, he supposed, was long out of the barn by now.

     "Hmm?"

     Russell cleared his throat, coughing slightly.

     "...Could you stay here tonight?  Maybe just until I can fall asleep?"

     A silence fell over the room, thick and sharp as the ice that had tripped him.  Sabrina's hands didn't leave his body, but they were suddenly deathly still.

     "Russell, I...  I was actually thinking..."

     Whatever she says, keep your head about you.

     (Whatever she says, this is going to be bad.)

     "...Yeah?"

     The silence froze around them once more, then shattered.

     "I was thinking...  That...  That I need to go home now.  If I stay here much longer, I'm going to do something I'll regret."

     Russell felt the unfallen tears well over and spill down his cheeks, and wished more than anything that he could reverse their course.  They marked him as low and needy and selfish; helpless, pathetic, an overgrown child.  Everything he'd never wanted to become.  He hated himself for reacting this way, for reacting at all.

     I didn't even want to do anything like that.

     I just missed being together.

     (I just wanted to be held.)

     Sabrina noticed, and gently wiped the few tears away with her hands.  Unfortunately, they just kept coming.

     "Oh, sweetheart...  It's okay.  We'll see each other again soon.  I'll stop by tomorrow."

     Tomorrow.

     That was a whole, dark, lonely night away.  He needed her now.

     (Stay with me.  I get cold.)

     Indeed, Russell felt himself start to freeze as soon as she pulled away from him and sat at the edge of the bed.

     Shivering, he drew his legs up to his chest, trying in vain to warm himself.  He felt as though he were about to start wailing, but the very fact of that feeling disgusted him, so he managed to keep his composure.

     "...Okay."

     Sabrina stood from the bed, then leaned down to catch him in a brisk embrace.

     "Just take care of yourself, okay?  I mean it. Try to get some rest...  And make sure you're eating enough, all right?  And please go to the Clinic soon...  You really don't sound good."

     Russell found himself virtually mute, but nodded once into her chest.

     "Okay...  Bye, Russell.  I really had a nice time seeing you tonight."

     She placed a dry kiss on his wet cheek, and then she was gone.

     Sadly, it wasn't until she was well out of earshot that Russell finally regained command of his voice.

     "...Bye."

     And then, at last, the wailing.

     Though Cecilia was indeed a heavy sleeper, Russell was acutely aware that only a thin wooden screen separated them, so he quickly buried his wailing face in his pillow, not wanting to wake her.

     She can't see you like this.  She needs to believe in you.

     After about a minute, it stopped long enough for Russell to rise from the soggy pillowcase, wipe his bleeding nose on his sleeve, take the bottle from his headboard, and drink deeply of it.

     Then he planted his face in the pillow again, and the wailing resumed.

     This process, he repeated several times.

     Get yourself together.  Sabrina has her own life.

     (Not everybody is a sad lonely piece of shit like you.)

     It wasn't the specter of sexual rejection that had upset him so; indeed, that was the farthest thing from his mind.

     It wasn't even being left alone, though that certainly gouged him deeply.

     It was what she had said.

     "If I stay here much longer, I'm going to do something I'll regret."

     It's not like we haven't had sex since you remarried.

     (Just once.  We agreed on just once, remember?)

     Did you regret that, too?

     (Do you regret everything?)

[nothingtherefornow]

The truth has been spoken.

It's only my personal opinion but I think the team behind the writing and production of Miraculous paid a lot of attention to this episode. I know we've had some dark and angsty themes covered so far, but that they've gone so far as to portray such a realistic view of school bullying and trauma has merit.

Also I can confirm from experience that there can be differents categories of bullies :

Those like Chloé and Lila who hurt others for their own sick pleasure because they're that fucked up in the end. They love the illusion of power they get from hurting those who can't defend themselves (which only weak minded people do by the way, there's nothing to be proud of hurting somoene less powerfull than you, this is the cowardly way).

Those like Sabrina who participate in bullying without initiating it for fear of losing their secure position at the bully's side and for fear of being at the end of the bullying if they don't follow the most popular/powerfull kids moves. and in the worst case this category of bullies can become like the first one with time.

Those who lashe out because they're traumatised or abused (Chloé may have been like that at first, but she took a liking to hurting others and not even getting the love of her mother she covets so much could stop her now)

And finally, those who are not wicked, but are just too idiots and stupid to realize that their actions are seriously harmfull and can cause trauma, and to the worst case, lead to suicide. Kim is like that, he seems to guenuinly think that his pranks and teasing aren't really hurting anyone. And if people like him see their victims cry, they'll think it's like a little child who scratched their knees and that they're not seriously hurt. They don't realize that the damages they inflict are serious. But this last category is usually the one who can realize their mistakes and learn from it once they matured enough. Unfortunatelly it seems that most people like to remain stupid for the rest of their life.

If Marinette is able to give a chance to the first category of bullies I've talked about (she did gave a chance to Chloé and Lila even though they seriously hurt her), then it does make sense that she would forgive Kim, especially if she has long repressed the memories related to her trauma of which Kim was partially the cause.

I think it's kind of weird how Marinette seemingly has no issues with Kim after knowing what happened in Derision and even seems chill around him. You can just tell this backstory was a last minute thing.

She repressed the memory so she doesn't know all the details.

Besides, let's be real here, Kim is just a moron who has abysmal taste in girls. He was manipulated by Chloe.

Chloe’s the one who takes the majority of the blame.

[yunojeyes]

Why Her?

He needs to confess quick, after all he's not the only one in line.

Pairing: Lee Jeno x Reader

Genre: Fluff, a little angst ig??, bestfriends to lovers

Masterlist: here

Fic recs: YuuYuu2

a/n: Please note that all of this is fictional and the personalities of the characters are made specifically for the story! Please do not copy the story and post it elsewhere or on Tumblr!

Why Her? is copyright 2022 under @yunojeyes, all rights reserved.

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“Have you seriously never considered what it would be like dating your best friend?" Minjae asked, reading off of the list of questions her got from a twitter QnA. You laughed with blushing cheeks, "Not really, I mean Jeno and I have always been close, I've seen his exes and he's seen mine but we've never thought of dating I guess." You shrugged while laughing as Minjae wiggled his eyebrows at the camera, clearly not convinced.

"It's true, well I mean we've never actually sat and down seriously talked about this but I think we both know where to draw the line." You said while hugging the plushy, a twinge in your heart as those words left your mouth. "So you're saying if I were to call Jeno right now and tell him I have a crush on you, he wouldn't mind?" Minjae asked as he took out his phone to look for Jeno's number. "Go ahead, do as you please" You chuckled as a cunning smile appeared on Minjae's face.

"it's ringing....hello jeno-yah" Minjae greeted as Jeno's confused voice resonated through the speakers, "Oh Minjae, what's up" his sleepy voice asked, "well, you know how you're really close with y/n" Minjae asked, "yea...", "I actually have a crush on her but I don't know how to confess to her, I've liked her for 3 years so I really hope she likes me back." Minjae said as you gripped tightly unto the plushy. It was silent for a while, "hello?" Minjae called out as Jeno hummed in acknowledgment, "oh, so you really like like y/n... why not someone else?" He asked, his voice dropping an octave lower as rustling could be heard on his side.

"Well, y/n's sweet, pretty, kind, she's just the whole package y'know" Minjae listed as he looked at you to see your reaction, "yeah, she is but don't you have other girl friends? Who are not y/n?" Jeno suggested, Minjae covering his mouth as he's realized that his plan has worked, "Why though, do you like her, cuz if you do I'll back off man." He said as Jeno grumbled in frustration. "Just, just don't like her okay, please.." He said, Minjae's jaw dropping at his persistence.

"To be honest...y/n is here with me right now, I don't actually like her that way, is there something you wanna say to her?" He gestured for you to take the phone, "hi jeno.." you said as you covered your mouth, anxious for his reaction. "y/n..is this a prank?" He asked, you could tell he was slightly hurt from this misunderstanding, "no it's not a prank, Minjae just wanted to see if you would have a reaction to him saying he liked me romantically since I told him that we're just friends.." you said while bitting your knuckles in anticipation.

"So... did you say that we wouldn't ever have a chance of dating?" He whispered out, you could hear his knee bouncing as he spoke. "Well, I didn't say that, but I mean you don't have feelings for me anyways so I guess not?" You said with uncertainty, "You don't know that, you've never said that you liked me romantically either y/n." Jeno stated, "Well, I just assumed that you didn't like me like that since you were okay with me dating other guys and you were dating other girls so I thought you just felt nothing for me." You claimed slowly getting worked up at the fact that it felt like he was blaming you for allegedly being inconsiderate. "Can you not see the way I look at you? Where were the other guys when you were crying? Would a normal friend hold you to sleep while kissing your forehead? Would a normal friend be as jealous as I was when you first introduced me to your ex(s)? Y/n I've left so many clues for you and yet you chose to ignore them, so please don't say I've never expressed what I've felt for you because I’ve been dropping hints for decades, so now I need to know, do you think of me as just a friend? " Jeno expressed with an desperate sigh.

"Well..I like you too, I know that whenever you would try and confess I would change the topic and avoid it, I'm sorry I made you feel this way. But I really like you too and I also felt like gauging ur ex’s eyes out whenever they would purposely kiss you around me." You said as Minjae smiled at you, encouraging you to express all your feelings to each other. Jeno chuckled, his heart feeling light again, "I forgive you y/n, how could I not? Let's take this slow okay? I'll meet you later tonight, maybe a sleepover like we always do?" Jeno suggested as you nodded, though you knew he couldn't see you. "Okay, I would love that." You said as you ended the call after saying your goodbyes. "Your welcome y/nnie, ya'll would've never confessed to each other if it weren't for me, do you hear that guys, Lee Minjae has brought your favorite people together and made them into a couple and now the whole world is happy!" Minjae shouted as he danced, shaking his hips and running in circles.

original work of @yunojeyes