#So gotta pry it open and see the damage :I

[masquenoire]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄’𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 : 𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 .

italic for things that sometimes. bold for things that always. strike out what never applies

『 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙰 . 』 giant feather-beds. tightening a corset. moonlit walks. killing for love. cruelty for the sake of love. love is always selfish. romantic tragedy. love to the brink of destruction. nighttime rendezvous. bloody kisses on soft skin. death was the maiden. a very strange agony. claimed by the supernatural. dreaming about your lover. sympathy for the devil. loving me to death. candlesticks lighting up the palm of your hand. a passion that wearies you. killing the one you love.

『 𝙿𝙷𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙾𝙼 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙰 . 』 a single red rose laid out to be found. sensual voices singing them to sleep. a familiar shadow attending every recital. love waits on the rooftop in the night. two soulmates holding hands. walking down long corridors. retrieving something lost. devoting one’s craft to them. making them your muse. the horror was for love. painted faces on parade. gentle touches in the dark. revealing your darkest secrets. beauty and the beast. writing messages on the mirror. kindness conquers all. letting your lover go. love never dies.

『 𝙹𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝙴𝚈𝚁𝙴 . 』 loving the escape. an impassioned affair. being consumed by love. meeting your soulmate. lace and silk. thirsting for the perfect romance. marrying for passion. losing yourself in the face of your lover. wedding veils and bouquets of pink roses. maddened by love. finding warmth in the cold. calling out for your love. starting at the bottom. the fire cleanses all. hiding your passion. your love will destroy me / my love will destroy you.

『 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙸𝙲𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝙳𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙽 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝚈 . 』 painting a portrait or sketching the face of someone you love. meeting in secret. visions of your lover dying. clutching a lover’s clothes to your chest. love so consuming you kill them. protecting their innocence at all costs. betrayal. polyamory. devotion. flowers for the one you love. remembering the name of your first love. jealousy when you see them with someone else. love so consuming you die for it. visiting the the place where you saw them the first time.

『 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙴 𝙲𝚁𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙾 . 』 letters to your lover. marrying for love. these bars can’t keep me from you. motivated by love. an avenging angel. scorching jealousy. love reborn. devoted to memory. it was all for you. going your separate ways. commit murder for me. an unstoppable hunger. death comes for us all. the strongest love eventually grows apart.

『 𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚄𝙻𝙰 . 』 the holiest love. girls love wolves. the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. violence is passion. red lips, sharp teeth. love letters in a diary. unrelenting support. getting lost in the woods. coming home to you. walking backwards into hell. vengeance for my love. even death won’t stop me. we can live forever. love is an open wound. too much love to give. bestowing your favor. a never-ending thirst. beauty even in death. ravenous desire. if only death had a heart to give. a mercy killing. these violent delights have violent ends.

『 𝙵𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙺𝙴𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙸𝙽 . 』 childhood friends to lovers. they were something out of a dream. arranged marriages. learning to love. was it all really worth it? our guilt can know no bounds. vengeance, my love. dismembered body parts. my beating heart in your open palm. your death destroys me. adam and eve. crossing the mountains. an antagonist in mourning. paradise lost. the loss of innocence. abandoning your dream. the tempest on the horizon. humans are the real monsters. my love is wiser than my hate.

Tagged by: @thecreativeforge (♡) Tagging: Whoever would like to do it?

[yellowdribble]

Thinking about micro/macro omorashi scenerios~

I’ve seen a couple people touch on the subject, but in general I think micro/macro omorashi is kind of an untouched goldmine

Obviously there’s so much potential for a micro character to get desperate in a world that’s too big for them

(Someone may have done this one- I don’t remember- but sharing anyway) A fairy or other small micro getting captured in a jar by a macro character and getting increasingly desperate while in their clear glass confinement that offers absolutely no privacy. also imagine the macro being kinda mean and shaking the jar on purpose to torture the micro eventually making them wet

Maybe a micro character that got stuck in a macro world unexpectedly- and this guy is the type to never pee outside or any unusual places. He will ONLY pee in a toilet thank you very much. So he gets taken in by a macro character and when the need arises, he attempts to use the ginormous toilet that’s in the macro house. Unfortunately he falls in and almost drowns. So now he’s too terrified to use the toilet, but too stubborn to explore other options of relieving himself. So the next time he needs to pee, he just holds it. obviously he cant hold it forever though.

There could also be the simple fear wetting- a micro encounters a macro and is absolutely terrified at seeing such a huge monstrous being! So scared that maybe at first they don’t notice that warm patch growing in their pants

A friendly macro who carries a micro in their pocket, but one day the micro is super desperate, but too shy to let the macro know. So micro is just bouncing around in this giants pocket, feeling every giant footstep and gripping their crotch for dear life. Eventually they can’t take it any more. They start to leak, and then those leaks turn to spurts and eventually their bladder just gives in and empties. The macro is confused as to why their pocket with their tiny friend is starting to get warm and wet.

A macro finds a micro character, and omg they’re so cute!! The micro is just like a little doll! You can put them in cute little doll clothes and have a tea party, and this doll actually will drink the tea and make conversation back. When the tea party is over, the macro can just put the micro in their doll house. After all everything is just the right size, right?

Unfortunately all that very real tea makes its way to the micros very real bladder, and when they run to the dollhouse bathroom desperate to go- they find that when they open the lid to the toilet- there’s no place to actually pee in! There’s not even a hole under the lid, it’s one of those cheap plastic toy furniture items that just has a sticker to give the impression of something being there. Now where are they supposed to pee?

The micro tries to hold it until their macro friend comes back, but will they make it in time?

Will the macro return to a wiggling living doll who’s squirming around doing their best not to make a mess of their pretty clothes or the pretty dollhouse

Or will they come back to a micro who’s already wet with tears streaming down their face

Micros are always the obvious choice as an omo victim, but I was also thinking…what if we reverse it?

Anyone who’s read Gulliver’s Travels is familiar with the scene where Gulliver puts out a fire with his pee

What if we had a macro who’s gotta pee, but there’s no fire to put out. Instead, if they did pee- it would actually cause damage to the town of micro people they’ve found. (You don’t wanna flood the streets and drown the townsfolk with a massive golden tsunami)

So while they’re visiting their tiny friends they just gotta hold it- and being the only giant it’s kinda hard to hide your potty dance from prying eyes

[bruhhhh-huhhhhh]

GUESS WHO'S BACK FUCKERS

Its me

I'm back

You gotta love me not working on requests and being a nerd and brainstorming ideas with @colemorrison

(This one's for you pookie) (I'm sorry I'll never say that again)

This is so ass I'm sorry Im like, half asleep

Into the Void

Cole hadn't thought anything would happen. It was a simple mission that wouldn't require too much effort. That's why it was only Cole, Hanzo, and Mercy who went.

Hanzo hadn't thought anything would happen either. To him it was just another mission for them to do.

Until Cole got shot.

They hadn't anticipated Talon to be there. Much less Widowmaker to have her first shot be at Cassidy.

Hanzo was taking down Talon soldiers left and right as Mercy did her best to push them back enough to get to the safehouse. To get somewhere where they could get to exfil.

Thats when Widow dropped down from one of the ships. Hanzo hadn't noticed her until it was too late. He couldn't even get to his boyfriend, his fiancé, before the bullet went through Cole's torso.

Mercy cussed in her native tongue as Hanzo slung his bow over his shoulder and grabbed Cole, who was standing with his hands over his bleeding stomach. The archer lowered Cassidy to the ground. "Hey there, Han," Cole said, looking up to his lover.

Hanzo was crying. He hadn't even realized how the tears streamed down his cheeks until they landed and mixed with the blood spilling from Cole's stomach.

"Han, you can't give up. If I don't make it-"

"Don't talk like that."

"Please, Hanzo. If I don't make it, you need to be happy again without me. You can't blame yourself for this."

The tears came harder, and Hanzo pulled Cole closer to him.

Widow was getting ready to take the final shot, to take out two targets with one bullet. Just as she started to pull the trigger, Genji appeared out of nowhere. He used his sword to deflect the bullet, sending it back to the sniper. She just barely dodged it and was pulled back up before she could fire another shot.

Seeing his brother, Hanzo looked confused. "Where did you come from?"

"That's not important now, brother. Come, let's get him to Angela," Genji said, putting one of Cole's arms around each of the brothers shoulders. The cowboy was out cold at that point, leaving them to drag him along.

Mercy could only apply a temporary bandage until they got to the safehouse, which didn't do much to stop the damage.

Hanzo was crying the whole time that they dragged Cole through back alleys. He cried as they pulled him into the safehouse. He cried as they laid him down on the bed that the two of them had been sharing just hours prior. He cried as Mercy started her work on Cole.

After what felt like forever, Mercy got Cole stable enough to not need her immediate supervision.

"He's unstable right now, so he might crash at any point. If anything starts beeping in a way that you don't trust, come and get me. This is all I can do until Lena comes to bring us back to Gibraltar." She goes to place a hand on Hanzo's shoulder but decides against it and leaves the room.

Hanzo stayed there for days. Cole died twice, and both times Angela managed to bring him back, but only barely. Cassidy was in and out of consciousness, and every time he was awake, he was more lucid than anything.

When Tracer came to get them out of there, Hanzo wasn't allowed to follow Angela and the other healers into the back of the hovercraft. They put up some sort of wall to stop him from trying to pry. Genji had to hold him as he continued to sob and had to catch the archer when he passed out from exhaustion.

~~~

When Hanzo woke up, he was on a chair in a clean room that smelled of antiseptic. He slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital wing.

Cole was already awake with multiple IV's connected to his arms. "Hey, Han," Cassidy said, his voice rough with disuse.

The archer looked at Cassidy like he had grown a second head. "You're..." He cut himself off by launching himself onto the cowboy's arms. Cassidy let out a little "oof," but held his fiancé close.

"Nice to see you too."

"Never do that again. Never, you hear me? I'll never forgive you if you die before we get to be old and married and have kids. Am I understood?" Hanzo said, his voice burning with intensity.

Cole started to laugh, but stopped at the glare that he got. "What?"

"I'm serious, Cole Cassidy. I can't-" his voice cracked and the tears started again.

Cole's face morphed into concern as he held the archer closer. "I know, honey. I know. I'm sorry. I'm not goin' anywhere."

"You died. Twice. I was so scared."

They stayed like that for a while. Hanzo crying and Cassidy rubbing his back and holding him. "I was so scared."

"I know. But I'm just fine now thanks to you."

Hanzo didn't have the energy to confess that Genji was the one that saved him by deflecting that second bullet.

After Hanzo calmed down and climbed into bed, Cole came to a realization.

"Ain't I supposed to be the one that needs to be comforted?"

"Shut up."

[iamvegorott]

Ink Month 2024 Day 12

Ghost Hunting - Bingaverage

“Got the camera?” Bing asked, adjusting the strap of the backpack he wore, which had the rest of their ‘hunting’ supplies. 

“Of course, I got the camera.” Chase scoffed. “It’s like my main thing.” 

“I was just double-checking, dude.” Bing stuck his tongue out. 

“Do you think there are actual ghosts in this place?” Chase went to a window of the abandoned home and tugged on it, checking to see if it was locked. 

“The place has been empty for ten years 'cause people kept getting spooked out of it.” Bing helped pry open the window. While it wasn’t locked, years of being shut had made it beyond stiff. 

“We’re going to go so viral if we catch one on film.” Chase squeezed through the opening when it was wide enough for his body. 

He looked around and felt his nose getting itchy from just knowing there was endless dust in the space. Chase turned and took the backpack from Bing so he could crawl into the house as well. 

“Not just viral, dude, we’d be famous.” Bing took the backpack back. “Legit ghost hunters. We’ll become millionaires checking out other places.” 

“First things first, we gotta find one of them.” Chase held the camera up to his eye and started walking around. The night vision was turned on, making it a little easier for him to walk around without walking into things. Bing’s robotic eyes had a night vision setting, so they began glowing like a cat’s. 

Chase peeked around, trying to see every part of the house, glancing up the stairs and making a note to go up those after he finished checking out the first floor. He could hear Bing’s footsteps and knew he had been following him.

But then it went silent. 

“Bing?” Chase turned and found that he was now alone. “Bing?” He was now on a search for his boyfriend rather than a ghost. “Bing? Dude? Not cool.” Chase froze when he swore he saw a chair move. “Nope, nope, nope.” He started walking faster, feeling like the ghost was now looking for him. “Bing!” Chase yelped when a curtain started waving on its own. “I-I think we should go-”

“Boo!” Bing jumped out with a shout, it turning into a pain-filled one when Chase yelled and punched his face. “Oh, fuck!” 

“Holy shit! I’m so sorry!” Chase turned on the camera's light and tried to look for any damage.

“Lesson learned, don’t scare you.” Bing chuckled, voice muffled a bit by his hands.

“You’re lucky you’re a literal robot, man. I could have broken your nose.” Chase didn’t see anything leaking and noticed that his own hand was aching. It probably wasn't the best thing to punch an android's face with a bare fist. “We might have to go see the docs. Or at least get some ice.”

“I regret nothing.” 

[downwiththefuckingship]

always

i’m always afraid of ruining things

by saying them

out loud or in my head

the dock is falling apart

but we are waiting for a ship

that promised to come home

it’s a revival but no one knows

what we’re bringing back

we’re on our last leg

we’re closing up shop forever

we’re throwing the baby out

with the bath water

the last petal always lands on

loves me not

by definition of uninterrupted time

or no matter what

the other word for forever

you could say the bridge is always

coming apart when i’m on it

or that i step in front of bullets

that were never meant for me

that someone’s always pulling the ladder up

behind them when i’ve agreed to go last

i used to think it must be beautiful

to be naive

of the damage you cause

i’m always holding my phone

at weird angles

trying to shazam the wind

or river rushing by

the way grief always comes

crawling back inside

the way you’re always indiscriminately

angry with me

for this things i do or am about to

things i did in dreams and in a vacuum

always unringing the church bells

and jumping the gun

we’re always spitting in our hands

to make a deal

or make amends

you’re always on my mind when i blow out

birthday candles and when i consider

the currency of love

i’m always praying in the church

of missing you

the lights on the dash lit up like christmas

tiny microcosms without the festivities

always checking your eyes

for signs of life

always talking during my favorite part

of the movie

a day late and a dollar short

always losing it in the parking lot

when the music comes back on

always dragging the bedroom for bodies

the way i thought you’d always be there

why i always draw the nine of swords

asking my father why he always

let the fish go

the time machine always turning back

into a pumpkin

do we cry when we couldn’t hold on?

or because we always knew

we’d never be able to

why you always gotta make it about us?

it’s always sunny where you are

i’m always on my way but never there

something else always

glittering in the distance

when i want your attention

i always feel like the band on the titanic

i’m singing my letters love always

i’m signing off forever

thank you for always coming through

with a machete

when the wound is almost healed

to make sure it’s mortal

i was always under the impression

you’d give up on me

i remember you saying

“you are always welcome here” & “the door is

always open”

and then never speaking to me again

the shore always just out of reach

i always want to leave you voicemails

wondering what’s real

mommy fortuna always able

to spot the difference

there will be tears

there will always be tears

why are you always saying that to me

why are you always telling me

not to get hysterical

you told me to grow a set of eyes

in the back of my head

i never was able to bring that to fruition

they grew in ways that made me see

the way she speaks in i told you so’s

how she always avoids asking me

how i’ve been

we’re always taking turns

blaming each other

i thought you wanted life like a rocky movie

i’m always fighting the final boss

always talking about things

in the past tense

always wondered what that would look like

under an x ray

always disassociating in public

rubbing table lamps in target

under the halogen bulbs

rubbing my hands raw

on every teapot in the antique store

that reminds me of aladdin

i always thought urza

breaking into phyrexia to steal xantcha’s heart

was the perfect love story

when we pry your chest open

with the jaws of life to reveal

the same purple black explosion

as when i jam my eyes closed

on nights i open up like a crater

always running from the fight

when the knives come out

running your finger along the bleached bone

of my jaw just before removing my teeth

we cook from the same pantry

but the meal made with love

tastes different

the mechanic under the hood always

saying “see there’s your problem”

taking a hammer to the magic 8 ball

after everything shakes out

i always get the feeling you’re through with me

that my usefulness is almost dried up

always pretending not to notice

when i’m inconsolable

but says she’s an empath

the crossword puzzzle

always wants to know the french word

for drowning

we’re dropping like flies

because we don’t talk about

the things that kill us

can i tell you a secret

life is full of hard pills to swallow

i’m always taking my medicine

always wanted to be buried

on the spot where i heard you say it

i always wanted to write a poem about

the never ending story

that made you feel like you

were in the mud pulling too

the end is always your favorite part

have you read the paper this morning?

the mood ring always black

you’re always making that face

when i decide to breathe

or when i take the lions share

of the suffering

i’m always telling jenny

that i know what love is

i’m always mistaken

i thought i saw the yellow portals

opening in my peripheral

i thought i heard you say

on your left

#nationalpoetrymonth #poetry #poetrycommunity #mypoetry #poetrychallenge #napowrimo #poetryloving #slampoetry #poetrylover #poetryoftheday #poetrycorner #poetryclub #streetpoetry #darkpoetry #poetryaddict #dailypoetry #poetrybooks #poetrylife #2023vb3030 #nationalpoetrymonth2023 #miseducation

[spookychick78]

End Of The Line

Chapter 6: The Thunder Rolls

Thomas Hewitt X AFAB!OC

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,607

Ronnie spent the majority of that night pacing the room they'd left her in. Thankfully no one ever came up to fetch her for 'dinner', however she knew one of them was behind that door. She could see a shadow in the crack below hovering there. It remained all night and into the next morning, just sitting against the old wood listening to her. He could hear her struggling with the old windows, doing her best to pry them open. It would do no good, Hoyt had bolted them down ages ago. She wasn't the first to try that escape route. He heard her let out a frustrated sigh before her footsteps traveled over to the bed. He wondered if she would finally give up and get some sleep. Instead, she went back over to the window one last time, muttering a slew of curses as she made one last attempt to lift it open. Once she'd deemed it pointless she gave the wall a firm and agitated kick. Thomas turned his head to the side and let his ear rest against the wood as he waited to hear movement again. He could almost feel her looking at him through the door with that pouty expression she wore so well. He heard her boots coming closer and the sound of her sliding down to the floor to rest against the other side of the old wood. At least for now she wasn't causing any further damage to the house. Morning was breaking and Thomas wondered when Mama or Hoyt would call him down to start the day's work, or if they would at all. They'd ordered him to keep watch over her until they had decided what was to be done with her. He wasn't quite sure how long that would take. He was confident they wouldn't harm her, at least not mortally for the time being, though he wasn't sure what to expect. He decided it was best to let things cool down before he tried to help her escape. Hoyt was on high alert after last night's events, there wouldn't be an opportunity until he found something else to play with. Even when he did, Thomas knew it wasn't going to be easy. Her truck had been destroyed and they were miles from the nearest town. She wouldn't get far on foot and it wouldn't take Hoyt long to realize she was missing. Though Thomas was the one ordered to stand guard he caught Hoyt peering up the stairs more than once throughout the night. That was the other problem. After he had so adamantly defied Hoyt, Thomas' loyalty was under question, which meant Hoyt's watchful eye would be ever more present. He didn't trust him. He knew by that look in Hoyt's eye as he'd watched him take the girl away that Thomas would pay. It was only a matter of time and Hoyt was creative. Only Thomas had never been the toy and a part of him was unsure how to handle the game he had started.

He turned forward again and let the back of his head fall against the door with a heavy sigh. He heard her send one back in return, he assumed to mock him. He let out a quiet chuckle, he found her defiance amusing in more ways than one. He tensed when he heard movement from downstairs, it seemed Hoyt had woken again. Thomas saw him pass by the stairs, but this time he didn't bother glancing up. Instead, he walked into the kitchen where Mama was making coffee and Monty sat patiently waiting for his morning cup at the table.

"Mama, come here and have a seat," Thomas heard Hoyt say as he dragged one of the chairs out of it's place to sit, "we gotta talk about that boy of yours."

"What'd Tommy do now?" Monty chimed in as he sipped the coffee Luda handed him.

"He's decided he wants a Barbie doll to play with," Hoyt muttered, "though he don't seem to want to do much playin' with her."

"Hush up, Hoyt, there ain't nothin' wrong with Tommy bein' a gentleman. He ain't like you," Luda said with a disapproving look towards Hoyt.

"Tommy brought a girl home?" Monty asked confused.

"He did," Luda said with a smile before she joined the men at the table, happily clutching her coffee.

Hoyt looked at her, irritated, "No, I brought dinner home. That boy was gonna let her go, now he's up there actin' like he's got a pet."

"I sent him up there," Luda said, "figured we didn't want her runnin' wild after we'd gone to bed. Besides," she said with that same smile from before, "I think he's sweet on her."

Hoyt glared at her from across the table, "Have you lost your damn mind, Mama? That girl ain't no good for Tommy. She's playin' with his head, that's all. She's trouble. She thinks she can run him with that pretty little mouth of her's. That ain't the kind of woman you want for your boy."

"She's just young, she'll learn her place," Luda said confidently, "and she's just what Tommy needs. She's sturdy, she can hold her own. Most importantly, I think she can handle Tommy."

"Course she can handle him, you seen the way he acted last night? Weak. Maybe she can handle him, but he can't handle shit. He made that clear enough," Hoyt spat back.

"Just cause he didn't force himself on a woman don't mean he's weak," Luda said with a wicked look in Hoyt's direction, "like I said before, Tommy ain't like you."

That seemed to shut Hoyt up, however Thomas wasn't quite sure where this was going. He could feel Ronnie pressing herself against the door to listen closer with him.

"Tommy'll learn how to handle her," Luda continued, "but he ain't gonna force her, he's a good boy. I have a feelin' she'll come ‘round once she sees that."

"Fine," Hoyt said, the wooden chair creaked as he leaned it back, "but none of that solves the problem Tommy's put us in. What do we do with the girl?"

Thomas felt himself leaning towards the stairs to hear better as well. An eerie silence had fallen over the room below as the three of them decided her fate. Hoyt looked between Monty and Mama, but neither of them seemed to have an answer.

"If she ain't goin' on the plate, we ought to be breedin' her," Hoyt stated.

"There'll be no bastards in my house," Luda said sternly.

Hoyt scoffed, "Your own damn son's a bastard, Mama."

Luda glared back at Hoyt with resentment before she revised her statement, "My son, won't be havin' no bastards."

"Well then what the hell do you suggest we do here, woman?" Hoyt yelled back.

"Seems like you already got that figured out," Monty chimed in again.

Luda and Hoyt shot him a confused look.

Monty laughed, "Well, we ain't eatin' her, your Mama don't want no more bastards and Tommy's sweet on the girl," he said with a proud gleam in his eye, "far as I see it, he wants to keep her, let him have her, cause Luda, I know you always wanted a daughter. She just might have to be an in-law."

Hoyt's eyes widened with twisted excitement. He was almost sorry he hadn't had the brilliant idea himself, "Well, shit Monty! I always knew you had a brain, I just ain't ever seen you use it!" He exclaimed, "Looks like we're havin' a weddin'!"

Thomas barely had time for those words to sink in before he heard glass break in her room. He had been so focused on the conversation downstairs he hadn't even heard her move. He shot up and opened her door to see she had indeed jumped through the window. He ran over to see she was lying on the ground below struggling to lift herself back up. He hurried out of the room and down the stairs to see they hadn't heard her jump.

Hoyt turned to face him with a sinister grin, "Well if it ain't the man of the hour himself," he said, pleased with Thomas' less than happy appearance.

Thomas strode past them and went for the back door without so much as a glance in their direction.

He could feel Hoyt's eyes on him, "Ain't you gonna thank us for gettin' you such a pretty bride?"

Thomas stopped just before he could open the door. He didn't want to turn to face him, he knew it would only encourage him further. He took in a deep breath in an attempt to cool his growing rage at his brother's tormenting behavior. He heard Hoyt chuckle as he watched. Thomas turned the handle, walked into the less than welcoming heat and slammed the door behind him. He rounded the corner to see she was just beginning to get back on her feet. She had fresh cuts from the glass that were slowly turning parts of the gown Mama had given her a deep red. She let out a pained noise as she stood on her sprained ankle and turned to see Thomas coming towards her.

"You stay the hell away from me," she said as she limped back from him.

He slowed his pace as he drew closer and observed her with sympathy. She was injured more than she was letting on, she had to be. It wasn't a short fall from that window and she had previous wounds that had been further agitated to boot. He didn't want her to be afraid of him, but he could tell there wasn't much he could do to prevent that. She began to stumble backwards as her feet tripped over the hem of her gown. She fell to the ground with a thud and started to sob. He leant down in front of her and she started to back away but was stopped by one of the large pillars that surrounded the porch. He had seen her start to cry before, but she had stopped herself. This time she let her tears fall down her reddened face and spoke with a shaky voice. She knew she wasn't getting out of this on her own.

"Please," she started as she tried to meet his gaze through her tears, "I don't know what you want from me, but you have to let me go. I can't, I can't," she started to cry heavier.

Thomas furrowed his brow, frustrated that he had no words to communicate to her with. He wasn't trying to stop her, but he knew in the state she was in she wouldn't even make it past the driveway. God forbid Hoyt saw her, at this point Thomas knew he was only waiting for a reason to inflict more pain on both of them. His eyes caught a glimpse of the red stain steadily drenching the cloth that draped over her knee. His hand went to lift the fabric and she tried to flinch away from him.

"Don't touch me," she cried, but she knew she was helpless to fight him.

He wanted her to know he meant her no harm. He looked back up to her and let her hold his gaze long enough to understand that wasn't his intention. When she seemed to calm down at least slightly, he continued pushing her gown up until he could see her busted knee. She hissed when the fabric came unstuck from her torn skin and he looked back to her. She was confused, that much was clear. Tears were still rolling down her cheeks, but she'd stopped sobbing so hard. He could see she was still frightened by the way her chest heaved up and down from her heavy breath. He pulled a rag from his pocket and gently laid it on her wound to dry some of the blood.

"Please let me go," she whispered as she watched him clean her knee, "you know I can't stay here. I know you heard them."

He had and he knew full well what she meant. He had been just as horrified at the solution his family had come up with. It wasn't because of her. Thomas knew it wasn't right. He could see it there in her blatant fear of him that it wasn't right. If it had been another life, he would have been honored to marry someone like her, but not this way. He just didn't know how to stop it. If he tried to help her right this moment, Hoyt wouldn't hesitate to kill her. He'd shoot her before she made it past the porch, wouldn't matter if Thomas didn't want him to or not at that point. Hoyt wasn't going to let her past their grounds alive. She knew too much now and even if Thomas begged, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop him. He just didn't have a way to tell her that.

But he had to try and tell her something, he couldn't stand the confused and frightened way she was looking at him and he knew that's exactly what Hoyt wanted. He wanted her scared of him.

He let out a heavy sigh, "Hurt," he said just above a whisper as he gently patted her knee.

Ronnie looked up at him when she heard that gravely voice. It almost hadn't registered that he'd spoken.

"I don't understand-yes, I'm hurt. But I'll live. And I won't if you keep me here because I'm not marryin' you," Ronnie whispered back to him sharply.

Thomas shook his head, "Hoyt."

"What?" She asked frantically.

Thomas looked up to meet her gaze and tried to stress with his eyes the seriousness of what he meant by that. As he continued to hold eye contact she seemed to soften. Her brows slowly unfurled and her expression turned into that of realization. She could see the warning in his eyes and how badly he needed her to listen. He wanted her to live and he was offering her a way. He just needed her patience and he needed her to trust him.

The back door swung open and Hoyt stepped out onto the porch and curled his lip when he turned to see Thomas wasn't alone.

"Boy, I'm startin' to think you are stupid," Hoyt said with a shake of his head, "Don't you know? Groom ain't supposed to see his bride the day of the weddin'."

Ronnie felt a pit her stomach at his words, but her eyes hadn't left Thomas'. He gave her a subtle nod as if asking her if she would just trust him. She nodded back. She would have to, he was the only one who seemed to have grasped the concept of the situation they were in. He wanted her safe, she could feel that. Thomas kept his eyes on her's as he reached to lift her into his arms. She didn't fight him. He turned towards Hoyt and glared. Hoyt had a nasty look in his eyes, but a smile on his face.

"Go on, get her upstairs again. Let's see if we can find her a white dress," he said as his gaze started to linger on Ronnie.

Thomas ignored him and strode back into the house with her in his arms. He could feel her softly crying against his chest. He knew she'd accepted her fate when she decided to trust him and he didn't expect her to be happy about it. Thomas could keep her alive, but he couldn't protect her entirely from what his family had planned. He couldn't even protect himself.

[kayssweetdreams]

Maestro Hiccups 3: Chaos Incarnate Ch 24

You look towards the door that lead outside. If you could pry it open, all the soup would come rushing out, and you could get to Leo and Haoyu. You scan the room looking for anything that could be of use, when you spot some cooking utensils as big as you nearby.

"Yuri? Could you grab some of those? I have an idea!" You ask, pointing towards them. "Sure! C'mon Wormy!" She says, rushing towards the larger than life utensils. Yuri grabs a very large fork, while Wormsworth manages to get a huge knife, and a gigantic spoon. The two of them rush back to you, with your large utensils in hand. "Good! Now Follow me!" You say, leading them over to the door.

You take a leap of faith, jumping over other things that were poking above the boiling bisque, before reaching solid ground. AND The door. You then stick your fork in, and begin prying at the shut door. Emma and Yuri join you as you attempt to catch a grip on the large door. The three of you use as much combined strength as you could to at least crack the door open, when you notice a small sliver of light coming from the door. You smile "It's working! Keep going!" You yell out.

The three of you continue to strain, before you feel the door finally open, allowing the boiling soup to flood out into the endless cloudy sky that existed in Haoyu's world. You watched as the soup level got lower and lower, finally enabling Haoyu and Leo to jump down in front of you. "Whoo...Thanks, I was sweating like crazy from up there." Leo said, ringing out his clothes. "Hey! On the bright side, the bass is off, and now we can go look for the others" Emma said.

"Yeah. But let's get back to Balan real quick. We gotta make sure that his hiccups haven't done TOO much damage...and we need something to keep poor Y/N's eyes from acting up." Haoyu says, gazing at your rose colored eyes. "He's right. Considering how the hiccups make things much...harder as time goes by, you're gonna need something to keep you from losing your mind." Leo states. You rub at your pink eyes, he absolutely DID have a point. You couldn't keep walking around, bumping into stuff that wasn't there.

"Well then, Let's go! Next stop! The theater!" Haoyu says, directing you towards the exit. A door with a top hat meets your vision as you all walk through it...and fall to your inevitable demise...

The End.

Gotcha didn't I?

When you finally stop falling, you find yourself in something wet, but also sweet. Getting up, you see that you have fallen into a very big strawberry pie. Shaking away the filling, you see Balan looking rather concerned, but he seemed to talking to someone you haven't seen before. He was tall and thin LIKE Balan, but the different was that he was more dark, and possessed multi-colored tentacles on his back.

The pie you find yourself in immediately turned into a diamond encrusted bathtub, prompting you to let out a surprised squeal, catching both of their attention. Balan immediately rushed to your side "Dear Y/N! You're back and you've found Leo! That makes two down, and 5 more to to!" He says bombastically. However, just as the words left his mouth, a loud "HIC!" was heard. However, this didn't come from Balan, but rather the tentacled man behind him.

All of a sudden, various bats came flying down and trying to take a bite from you. But due to your rosy eyes, you saw various butterflies gently fluttering down to you. "Ooh! Pretty butterflies!" You coo, holding out a hand for them. You hear another voice yell out in fear "What in Wonderworld are you doing?! Don't you know that trouble might be brewing?!" You heard the voice say, as well as something wrapping around your wrist to drag them away from the 'butterflies'

You tug at your wrists, only to realize it must have come from the other person talking. "Whoops! I forgot to mention, this is my counterpart Lance, it slipped my mind from the tension." You hear Balan's voice say. "OH! So you're Lance! I guess that hiccup came from you then...but if Balan's hiccups make reality go insane, what do your hiccups do?" You ask. "Lance's hiccups are different than mine, but the effect is still less than fine. For Lance's hiccups you see, make one's worst fears a reality." Balan explained.

You visibly pale at his statement. ONE case of magic hiccups were bad enough, but two at the same time? This was gonna be tough... You notice that Haoyu begins running over to you "Actually, about that Balan...your hiccups DID end up effecting Y/N..." He said, gesturing your pink eyes. Balan leans in close, a worried expression on his face "Oh dear, forgive me...I didn't think that they'd mess with your ability to see." Balan says "Um...it's OK Balan, but do you think that you have anything that might help with Y/N's senses?" Leo asks.

"I may have something, but it's only a prototype, but if it works, it'll be worth the hype." Balan says. He retreats into the maestros quarters, before coming back with what appeared to be an odd looking pair of glasses, and a special kind of sleeves. "These are creations of my own design, they tell you what is dangerous, and what is fine. If you keep on the glasses, you'll see what is real, and having on the sleeves, you'll know what you can feel." He says. "There, however are some kinks that haven't been worked out yet, though if you give them a test, I'll know about the rest!"

You look down at the sleeves and glasses. On the one hand, These could help you see reality for what it was, and you could finally know what you're looking at and touching when you went to find the others. However, Balan DID say there were some kinks to work out still...what exactly ARE those kinks? Could they make your odd senses of feeling and sight permanent? What if they fused to your body and never came off? The risks and the reward are equally matched

[phenaccityfuse]

War and hate on planet earth.

SO this rider lady waltzes into my dinky little repair shop, right? (Porsha?? Porta? Whatever) Walks up to my counter and slams a Pokeball down. First I think she's asking for a battle, so I break out Roswell as backup. But THEN, she starts going on about how she "just found this ball lying around, and couldn't get it to open" and how "she justs wants to let the poor pokemon out." She goes on and on for like five minutes.

Anyways so I finally get a good look at this ball. It looks totally fine at first, no real signs of damage. I turn it around and there it is: reinforced hinges. I already hate repairing pokeballs and NOW I gotta try fixing a snag ball?? I did NOT wanna take that job.

And then the most beautiful thought appeared in my brain. Euphoria and peace washed over me, I skipped into heaven. 'I charge per hour,' I remembered vividly.

Between that, and the fact that I REALLY need the cash, I tell her I'll do it.

Let me tell you: that was a MISTAKE. It took me FIVE HOURS to break this thing open. I couldn't break the hinges, because she specifically asked to keep the ball intact. Not like I wanted some creature loose in my shop, either. Release button was fried, didn't show up on the PC, didn't respond to the magnets, nothing.

Eventually I give up and figure that I can just replace the hinges with a spare snag ball and call it good. So I get to prying the hinges open with some t-pins. Ball must've had some extra reinforcement, 'cause it took like 10 t-pins to set it properly. Kept crunching the thinner ones. Finally I twist something the right way, and it pops open. REALLY DIDN'T WANT THAT.

Out comes a shadow Scizor. Now don't get it twisted, I'm not one of those Cipher truther dipshits. But this ball, this Scizor. This was recent, I think. It was acting weird, even for a shadow Pokemon.

It seemed pretty out of it. Only noticed me as I was scrambling for the ball. Then it tried shadow rushing me. Roswell tanks it and I send the Scizor back into the ball. At least it works?? Was too busy recovering to really think about it.

'Course, since I'm a good Orrish person, I mind my Cel-damned business and keep my mouth shut. Got a feeling I'll see that Scizor around, anyways.

Body intact, ball intact, and 130 pokedollars richer. Not too shabby.

[jewishrizahawkeye]

yes to all of this! this is what i wanted to say!! like there is a big difference between being so incredibly public and the media prying into that, but you also gotta open up a bit. i work as a receptionist and i don’t talk about my whole life but i do mention tiny story’s and jokes about my life and will share more with people who are reoccurring. it’s like that for almost every job, you have to share part of yourself but not all of it. and joe being so blunt and annoyed in interviews when people try to ask or bring up taylor hurt his career. and yes, taylor is a lot more open than most celebrities out there which he didn’t have to go to her level, but he could at least let people get to know him. see his personality and relationships with the cast, watch him make jokes with them, talk about his relationship or how they manage to still keep to themselves with the world watching them.

like… there is a big difference between being like “i don’t want to fully open up because i think the media and public are way to into watching and critiquing others lives” vs “im never going to open up in public because you don’t need to know anything about me for me to do my job”.

and you also made a great point about interviewers having to ask about taylor cause at a certain point of him not opening up all they’ll know is that he’s dating taylor cause that’s all he ever let the public know about him. like, we don’t need the entire wiki article on his life but if you’re relying solely on your girlfriends song writing to shape your public image cause you don’t want to tell anyone anything about yourself don’t get upset when she writes songs about your relationship ending cause it’s a) her job and b) her art and how she processes stuff because her doing those things can now damage your image cause you weren’t known for anything but her. like harry styles can bounce back from 1989 vaults cause he is open about himself and can look back, jake gyllenhaal can bounce back after atw10 (took a minutes cause people took it way to far) because he was a known actor before taylor, tom hiddleston can bounce back after their two month relationship cause he’s a known actor.

like i’m explaining it wrong but others can come back from having songs written about the flaws of their relationship caused by them or her because they have a life outside of her. but when your entire public image is catered around how much you not caring about this girls stardom and how you helped her at her lowest you gotta understand that if you’d break up that things were going to not look good on you because you didn’t let the public ever know you for anything else.

thing that irks me about joever is that joe is CLEARLY worried cause his entire public image is shaped by the songs she wrote about him. Like he has every right to not want to be super well known and doesn’t have to like the paparazzi, they suck, but him still going out of his way to not talk about himself or let people get to KNOW HIM AS A PERSON is his downfall. as she blew up to an astronomical new height he didn’t because he wasn’t allowing himself to be known. he was just doing random movies to get his big break but never did the press circuit well. he didn’t let anyone get to know and that is why he’s so worried about ttpd because his public image, that she created because he decided to be super posh and annoying about letting people get to know him, is on the line. he wouldn’t be in this mess if he maybe allowed her to not only exist in her world, even if it’s very very big, and let people get to know him. we never actually got to see who he was and we still don’t know. like fuck him, he doesn’t deserve hate and shouldn’t get it, but he walked into this situation knowing full well what would happen and still didn’t stop it.

[faithofgods]

mini-series; sol; 4/4. || [ caress/ed; kiss scars ] + [ it’s okay—  honestly i forget they’re there most of the time. ] || prompts from here.

Rustle of the blankets in your ear each time you shift, Sol's weight all but pinning you in place. Their temple is resting in the crook of your shoulder, cheek smushed against the blanket, barrier of fabric between skin.

Your legs are tangled, one knee hooked around theirs; sharing the same space, same warmth, same reflective mood. They've been picking at the stitching lining the blanket, pulling on newly loosed threads with one hand while you hold onto their other. Your fingers toy with theirs where their hand rests on your stomach, in that small, flat space where ribs join.

You pry one finger out of the loose fist they've made, fingertips trailing the scars that cross it. Each finger is freed in this way, one by one, until they flatten their hand fully and yours can curl around it.

"Do they bother you?" A question that slips out, idle thought given form. A question that doesn't need an answer, not really, but one you think they will.

A little lopsided half-smile, corner of their mouth tilting, return of the slight grimace that sits so familiar on their face. They shrug one shoulder—try to, the way they're curled around you stunting the movement—and flex their hand under your touch. Tendons shift under scar tissue, skin moving, light hitting water.

"Only when I think about 'em."

They flip their hand over, lacing their fingers with yours. The position is awkward, their wrist jutting out at an odd angle, so you pull free of them, slide your hand under theirs instead. Their open palm to the ceiling, cupped as though still waiting to receive. Yours cradling it, their ever-faithful protection, their shore; you want to be that for them.

"How often is that?"

Another small smile, the slightest bit wider, a wrinkle in their nose. "Dunno? Times like this, I guess." They fall off, studying their hand in yours, scarred core enveloped by something softer, less damaged. "They're easy to forget about."

"Until someone points them out."

Long fingers. Blunt nails. A slight crook to their index, broken bone that wasn't set right. White lines of scar tissue covering every inch, some blending into skin, disappearing, and others—the worse ones—deep enough to be raised by your touch ghosting over them.

"They're easy to forget," they repeat, quiet and insistent, far too aware of the hallways your mind wanders down.

There's a bad one on the heel of their palm, evidence of a blade that bit in too deeply. Theirs or another's, you don't know.

The ones on their fingers are theirs, little nicks to draw just enough blood for what they need and not a drop more. The ones along their arms, their chest, are too. Frantic moments—from what you've pieced together through breezed-over stories and barely-answered questions—where they were the broadest target, the quickest solution.

The ones on their back aren't.

So it's not a lie, not fully, that they're easily forgotten; they don't care about the ones they gave themself, rarely something to spare a second thought towards. But the others, the ones they don't like you seeing, ones hidden away under hair and clothes and never acknowledged, done by the hands of someone far less kind?

It's a shame in them that can't be buried.

You move slowly, drag their hand to your mouth, the heel of their palm pressing to your lips.

A kiss to forgive. Granting it to them, their past, to allow themself to unburden. A permission they need, have sought for so long. A chance to alleviate the guilt of being alive, and breathing, for their heart to still beat so freely when yours...

“I’m not someone you gotta save.” That same soft tone, unsteadier than before. “You get that, right?”

“That’s not what this is.”

Sol shifts off you, hand pulling free of yours to prop themself up. They hover over you, staring down, brows knitted together. “Then what?”

Your hand moves to their cheek, fingertips whispering against it. Barely a touch, but still their face turns into it, another shift of their weight as their own hand closes around it, pressing your palm fully down, skin against skin.

“A promise.” Whispered out, and tender is Sol’s answering smile, affection swimming in dark eyes. They lean in, nose bumping yours.

A promise. One born from love, this desire to protect them, to keep them safe. To ward away the darker thoughts.

A chance to move on. You'll do anything to give them that.

[jebblyphishes]

I see open ask box and the demon in my soul that lives off angst comes alive. For an angsty idea, what if Asmodeus and Fizzarolli's S/O (Gender-neutral) was seriously hurt by someone (probably a crazy fan) who used an angelic weapon on them (pistol or spear) and now they're bedridden while they recover?

At first, they thought it was a regular gun. Getting shot still hurt, but it wasn't enough to kill most regular hell-born outright. Imps would be hitting for a few days, and it would likely scar. Demons varied from a few hours to recover to a day or so - depending on where they were hit and their power. Someone like Asmodeus or Mammon or Lucifer would be rather pissed about getting shot but it wasn't going to hurt them in the end.

So, when S/O was shot, Fizzarolli and Asmodeus we're furious but not overly concerned whilst they dragged out the would be assassin and shredded them out of existence. But then they heard S/O screaming in agony from how the angelic bullet was burning them. Their usually resilient body helpless against this, stopping them from healing almost immediately.

"...Babe?" Fizzarolli was the first to get to them, rolling them onto their back and prying away their hands so that he could see. The imp felt all the blood drain from his face, and his voice was shrill and hideous and he yelled for Asmodeus. "You gotta fix it! Ozzie, you gotta!!"

Asmodeus had been frozen. His little S/O's pained sobs digging into him like sharp hooks. It wasn't until Fizzarolli screamed at him that his feathers fluffed up and he went to them. He picked their S/O up, cooing and murmuring sweet nothings to try and calm them down - Fizz had extended his legs so that he could keep holding onto them. "It's okay, it's okay, shush now..." He ordered someone nearby to get his personal doctor and to summon them immediately.

He cursed that his fingers were too big to get the bullet out, he knew it had to be excruciating. The way they were crying and writhing, fighting against being held, told him that. "Fizz... Do you think if I hold them, you could get it out?"

Fizzarolli shook his head, his eyes wet and his tail wrapped around his leg, "I'll hurt them!"

"They're already hurting..."

They hated every second of it. From restraining S/O to having to dig around in the tear in their body to pull out the angelic bullet. It didn't stop their S/O from wailing but it stopped further damage from being done. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt ya!" Asmodeus felt himself shrink a little as he watched and listened to his two favourite people in such distress - knowing that he had likely been the target and that he had made Fizz do something he hadn't wanted to.

The imp had wrapped his arms around their S/O and Asmodeus's hand, his head bunting gently into their lover's and purring loudly - not his usual content purrs but this was out of stress. Ozzie did his best to sooth them both until the doctor finally arrived.

-

S/O's body wasn't healing properly, their strength was sapped and they were too weak to stand on their own. Often they hurt too much to sleep and food was difficult to keep down. It felt like they'd been poisoned.

Fizzarolli barely left their side, his striped tail a permanent fixture around S/O's leg or wrist. He was clingy and insisted on doing everything. He had even read somewhere that imp purrs could help with healing and had kept it up until his throat gave out and he sounded like a stalled car.

Asmodeus still had duties to attend but he dropped all but the absolutely essential ones. Otherwise, he would be ordering his kitchen staff to make something S/O could eat, he kept the doctor in house in case anything happened and made sure to give them as much pain medicine as he could - without overdosing them.

He felt awful, so much so that he was so much smaller than usual, his bed like chest that usually fit both of them was just big enough for one now. He offered to buy anything they wanted, got in plush new bedding and every tv subscription he could get. No one blames him but with him neglecting his duties and the club, he wasn't feeding on the type of energy he needed and it made him weak, made him start to spiral into feelings he didn't want or understand - he'd never been sad like this before.

Fizzarolli did his best to keep Asmodeus's mood up, trying his best to keep them all in one piece until S/O could get out of bed... But lately, they seemed to sleep more and more. And he was petrified that one day they wouldn't wake up.

[skellebonez]

Happy Birthday Winter!

Hey @winterpower98 it's your birthday! I really hope you enjoy this, I know I had a ton of fun writing it for you! Actor AU is one of my favorite AUs you've made and coming back to play around with it again was a blast and a half!

Painter MK cackled, taking the brushes filled with bright pink paint into his fists.

“Yes, yes!” He exclaimed, brushing them against his cheeks and bringing another to run up the center of his face. “The art is-OW! OW, THE ART IS IN MY EYE!”

“Cut!” The director yelled, bringing the entire film production to a halt in an instant. “Xiaotian, what happened?”

The young actor dropped the paintbrushes into the hands of a stage worker to rushed over to help him, one hand covering his right eye as he tried to keep himself from laughing. “I think some of it splashed when I waved the brush at my face. I guess the art really IS-”

“Don’t say it,” Heshang said from the other side of the set, doing his best not to join his co-star in laughter.

“-seeping into my pores!”

The entire cast and crew groaned as Xiaotian cackled again, with a few added ows, before another stage hand came by with a bottle of water.

~3…2…1~

“Uh…” Xiaojiao pulled, attempting to pull the prop sword from above her head out of the wall only to be met with… a lot more resistance than should probably be there. “UH…? It’s stuck?”

She stood, attempting to pull it out normally only to be met with just as much resistance.

“It’s stuck!” She laughed, out, bracing a foot on the wall with no change.

“Let me try,” General Ironclad, or rather Red in the costume of General Ironclad for the episode, offered, attempting to do the same with the exact same result as his co-star. “What did you use to hold this in place? Cement!?”

“It should have only been stuck in with force!” A stage hand yelled as Xiaotian and Heshang joined in, both failing to pull the sword out from the false wall and Heshang nearly toppling over backwards with his additional costume pieces.

“Whoever stuck that in there needs to be moved to making sure the safety equipment stays connected!” Xiaotian offered, watching as even more people tried to remove the sword. “That is not coming out.”

~3…2…1~

Heshang held Mo in his arms, waltzing around the set as he waited for places to be called for with the shockingly content feline in his arms.

~3…2…1~

“You are selling beautiful vegetables today?” Pigsy said, leaning over the the display to give an awkward smile to the disguised Spider Queen.

Tang looked over the produce from where he knelt, looking back up at his companion with a concerned and confused look. “Are you… a-are-PFT-FUCK.”

Everyone on set burst into laughter as Tang did, both of his fellow actors holding back from laughing themselves.

“Why is it this line!?” Tang yelled in frustration as he continued laughing. “It’s not a hard line! I wrote this line! Why do I keep laughing at the last word!?”

“Maybe if Ganglie wasn’t making goo-goo eyes at me you’d keep straight face,” Zhi-Zhu Jing managed to get out through her laughter.

“That’d be the only thing straight about me.”

~3…2…1~

Dicky Cheung, or the actual Sun Wukong disguised as a human actor in full costume of himself, took a running leap and jumped onto the counter of Pigsy’s noodles, sliding to a perfect stop with a wink toward the camera.

~3…2…1~

“MK, there’s something I wanted to tell you…” Mei said, looking at MK with sparkles in her eyes before snickering. “Stop looking at me like that, it’s hard enough to keep a straight face during this scene!”

“Sorry!” Xiaotian yelled to the camera. “I can’t help it! How are Jin and Yin this wrong about these two in the show?”

“Himbos!” was the shouted answer from Tang at the other end of the set.

~3…2…1~

“One of the rare talents that no one knew the great Sun Wukong possessed…” Xiaojiao said ominously, camera panning over to Mr. Cheung in full costume. “Surprisingly good peach juggling!”

“Gotta keep myself occupied somehow!” The actor laughed out, catching two peaches in either hand while the last one was caught perfectly in his mouth to the applause of everyone watching.

~3…2…1~

“Thanks for the Key los-AH!”

Red flung his arms wildly, key flying into the air as Tie Shan rushed forward and caught him just before he face planted into the ground.

“Mine!” Mr. Cheung yelled as he caught the key mid air and rushed through the frame.

“YOU’RE NOT EVEN IN THIS EPISODE!”

~3…2…1~

“Thank you… for giving me all o-ooh, whoa!” Lui Er Mihou, or unbeknownst to nearly all Six-Eared Macaque in disguise much the same way as Sun Wukong was, yelped as the cable that was supposed to gently raise him and make him look like he was floating yoinked him as good 4 feet off the ground way too fast. “That’s too much power!”

“SORRY!” The line operator shouted, fiddling with the controls. “Someone loaded the weight setting for Xiaotian into your line instead of yours.”

“I already feel bad enough treating him like garbage and beating him up in this role, this is just rubbing salt in the wound,” Liu Er muttered, leaning back and swinging limply much to the amusement of everyone who couldn’t hear him before raising his voice. “When will my beloved friend Sun Wukong come to rescue me?”

“SPEAK MY NAME AND I SHALL APPEAR!”

Liu Er yelped in surprise as Mr. Cheung rushed in and grabbed him from beneath to hold him bridal style with a shit eating grin. He couldn't help the flush on his cheeks in response.

“HOW DO YOU KEEP SHOWING UP IN SHOTS WHEN YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE YET!?” The director yelled with more than a little amusement in his voice despite the disruption.

~3…2…1~

“You!” DBK said, rounding on Red Son. “You have brought me nothing but failure! Time and time again! I keep telling you I… shit, I can’t remember the next line when you look that sad, I am so sorry.”

“Nothing but disappointment?” Red offered helpfully, immediately breaking out of his downcast somber gaze to the floor with a wide smile.

“It is scary how fast you get in and out of character sometimes, kid,” Niu Mowang laughed out, clearly resisting the urge to ruffle the younger actor’s hair lest he ruin the styling job that took far too long every time they got dressed.

~3…2…1~

The White Bone Spirit stood at the entrance to the Silken Web Cave, looking at the camera before far too much time passed from when she was supposed to say he line. She moon walked backwards out of the frame without changing her expression one bit as the other actors devolved into cackles.

~3…2…1~

“The Year of the Spider starts tonight!” Spider Queen proclaimed from her high vantage point before she muttered something under her breathe, narrowing her gaze and then looking off to the side. “Or next year ‘cause I don’t remember my line.”

~3…2…1~

Huntsman slowly lowered into frame, upside down and gripping the rigging holding him up like Spiderman.

~3…2…1~

“Oh yeah?” Sun Wukong said, appearing in frame as he walked down the wall MK was embedded in. He grabbed his staff, yanking it out of the wall and jumped down and smacked the wall with it.

… only for it to go through the wall once again and crack it. Or, rather, the false wall that was on a tilted angle to make it look like he was talking down it, rather than a heavily slanted floor.

“I’m sorry!” Mr. Cheung yelled, looking at the damage he caused. “I must have hit at weak spot!”

He hoped no one noticed that when MK offered to get the prop staff for this shot and put it into the wall… he grabbed the real one by accident.

~3…2…1~

Nui Mowang held the little bird that was Wukong’s transformation stand in for one of the final scenes, gently petting the little head with a big goofy smile on his face.

~END~

The entire cast sat around on various travel tables right outside the small Lunar New Year Festival set they had set up, various extras that had answered the open invitation for the shoot going about and getting the free food that was available at the functional stalls provided by the catering they had hired.

It was an odd sight to see Red Son and Spider Queen and Sun Wukong and everyone else sitting around together, but Liu Er Mihou being there outside of his Macaque costume broke the illusion a little bit.

It was the final day of shooting for the season 2 opening special to Monkie Kid, Revenge of the Spider Queen, and everyone was there. Even people who didn’t have to come in wanted to give a temporary farewell to Tie Shan, Nui Mowang, and Red before season 2 proper began shooting. There was still a chance they could bebcalled in for bit roles, the scripts weren’t entirely finished yet, but as far as anyone knew the Demon Bull Family wasn’t going to be returning properly any time soon.

Maybe in season 3, Tang had teased, holding the begun scripts for that in his little tablet away from prying eyes. And they were always welcome to help out in bit roles, background characters or voice over or to use their other talents to work other jobs that were needed around the set.

But even before then it would be a while.

And so that’s how Red found himself sandwiched between Long Xiaojiao and Qi Xiaotian, with the newly added member of their quartet in her full White Bone Spirit costume hanging over his shoulder to watch the compilation that Xiaojiao had expertly edited on her phone for them all.

“The director gave me permission to use whatever I wanted and I though that… maybe we could all have it for ourselves,” Xiaojiao offered, pulling up the wireless transfer option on her phone. “To watch when we miss each other being on set together. I know we’re going to probably be back together with Red Son eventually! But…”

“I’ll miss shooting with you too,” Red said smiling softly as he pulled out his own phone to accept the file. “Hopefully Mr. Tang isn’t just teasing us about season 3.”

[yanderecrazysie]

Hii Bestie !!

I wondering if I could request the Yandere Alphabet for Bokuto if you haven’t done that already.

💜

HEY BESTIE! I'd love to! Bokuto reminds me so much of an overeager puppy- it's precious-

Bokuto Koutarou (Haikyuu) -The Yandere Alphabet

🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉

Warnings: yandere themes, slight mentions of marking and spanking

A is for Affection: How do they show their affection for their darling? How often do they show it? 💖 Bokuto is the epitome of affectionate. This boy wants to cuddle, kiss, hold hands, WHATEVER he can do 24/7. 💖 Although he'll want to cuddle against you and hold you bone-crushingly close, this boy can also get a little rough. His kisses can be kind of bruising and he'll want to mark up your neck a lot. B is for Blood: How messy are they willing to get for their darling? Why? 🔪 Although I can picture Bokuto being willing to fight anyone who wants to hurt you or take you away, I actually can't see him trying to kill anyone. He's pretty sure he's the best of the best, so it's not like any of those other guys can steal you away from HIM! C is for Care or Cruelty: How would they treat their darling when they kidnap them? Would they mock them? 💔 Bokuto wouldn't mock you. In fact, he'd just be over the MOON about having you with him. You'd be smothered in kisses and crushed in his hugs. He's not going to want to make you feel bad! 💔 Bokuto is the BEST at taking care of you! He knows everything you love and he's willing to get/do ANYTHING just for you! D is for Delusion: How delusional are they when it comes to their darling? Do they believe their darling loves them? 💭 Bokuto is very, very delusional. Like, this boy sees a perfect future with you and he has no doubts that you're both going to get there soon. 💭 He's like the greatest??? You couldn't turn HIM down! He's the amazing ace- Akaashi thinks he's great so you do too! Right? Of course! E is for Expose: How much of their heart do they bear to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? How much time will it take to trust them? 💧 Bokuto doesn't shut up about his feelings. Going into emo mode? Check. Whining about how much he needs your attention? Check. Letting you know just how much he adores you? Check. 💧 They talk about being an open book but Bokuto is a book you'd want to CLOSE after a while. Like seriously- he. Won't. Shut. Up. F is for Fight: How would they react if their darling fought back? 👊 Cue "kicked-puppy" noise. He's going to stare up at you with wide, watering eyes. You've gotta be completely heartless if you don't feel the TINIEST bit of guilt when you see his heartbroken expression. 👊 "I-it's okay (Y/n), I forgive you, I love you, please don't fight me, please..." he's all but begging you, even after you stop fighting. He's clinging to you and sobbing into your shirt. 👊 Your flailing fists and feet aren't actually going to do any damage to that buff man but just the idea of fighting against him leaves tons of emotional scars in your wake. G is for Guilt: What would it take for them to feel guilty about their actions? Or do they feel guilty from the start? 😔 Bokuto feels bad that he went to the extremes. He KNOWS it's so so so wrong... but it feels so so so right. He LOVES you and that's the best thing, right? That makes up for everything, right? 😔 He won't ever regret his love for you though. If he has you in the end it'll be worth everything and more! No regrets, WOOO! H is for Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? 🔥 Bokuto can be a little... well... his emotions are extreme and can flip quickly. So if he's angry enough, you could get hurt. Like, he's not going to seriously injure you, but he'll be rough. You'll be shaking in your shoes for sure. I is for Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? 👩‍❤️‍👨 If Bokuto has his way, you'll be his pretty little wife and mother of a bunch of his runts. This boy will want at LEAST 3 kids. Like I picture him being that "cool dad" that roughhouses with his little boys and carries them on his back and just jokes around with them. He's practically a giant kid himself sometimes. J is for Jealousy: How easily do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? 💢 Bokuto gets jealous if your attention is taken away from him. Platonically, romantically, whatever. If someone's

taking your attention and it's not him, he's gonna be PISSED. 💢 Suddenly, Bokuto is 10x needier than he's ever been. He's trying to catch your gaze, interrupting your conversation, clinging to you, etc. 💢 I mean, this boy will get jealous of a video game or TV show or book you're invested in. Not just humans. Animals too... Your attention should be solely on him, ya know! K is for Kidnap: How would they go about kidnapping their darling? How much do they plan it out? 🔒 Bokuto doesn't plan- it just kind of happens. He knew he wanted to take you away from all those attention hogs (ironic) and keep you with him and him only, but he didn't really THINK about it. It just kinda happened. 🔒 Okay, but seriously, I think he might even be more surprised than you when he kidnaps you. Like this guy's just kinda like "WOAHHH This isn't a dream? I actually did this? HEY HEY HEY" L is for Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? 💌 One moment you're living your normal life, the next moment there's Fukurodani's ace cooing at you and you forgot to say your last goodbyes to that normal life you'll never see again. 💌 I don't think Bokuto knows how to court, to be blunt about it. Like, Akaashi might try to give him some pointers ("You're overwhelming her." "Give her room to breathe." "Try never saying that again. Ever." "Stop, you're crushing her.") but Bokuto's pretty sure he's got this in the bag. M is for Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they acted before? 🎭 Bokuto's emotions are so over the map that no one's going to really tell that he's kind of losing it. Akaashi might be able to tell, but no one else will notice a difference. 🎭 Other than his overwhelming happiness and affection for you. I mean, you'd have to be blind and deaf to not realize Bokuto has a huge crush on you. He's not even remotely subtle. N is for Naughty: How would they punish their darling? 🚓 Bokuto might try to isolate you a bit but if you make him angry- like really piss him off- I think he'd literally just bend you over his lap and spank you. Like, maybe that's weird, but I can really picture him trying to brat-tame you a bit. O is for Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? What rights can be earned with time and trust? 📜 Although Bokuto's kind of overbearing and suffocating, as long as you're in his line of sight and, preferably, being touched by him, you can do whatever you want. Which... isn't a lot when he's hanging on you 24/7. P is for Patience: How patient are they with their darling? 🕊️ Patience is not one of Bokuto's virtues, unfortunately. If you take too long in the bathroom, he'll come bursting through the door. Like, this boy can't stand a full 5 minutes away from you. Having privacy is not realistic, so don't get your hopes up. Q is for Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? 🏃‍♀️ If you die Bokuto will go into emo mode for the rest of his life. He will be completely broken without you. He's so lost without you. You know that story where the dog waited by his owner's grave for the rest of his life? That's Bokuto. 🏃‍♀️ "Escape"? Yeah, no. Bokuto gets it, you wanted a little freedom, but it's time to come home, okay? You've already had more than enough time to yourself, so he'll come find you. And once he does, you're sure as hell never leaving again. R is for Rage: How do they act when angry? How do they calm down? �� "Explosive rage" is the best way to describe Bokuto's anger. You CANNOT calm him down, so it's best to book it and barricade yourself in a room until he cools down. 👿 If he's mad enough, he could hurt you, so stay the fuck away from him. He'll be throwing and breaking things and just generally yelling his head off. Again, barricade yourself in a room, it's honestly your only hope. S is for Soulmate: What made them fall in love with their darling? How did they first meet? When did they realize they loved their darling? 💍 Bokuto truly is a

love-at-first-sight kind of guy, but he fell in love with you even more as he got to know you. You either met at one of his games or in some sort of shared class. I think that you would have stood out to him in a crowd. T is for Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? 😭 Each tear falling down your face is another crack in Bokuto's heart. He really does want you to be happy and he can't understand why you aren't. His solution is to just hold you tight until you calm down, which may not help all that much... U is for Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

👌 Bokuto is already kind of different from the others in the way that he's not afraid to put you in your place and he has plans for the future that don't really require your cooperation. He's not changing his mind, no matter how strong your feelings are one way or the other.

👌 Not to mention, he's SUPER clingy. You can't pry him off of you. There's a strong possibility that you'll end up being very, very miserable with Bokuto. He loves you but he isn't willing to compromise or meet halfway on anything. His love is kind of selfish... more so than the average yandere.

V is for Visit: Would they allow anyone else to visit their darling? Do they trust their darling to talk to their loved ones (in person, on the phone, etc.) or not at all?

🧳 Akaashi will be over often. Like, I'm not even going to pretend like Bokuto will doubt his BFF. I really don't think Akaashi will be there to save you, unfortunately...

🧳 But Akaashi doesn't get to touch you. Sorry. You belong to Bokuto and, any attention you give Akaashi, you better give 10 times that to Bokuto.

W is for Weakness: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

❌ You're lucky enough if you can detangle yourself from Bokuto's grip for more than 5 minutes, but, if you do, you can use very few things against him anyways. He's nothing but determined.

❌ If you're delicate and careful about it, you may be able to take advantage of his emotions. Fake sadness to gain his pity or get him so happy that he'll be less likely to deny your requests.

X is for Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

🛐 He's a bit of a worshipper, but not the classic type. He ADORES you and thinks you're absolutely perfect but... he doesn't exactly put your needs above his own. Like I said, he's a bit selfish.

Y is for Yearning: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? 😍 It depends on how receptive you are to him. If you're trying to distance yourself from him and keep your freedom (or you just aren't interested in him that way), he's going to snap FAST. You'll find yourself in his house before you can say "HEY HEY HEY". 😍 Otherwise, if you start dating him, it'll depend on if you realize the toxicity of your relationship. If you try to break up with him or loosen his suffocating grip, you're in the same boat as if you denied him in the first place. Z is for Zero Tolerance: What is the thing that always makes them snap? What things will they not allow their darling to do under any circumstances? 0️⃣ Leave him. If you deny his affection and love, he will not be happy at ALL. He wants to wrap you up in his arms and never let go. And he really doesn't care if you don't want that. 🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣 THAT TOOK SO LONG I'M SO SORRY- I feel like I portrayed him to be a little worse than he is- he really does love you!

[cdelphiki]

“Fuck.”

Jason’s spoon clanked into his bowl, as he dropped it and fumbled for the remote. He’d been watching Jeopardy! with the volume low. Half the fun of the game was answering the questions himself, and really, the idiots on the show were often just distracting.

But Jeopardy! wasn’t on the screen anymore.

The Joker was.

The Joker and the current Robin.

“—play a game, shall we?” Joker said, and Jason just cursed louder as he tossed his cereal on the coffee table and jumped up.

“Hrnn,” Robin groaned, when the camera panned to him, “Who’d want to play with you?”

Fucking brat.

The poor kid looked in rough shape. His mask was slightly ripped, showing off a massive bruise right under one of his eyes. His fat lip and the blood trickling down his chin didn’t help much, either.

Oh, yeah. And the fact he was tied up and inside a tiny little cage.

How the hell had Joker got his hands on Robin?

Never mind, Jason thought, as he kicked around the shit on his floor, freeing the various pieces of his Red Hood uniform, he knew exactly how Robin got himself captured.

Batman was out of town.

And he’d left Robin in charge of Gotham.

Like a fucking moron.

“Uh, uh uh,” Joker said, “That’s no way to behave. Be a good little birdy.”

Robin groaned, when Joker stuck a stick inside Robin’s cage, and jabbed him in the side. He pressed a button, and Tim’s groan turned to a scream as he was electrocuted.

Jason grimaced.

“Now,” Joker continued, through a laugh, “The answer is ‘Topeka.’”

Joker’s stupid fucking laugh.

Jason should not be helping the bats.

He did not help the bats. The bats hated him. And, sure, they had good reason to, but it just meant Jason shouldn’t be helping them out of principle!

Why help people who hate your guts and wish you were still dead?

The bats are out of town, his mind helpfully reminded him, they can’t save Robin. And like hell was Jason going to let Joker kill another Robin.

“Shit,” he mumbled, as he grabbed his helmet and shoved it on his head. All he needed was his guns, now.

“Come now, Robin,” Joker said, “You’re disappointing the viewers at home.”

“No, you’re disappointing the viewers,” Jason snapped, as he placed three guns into his holsters, and grabbed his spare magazines, checking to make sure each was full. “No one wants to watch the fucking Joker fuck with a little kid.”

Even if that little kid was Tim Drake. And annoying as fuck.

The camera zoomed back on Robin’s face, and Robin finally mumbled out, “Capital of Kansas.”

Robin screamed, again, when Joker jabbed him with the shock stick, and Jason growled.

He grabbed his tablet and hacked into the batcomputer in record time. He wasn’t sure if Bruce knew he could still do that, but at the moment he was fucking glad he hadn’t been caught yet.

“You didn’t phrase your answer in the form of a question! Haven’t you ever watched Jeopardy!? That’s what the good folks want right now.”

“Fuck, kid,” Jason mumbled, as he triangulated a location on Robin’s tracker, “Where are you?”

Only Robin’s tracker was listed in Gotham, too. No one else was around. Not Alfred. Not Batgirl. No one.

Why the fuck did Bruce keep leaving Robin all alone?

Hadn’t he learned his lesson the first time?

Tim groaned on screen again, making Jason draw his gun and unload the full clip on the screen.

Shit.

His neighbors probably hated him.

“Where are you,” he growled at the tablet, just as Robin’s location finished loading.

Warehouse in Crime Alley.

Not even five blocks from Jason’s safe house.

Good.

- - -

The Joker had almost no henchmen guarding his warehouse.

Usually Joker’s operations were more thought through. Right?

This time it was just pathetic.

How in the ever-loving-fuck had he got his hands on Robin, anyway?

It took Jason not even ten minutes to reach the warehouse, break in, and incapacitate all ten of his thugs. It took only another fifteen seconds to climb up into the rafters, into the main area where Joker was ‘filming’ with Robin.

“Now, Robin,” Joker said, his his annoying high pitched drawl, “You are down in the negatives. You need to get this next answer correct or—”

Jason didn’t let him finish the thought.

Because he shot the Joker in the ass.

“Shut the fuck up,” Red Hood snarled, as he dropped down from the rafters, right on top of Joker, “No one cares as much as you think.”

“Hood,” Joker said, grinning wide, despite all the blood leaking out of him.

Or, well. Not much. Jason should shoot him again.

Robin would get all high and mighty, if Jason actually killed Joker.

Fucking hell.

“How nice of you to drop by!” Joker said, laughing, “We could use a second contestant.”

Yeah. Sure.

Jason brought his elbow down into Joker’s face. Hard. Breaking his nose and knocking him flat out.

“How disappointing,” Jason said, as he stood up and turned toward Robin, “That wasn’t nearly as satisfying as shooting him in the face would have been.”

Robin stayed laying there, where he was, curled up in his cage, clutching his stomach tight.

Whistling, Jason crossed the room and tried to get Tim’s attention. “Yo. Half-pint, you all right there?”

Tim didn’t react, other than to curl up tighter when Jason approached the cage and put a hand on one of the bars.

“Shit,” he mumbled, “Okay, kid. I’ll get you out.”

Ridiculously, it took longer to figure out a way to get Tim out of the cage.

He tried to pry the fucking lock open with a crowbar he found laying around…

Joker and his fucking crowbars.

But the lock wouldn’t budge, and the stupid replacement Robin kept flinching every time Jason got too near. Which, should have probably made Jason feel bad.

If he were, like, a good person.

Instead it just pissed him off enough that he grabbed the crowbar and started bashing it against the lock, until the damn thing fell off.

“Okay,” Jason said as he opened the cage door, “Tell me what the damage is, kid.”

Robin didn’t respond, so Jason reached in and placed one gloved hand on his shoulder. All he was going to do was shake it, a little. Just to make sure the kid was alive. And like, just out of it.

But apparently Robin was super out of it, because instead of growl at him or snap some dumbass quip, he jumped up and punched Jason right in the stomach.

“Fuck,” he huffed. The little sucker packed a mean one, but he was too damn out of it for it to do more than make Jason wince. “The fuck, kid? Knock it off.”

Tim jumped up, however, on top of the cage, then wobbled there as he tried to right his balance. The second Jason tried to reach out to him, to catch him before he toppled over, or some shit, Tim pulled out a couple of his stupid R shaped throwing stars and started throwing them.

“Shit,” Jason growled, as he dodged, “Kid, knock it off.”

“What do you want?” Robin asked, and with that, apparently reached the end of his spike of adrenaline.

Because the next thing Jason knew, Robin was falling off the cage bars he’d been perched on, and Jason had barely enough time to dive the few feet between them and catch the stupid runt before he landed on the concrete ground, head first.

“Get off me,” Robin demanded, thrashing about in Jason’s hold.

All it made Jason do was squeeze his arms around Tim tighter.

“Stop,” Tim said, his voice getting a little more desperate, “Get off.”

“Ow,” Jason complained, when Tim kicked him in the knee, “Would you knock it off. Am I hurting you?”

Tim stilled, for a second, and seemed to evaluate the situation. Jason was still holding onto him, but he loosed his arms a little.

“No?” Tim asked, like he wasn’t sure if that were the correct answer, or something.

Stupid brat. And they accused Jason of shooting first, asking questions later.

“Then why the fuck are you fighting me?” Jason demanded.

“You’re…” Tim said, then paused as he put a hand up to his head. Shit. Jason needed to get him back to a safe house and checked out.

Letting go of Tim completely, Jason set him down and maneuvered, so he was kneeling in front of the stupid runt. He put a hand on Tim’s head and forced his head back, a little, so Jason could get a good look at it. He could see one of Tim’s eyes, due to his mask having so much damage on it, and it looked like Tim was at least making eye contact.

Or, at least. As much eye contact as he could when Jason was wearing a helmet.

“You’re the Red Hood?” Tim finally answered.

Jason merely huffed. “Yeah. And you’re the boy hostage. Where are you hurt?”

“What?” Tim demanded, “Why do you care?” and Jason rolled his eyes.

“Like I’m gonna let Joker kill you. That’s my job.”

Okay.

Wrong thing to say.

Because Tim’s eye grew wide, and he shuffled backward, out of Jason’s reach, kicking his feet.

Jason tried to grab his feet, to make him stop, but Tim kept kicking, and got Jason right in the ribs.

“Ouch, stop it. I was kidding.” Tim got him on the chin, and Jason snapped, “Just stop. I’m trying to help you.”

“Why,” Tim demanded, as Jason finally caught one of his legs and held it up high enough that Tim lost his balance.

It was kind of amusing, how Tim landed on his back, and just groaned.

“Why’s there gotta be a reason?” he asked, “Maybe I don’t want to see another Robin die!”

“You beat me near to death like two minutes ago,” Tim shouted, pulling at his foot, and not succeeding in freeing himself.

Because Jason was standing, and Tim was short. It would be no trouble at all for Jason to just lift Tim right up off the ground entirely by his leg.

“It’s been four months, stop being dramatic.”

“You expect me to believe you’ve changed enough since then that it matters?” Tim demanded, just as he pulled another throwing star out and threw it at Jason.

Too bad for Tim, Jason saw it coming a mile away. And just caught it.

“Yep!” he cheered, “You done now? You’re, like, super out if it and your fight sucks. If you couldn’t tell.”

Robin mumbled something Jason didn’t catch, so Jason dropped his foot, and tried not to grin too wide when Tim groaned when his body hit the ground.

He didn’t fall too far.

And Jason was sure his head and upper back had been on the ground, already, before he let go.

“Can you walk on your own?” he asked.

Once Tim stopped being all dramatic about everything, he grumbled out a, “No,” so Jason knelt down next to him and offered a hand, to help Tim sit up.

Tim glared at him with so much derision, it risked making Jason laugh.

Instead, all he said was, “Then stop fucking fighting me and let me help.”

“Fine,” Tim snapped, lifting an arm up so Jason could wrap it around Jason’s shoulders, “But if you try anything, I’m calling for Superman.”

“Whatever,” Jason said, as he hefted Tim to his feet, and started making toward the warehouse exit, “Just shut up and let me get you out of here.”

Tim was in pretty rough shape.

Jason already knew that, of course, but it became even more obvious as they made their way back to Jason’s safe house.

Mostly because Jason did all the fucking work.

Tim’s left leg was obviously fucked up. Jason was a little glad he hadn’t held that leg up in the air, because then he’d feel guilty.

And that wasn’t it. He kept clutching at his stomach, and Jason was willing to bet there was at least some pretty bad burns there from all the zapping.

Dragging Tim’s ass up the side of Jason’s building was easy, of course. But annoying. Because Jason had to hold onto Tim tight, because the stupid brat’s grip kept loosening whenever Jason jostled him too much.

“Shit kid,” Jason mumbled, as he pushed Tim through the window to his safe house, “I can’t believe Bruce leaves his fucking kid all alone to protect Gotham when he’s out of town.”

Because, seriously.

This was ridiculous.

Tim was fucked up. And it was all Bruce’s fault.

“M’not his kid,” Tim mumbled, as he stumbled a few feet inside Jason’s safe house, over to the couch. He collapsed down with an oof.

Jason rolled his eyes and closed the window behind him, after he jumped inside. “You are too a kid,” he said, unsnapping his helmet and tossing it down on the ground, “You’re like, thirteen.”

Tim followed Jason with his eyes, even as he sank into the couch a little more, and said, “I’m fifteen. And I said I’m not his kid.”

“Fifteen!” Jason shouted, tossing his gloves on the ground. His safe house was pretty small, so his kitchen was his living room. And he, thankfully, had a pretty good first aid kit sitting in the cabinet under his sink. “That’s how old I was. And obviously I meant his son, you idiot.”

“I’m not his son either,” Tim said.

Jason paused, as he was pulling his kit out, and looked up over the counter at the little brat.

“He didn’t adopt you?”

Hadn’t Talia said….?

How the fuck was he even Robin?

“No,” Tim exclaimed, “I have a dad.”

Is that why Bruce was more lenient on Tim? Because he wasn’t his son?

Bruce never let Jason out of his fucking sight as Robin.

He’d thought that was because he didn’t trust Jason, and clearly he trusted Tim.

But was it maybe because he’d adopted….

Nope. Not thinking about this.

“And he lets you run around with the bats?” Jason asked, finally crossing back over to Tim and slamming the first aid kit down on the coffee table.

Tim jumped, but then scowled at Jason and said, “It’s not like he can stop me.”

“Seriously, kid?”

“Look. It’s none of your business. Are you gonna let me go?”

In that state? Not bloody likely.

But instead of say that, and get Robin all fighty again, Jason said, “I’m not keeping you prisoner, but let me look at your injuries.”

Tim rolled his eyes, but sank back down into the couch and mumbled, “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Jason said, pointing toward the stomach Tim was still clutching, “lemme see.”

It took a second of Tim glaring, but he finally relented and lifted his shirt, and Jason could only wince in sympathy.

“Damn, Timbo,” he said, looking at the criss crossing scorch marks littering his abdomen, “Those look fun. I’ve got some burn cream that should help.”

Jason worked on Tim’s injuries in silence for a good ten minutes. He had so many burns, Jason kind of wanted to go back and shoot Joker in the ass again, just for inflicting them.

And maybe go find Bruce and shoot him in the ass, for leaving Tim all alone for this to happen in the first place.

“That one needs stitches,” Jason said, after he’d pulled Tim’s sleeves up, inspecting his arms for any more burns to treat. Instead, he found a jagged knife wound, that was still oozing a little. “Did you think you could hide it from me?”

Tim pulled his arm closer to himself, and mumbled, “S’not that bad.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and pulled out his suture kit. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Amazingly, Tim didn’t fight him at all, when he took his arm back and started cleaning the wound enough so he could apply the local anesthetic and start stitching it up.

Instead, all Tim did was stare at him, a little blankly.

It was actually unnerving.

“What?” he snapped.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you,” Jason scoffed, readjusting his hold on Tim’s arm so he could get the last few stitches in straight, “I’m not letting Joker kill another Robin.”

And, sure. Stitching the kid up and treating all his burns was going a little above and beyond.

But Jason would feel a little bad if he, like, bled to death or whatever.

“Yeah,” Tim said, blinking hard as he ran his free hand through his hair, “But like, you coulda just took him out and left. Why’re you— ow.”

“Whoops,” Jason said, bearing his teeth a little as he grinned at the accidental needle prick he gave Tim outside the numbed area, “Are you seriously complaining? Don’t you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

Tim was rich, wasn’t he? Weren’t they taught that shit, too?

Jason was pretty sure Bruce never let him be ungrateful about gifts. Not that Jason would, of course. But even Bruce Wayne taught his kids to be thankful for what they had…

Then again. Tim apparently wasn’t Bruce’s kid…

“When that gift horse tries to kill us every other week, no,” Tim said.

“Shut up,” Jason scoffed, “I haven’t messed with you idiots in months.”

Which was, absolutely, completely, 89% true.

He hadn’t attempted anything fatal on them in months. Fucked with their cases for the laughs? Maybe.

Mostly just Bruce’s. When it didn’t get anyone hurt, of course.

Just because it was fun to fuck with Bruce.

Because fuck Bruce.

“Yeah, but— ow.”

Jason might have stabbed him again.

“All done,” he said, before Tim could get out whatever it was he was going to protest, “Congratulations, you’ll survive. You can sleep here. I’m burning the safe house tomorrow, though.”

He’d shot the TV. So it was pretty useless now, anyway.

“Next time you get captured by the Joker, I’m shooting you in the ass, got it?”

“Yeah,” Tim said, rolling his eyes as he settled back on the couch a little more comfortably, “Whatever.”

Jason watched as Tim pulled his legs up and clearly just… collapsed there. To sleep. And rolled his eyes even harder.

Like that would be comfortable.

On his way to the window, after he’d put his helmet back on, Jason grabbed the blanket and pillow from under the coffee table and threw it right at Tim’s head.

Tim scowled, but did readjust himself so he looked at least slightly more comfortable.

Satisfied, Jason nodded and said, “Kay. Tell Bats I said fuck him. Later, squirt.”

“Thanks, Jason,” Tim mumbled, just as Jason was slipping out of the window.

Heh. The runt wasn’t so bad, after all.

Maybe.

But Jason was not going to make a habit of this. No way.

If he did, he’d have to go shoot Batman in the ass, for letting his stupid little Robin get hurt.

That would be fun, actually.

[warriorsofsplatsville]

The clean up for Wahoo World wasn't pretty. The rebel Salmonid army left a distasteful green ooze coating the grounds of the park, but working together with the janitorial force of the amusement park, it was quick work.

"Nice job out there, Agent Three!" Jesse walked up to Mirage and gave them a hefty pat on their shoulder. "There are some damages to the park, so it'll be closed for a few days more, but other than that, it's been successfully defended with little injuries and zero casualties! So it's a job well done in my book!"

"Yeah, good." Mirage stretched. "We've been fighting for three days straight. I'm sore and I wanna eat something and go to bed."

"Don't worry, we're gonna let you guys take a vacation after all that hard work." He chuckled.

"Heeeeyy! When's MY break, Captain?!"

Jesse turned around, gasping a little. "H-Hey! You came!"

"Who?" Mirage looked over him to see who he was talking to.

"Keeping busy in the Splatlands, Jesse?" The pink squid laughed, approaching the two. "You hardly have any time to say hello to us!"

"Yeah, being Captain is hard work! I can't run back and forth between the desert and the city, you know! It's pretty far away!"

"Oho? Who's the new kid?" She walked to Mirage, leaning over slightly and scratching her chin while examining them. "Is this the one that you were penning me about? The one that's also royalty? Nice to meet ya!"

"Who are you??"

"Agent E. But everyone just calls me by my actual name, Emmy."

"E-Emmy?!" Mirage coughed, choking on the air they were just breathing. "Like- the famous Turf War player?! You're an agent?!"

"Wooow, sounds like I'm famous even out of town! I'm honored!!" She chirped. "Yep, same gal. Emmy Castellia, turf player and expert dualies main."

Then that means this is also Minu's grandmother in the future... Mirage gulped. Just from a quick glance around, Minu knew that as well: she was nowhere to be seen.

"This is the new Agent Three, Em." Jesse explained. "They're doing pretty well given they only joined us two months ago."

"Heh, I can see! Keep up the good work, kiddo! Cod, reminds me of the good old days. I remember being fifteen and doing agent work..."

"I guess you're inspecting, Emmy?" Jesse asked.

"Yep. Gotta file a report about this back at the cabin. If this turns into a repeat incident, we're gonna need references on it later." She nodded. "I have Theo and Octa doing rounds around the shoreline right now to make sure they're gone-gone."

"Thanks, Em...say, do you think you lot would be up to have a meal with us after? I'm sure all my agents are starving."

"Oh, yeah! I can ask Pris to get us a reservation at Stan's restaurant. He'd appreciate the business." She pulled out her smartphone. "Plus, I wanna get to know the new agent better! I can't wait to pry you open and see what you can offer!"

"Uh..."

"The job gets easier the more missions you go on. Trust me! Now let's get everyone into some clean clothes and out of here, I brought a ton of spares. Figure you might need them..." She held her nose.

"Yeah, thanks Emmy." Jesse laughed sheepishly.

[cherryyharryy]

i have an idea for a request (it’s totally ok if you don’t want to do it) like an angst-> fluff where one of harry’s songs accidentally gets leaked bc of y/n like she has something on a flash drive and the song is on another and they get mixed up and obviously he’s really mad at y/n and they have a fight he’s super snappy with her but something happens to her like she gets into a really big accidental or something and he forgives her bc he cares about her more tha the leaked song

WC: 2.7k

***

Damage control wasn’t even an option. 

Y/n sat there, staring at Harry’s laptop, numb to everything except the blaring desire to go back in time just two minutes. Two minutes is all she would need to undo possibly the biggest screwup of her life.

And the worst part is that this mistake ultimately doesn’t affect her. At least not in comparison to how it will affect Harry. And his band. And his team. Basically everyone involved with his career. 

Her mind is equally begging for her to shut down and come up with a plan—an excuse—something, Is there anyway this wasn’t my fault?  

She checks the time, her heart sinking to her stomach when she realizes Harry and his team will be back any minute. Any minute and she’s done for.

They’ve only been together for five months, officially. She’s still new to most everyone. She’s that girl Harry’s dating.

“I told you he played in that movie.” Jeff’s voice echoes outside the studio. Y/n closes the laptop and prays for strength. 

“I have him confused with someone else.” Harry bustles through the door, a small crowd of people filing in behind him, back to the spots they left an hour ago. “Hey darling,” he greets, “finish your paper?”

Y/n’s frozen, morbidly wishing he had found out about his song leaking on his own so she wouldn’t have to tell him. “Uh, almost.”

He kisses the top of her head and hands her a cup of frozen yogurt. “Your favorite.” 

“Thanks.” She sets it on the table she’s sat at while Harry pulls up a chair beside her. “Aren’t you guys still working?”

He waves in the direction of his band, “Mitch’s gotta fix his guitar.” He snickers, and slides his laptop out from under y/n’s hands. “Had a bit of an accident in the car.” 

Y/n’s head tingles with what must be nerve damage, her place in this world, her place in this room, decreasing in value as Harry opens his computer.

“It’s gonna melt.” He nods to her yogurt.

“I’m not hungry.”

He furrows his brow. “You alright?”

“Mhm.” She looks around the room, everyone busy getting back to work, light chatter passing among them. “Uh, actually, I uh, I have to tell you something.” Y/n tries to swallow the lump in her throat with no luck.

“Okay…” He shuts the laptop and gives her his full attention.

“Okay, um—”

“What the fuck!?” The room freezes as everyone turns toward Jeff. “Harry someone’s got a hold of your song!” 

Harry scrambles to his manager, complete shock on his face as they both stare down at Jeff’s phone. “Fuck.” They start to play a video, the sound of a girl screaming, with Harry’s unconsented voice playing in the background, fills the room. “How the hell did this happen?” He’s gritting through his teeth, neck red, veins bulging in his hands as he rips the phone out of Jeff’s hand. “HOW? Someone answer me!”

Y/N considers keeping quiet. Playing innocent. What good will it do to confess anyway? It’s not like it’ll undo what she’s done.

Sarah chimes in from across the room, “It looks like it happened half an hour ago. That’s when this video I’m looking at was posted.”

Y/n’s staring down at her lap, holding her head up with her fingers pressed into her temples when Harry slings himself back into the chair next to her.

“All that work, all that fucking work,” he nearly growls, “for some cunt to spread my unfinished song around for a buck.”

Y/n peers up to the room, a completely different picture compared to five minutes ago. Now there’s talk of lawyers and pressing charges while everyone shuffles around. Jeff slams the door as he steps out with his phone to his ear, and y/n knows she can’t claim denial, it’ll only make things worse.

“Uh, Harry?”

“What is it?” He doesn’t look at her, eyes glaring at his phone while another video plays of a group of people reacting to his song. “Glad they fucking like it.”

“Harry?”

“What, y/n?”

She shrinks under his gaze, mouth dry as she forces her confession out. “I uh, this is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll do anything—I know I can’t fix it—but...”

Harry’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing in on her as a morbid silence forms a little bubble around them. “Go on,” he whispers with grit, “finish what you were gonna say.”

She stutters, desperately trying to figure him out. “I’m just sorry. It was an accident.”

“An accident? How did you even manage to do this?”

“I—”

“Do you have any idea what this accident means, y/n?”

She reluctantly shakes her head no.

“How the fuck did you do this?”

“I—I don’t know...I was taking a break from my paper, and, I don’t know Harry.” She’s in tears now, warm and salty as they spill down her cheeks. Her mouth wobbles around another apology, but no sounds make it out.

“Fix it.”

“What?”

He stands up, yanking his laptop off the table, pausing to glare at her one last time. “I said, to fix it.” With that he storms across the room, slinging the door open just as Jeff reenters.

“Harry, your attorney—”

“Forget it.” He turns around and points his phone towards y/n silently sobbing in the corner. “She’s gonna handle it.” He takes one step out into the hall and stops, spinning on his heels to face the studio. “Don’t speak to me until you do.”

Mitch’s guitar that was fixed and propped against the wall, crashes to the floor when Harry slams the door. 

Chatter passes around the room one more time, only now everyone seems to be in agreeance—that girl never should have been allowed in the studio, and maybe, Harry should break up with her.

***

Early morning rain fell outside Harry’s apartment. It was still dark, street lamps burning through the fog in the city below. His home fills with coffee as he pours his fifth cup; the prior four never offering more than a few sips before he had abandoned them somewhere, the counter, mantle, bookshelf, because he can’t talk without his hands.

Y/n sits on his couch. It’s velvet and pink and too big for one person. She hated it the first time he invited her over. If he breaks up with her, she’s going to tell him how ugly it is.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do.” She’s exhausted. She hadn’t hesitated to drive over when he finally responded to one of her hundreds of texts in the week since the mishap. But now she regrets it. They’ve been going in circles with the same argument for the past four hours. She’s convinced he invited her over just to be mean. She sighs, rubbing her temples. “I said I was sorry. You know that I’m sorry. And you know that I never, ever in a million years, would have done something like this on purpose.”

“I’m allowed to be angry with you. I have every right to be.”

“Do you, though?” She straightens up on his ugly couch and looks at him leaning against the doorframe that leads into the kitchen. “Aren’t you a little tired of hating me? God Harry, everyone else in the whole world has moved on except you.”

“It’s not everyone else’s song, is it? It’s not everyone else’s months and months of hard work. It’s not everyone else’s unfinished art? Nobody else is having to deal with a girlfriend that is so careless, so thoughtless, that she actually managed to leak my song!”

“Stop raising your voice at me!”

“You had no business snooping around my computer anyway! I told you you could work on your fucking paper, not to go prying around my personal shit!”

“You know what,” she scoffs, shooting up off the couch, “this argument is so pointless. You didn’t want me here so we could talk. You just wanted to torture me because you’re mad that people don’t love your stupid song.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

She brushes his shoulder as she passes by him, and a drip of his coffee spills onto his hand. He curses, and follows her into the kitchen where he lays his final cup down on the island.

“You’re being a baby because people aren’t fawning over you like they usually do.” She shrugs and slings her bag over her shoulder. “It’s not your best song, Harry.”

The veins in his neck strain against his flaming skin. His cheeks are sucked in, and if he bites down on the skin any harder he’ll puncture his face. “Get the fuck out.”

“I was already leaving, dumb ass.” She strides by him once more, practically feeling the heat steaming off his body. When she gets to the front door, she pauses with her hand on the knob. “Your couch is hideous, by the way. Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you have to buy shitty looking stuff.”

When she slams the door behind her, the apartment shakes, and cold coffee spills from each cup.

***

It’s nearing five a.m. when y/n backs out of the complex. Her wipers race across the windshield, but do nothing against the downpour wreaking havoc in the city. She does her best to stay on what she assumes is her side of the road, swerving to the right each time headlights blind her.

“Shit.” Nothing is open, and she can’t even see where it would be safe to pull over to let the rain pass. But her home isn’t that far, and traffic isn’t too bad. 

She comes to a stop at a red light, only to realize she missed a left turn she should’ve made a minute ago. “Damn it. Fucking hell.”

As soon as the light turns green, she spins the wheel to make a U-turn, and if it hadn’t been for the rain, and her own clouded mind, and Harry’s voice echoing in her ears, she might have seen the truck who didn’t even try to avoid her.

***

It’s the headache from hell that wakes her up. And it’s the sterile smell of hospital that jogs her memory. And it’s a nurse not much older than y/n that says something about you’re lucky to be alive. 

She’s poked and prodded and asked a thousand questions before her IV is adjusted and a pill to ease one of the many pains scratching her body is handed to her in a small plastic cup. A police officer repeats half of this process, and somewhere in the mess of her reality, she learns that the other driver was sending a text to his wife when he plowed into her car. He’s at home and she’s here. Lucky to be alive.

She made calls to her mom and friends, and even managed to type out a decent email to her professors for her upcoming absence in class.

When she automatically pulled up Harry’s name on her phone, the last text he sent, the one inviting her over so he could make her more miserable than she already was, sat there in all its taunting glory.

What is she even supposed to say? Hey, I know you hate my existence right now, but I’m lying here in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around my head. It’d be cool if you stopped by.

It’s not long before the sun pops up and reminds y/n of just how early it is. The clouds part, and it’s like it had never even rained, like it had never even been dark for hours, and if she closes her eyes, y/n can pretend that the past week hadn’t even happened.

***

 “How are you feeling today?” The nurse checks y/n’s IV, humming after her question.

“Just sore. Ready to get out of here.”

“We’ve started the paperwork, so shouldn’t be too long. Who’s coming to get you?”

Y/n blinks, feeling stupid she hadn’t thought this far ahead. She doesn’t even have a car anymore. The nurse looks over the computer monitor, waiting for a response.

“Uh, my friend.”

“Awesome. Dr. Kirby has to come check on you one last time before you leave. I’ll go see if he can stop by now, if you want to let your friend know.”

As soon as the nurse is out the door, y/n scrambles to turn her phone back on, and once it is, her lock screen is filled with missed calls and unanswered texts.

She’ll respond later; gives her something to do in the car to occupy her in front of Harry. 

She can’t call him. Harry’s not a monster, although the past week doesn’t exactly prove her case, but she knows he wouldn’t refuse to come get her. If anything, he’ll be annoyed she didn’t tell him about the accident sooner. But she’s too emotional to deal with hearing his voice.

She types out a text recounting her last 24 hours, along with the name of the hospital. He immediately reads it, and a moment later he’s trying to call.

To: Harry

I’m too tired to talk rn

She lies. And it works.

From: Harry

I’ll be there as fast as i can

***

“Baby?”

Y/n cracks her eyes open, irritated she never quite fell asleep. Confused as to why Harry’s calling her baby. Angry that she cares. And the next words out of his mouth are ones she’d been predicting.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve dropped everything. You’ve been here all alone, shit. Are you okay? What hurts?”

He’s hovering over her, fidgeting, unsure if he can touch her.

“I’m fine now. Just sore. And tired.”

“Fuck I can’t believe this, I—”

“The doctor already said I can go. I’m not allowed to walk out on my own, so, you need to let the nurse know you’re here. She’ll take me down in a wheelchair.”

“Baby I’m so sorry-”

“No, Harry. You would still be busy hating my guts right now—”

“Hate you? I don’t hate you?”

“Well you did a great job this week making me feel otherwise.”

Harry sighs, gripping the bed frame and dropping his chin to his chest. When he looks back up he has tears brimming his eyes. “I’m sorry,” his voice cracks. “I know I’ve been an ass this week. I—you were right. I took out my anger from no one lovin’ the song on you.”

“Well it’s not no one. A lot of people did. And it’s unfinished anyway. You wouldn’t enjoy a meal if it was only cooked halfway.”

He nods, but y/n knows he’s only accepting her words because of the situation.

“You mean so much more to me than a leaked song. I’m sorry I treated you like shit. And that I—I made you think I hated you. You have every right to hate me.”

“You annoy the hell out of me, but I don’t hate you.”

His lips twitch, but a few tears slide down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She takes his hand off the rail and smoothes her thumb across his knuckles. “You can make it up to me by getting me out of here.”

“I can do that.” He kisses the top of her head and hits the remote to call for the nurse.

“You can really kiss me, y’know. I’m not gonna break.”

He’s hesitant, but slowly lowers his head to press his lips to hers. He’s timid, and his lips are still damp from tears, but it’s more relieving than either of them would ever admit.

The nurse ends their moment when she pops in the room, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. “Hi, you must be y/n’s friend.”

“Friend?” He peers down at y/n, suggestion lacing the word. “Care to explain?”

“Not really, I’m so tired.”

“Mhm.” He clicks his tongue, supporting her arm as she swings her legs off the bed. Once she’s standing and steady, he tucks her hair behind her ear and bends down so his mouth can graze her lobe. “Since we’re just friends, I guess you’ll have to sleep on my ugly couch.”