#and with the most world weary air he was like I Don't Really Like The Mountain Goats

[chronotopes]

i'm just thinking about professional wrestling now instead of work OR redemption arc discourse

[hijackalx]

PRICE OF WIT +18

(tumblr vers.)

SUMMARY: Astarion can be so mean sometimes, but he swears he can make it up to you.

WORD COUNT: 1788

UNDER THE CUT: F!Reader, dom!astarion, VERY sub reader, make-up sex (kinda?), YALL ARE TOXIC AF TOGETHER, mean!astarion, possessive!astarion, praise, choking, biting, sadism and masochism, small mention of gale being a pervert lol

A/N: reworked this to be in second person, and also edited it since the AO3 version did not get that kind of love 💀 some lines/paragraphs have been changed. also this was originally written with act I/act II astarion in mind but i guess it works for ascended astarion too.

"NO! LET ME GO!"

Intelligent with a silver tongue to boot, Astarion can work his way through and into almost any circumstances he desires.

"I HATE YOU!"

A quick way out of a sticky situation? Got it. A smooth approach into a pleasurable one? No doubt. The world is his for the taking.

"I HATE YOU!"

Except for when it's not.

Sometimes his mouth moves faster than his brain. He occasionally says something a little too harsh, a little too cold— ice cold, and it doesn't matter how much or how little he means it, it still hurts.

Wit has a price, it seems.

You claw and shriek in his grasp. You didn't get far before he managed to wrap his arms around you and stop you from disappearing to who knows where. He winces as your fingernails dig into the skin of his forearms. He succeeds in grabbing your wrists and folding them against your body, trapping you against his chest.

"You're acting like a child!" He shouts through an exhausted growl as you continue to resist his hold.

He knows what he said was wrong— it was a snarky slip of the tongue. But you stormed off before he could apologize, so who's really the problem here?

The fire glows and crackles in the crisp night air, accompanied by Gale and Karlach, whose meals have been so rudely interrupted by your shrill screams. Although, they watch the tussle unfazed. This wouldn't be the first time you and him have had a peace-disrupting argument.

"They're the most immature people I've ever met," Karlach takes a bite of her turkey leg, her tone more irritated than anything. "No good for each other, those two."

Gale watches how you kick up dust and dirt just outside of Astarion's tent. He'd only heard pieces of what led to this as you spoke behind the fabric; some kind of complaint by Astarion that has clearly been taken to heart. Sighing, he meets Karlach's eyes, their shared gaze molding into apprehensive weariness.

"Well," he mutters into a lamb chop, "looks like we're in for another sleepless night."

"I love you, I love you, I love you—" your softly whimpered phrase is the only sound to be heard after the camp has settled in their bedrolls for the night.

All Astarion had to do was guide you back into his tent and successfully lay you down. After that, you were more willing to hear him out.

Your bodies are bathed in the gentle lantern light, your back pressed firmly to his bedding and your legs wrapped around his waist. He intertwines your fingers as he steadies your hands above your head. Soft, white locks tickle your cheek as he nuzzles into your neck, his teeth teasing at the skin every so often.

His pace is rhythmical but rough, his hips flush between your legs as he aims for your cervix— his favorite spot. He loves the way you writhe and try to push him away while pleading for more. The way your heels press into his back, how your voice breaks while you call out for him.

"I've got you, sweetheart," his exhales are hot against your skin.

His hand slips down to pinch your side after hearing you stifle a moan, a quick but effective reprimand. You squeak at how he cruelly twists the flesh, your abdomen tensing.

"Don't hold back," he scolds, and you catch how his brows lower in the corner of your eye. Your modesty has offended him.

You screw your eyes shut, mustering up the ability to speak clearly. "T-they'll hear," you blurt out. It's only fair to be considerate to your fellow party members— or at least try to.

Your response makes him laugh, and this time you're the one scrunching your brows. You don't understand what's so amusing until he says, "You wouldn't want to deprive Gale of his own pleasures, would you?"

You go entirely rigid, your face dropping slightly at how sure he sounds.

Questionably, he sits up to examine you, immediately noticing your change in expression. "What?" He asks. "Don't tell me you didn't know?"

Eyes wide and cheeks flushed a deep red, you stare up at him speechlessly. What he's implying is that... gale has been... touching himself while you and him are together?

How perverse.

He coos, squeezing your cheek and giving it a shake. "You're so cute." His condescending tone doesn't make you want to smack him in the face, strangely enough. In fact, you think you might like it judging by the way your stomach turns.

You take a moment to recover from the thought of your private acts not being so private. Noticing this, he balances his hands on the ground beside you, then pulls out before fully sheathing himself again with a fast, hard thrust. Your body jolts like it's been injured, and you can't hold back your yelp. His features are nothing short of devilish upon hearing the sound.

Sometimes he likes to be mean— but sometimes you like to let him.

"I quite like... the idea... actually," he says through breaths while he fucks you, his half-lidded gaze watching how your tits bounce. Leaning down, he begins to leave a trail of bite marks over your chest, each one he soothes with a gentle kiss as if to say 'sorry'. "Imagining Gale all alone—" another bite, another kiss. "—Wishing he were half as lucky as me."

He groans as your hands twitch and grip at his hair. Your back arches off the ground, and he runs a slightly calloused palm over the newly exposed area, tracing the curve of your body.

"Astarion," you say so weakly, so needy. He can't help letting a moan slip at how his name sounds coming from your mouth.

You're close, he can feel it. It's the way you tremble, the way you can't get close enough to him— wanting him deeper, harder, more, more— You're a greedy little thing, but he adores it. He adores you. How couldn't he give you anything and everything you want?

He sits up, his lustful stare heavy and thick as he peers down his nose at you.

You lift your chin as his hand wraps around your neck, allowing him all the access he wants. He begins to squeeze, your smaller fingers prying at his grip.

"You're mine," he watches intently as you squirm under his unwavering stare, his face still and emotionless. "Say it to me."

"I'm yours," you say readily, feeling your heart skip a beat when the corners of his mouth almost split into a proud grin.

"Tell me you won't try to run away again." His hold tightens.

"I-I won't. I won't leave you," you choke out. That's what you told him last time and the time before that. Just as your head begins to feel light and your eyelids heavy, your body buzzes and jerks with an orgasm.

He releases you so he can watch your full reaction; how you writhe and reach for him, how the hands scraping at his chest plead to close the distance between your bodies.

Tears slip down the corners of your eyes— maybe from pleasure, maybe not. He could hold you, but something inside tells him no. It's almost as if to serve as punishment for trying to run off.

Believe him, he doesn't want to punish his baby. But sometimes it's necessary.

Once your high dies down and you're left a heaving, exhausted mess, he grabs one of your limp hands and leaves a kiss on each fingertip. "Ooh," his thumb rubs your palm. "That was a good one."

You know very well that you're not finished. Luckily, he's kind enough to get you off first, even when he's upset with you. He's considerate where it counts, of course.

Or maybe he loves how much he can undo you with a second orgasm.

He caresses your face while you catch your breath. You lean into his touch, almost petting yourself. His undead palm is cold yet gentle, and you somehow find comfort in it. Your eyelids flutter closed.

"You're doing so good for me," he praises softly, his tone no louder than a murmur. "You can go a bit longer, can't you?"

He speaks tenderly and sweet, making your pulse beat even faster. "For me, darling?" He asks as if it's even a question— as if he doesn't know the answer.

Your body aches, worn and tired, yet you nod with eagerness. Anything, you think in your euphoric, fucked-out daze, anything for you.

There are times when you can't stand him, when he's the worst person in the world— but those only emphasize the times when he's the only person in the world; times when he makes you feel warm and loved, and so, so good.

Like when he nears his own orgasm and wraps his arms around you so tight, so close. He holds you like you're the dearest thing he's ever had, your skin pressed together like you're afraid to part.

And he fucks you so good you'll forget the nasty things he says and does, if only until the next time. For now, the way his breaths shake and his muscles contract in yearning— in need, is distracting enough.

"Fuck—" a word you'll rarely, if ever, hear him say. Too vulgar for his tastes, except for when he loses his ability to keep his composure. "Fuck," he hisses again as he thrusts into you, almost hard enough to lift your hips from the ground.

Before you know it, his teeth are sinking deep into the flesh of your neck. You gasp loudly, tangling your fingers in his curls. He stifles his moans by lapping up the crimson leaking from your puncture wounds, finishing inside you simultaneously.

Between the sounds of him reaching his climax and the bite, it's enough to push you over the edge a second time. Extra sensitive, your body reacts more violently than before. Your nails claw and tear at his back, leaving scratches through the maze of scars. The newly raised lines disfigure the old, tiny pools of blood rising to the top— a gentle reminder of your presence compared to his preferred methods.

"That's it, there you go," he pulls away breathlessly, making sure to use slow, flat sweeps of his tongue to clean up the mess he's made. The smeared red on your neck is licked away into a mere stain.

Your bodies finally ease into stillness. Exhausted, he rests his weight on top of you. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, eyes shut as you hold him.

Your lips press softly to his shoulder, your head lying against his. The heavy exhales between you alternate, your chests rising and falling deeply until they progress into something more controlled.

Though out of each other's lines of sight, you share the same troubled expression, your brows furrowed and lips pulled into frowns.

There's a long, silent moment of recuperation before he mutters into your ear,

“I love you."

[angstasff]

Remember Me Pt.1

🕸an: I'm backk, and what if I told you this came to be when speaking to a Peter Parker Ai Bot... anyways! Part 2 is in the works already, and tbh I don't know how many parts this may be. also gif creds to @mercurysstars

🕸Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

🕸Genre: ANGST, fluff (later)

🕸CW: parent death, no way home ending, kinda not exactlycanon I think

🕸Word Count: 2K

🕸Summary: After Dr. Strange did his memory erasing," the estranged daughter of Tony Stark, discovers she's the only one who remembers Peter Parker. In an attempt to restore their friend's memory of Peter, Peter and Y/n grow closer, but how long can her memory of him really last?

∘․‧₊˚✩彡🕸🕷🕸彡✩∘․‧₊˚∘․‧₊˚✩彡🕸🕷🕸彡✩∘․‧₊˚∘․‧₊˚✩彡

In the heart of New York City, amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life, there was a small diner tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It was a place where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of sizzling bacon, and where the clatter of dishes and the hum of conversation filled the air.

It was here, in this unassuming diner, that y/n had started working as a waitress, weaving her way through the crowded tables every weekend. She had started working there part-time, while in high school, to help pay for her hopeful future at MIT, taking orders and serving up plates of comfort food to the weary souls who found solace in the diner's welcoming embrace.

It was minutes before she could clock out, and y/n had been wiping down the counter, lost in her own thoughts when the door swung open and a familiar figure stepped inside.

Tony Stark, billionaire playboy and renowned inventor, sauntered into the diner with all the confidence and composure of a man who owned the world. He was clad in a sleek suit that cost more than most people's monthly rent, his dark hair tousled and his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/n was confused and nervous. She had seen Tony Stark in the headlines countless times, his face plastered across magazine covers and news articles, but she had never imagined she would encounter him in person, let alone in a place like this.

Tony approached the counter with purposeful strides, his gaze fixed on y/n with a piercing intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "You must be Y/n," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. "I've heard good things about you."

Y/n blinked in surprise, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. 

"I, uh, yes, that's me," y/n stammered, her cheeks flushing with heat. "What can I get for you, Mr. Stark?"

Tony flashed her a curt smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Just Tony is fine," he said, leaning against the counter with casual ease. "I'm here on business, actually. I've been keeping an eye on you, y/n. You're smart, you're capable, and you've got a gift that most people can only dream of."

Y/n's brow furrowed in confusion, her mind racing to catch up with the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Tony's smile faded, replaced by a steely resolve that sent a shiver down y/n's spine. "I want to offer you a job," he said, his voice low and intense. "A job at Stark Industries, working alongside some of the brightest minds in the world. You'll have access to resources and opportunities that most people can only dream of."

Y/n's eyes widened in disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest. A job at Stark Industries? It was an offer she couldn't refuse, a chance to escape the drudgery of her mundane existence and step into a world of limitless possibilities. But what about MIT?

But as she stared into Tony's piercing gaze, a nagging thought tugged at the edges of her consciousness—a question she had been too afraid to ask, too afraid to confront.

"I have been saving up for months to be able to get into MIT, Why me, Why now?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Tony's expression softened, a hint of sadness flickering behind his eyes. "Because you're special, Y/n," he said simply. "More special than you realize."

And with those words hanging in the air between them, Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope, sealed with the emblem of Stark Industries. He placed it gently in y/n's outstretched hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"Think about it, Y/n," he said, his voice soft but firm. "And when you're ready, give me a call. I'll be waiting."

And with that, Tony Stark turned and strode out of the diner, leaving y/n standing there in stunned silence, clutching the envelope in her trembling hands.

When she got home later that night, when y/n was alone in her apartment, she mustered the courage to open the envelope and read the letter inside. And as she poured over the words on the page, her heart pounding with excitement and trepidation, she realized the truth that had been staring her in the face all along.

Tony Stark was her father.

The revelation hit her like a thunderbolt, shaking her to her core as she struggled to come to terms with the enormity of it all. Her born from accidental pregnancy? She had always wondered who her father was but could have never imagined she was the daughter of the legendary Tony Stark.

But as she stared down at the letter in her hands, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. The strange sensations that had plagued her for years, the memories that seemed to linger just beyond the edges of her consciousness—they all made sense now.

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Y/n Stark stood before the towering window of her penthouse apartment, the panoramic view of New York City sprawled out before her like a glittering tapestry. The fading rays of the setting sun bathed the skyline in a warm, golden light, casting long shadows across the urban landscape. From her vantage point high above the bustling streets, y/n could see the city pulsating with life, the steady flow of traffic like blood coursing through the veins of a living organism. It has been two years since Tony died, and she is still left with so many questions about herself unanswered. 

Before Tony had died, he confessed to her, her real lineage. Her mother was not her mother. Her mother is dead and died when she was little. Tony revealed who your mother was. It was all too much. Of course, y/n believed him so he showed her. An image of her mother, and in an instant memories resurfaced.

In the faded image, y/n saw herself as a young child, cradled in the arms of a woman whose face was obscured by the passage of time. But it wasn't the identity of the woman that caught y/n's attention—it was the glint of recognition in her own eyes, a spark of familiarity that sent a shiver down her spine.

She remembered a time when she had been just a young girl, no older than five or six, playing alone in the sprawling gardens of the Stark mansion. The sun had been shining, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow across the lush greenery, and y/n had been lost in a world of her own imagination.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she had seen something—a flash of movement, a figure lurking in the shadows. Intrigued, she had followed the mysterious presence, her curiosity leading her deeper into the labyrinthine maze of hedges and shrubbery.

And that's when she had found her—her mother, standing amidst a grove of ancient trees, her hands outstretched toward the heavens as if invoking some unseen power. Y/n had watched in awe as her mother's form seemed to blur and shimmer as if she were weaving a spell of magic that transcended the boundaries of reality itself.

At that moment, y/n had felt a surge of energy course through her veins, a tingling sensation that left her feeling both exhilarated and afraid. It was as if her very essence had been infused with the power of the universe, awakening something dormant and long-forgotten within her soul.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment had passed. Her mother had turned to face her, her eyes shining with a mixture of love and sorrow, before fading away like a wisp of smoke on the wind.

But the memory had lingered, etched into the fabric of y/n's consciousness like a scar on her soul.

Hours were spent conducting experiments and research, exploring the limits of y/n's abilities, and pushing the boundaries of what was possible. But as the days turned into weeks, and Tony became increasingly preoccupied with other matters, their investigations were pushed to the side, left unfinished and unresolved.

And now, with Tony Stark gone and y/n left to grapple with the truth on her own, she was faced with more questions than answers. What was the true extent of her powers? How had she come to possess them in the first place? And what did it all mean for her future?

The truth is that it didn’t matter. Tony was gone, and she now was accepted into MIT, she had other things to worry about now. Well, at least that's what she thought until the “shift happened”.

It was morning, a week into winter break when she felt it—a strange, disorienting sensation that washed over her like a sudden gust of wind. It was as if the very air around her had shifted, leaving her feeling unmoored and adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

At first, y/n had dismissed it as nothing more than a trick of the mind, a fleeting moment of vertigo brought on by exhaustion or stress. But as days went by she knew something was terribly wrong. 

It all started when she turned on the TV and the channel "The Daily Fix" hosted by the nosy and annoying J. Jonah Jameson was on. Y/n didn’t care for the usual news but kept it on as she made her morning coffee. She was mid-coffee pour when she heard Jameson criticizing Spider-Man once again, claiming he was a coward for hiding his identity. But that didn’t make sense because he was just the one outing Peter Parker as Spider-Man, so how could his identity be hidden? It didn’t make sense, but honestly, she was too happy about her acceptance to look into it. In fact, that reminded her that she meant to gush to MJ about it.

Y/n called MJ, and they expressed their secret excitement for MIT.

"Ugh, the fall is going to be so fun, MJ. I literally can’t wait. Did you ever find out if Ned and Peter got in?"

"Oh yeah, Ned got in, but uh, who’s Peter?"

"Ha ha, very funny, MJ. Did you guys get in a fight or something?"

"No, what, Y/n?"

"Peter. Peter Parker. The nerdy guy you are like totally in love with…"

"Y/n, I don’t know what you are talking about, but I have to go. I’ll see you later. Be safe!"

"Uh, okay, bye, see you later."

Why is MJ acting like she doesn't know Peter? Y/n dialed Ned's number, her mind racing with questions and confusion. As the phone rang, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of her consciousness.

"Hey, Y/n, what's up?" Ned's voice crackled over the line, filled with warmth and familiarity.

"Ned, it's me," Y/n began, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I just talked to MJ, and she acted like she didn't know who Peter was. She said she doesn't remember him at all. Do you know what's going on?"

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.

“Peter?”

Y/n felt her heart drop.

“Ned, is this some kind of prank that you two are pulling on me? Cause it’s not funny, everything has been all weird lately and-”

“Y/n, I have no reason to prank you, I have no idea who Peter is.”

“Oh- Okay pretend I never asked, also congrats on MIT, I have to go but ill see you soon.”

“Okay see ya, I hope things get better!”

As y/n hung up the phone, her mind raced with a whirlwind of questions and confusion. Why did MJ and Ned act like they didn't know Peter? And what was going on with the strange shift she had felt in the air lately? The pieces of the puzzle refused to fit together, leaving her feeling more lost and bewildered than before. But amidst the chaos of her thoughts, one thing remained clear—she needed answers. And the only person who could provide them was Peter Parker himself.

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[live-laugh-lenney]

No bc george would be soooooo insanely protective over his baby girl, please do a story about george being sooo protective over his little baby girl ❤️❤️

oh, absolutely!

george adores her.

and he never thought he'd love anyone as much as he loved yn... until his little girl came into the world, with a healthy set of lungs on her, in the early hours of a friday morning. he felt his heart double in size at the sight of his girlfriend holding their newborn baby, in a hospital bed on the midwifery floor of a hospital located in just outside of the centre of london, and it was a sight he never wanted to forget.

from the moment they brought her home, snoozing in her carseat and tucked beneath a blanket with her name stitched into the corner, he was careful with everything he did; from the way he held her, to the way he laid her to sleep in her cot, to the way he picked her up, to the way he fed her. he kept a watchful eye on everyone that held her to make sure they held her correctly, informing them when he wasn't happy with how her head wasn't being supported correctly or how they were being too loud around her, and he was always very weary about those wanting to get a peek at her when they were out in the city of london... he wanted to keep her safe, wanted her to be okay, and his dad instincts were in full swing as soon as they were allowed home with her.

so when she got to the age where she was walking and, just about, talking... he was even more watchful than ever. especially when her favourite people were over.

for her second birthday, they threw her a mini birthday party in their back garden. with food, drinks and enough toys and games to keep everyone entertained and happy, and the weather managed to hold out for them, making it the most perfect day to celebrate.

"please don't throw her around like last time," george warns arthur as he stood there with his hands held up in surrender, "and don't claim you can't remember a thing. she had a big egg on her head for over a week."

"that wasn't strictly my fault," arthur insists and george rolls his eyes, "it wasn't! honest."

"george, leave him alone, for goodness sake. i'm sure he's still a bit traumatised by what happened," yn states, rounding the corner with their little girl on her hip and watching as her face lit up from where arthur was standing in the entryway of their home, "who's that, sweet girl? is that uncle television?"

"i really need a new nickname," arthur says, reaching forward and taking the toddler from her mother's hip which allowed yn the chance to move around much more easily, taking the extra weight from her side, "hello, mini clarkey."

"everyone's already here, in the garden, grab a chair from the dining room because we don't have enough out there," george closes the door as the three of them make their way through the house, aromas of meat cooking as well as spices and the smell of a barbecue filling the air, "don't go mucking around on the bouncy castle with her, too. yn insisted we had it for her birthday but i'm not so sure."

"a bouncy castle? that's a nightmare waiting to happen with us lot in the garden," arthur cackles and yn smirks in his direction, "get a few drinks in us and we'll be having more fun than the birthday girl."

george disappears into the garden, leaving yn and arthur standing in the kitchen, the toddler on his hip playing with the collar of his shirt as she wriggled on his hip.

"just ignore him, he's just being protective over her. another year has flown by."

"i'm not called funcle for nothing," arthur laughs and digs his fingers into the little girl's side, laughing when she giggled back at him, "shall we go play in the garden?"

"food will be ready soon, don't wear her out too much otherwise she'll fall asleep in her dinner."

"like father, like daughter," arthur jokes and yn snickers at him, "if you need help, give me a shout." xx

[elusivecagedmockingbird]

The Apartment We Won't Share

[jungkook x Y/N] [a part, but not necessarily a sequel to About You; 900+ words of pure what-ifs lol]

-

Rare are the days when the boys get a day off when touring across the world. Tonight was one of those rare, glorious days.

"Come on," Taehyung pleads for the nth time, "We rarely get to go out, and I've read tons of great reviews of this bar. We have to check it out before we leave for another city."

"Why don't you just go with Jimin?" Jungkook pouts, his tone weary and not in the mood to go out. While he usually instigates a night out of fun, something about the city air makes him feel low-spirited.

Ever since the plane landed, he felt a yearning tug on his heart. He was back in a familiar city, one that has been and (he believes) will always be his home. As they drove from hotel to venues and to restaurants, he sees a ghost of himself walking on the streets, standing on alleys he snuck into with you, and cozy small cafes you frequent to—silhouettes of youse by the windows. These were fond memories, yet he couldn't help but feel haunted by them.

He never really healed from your absence.

Tonight, Jungkook was in turmoil once again—though he thinks it's possible that their dry run earlier wore him down—a thought he considers only to console himself from the truth.

As they drove back to the hotel, he swore he saw you walking down the street. He forgot to breathe for a moment, and his neck craned to follow the image of you as it rounded the corner. It took everything in him to not jump out of the car and chase you—if that were really you. It has been so long since he has seen you. Sure, he stalked your socials from time to time, but you only posted a little of yourself.

Still, he believes he has your face memorized. Sometimes, he wonders—did you cut your hair short again despite vowing to never do so after a failed trip to the salon? Do you still wear the same sweet apple-flavored balm he loves to cheekily taste from your lips? Do you still wear the reading glasses he bought for you?

Truly, Jungkook wanted to explore and go out with his hyung, but he couldn't risk running into a memory that would most likely cause him to spiral again. Tonight was already proving to be tough for him.

Even so, Taehyung's unrelenting. "Jungkookie, it's been years. I think going out and creating new memories in this city will be good for you too."

"Hyung, I'm just really tired tonight from practice," he assures his brother. Though both of them knew he was lying through his teeth.

Jungkook hears Tae sigh.

"I'm still sending you the address in case you change your mind." Jungkook's phone pings as Taehyung leaves the room.

-

Staying in the hotel room alone with his thoughts was not ideal.

An hour after Taehyung left, Jungkook was tossing and turning in his bed, unable to fall asleep. Sighing in defeat, he checks the address Taehyung sent to him. It wasn't too far from the hotel, and at this time of the night, he doubted there would be crowds in the street.

Out for a walk—Jungkook sends the message to his manager and swiftly pulls the hood of his jacket as he leaves the room.

-

The familiar street greets Jungkook as he steps out. And even with his face mask blocking the breeze, the apples of his cheek and tips of his nose reddens from the cold night air.

He doesn't know for how long he walked. He thought he was going in the direction of the bar, but his feet, still familiar with the city, had its own mind and brought him here.

Home.

Well, what was supposed to be.

Trudging along the sidewalk, Jungkook nearly sobs at the familiar neighborhood. Just when he thought his heart couldn't break even more, it shatters at the remembrance of you and what could have been.

What you were building in this chaotic city. It was only until the dust settled that it became clear you were working on different things.

Jungkook stares at the apartment complex across the street. He counts the windows and floors until he reaches the thirteenth floor, sixth window. The lights are on, and by the balcony, are scattered dying potted cacti.

He wonders who lives up there now. He ruminates: What if he insisted on staying with you in this city? Would it be your thriving potted herbs instead on the balcony? Would you have chosen a white curtain instead of blinds for the windows?

A warmth spreads inside him at the remembrance of wanting to start a family with you here in the city. It's not ideal to raise a kid in New York, he remembers you saying, and he would just smile and agree. He didn't really care where you lived; the thought of you together and raising your kids was more than what he had asked for in this lifetime. He thought that was more than enough.

But now, Jungkook hopes he should have been greedier and more demanding. Then, the thought of marrying you would be a reality. If only he fought for you.

He tried—or at least he thinks he tried.

Breaking up and going your separate ways was never what either of you wanted, but you agreed it was needed. All those years together were never an assurance that you would take the same path as you grew. It was an agonizing lesson—full of tears and hearts shattering.

The street light flickers and buzzes, breaking Jungkook out of his pipe dream.

He hates this. He hates that all the memories he was left with are filled with longing. Even the once fond memories you shared are tainted with yearning. Nights like these, he wonders if your heart also aches for him.

He thinks his will never stop, even as time passes by, he will never recover from losing you.

-

About You

[zoeykallus]

Rex x F!Reader One-Shot - My Love

Warnings: Hurt/Mention Of Depression/Comfort/Fluff/Slightly Suggestive

AC: I just read a post from a mutual(?) here on tumblr, dated back a few days ago. It was so relatable, and I felt bad for not being able to really do much for her, but I didn't want to impose either. So I just wrote this, maybe she reads it, maybe not. Let's say I just leave this here for anyone who needs it, in hopes that it helps a little.

I know guys, I still have to work on many requests, I just felt like I should do this. Don't worry, I get back to working on your requests.

It's one of those days. Lack of motivation, feeling alone in the world, depression kicking your ass again. It feels like you're sitting in a deep, dark hole and somewhere far above, there's some light, and it's unreachable far away. To make matters worse, you've barely gotten to see Rex in the last few months, always just glimpses, barely time to really talk, let alone do anything else. Your fingers play with the pendant on the leather band you wear around your neck. Rex brought it back for you from one of his missions. A colorful reflective stone, blessed by a tribe of an alien planet on which he had been stationed for a time. Supposedly, this thing brings good luck, but lately you haven't been feeling much of it. You're supposed to be off today, but you're sitting in the canteen, your eyes wandering around the many familiar faces, hoping to find comfort in them, to create something like an illusion of Rex's presence. But it doesn't work, all you feel is this dull pressure in your chest, this heaviness in your limbs. You breathe in and out slowly, paying close attention to your breathing, trying to calm yourself, to find comfort in the regularity of your air intake. But your hand clenches around the stone on the leather band. Frustration joins all the other negative feelings.

A deep, soft voice behind you says, "What a sight for my weary eyes". You almost jump out of your skin in shock when you hear Rex. He steps around the table and sits down opposite to you. In public, you can't show your intimacy, your relationship, especially not here. Rex smiles, but his gaze becomes thoughtful, probing. "Rex?" you say softly, as if you're not sure if you're awake or dreaming. Rex's expression softens a bit as he says, "I've been looking all over for you. Today's your day off. What are you doing here?" You don't really know what to answer, you want to fall into his arms, you want to feel his warmth. But right now all you can do is look at him and talk to him in a whisper.

"You are really here" His brows go up in concern, and he says, "Meet me at the intersection of hangar B2 and B1, in five minutes." You look at him questioningly, but nod. You lack the energy to disagree. As Rex gets up and leaves the canteen, you look after him. Hell, you even love the way he walks, so upright, powerful, with a masculine, military elegance. And yet he walks differently than most of his brothers, but maybe you're just imagining it. Either way, Rex is special.

You wait a moment before getting up and slowly making your way. You wonder what he is up to, why he wants to meet you there. In fact, you'd much rather go home with him, really enjoy some time with him, but maybe he wouldn't be here for long again. You arrive at the intersection and look around, no Rex in sight. But someone grabs your shoulder and pulls you back. You don't even have time for a surprised exclamation, a gloved hand is immediately on your mouth. You are pulled into a storage room, the door slams shut. Before panic can really rise in you, you're spun around and looking into Rex's face. "What the hell-" He interrupts you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you gently but firmly into his embrace. He has his arm and breastplate off, you can feel his warm body directly through the fabric of his Blacks. You can't help it, a heavy, drawn-out sigh crosses your lips. It feels like something is escaping from you, something very dark. It's clutching, even on its way out of you, tears painful grooves as it tries to desperately claw its way back in, as if it is alive and aware, trying to hold on to you.

A slight tremor goes through your body as your weakened state of mind fights back with the last of its strength and, with the support of Rex's embrace, finally driving the sinister monster away. At first, you're completely stiff, every muscle taut, then it feels like you're going to slump, but Rex holds you upright in his embrace. Your arms eventually wrap around him as well, your fingers digging into the fabric of his blacks at his back. You take long, deep breaths, taking in his closeness, the warmth of his body against yours. Tears well up in your eyes, you're not yet sure if it's relief or frustration, maybe both. He emphasizes his embrace and hums softly, "It's okay, don't hold back, let it out." You blink and the first tears fall, a quiet sob. Rex gently cradles you in his embrace. "Oh my darling, I've been gone so long, barely had time for you. I wish I could have been here sooner," he says in a husky voice. "Me too," you say softly, barely more than a trembling whisper. He coos tenderly as he turns gentle circles on your back with his hand, "But now I'm here for you. I have a few days off, finally. And I plan to spend every free second with you."

Another sob comes out of your throat, now you know, it's definitely relief. "Can we go home?" you ask him quietly. "Of course," he says immediately, explaining, "I just wanted to meet you here because I felt that you needed this moment, as soon as possible." You smile, even laugh softly, once again amazed at how empathetic this man can be. "You were absolutely right," you admit. Very slowly, he loosens the embrace, wipes the tears from your face, and finally holds your head gently between his hands to look at you. "You always seem to forget how much passion and fire you have in you, how much creativity. But I don't mind to keep reminding you“, he laughs softly, “I missed this sight, these eyes that know me so well,"

"I missed you too, more than I can put into words," you say and close your eyes, enjoying the warmth of his hands through the fabric of his gloves on your cheeks. When you open them again your eyes are full of fresh fire, there it is again the spark Rex fell in love with. The real you. He gives you strength, hope, love. He grins at you and you grin back. "There she is, my Love," he says with satisfaction.

The surging energy inside you tingles through your nerves, your imagination, your longings, your desire. Almost breathlessly, you say, "I want to go home with you, now. I want to cuddle with you, talk to you, make love to you for hours, just about anything you can imagine." The corner of Rex's mouth twitches upward saucily as he says, "I can imagine a lot of things, beautiful. You go ahead, I'll catch up with you as soon as I can". You're on your way home so fast, full of energy, fired up, full of anticipation. Rex is like the purest premium gasoline for your engine. The anticipation tingles under your skin, you suddenly have so much extra energy that you run up and down while waiting for him in your apartment.

His knock on the door is answered immediately, so quickly that he looks at you in surprise, but his surprise quickly turns into a smirk. "You must have been waiting for me," he says and steals a kiss, teasing, nibbling your lower lip, flicking his tongue playfully against yours, tickling the corner of your mouth before granting you a shit eating grin. Like a blissfully warm summer rain, the sensation of this touch shudders through your neural pathways, from the crown of your head to your toes and back up again, until suddenly it seems to bundle in the heat between your thighs. You feel his energy, his desire, he's as ravenous as you are. You feel his strong hands on your hips as he gently but firmly pushes you further and further toward the bedroom with each kiss. "I think", says Rex between two kisses, "once we go into that room, we're not getting out of there anytime soon". You giggle into the kiss, unable to help yourself. He leans his head back a bit and looks at you with a smirk and asks, "You don't mind, do you?" "Not at all"

@rintheemolion

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[youphoriaot7]

"Cellbit, we need to talk," the demon says sternly, sliding into the seat at the head of the table.

The detective sends a bemused look over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow in response. "...okay? What about?"

"Well...a lot of things," Bad admits, the urge to tangent off becoming stronger by the second.

"Can you at least try to narrow it down?" Cellbit teases.

Bad rolls his eyes at him playfully. "Yeah, yeah, I'm getting there!" The smile slowly fades from his face as his eyes track Cellbit across the kitchen—getting the toast from the toaster, grabbing the avocado spread from the pantry, checking the fridge for milk, turning the coffeepot off—

Cellbit glances back at him, visibly confused (and vaguely concerned) by the silence. "...okay, can you really not remember, or...?"

Bad sighs, shaking his head. "Have you seen the missing posters up around the island?"

Cellbit nods, turning away as he waves a hand in the air. "Oh, yeah, yeah! The ones about the Masked Man, right?" He chuckles. "I mean—I think we all know who it is, but I don't think they want us to say it."

"...no, not those." Bad scratches his head, watching as the other man pours two mugs of coffee before bringing one and the plate of toast to the table.

Cellbit looks up at him, eyebrows bunched. "Then no, I'm not sure what you mean." He turns back to the counter, grabbing the other mug and the milk.

"Bagi's missing posters? About her brother?"

"Oh!" Cellbit gestures wildly with the milk carton, and Bad can only praise the deities that it's closed. "Yeah, yeah, I know what you're talking about! There's one in the favela. I thought there was one at the main square, too, but it wasn't there when I went earlier."

Bad grins faintly at the memory of Tubbo and Fit ripping it down. "Never mind that," he coughs, shaking his head.

Cellbit sets the carton and cup down in front of Bad before slipping into the seat next to him. "But yeah, I know the posters." He cocks his head slightly. "...why do we need to talk about those? Shouldn't you ask Bagi?"

Bagi definitely isn't the one he needs to ask about this. Bad unscrews the carton's lid, carefully pouring a buttload of milk into the black liquid. "Look, Cellbit," he sighs, "the thing is...I think I know who it is." Rip the band-aid off, right? If he remembers, it'll be a shock, so better to get it over with. If not—

Cellbit blinks over the rim of his coffee cup, face completely blank. "Who?"

...he has no idea.

Bad can feel his heart sinking, a stabbing pain shooting through him, almost like guilt or pity. He swallows hard, recapping the milk as he tries to figure out how to proceed—

"Oh!" Cellbit snaps his fingers, a cheeky grin on his face, so similar to the one Bad used to see in battle so many years ago. "I know what you're saying."

Bad pauses, staring at him. "You...you do?"

"...you think it's Dan, right?" Cellbit's grin widens, just barely holding back a laugh.

...he couldn't have been farther from the mark.

But Bad isn't one to let an opening go to waste. Plus, it had made Cellbit laugh, something Bad hadn't seen nearly enough of recently. At least it had lightened that world-weary look, even just for a moment.

So Bad smiles. "Clearly!" he replies cheekily, chuckling as he takes a piece of toast from the plate. "See? We make a pretty good team."

"That we do." Cellbit shakes his head playfully as he takes another sip of his coffee, and Bad watches on in silence. The white streak in his dark hair, the black outfit—he'd looked even more like Bagi a few weeks ago, before the island's drug infestation. Speaking of which...

"...are you ever gonna go back to your green jacket?" Bad asks nonchalantly, and Cellbit gives him a funny look, glancing down at himself.

"...this is a green jacket," he says, eyebrows furrowing. "The, uh...the one I wore the most got dirty, so I've had to wear the black ones for a bit. But this one is green."

Bad blinks. Fudge. "Oh. Yeah, no, you're right, I see it now!" he lies, nodding. "The lighting was just...messing with my eyes."

It's a viable excuse; the red lanterns dotted around the room don't output much light on a good day, and the sunlight streaming in from the kitchen balcony casts long shadows across the table.

But Cellbit doesn't seem to fully believe him, giving him a curious look before he shrugs. "No worries." He takes a long sip of coffee and lets out a sigh. "But no. I don't know who Bagi's brother is."

"...yeah," Bad murmurs, the lie making the coffee taste bitter in his mouth. "Me either." He swallows the mouthful of bitter cream and grounds, making a face at he stares down at his slice of toast.

"I wish I did." Cellbit's voice softens, and Bad glances up to find him gazing pointedly into his coffee cup. "I want to help her. But...there's so much going on right now, and...well, not to be that person, but the picture on the poster is kinda—well, fudged up, if you know what I mean."

Bad blinks. "You think it's a bad pic?" he echoes in confusion.

Cellbit shrugs. "Well, I mean, it's a side angle, almost a three-quarters view—but to the back. There's so little of his actual face in the photo; how are we ever supposed to help?" He scratches his head. "Plus, that photo looks old, and it's visibly of a little kid." He shakes his head. "He probably doesn't look like that anymore."

Bad nods slowly. "...no, you're right; he probably doesn't." Bad could have pushed the issue, could've pointed out that he's seeing the spitting image of the kid sitting directly across from him—he remembers fighting with that exact kid ten years ago, and Bagi's brother hasn't changed one bit. But he bites his tongue.

"With the eggs missing, it's just...not my priority at the moment." Cellbit gives a helpless shrug. "But she can figure it out on her own, I'm sure. She's smart." Then he cocks his head, glancing back up at Bad. "Besides, who's to say he's even on the island?"

"True," Bad murmurs.

"I mean...honestly? I hope he's not." Cellbit takes a long sip of his coffee, draining about half the cup before he gives Bad a small smile. "I wouldn't want anyone else to be trapped in this...living hell."

Bad nods slowly, watching him. "...yeah. Who's to say?"

Cellbit sighs, shaking his head as he stands. "I should get back to work," he says apologetically, glancing back at Bad. "Youre welcome to stay if you want—?"

His words jolt Bad out of his stupor, and he shakes his head, standing. "I'm, uh...not really hungry," he admits with a sheepish grin, "and I have stuff to do, too. So I should go."

Cellbit nods, picking up the plate with the lone piece of avocado toast lying across it. "No worries, man. See you around."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah, for sure." Bad musters up a small smile, flashing it towards the detective as he moves towards the staircase.

"Hey, wait—Bad!"

Bad glances back. "Yeah?"

"...if she finds anything, let me know?" Cellbit asks softly.

The demon nods gently. "Of course." And before he can blurt out anything he might regret, he turns, making his way quickly towards the waystone at the end of the bridge.

[mamawasatesttube]

“I know, I know, I’m stuck with you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” please!

"Thanks for coming on such short notice." Dick both looks and sounds harried, Bat-comm in hand as he ushers Kon in from the balcony. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can, but you never know with Arkham breakouts—also, there's some leftover chicken soup in the fridge, if he can keep that down it'll be great, and—yes, B, I'm on my way, I heard you the first seventeen times—sorry, Conner, it's a bit hectic, but—"

"Hey, man." Kon gives him a reassuring thumbs-up. "I got this. You go do your thing and let me wrangle the poor sickly scrunkle, yeah?"

Dick pauses on one leg, one shoe on, the other in hand. "The scrunkle?"

"Tim," Kon clarifies. "You know, 'cuz he's scrunkly."

"...I see," Dick says, not sounding like he particularly sees at all. But there's no time to explain; he flashes a quick grin, fires off a two-fingered salute, and calls one more "Thanks again!", and then he's gone.

Kon cocks his head and waits.

After seventeen seconds, the jingle bell he stuck to the outside of Dick's bedroom windowframe on his way in chimes, and he snorts to himself as he superspeeds right on over to the fire escape outside.

"Predictable, Rob," he says, lounging midair. Tim, staring at the bell in his hand with great prejudice, scowls; the effect is rather ruined by his adorable hot pink bird-printed pajamas. "You definitely have a fever if you fell for that one."

Tim folds his arms over his chest and glares at him. Coughs. Glares some more. "I don't need a"—cough, cough—"babysitter. I'm not that sick. Dick's just fussing."

Kon eases himself back in through the window, closes it against the night air, and presses his lips to Tim's forehead, ignoring the way Tim splutters. He's cute when he gets grumpy. "Mmm, well, that certainly feels like a high fever to me!"

"It's only a hundred and one," Tim mutters. And coughs again. Christ on a bike, he really sounds like death warmed over. The red flush to ohis face really isn't helping things, either.

Also. Christ on a bike? Really? Sheesh, Kon's spending too much time with Ma's friends on Bingo Sundays.

"Mm, yeah, so we're getting you back in bed," Kon informs him, and plucks him off the ground, sets him on his hip like the world's most disgruntled toddler, and carries him back over to Dick's bed, where he's clearly been being fussed over already, if the box of tissues, empty mugs, and cough drops are anything to go by.

"I'm not that sick!" Tim protests. Kon sees right through him, though; his wiggles of dissent are weaker than usual. "I can help. You heard Dick earlier, it's all hands on deck—"

"Which is why, if things get particularly dire, Dick already said he'll call me in," Kon says, and draws the blankets up over Tim's chest. "Seriously, Rob. The others have it in hand. And I," he grins, cupping Tim's face in his palms, "have you in hand."

Tim favors him with a very flat look, followed by a very pathetic sniffle. Oh, jeez, Kon wants to bundle him up and feed him soup and fuss over him forever. "Ha ha."

"I know, I'm hilarious." Kon squishes his cheeks before letting go. "Now, I'm gonna go get you some soup and your next dose of meds, and you're gonna stay right here in bed and not try any more escape attempts because you know I'm gonna catch you and bring you right back. And we are gonna watch your choice of 'Wendy', 'Star Trek', 'Star Wars', or 'Lord of the Rings', until you inevitably knock the fuck out because you are sick as hell, dude, and I do not mean in the Tony Hawk way. Got it?"

Tim heaves a weary, put-upon sigh that just sends him into another coughing fit; it sounds rough and scratchy and painful just to hear, and Kon winces in sympathy, leaning over to rub his back. Aw, Tim...

"I guess I can live with that," Tim rasps, his eyes watering. Kon is seized by the urge to kiss his forehead again, properly this time; he wants to take care of him so bad.

"Good! 'Cuz you don't get a choice." Kon gently ruffles his hair, eases him back against his pillows, and then tuts softly to himself and strokes the hair back from Tim's sweaty forehead. His poor Rob...

"Yeah, I know, I know. I'm stuck with you." Tim sighs again, closing his eyes. After a moment, though, he smiles ever-so-slightly, his eyelashes dark against his pale cheeks. "...I wouldn't have it any other way."

That's gotta be the fever talking—it's true, and Kon knows it's true, but Tim wouldn't just say it like that—but it makes Kon's heart flutter all the same.

He leans down and kisses Tim's forehead before he can lose his resolve. "Right back at'cha, Rob," he says, smiling. "Now lemme go get you your soup."

"Good luck," Tim mumbles, opening his eyes just slightly. "Don't fall in, have fun, et cetera..."

Kon laughs. "Will do," he says, and stands to leave.

(It's not until he's waiting in front of the microwave that he realizes: since the moment he left Tim's side, he's been—quite literally—walking on air.)

50 Prompts About Devotion

[queenarahbo]

Heat Stroke

Wallace underestimates the summer sun.

Whumptober prompts filled: Sunburn Heat Stroke

Wallace reveled in the tranquil embrace of the tropical sun, its gentle warmth caressing his skin as he basked in its radiance. Escaping for a vacation was a rare luxury for him, and he was determined to savor every moment of it. Alola had always held an irresistible allure for him, and this precious time off provided the perfect opportunity to explore its wonders. With a skillful blend of persuasion and enthusiasm, he had managed to convince Steven to accompany him, enticing him with the promise of unraveling the mysteries of Z moves. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he contemplated his travel companion, knowing full well that coaxing Steven away from his beloved research and rocks was no small feat.

"Wallace?"

Speaking of…

"What's up? Bored already?" He teased playfully as he tilted his sunglasses to reveal his turquoise eyes and flashed a mischievous grin. This earned him an exasperated eye roll from Steven.

Steven's voice carried a note of concern as he leaned over his friend, the worry in his eyes hidden behind a neutral expression. "No, but you really should consider putting on more sunscreen or moving somewhere shady. You're burning," he warned.

"It's probably fine. I don't burn that easily." Wallace waved Steven off with a smirk. The sun felt way too good to move and he didn't feel warm. He knew what a sunburn felt like.

Steven sighed and walked away, pausing to call over his shoulder "Don't say I didn't warn you." His friend would learn the hard way. It wasn't like he didn't care. It was rather the opposite. He didn't want to see Wallace's vacation ruined over something as simple as putting on sunscreen. It wasn't like they weren't accustomed to the heat from the sun, they lived in Hoenn after all.

Wallace felt his lips twitch upwards at the worry in Steven's voice, even if the other man wasn't aware of it, and closed his eyes again. Time seemed to stand still as he took in the sounds around him. The gentle crashing of the ocean waves against the golden sand. The cries of Wingull as they sored through the salty air. The shouts from the children playing farther down the beach. This was the most relaxed he had felt in a long while.

He remained like that, basking in the moment, until the gnawing sensation in his stomach tore him from the bliss. Determined to stay like that longer he ignored it. Well, tried to. A few minutes later, Steven approached him, clutching an intriguingly shaped red stone in his hand.

"It's getting late. We probably want to consider dinner soon." Steven said while cleaning his newly added collection piece in a towel. No sense in getting his bad dirtier than it already was.

Wallace wearily pushed himself up from the sandy beach with a weary sigh, feeling the weight of the passing time. He couldn't deny that they had stayed longer than intended, and it seemed only fair to get dinner, especially if Steven was feeling hungry. As they strolled away from the soothing, rhythmic crash of the ocean waves, Wallace couldn't shake the growing realization of just how disoriented and lightheaded he was starting to feel.

It didn't matter. They had both enjoyed it. He didn't care where he was in the world as long as he was near the ocean. Steven must have said something because he was watching him intently. He turned his signature smile on Steven and kept walking. If it was important then he would repeat it.

It was.

"I asked you if you had any idea of where to eat here. If not then we will have to walk back into town." Steven repeated with a knowing look.

"Oh." Wallace chuckled in an attempt to hide how bad he was starting to feel "Yeah, there is a cafe half a mile that way. Winona told me they have excellent food. It's still on the beach too so the view is worth it."

"That works."

Wallace found himself uncertain of what he heard behind Steven's casual tone. Usually, he had no trouble deciphering Steven's thoughts, a skill that set him apart from others, likely due to their long-standing friendship. A sudden, pounding headache added to his confusion, making it difficult to concentrate. He squinted, trying to clear his blurry vision as the world seemed to spin around him. This was weird. He was all too aware that Steven was following him and not the other way around. Where had Winona said the restaurant was? Next to the dive shop right? Okay, where was that? Why did his head feel so fuzzy? He took a steadying breath as Steven asked him another question.

"So what kind of place are we going to?"

"It's…got a little bit of everything according to Winona."

"You alright over there?" inquired Steven, turning his head slightly to look at Wallace, his expression stoic and unmoved.

Wallace hesitated for a moment before responding, "Yeah, I'm good... I think." He took another deep breath, willing the rising discomfort in his stomach to lessen.

"You think?" Steven abruptly halted in his tracks and swiftly reached out to grasp Wallace's wrist, halting him in his tracks. "What are you trying to say?"

Shoot. He knew that Steven wouldn't let this go. He felt the way Steven's curled around his wrist trying to check his pulse. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Steven was more overprotective than anyone else they knew. "I just…feel a bit off. Not sure how to explain it."

"Your pulse is a little fast. Do you want to sit for a minute?" Steven asked with a hint of concern finally breaking his mask.

Wallace's head shook once, and it was a big mistake. Suddenly, the world spun around him, leaving him disoriented and dizzy. "Let's just go to the cafe. I probably just need to eat something."

Okay," Steven responded tentatively, noting, "You seem a bit flushed as well.

"So do you. It's hot outside." Wallace deflected with a chuckle. It wasn't that unusual for someone to be warm when it was hot outside. Just as he was about to tease Steven for being overly concerned, he felt a cool hand gently touch his forehead. Startled, Wallace snapped out of his thoughts and realized that Steven was now standing directly in front of him.

"You're feverish. We should go back to the villa. You should have told me sooner that you weren't feeling well." Steven dropped his hand down to his side.

"Again, Steven, it's hot out. I'm not sick." Wallace replied shortly. It seemed as though Steven couldn't grasp this simple fact. Wallace was accustomed to his friend's overly cautious tendencies, but this was starting to feel excessive.

"I'm not so sure. You are far too warm."

Steven's skepticism was evident as he listened to Wallace's attempt at reassurance. In all fairness, Wallace himself would likely not have been convinced. They were not far from the cafe now, just a little further, and then he could relax and grab some food. He tried to convince himself that his discomfort was probably just due to a weird blood sugar fluctuation. Unsure if he was feeling hot or cold, he realized he wasn't sweating, indicating that he probably wasn't too hot. Nevertheless, his slightly flushed face and the stray beads of sweat on his cheek made him wonder if he should be feeling hot. After all, Steven's face was slightly flushed and he kept wiping stray beads of sweat from his cheek.

It was probably fine. After all, he was more acclimated to the heat than Steven. As they approached the wooden stairs leading up to the small cafe he could hear music drifting from the wooden building. He vaguely recognized the song. He allowed a look at Steven and suppressed a laugh. Steven's eyes had lit up the moment they had entered the building. One of the waitresses called out for them to sit wherever and he followed Steven to one of the booths next to the window that ran from floor to ceiling. They had a clear view of the ocean from where they were.

Wallace found himself gazing at the breathtaking view, a scene that he would have normally enjoyed. However, on this particular occasion, his enjoyment was marred by a persistent feeling of unwellness. As they settled in, a young woman arrived at their table with two menus in hand and inquired about their drink preferences. Without hesitation, Steven ordered a coffee. When she turned to Wallace he opened his mouth to order his usual water but paused before ordering a Sprite. Wallace's attention shifted to the menu, only to be met with a disbelieving gaze from Steven. "What?" he grumbled defensively in response to Steven's unspoken question.

Steven leaned back against the booth, fixing his eyes on Wallace. With a pointed tone, he remarked, "You despise carbonated drinks.

"Yes. Your point?" Wallace dropped his eyes back to the menu. Winona was right. They really did have everything here.

Steven's tone was incredulous as he pointed out, "You just ordered a carbonated drink," as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Maybe I just wanted something other than water." Wallace lamented. Occasionally, he resented how perceptive his friend was. While he typically cherished their unspoken understanding, it now seemed like a curse. Steven would undoubtedly fuss over him incessantly now.

"Wallace we both know the only time you drink anything with carbonation is when you are sick and even then it has to be bad enough. If you aren't feeling well we can go back to the villa. I'm sure we can get something delivered." Steven set his menu aside having not looked at it at all. His focus was solely on Wallace now.

"I'm fine. Really." Wallace said in a hopefully reassuring tone as the young woman returned with their drinks.

"Do you know what you would like or do you still need a minute?" She asked eyeing Steven's abandoned menu.

"A minute, please." Wallace replied easily making sure his tone was pleasant.

Steven let out a deep sigh, feeling resigned, before slowly picking up his menu again. With a clear idea of what he was craving, he casually skimmed through the pages, his eyes searching for something that matched his mood.

Wallace was acutely aware of Steven stealing glances at him over the top of his menu. He settled on something he knew wouldn't upset his stomach any more than it already was. He was admittedly a little disappointed by his condition. He had been excited to try something more adventurous here.

Wallace half-listened to Steven's animated storytelling about the smooth, intriguing stone he had discovered near the beach. While absentmindedly picking at his food, Wallace's attention was piqued as Steven transitioned to recounting his encounters with various wild Pokémon. The idea of exploring the water types that Steven had mentioned captivated Wallace, and he made a mental note to do so the following day when he was feeling more energetic. Steven's swift consumption of his meal contrasted sharply with Wallace's slow progress through his own.

The food on Wallace's plate wasn't unappetizing by any means. In fact, on any other day, he would have relished every bite. However, today was different. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly pushed his plate to the side. Even without looking up, he could sense Steven's unspoken thoughts. "Don't even say it. I'm not sick," Wallace muttered.

Steven swiftly grabbed the check before Wallace could even glance up, and promptly handed it back with his card. "Let's make our way back to the villa after we're done here," he suggested.

"You wanted to walk around didn't you." Wallace clarified with a tilt of his head. It wasn't really a question.

"Yeah, but I can go back out later if I really want to." Steven nonchalantly shrugged as he tucked his wallet back into his pocket. With a confident stride, he took the lead as they exited the cozy cafe, the jingle of the door chimes fading behind them.

Wallace was less than thrilled to be on his feet again. Being inside the cafe had felt nice, but it hadn't done enough to cool him off the way it seemed to for Steven. He bit back a groan as the heat assaulted his suddenly sensitive skin. He had really hoped that eating would have helped, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. His stomach felt worse than before he had eaten anything. A new wave of dizziness overcame him, causing him to stumble unsteadily.

"Wallace?" Steven questioned, his grip tightening on Wallace's arm to steady him.

Wallace struggled to respond, his overwhelming desire to reply stifled by the overwhelming effort it took just to remain conscious. Despite his best efforts, his vision blurred with spots, and when he blinked, he found himself unable to open his eyes again. The cacophony of noise surrounding him gradually faded, leaving Wallace with the sensation of drifting into an endless void.

When Wallace regained consciousness, he found himself in a dimly lit, unfamiliar room. As he tried to move, a groan involuntarily escaped his lips, as the all-too-familiar ache in his body surged back with full force.

"Finally awake?"

Wallace slowly turned his head to the side, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. As he shifted his gaze, he was met with Steven's concerned expression, the worry in his eyes reflecting the subdued light. "Seems that way," he murmured, the weight of the situation evident in his voice.

"Why didn't you tell me when you weren't feeling well?" Steven asked.

Wallace felt as if the guilt would swallow him. He had disappointed Steven.

"Hey, I can hear you overthinking over there. I'm just asking why you didn't tell me. I would have helped you." Steven leaned forward in his chair, his brow furrowed with concern and ran his fingers through his hair. He nervously chewed at his bottom lip before continuing "You had a temperature of 104.2."

Wallace mumbled halfheartedly, "I didn't want to ruin the trip." He knew it was a pathetic excuse. As he spoke, he watched Steven's expression carefully. Steven pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, clearly irritated. Wallace realized that Steven wouldn't have been upset with him for feeling unwell.

"You should have said something. What you did was reckless. Heatstroke is nothing to mess with." Steven scolded.

Wallace shifted his gaze upward, fixing his eyes on the pristine white ceiling. He couldn't muster the courage to look Steven in the eye, fully aware that he had messed up big time "I didn't realize…"

"You didn't realize that you were suffering from heatstroke?" Steven finished in disbelief.

"When you put it like that…"

"Look, just get some rest and we will see how you are feeling when the doctor comes back. Maybe they will let you leave if you are well enough." Steven said optimistically.

"Are you mad at me?" Wallace stole a quick look at Steven, his heart pounding in his chest. Steven's face was a mask, revealing nothing of his emotions. His shoulders were rigid, and he sat upright, staring fixedly at the wall ahead. Wallace couldn't tell if Steven was preparing to lie to him or if he was truly uneasy about the situation. A glimpse at Steven's hands confirmed that it was the latter - he wasn't fidgeting with his rings, a telltale sign of his discomfort.

Steven's response came after a long pause, filled with frustration rather than anger. "I'm frustrated that you felt like you couldn't come to me. I'm not mad at you; I'm frustrated with myself," he expressed tiredly.

Wallace stiffened. How could Steven blame himself for this? "It's not your fault. I'm the one that ignored the warning signs and-"

"Look just get some rest. I'm going to check in with Drake. You know…make sure Phoebe and Sidney haven't burned down the league." Steven quickly stood from the chair and gave one last look to Wallace before disappearing from the room.

Wallace flinched at Steven's sharp words. Yeah, he had messed up. Steven was never that awkward around him. He would need to find a way to make it up later.

[balanceoflightanddark]

Avatar the Last Airbender Netflix Episode 1- "Aang"

Well...the time has come.

My biggest question going into this series is asking why it needs to exist. I mean, from a business standpoint it makes sense. ATLA exploded in popularity overnight during the pandemic and Netflix wanted to cash in while the iron was still hot. Moreover, it's one of those "safe bet" projects. The name recognition alone is going to attract some viewers, even if just to compare it to the original. Doesn't matter if you don't like it, you still saw it. And if it boosts their numbers, it'll be a success regardless of critical reception.

No, my question stems from a creative standpoint: what are they going to do in order to make this remake seem like a necessary thing? What was so important that they needed to retell the story over again?

That's my thoughts going into the first episode. My first complaint is the structuring. It would not be a stretch to say that this episode had THREE introductions (arguably five if you count Aang and the water siblings being introduced): one by Kyoshi that gave an overview of the setting, one that set up that the Fire Nation was going to attack the Southern Air Temple during Sozin's Comet, and yet another by Gran Gran where she basically recited the original series opening. It just feels clunky, that we're being told the same information over and over again with exposition dumps.

And yeah, there's quite a few of them. Sure, some exposition is necessary to quickly relay the state of the world. But then we have stuff like Katara explaining that the Earth Kingdom is holding out in Ba Sing Se even though that's not exactly relevant to the current story? Stuff like that seems too much to throw at the viewer in too short a span of time. I'd hate to compare it to the original series where stuff like this was introduced more organically within the context of the story (Ba Sing Se was first mentioned in Iroh's siege of it, right?).

Last thing is that the acting was...hit or miss. Which to be fair I think was more direction and writing than any fault on the actors. Katara was...she was just kind of there for the most part I felt, not having any of the pent up anger of the original. And Gran Gran...yeah, her acting was bad. Really bad. Again, I'm blaming more on the writing since she felt stiff and didn't have any of the loving qualities despite her weariness of the original (didn't get a scene of her saying goodbye to Katara and Sokka for example).

Now, stuff I liked, and there was quite a few that I did like. I liked the actor who played Aang, he was a great choice. Really nailed down the balance between goofball and needing to take things more seriously. Some of the comedy beats were pretty good, like the one Southern Water Tribe member saying "He looks dead" about Aang, Sokka screaming his head off while riding on Appa, or one of the Fire Nation sailors grumbling about Zuko dragging their asses all over the place (first swear in the franchise and Zuko caused it).

There are two things I want to address here. The first change of Aang being more duty-oriented and wanting to clear his head instead of running away. I get the backlash...but I also think it's addressed here. In the original, Aang learned out in the worst way possible with nobody there to ease him into it. Which resulted in him running away. Here, Monk Gyatso broke it to him as gently as he could. It was still a bad situation, but I think a father figure being there to sort of steer him in the right path would've toned down his reaction in the original if that was allowed to happen. Plus it would've given Aang more incentive to take his duties seriously if Gyatso guided and vouched for him. Like he's doing it for his old mentor. I'd be interested to see where this goes.

Last thing: the scene between Aang and Iroh. It's simple, but effective. Aang asks why Iroh why the Fire Nation is waging the war, and the old man just gives off what sounds like Fire Nation propaganda. Aang shuts him down and Iroh...silently nods and agrees with him. It's actually pretty powerful. Aside from him realizing the implications that he just advocated the imperialistic rhetoric to a survivor of said rhetoric, it also sort of humanizes the Fire Nation a bit where an old veteran like Iroh admits that no, sometimes he and his people weren't always in the right. It's just he can't do much about it.

There. I complimented an Iroh scene and admitted he got one of the best scenes in the episode. Happy now?

All in all, it was...a solid start. I think I'm a bit more forgiving in terms of Aang's changed character since...well, I wasn't asking for a one-to-one remake of the original. There were a few things that bothered me, but I'm willing to hold the benefit of the doubt until they start becoming bigger problems down the line.

At the start of my watch, I asked whether or not a remake like this was necessary. What I got from this episode was..."maybe?" It's clear they want to do something different in terms of character, which is fine. It's just how clunky some of the dialogue and structuring choices were that holds it down a little. A shaky start, but there's room for potential.

[ceruleanmusings]

Big Time Audition - Masons

while going through these ep rewrites i couldn't figure out how i wanted to include "big time audition" since the masons don't meet the guys until a few episodes later and this finally hit me! and it also has finally spurred me to re-write the fic depicting them first meeting the guys because, well, frankly I can do it so much better now and make sure each girl's personality stands out a bit more. but, in the meantime, you can see what they were like before the guys changed their lives. (again this is less a rewrite and more a long scene addition but, hey, semantics.)

@witchofinterest @raging-violets @partiallypearl @myloveforhergoeson

------

The ping of an email sliding into her inbox set Jazz scrambling off her bed. Finally! Setting aside the half-assembled skateboard deck, trucks, and screws she'd been tinkering with, she landed on the hardwood floor with a heavy thud and grabbed her laptop off her desk. The slam of her fingers on the spacebar cut off the quick lick of a guitar solo slicing through the air. High-stepping over Mel's assorted Nikes scattered on the ground, she approached the pocket door in the nearby wall of her room. Extending her foot, she planted it on the door and slid it open.

It smacked against the interior wall with a heavy thud, revealing Sammi perched on the side of her bed, body curled over her legs where she applied nail-polish to her big toe while bending her head to hold her cell phone in place.

"Jazz!" she shrieked, unfurling from her position. Irritation weighed down her brows as she gazed down at the black line dragging across her toenails. "Do you see what you did! Now i have to start all over!"

"No one's gonna be lookin' at your toes, Sam," Jazz said with a roll of her eyes. "And if they're really getting that close, they have bigger problems."

"You're gonna have big problems! It's taken me two hours to get this design right!" Huffing, Sammi reached over to yank sheets of tissues out a nearby box. "God! if i can't fix this you owe me a new outfit."

"How?"

Sammi uttered a world-weary sigh and spoke slowly. "This design goes with a specific outfit. I can't wear the outfit without the polish and i can't wear the polish without the outfit. It doesn't make sense."

"You don't make sense," Jazz grumbled, resting her laptop on her hip. "Who cares if your toes and your eyebrows match?"

"Just because you dress like Tony Hawk threw up on you doesn't mean everyone wants to walk around looking like a grease stain. Some of us take pride in how we look." Sammi patted her large cloud of curly hair to emphasize her point.

"Yeah, yeah, hope when you swallow that pride you don't choke on it. Blue's not your color—literally." Jazz laughed and danced out of the way of Sammi throwing her large, fluffy pillow at her. "Quit with the dramatics! Look, Aunt Kelly sent us another round of audition videos! From Minnesota this time! —I know." Sammi held the same confused expression on her face Jazz was sure she'd made only a few seconds prior.

Why Aunt Kelly and Uncle Gustavo's last star search stop was in Minnesota of all places, she didn't know. Especially in the middle of winter. Uncle Gustavo didn't do well with the cold. Or people. Or cold people. So this was Hell and Hell freezing over for him at the exact same time. He was not going to be in a good mood.

"Hurry up! I want to see if these people are terrible too."

"Relax, no one can be as bad as Opera Guy," Sammi said with a scoff. "For one, he chose a terrible song for his range. Two, I could have done it better. And three, his shirt was untucked, his tie was too short, and he thought square toed shoes fit this century. He should have called me for help. He would've looked at least half-way presentable, which is the best he could have pulled off."

"Isn't most criticism supposed to come with a compliment somewhere."

"Sure," Sammi said with a shrug. "He'd never be able to afford me."

"Don't break your arm congratulating yourself," Jazz said. "Just hurry up!" Her feet slapped against the ground as she ran out of their connecting rooms, Sammi's phone conversation fading behind her as she jumped down the stairs, slamming to a stop on both landings. Navigating around the corner, she burst through the kitchen and went straight for the connected living room.

A stack of neatly folded blankets sat on the nearby ottoman, the creases so sharp it could cut glass. Just the way their dad liked it. A tray filled with a half empty glass of orange juice, toast two bites away from being finished, a mug with a dredge of dark coffee remaining, scattered silverware, and a balled up napkin balanced on a haphazard scattering of cycling and running magazines on the nearby coffee table.

And Mickey moved about straightening it all: adjusting the dented pillow left on the recliner, tucking the transfer board between the chair and end table, moving the lone navy blue slipper—left foot—to sit just beneath the coffee table, pulled the extended foot rest back in, and rolled up the long cord of the nearby vacuum around her arm.

"Hey." Jazz waved her arm, her voice and movement breaking Mickey out of her productive haze. She paused in the cord rolling, eyebrows lifting in a silent question. Or at least Jazz guessed from her head being pointed in her direction; her long locs hid most of her face. "We got more audition videos from Aunt Kelly. The last stop in Minnesota." Mickey's eyes slowly moved from the tray to the blankets to the recliner and back to the tray. "I'll get Mel so you can finish up," Jazz continued, "But Mick, seriously, Dad's not gonna care if it's not all spic and span by the time they get back."

Her mouth twisted to the side and she was quiet as she placed the wrapped cord around the back of the vacuum. Stepping on the petal that unlocked it, she turned to maneuver it out of the room, stopping only to say, "It matters to me" before passing.

Jazz stepped aside. Mickey preferred to keep everything in the right place to make his life easier. Jazz very much preferred that their dad was still around to have a life.

She made a beeline for the garage, a wall of sound knocking into her once she popped the seal on the door leading off the kitchen. Their dad had made it soundproof the day Mel got her first drum-set for Christmas on year. He re-enforced it every couple of years, for their' mom's sake since she worked most nights he said.

Mel's arms were almost a blur with how fast she hit the drums and symbols in succession. Her shoulders rose and dropped and her body moved along to a groove Jazz couldn't hear, half from the steady drumbeats and half from the large headphones Mel wore over her ears. With a grin, Jazz tiptoed forward until she stood behind Mel, able to see the lines of bright purple weaving into her long, dark braids. It was a recent changeover from her usual cornrows. It made playing goalie in soccer easier without having to fuss about her hair. As captain of the team, she didn't let anything get in her way. Literally.

"Yo!" Jazz snickered when Mel jumped at Jazz's shout after yanking a headphone off her ear. The drumbeat finished off-time due to Mel's flailing. Yanking the other headphone off, Jazz jerked her head backward when Mel whipped around with one drumstick pointed right at her nose. "Easy Jack Sparrow, you'll put an eye out."

"You're mixing up your movies," Mel pointed out, curling in the drumstick to spin it around her fingers. Her chest heaved and Jazz didn't need to check her pulse to know it was high. She swore Mel used drumming as an excuse for exercise as well to keep her skills up. As she liked to point out, you can't have an out-of-shape drummer and Mel needed to work twice as hard to get even some semblance of recognition for her contributions to their school's jam band or percussion section.

"Speaking of movies, we have a new installment of America's Funniest Audition Fails!" Jazz wiggled her laptop around as if displaying a prize on a game show. "Come on!" She started bouncing on her toes. "I want to know if they all sing with those accents."

Mel hummed. "That's assuming they're all able to keep time." That was a sticking point for her from the auditions in Salt Lake City, Philadelphia, and Houston. Most of the auditions, really. That even the well-prepared singers couldn't seem to stay on time with the music they chose. They either rushed or dragged, or worse, changed the arrangement to something so flashy it didn't showcase their voice but rather pointed out the sharp strains, the flat hits, or displayed their flaws rather than their strengths. She went on a rant about each location's auditions for days. (Though that could also be leftover disappointment at not being allowed to audition in D.C., even though they weren't accepting drummers.)

"Well, here's the good part! You can take all the videos of the bad ones, explain why they're so bad, and throw in some of your drum reels and send that to Uncle Gustavo!" Jazz said with a sparkle in her eye, a finger pointed upwards in the air. "All Mom and Dad said was it wasn't a good idea to audition. They never said you couldn't show them your reels by accidentally sending them a link in an email you never meant to send."

Chuckling, Mel grabbed a gray towel with faded Gatorade logos on them and wiped sweat off her brow. "Remind me to hire you as my lawyer."

"Why? They can't get mad at you for that."

"No, but they'll be impressed with how much you can twist their words to fit your needs before they ground you for a month."

Shifting her finger from vertical to horizontal, Jazz wiggled her finger between herself and Mel. "You mean ground us."

Mel laughed and shook her head; her braids swayed as she swung one leg over her stool. "No, I mean you. I'm an innocent bystander."

"Annnd that's exactly where you'll stay if you don't take this chance," Jazz said. Mel's smile immediately dropped to a frown and she scratched at her hairline. "It's an opportunity of a lifetime. You want it bad, so you keep saying, but you're going to let something as small as an email stand in your way? What's that phrase?" She tapped her chin. "Ask for forgiveness rather than permission?"

"Will that still hold up when I shove this down your throat?" Mel asked, waving her drumstick at her.

Jazz grinned, pushing it away. "You know I'm right!"

"No, you're annoying."

"Same thing!"

Laughing, Jazz ran out of the garage, making it to the living room in time for Mel to jump onto her back and the two to slam down to the couch. Jazz managed to move her computer out of the way in time, twisting herself to take the blow of the soft landing. Sammi and Mickey trailed in a few moments later, squeezing themselves onto the couch in their usual order: Sammi on one end, then Mel, Jazz, and Mickey on the other end. Stretching her legs onto the coffee table, crossing the angle with the thin metallic red band over the other, Jazz balanced her laptop on her lap and pressed play on the video.

They laughed, cringed, groaned, and booed through the clipped together reel of auditions. Some people were flat, some were sharp, some didn't even sing, instead choosing to do an interpretive dance about acid rain and a mime act. Unsurprisingly, Gustavo whisked them off the stage fast yelling about how a mime can't have seriously tried to audition for a singing competition. (Plus, he found mimes creepy.)

One girl stood out, someone named Jenny Tinkler, simply because her audition started with her taking in a deep breath and then the shot cut to a firefighter using a fire extinguisher on curtain, some tiles hanging from the ceiling, the recording tilted, a few holes in the wall of the stage, and Jenny running around with security guards chasing after her all the while screaming "But I'm gonna be the next Gwen Stefani!" Kelly could be see in the background, wiping leftover extinguisher

"Whoa," they girls uttered in unison.

"She should come with a warning label," Mel said.

"So should her outfit," Sammi said. "Bows that big only belong on big presents."

"The dog was cute though," Jazz said. They all voiced their agreement as she fast forwarded through the next clips. It was a blur of color, of scuffles, of someone jumping off the stage, of—

"Wait! Go back!" Mel jabbed at a button on the keyboard, sending the reel backward.

"Hey!"

"Just—look!"

She hit another button and the video started playing again. A boy walked on stage wearing audition number 810, wearing a gray sweater and brown pants. He introduced himself as Logan and, instead of singing, started beatboxing.

"Not bad," Mel said after an approving hum.

Gustavo didn't agree by yelling Logan off the stage like everyone else. Mickey made a noise of sympathy at the zoom-in on Logan's shellshocked expression and robotic walk out of the room.

811 was next, a boy in a blue hoodie named Carlos who swung the microphone around until he farted into it, causing Jazz and Mel to crack up and Sammi to utter a sound of disgust.

James was 812, a tall boy with a confident stride and his chin held high. He took his time before he started, looking at his feet, taking a breath, and positioning the swoop in his hair.

"People say I'm the life of the party... 'cause I tell a joke or two..."

"Wow." Sitting next to her, Jazz caught Mickey's soft uttering of awe. And, out the corner of her eye, she watched Mickey sit up straighter and lean closer to the screen.

"Sam?" Jazz appealed.

Sammi nodded once. "He's good," she stated, running a ring along a chain around her neck. And she'd know, she was born with near perfect pitch. Which she loved to remind them about any chance she got. Which Jazz understood, despite how annoying it could get. Any way for them to be different.

"So Minnesota does have some talent," Mel remarked.

Not that Uncle Gustavo agreed with them. Before their very eyes, he started shouting about how the James guy had no talent (Mickry gasped at that) and how he was wasting his time. Then all hell broke loose when some blond guy sporting some impressive eyebrows came into the shot, yelling about Uncle Gustavo not having any talent and then singing about how he was a "giant turd" which started a brawl with security guards.

"Whoa! And I thought people from Minnesota were supposed to be nice!" Jazz said between her laughter which started up again when an older black woman started beating up the security guards with her cane.

"Uncle Gustavo kind of deserved it," Mel said. Sammi nodded in agreement.

"Let's see it again!" Jazz went backward on the clip only to jerk out of the way when Mickey's arm extended past her face, her cell phone in hand. "What the-?" her cry was cut short at the snort she emitted when spotting the deep disapproving frown on Mickey's face. "Oh, this'll be good."

With a sigh and half smile, Mel took thr phone out of Mickey's hand and held it up to her ear. Jazz leaned closer to listen, the buzz on the other end trilling three times until it was picked up.

"Hey Mel," Aunt Kelly greeted her warmly. "Hey girls. What's up?"

"Mickey's mad at you," Mel singsonged.

"How? What did I do?"

"We saw the auditions. Mickey's mad you didn't pick-"

"The hot guy," Jazz cut in.

"The hot guy," Mel repeated, "812."

"That was Gustavo, not me. You know I don't have much of a say."

"Then how do you call yourself a talent scout?"

They didn't need to see her face to know she rolled her eyes. "Look, Gustavo's looking for a certain thing and he didn't have it. So Mickey can be mad at him."

"She is. You should see her face."

"Send it to me. I'll show him."

Snickering, Mel took out her phone to snap a pic of Mickey's still present frown, now with her arms crossed, and quickly sent it over. "For what it's worth, if he went this far and still didn't find someone, that guy may be his best shot."

"Try telling him that."

"We will! We can spam him!"

"Jazz."

"I said spam him. We won't do anything else. This time. We got grounded hard for signing him up for that toupee of the month thing."

"You. You got grounded," Sammi, Mel, and Mickey said in unison.

"Anyway, he seems to have his mind set. I'll try talking to him. He might not want him after being escourted out by security."

"Or, maybe that's the fire he's looking for!" Jazz said. "Just think about it! He'd have a built-in bad boy type!"

"We'll see. I talk to you girls later. I think he's about to yell at the bellhop. I love you. And stay out of trouble."

"We always do," they chorused before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Jazz drummed her fingers on her laptop, a slow smile pushing onto her face.

"Oh no," Sammi groaned at the sight of it.

Mel sighed. "You gonna order something?"

Jazz nodded.

"You gonna send it to Uncle Gustavo?"

Jazz nodded again.

"Are you gonna send a mime to glare at him?"

"Nah," Jazz said, shaking her head. "I could send Mickey to do that for free." She laughed, leaning out of the way of Mickey's attempts to hit her with a pillow.

"Well whatever it is, I'm not going down for it this time," Mel declared. "...Let's go to the library and use their computers. At least that way the IP can't get directly traced back to us."

"Good idea!"

All at once, the girls lept off the couch and raced each other for the front door.

[rattfinkswife]

The quaint village of Everwood lay nestled in the embrace of the Whispering Forest, its cobblestone streets shimmering with the promise of the first snowfall. The anticipation hung in the crisp air, a gentle reminder of the enchanting winters that had captured the hearts of its inhabitants for centuries.

Rattfink, known for his villainous roles in the local theatrical troupe, trudged through the snow-laden streets with a furrowed brow. The chilly wind bit at his cheeks, and he tugged his cloak tighter, his breath misting in the frosty air. Despite his reputation, Rattfink was not an evil soul—just misunderstood. His heart grew heavier with each step towards the warm, familiar glow of the tavern where he sought refuge from the cold. He craved the comfort of a hot mead and the camaraderie of his fellow townsfolk.

Alex-Mae, Rattfink's clever wife, watched him from the tavern window, her eyes gleaming with mischief. The warmth from the hearth kissed her cheeks as she leaned against the sill, a knowing smile playing upon her lips. She had a surprise planned for him tonight, something to remind him that even the most feared villain deserved a hero's welcome. As the bell jingled with his entrance, she couldn't help but chuckle at his grumpy demeanor. "RJ, darling," she called out, using the nickname she knew he secretly adored, "how was the rehearsal?"

Rattfink's expression softened at the sound of her voice. He stomped the snow from his boots and made his way to the counter, tossing his cloak over a nearby chair. "Same as always," he grumbled, his voice a mix of weariness and irritation. "They still don't get that I'm not really the villain outside the stage."

Alex-Mae's smile grew wider, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She sauntered over, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Oh, come now, you know they're just playing along. Besides, it's not so bad being feared and revered." She leaned in, whispering, "It's what makes you so mysterious and intriguing."

He couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Thanks, Alex-Mae," he said dryly, though there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But sometimes, I just wish they knew the real me." He sighed, accepting the hot mead she had waiting for him. "They don't realize the effort it takes to be a good villain."

Alex-Mae chuckled, her eyes sparkling with affection for her husband. "The real you is what makes the villain so convincing," she said, her voice low and playful. She took a seat beside him, her own mug of steaming tea cradled in her hands. "But if they knew the charming, loveable rogue you are at home, they might just start casting you as the hero." She took a sip, watching him over the rim of her cup. "Besides, you know I think you're perfect just the way you are."

Rattfink's smirk grew into a full-fledged smile, his blue eyes meeting hers. "And that's what keeps me coming back to this place," he said, his tone filled with warmth. He took a swig of his mead, the sweet warmth spreading through his chest, easing his tension. "But I can't deny it gets tiring, always being the one they boo at the end of the play."

Alex-Mae's hand slipped from his shoulder to his, her grip firm and reassuring. "Well, tonight, you're the hero in my book," she said, her voice as smooth as silk. "And I have a little something to help you feel like one." She leaned closer, her crimson lips curling into a wicked smile. "But first, tell me about Roland. How's he been? I know you two have your... moments."

Rattfink took a deep breath, his eyes drifting to the flickering candles on the table. "Roland," he began, his voice filled with a peculiar mix of annoyance and fondness. "He means well, but sometimes... I don't know." He took a sip of his mead, the warmth of it contrasting with the chill outside. "It's like he thinks the whole world is a stage, and he's the star of the show."

Alex-Mae's laughter tinkled like the icicles outside, light and clear. "Ah, yes, our dear Roland," she said, her eyes alight with amusement. "Always eager to save the day and steal the spotlight. But tell me, what's really been going on between the two of you?" She leaned in closer, her curiosity piqued. "Has he been particularly... heroic today?"

Rattfink couldn't help but chuckle at her choice of words. "He's been his usual self," he admitted, his smile fading slightly. "But today, something was different. He actually asked for advice on his performance. Can you believe it?" He took another sip of his mead, watching the flames in the hearth dance shadows across the tavern walls.

Alex-Mae raised a perfectly-arched eyebrow, her grip on his hand tightening with surprise. "Roland? Asking for advice?" she repeated, her tone incredulous. "Now that is something new. What did he want to know?" She leaned back in her chair, her curiosity now fully engaged.

Rattfink shrugged, his smile turning into a thoughtful expression. "He was worried about the finale of the play," he said, swirling his mead in his mug. "Thinks the crowd might not buy into his heroic sacrifice if it seems too... well, rehearsed. Can you imagine?" He took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the tavern wrap around him like a second skin. "It's like he's finally realizing that there's more to acting than just memorizing lines and striking poses."

Alex-Mae's eyes danced with mischief as she leaned in closer to Rattfink. "Well, if he's looking for authenticity," she whispered, "who better to teach him than the master of nuance?" She gave his hand a playful squeeze before letting go to stand up. The firelight cast a warm glow across her features, highlighting the sharpness of her cheekbones and the softness of her skin. "Why don't you show him what it truly means to be a hero?" She sailed over to the tavern's corner, where a dusty old chest sat beneath a pile of forgotten props. With a flourish, she pulled out a tattered, yet noble-looking cloak and a wooden sword with a gilded handle. "Here," she said, presenting them to Rattfink with a flourish, "let's give him a taste of your own medicine."

Rattfink stared at the cloak and sword with a mix of amusement and skepticism. He knew his wife's schemes were often more clever than they had any right to be, but this was a new level of brilliance. He took the items with a chuckle, feeling the weight of the fake weapon in his hand. "Alright, what do you have in mind?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. The idea of turning the tables on Roland was too tempting to resist. He threw the cloak over his shoulders and took a dramatic pose, the fabric fluttering around him like a dark cape. "Should I challenge him to a duel of wits?"

"Better than that," Alex-Mae said with a sly grin. She grabbed her own cloak, which was a vibrant shade of emerald with gold trim. "We'll stage an impromptu performance right here, in the tavern. You'll play the hero, and I'll be your trusty sidekick." She winked at him, the mischief in her eyes growing. "Just think, you can show off your acting chops and give Roland a taste of his own heroics. It'll be a hoot!"

[thewanderer-000]

Right here, right now(18+ and up) WIP

Tagged by the creative @cassietrn

Minors DNI.

TW: Violence, Language, gore, seggual scenes

A sunrise slowly climbing over the mountains while a creature of the darkness sat looking at the horizon before laying to rest. The Whitetail Mountains were so cold this early, frost coated everything more than enough to give it sparkle in the morning light. A new beginning to a beautiful day or at least that's what under cover agent Scarlet Dawn (aka Penelope Thompson) thought as she was to secretly infiltrate Eden's Gate. Looking into the disappearance of her former lover and Training Officer that first went under cover here. Lord knows what happened to him, she wasn't expecting to find him alive since his communication went dark weeks ago. And the agent that went looking for him also went missing, well ended up dying from a cliff accident or pushed, possibly murder.

___________________

A long hike from one clue to another possibility was tiring on a count of this being larger than it should and everything going ass up. Tunnels heading out of Hope County were sealed, cultist take over, Deputies and the Sheriff were hostages except for Deputy Haig. Luckily for everyone she was there, even for Thompson some of the time. Though unbeknownst to Hope Country police department Thompson was on a mission even if it killed her. She played her role well, a civilian, a militias daughter, Scarlet Dawn.

"Miss Dawn, could you take the weaponry chest to the front, we gathered it from the Whitetails earlier and I really need to go to the restroom" a man said as he hot foot it to the restroom, I do what's asked of me. It's a bit lax when Jacob isn't here but when he's here and in a mood it's orderly and uniform. For the most part, I do my best to be away from him and his inner circle. I am cautious about being found out, eventually they will find out. And I'll have to leave town when they find me out, something is fishy here so maybe I'll end my search soon than I thought.

They are militant, I can't wait to go on patrol and go out to "Devils Drop", again, I hope I can get time to search thoroughly. I go through the motions till then, drills, inspection, and it's odd as usual. It was finally time, I about ran out, but my "superior" warned "I know you like it out there but careful, that Deputy Haig is out there". I'd dressed in regular clothes once far enough away, I walk and look for what I can but sometimes I felt eyes on me, even when I wasn't being recorded on Jacob Seed surveillance cameras. I walk and feel it, someone was following me, he was cautious but not so stealthy, I kept going waiting for his attack. I pretend to not notice as I take a break, then am grabbed with a chloroform rag in my face. I pull my concealed weapon and strike, he grunts and keeps hold on me then I'm weary as he applies more pressure. I am so close to falling unconscious, and see it's the one Deputy, Pratt, he is pulling out my stuff from my first aid. As I'm laying there feeling the whole world shifting back and forth.

"Shit, fucking bitch. Maybe Jacob was right about there being more to you huh, baby?" is the last thing I hear, I wake up possibly a while later on the Grandview Hotel floor. I remember finding a clue here and found out that civilians were possibly being thrown off a cliff known as "Devils Drop". I see no one was watching me and proceed to crawl away by the front desk, am cornered by Jacob Seed himself. He wouldn't there a moment where did he come from?

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks practically face to face, he's cool to the touch, his eyes are reading me and are dark in way that's frightening me. I try to move away from him but he growls in a way that isn't human, the chloroform has wore off enough that I smelled blood on the air. I don't know what to do at this point I assume I'm to die without knowing what happened to my former TO, Johnny Linder.

"I'll give you a chance to tell me what you were up to, before I deal with you. Now spill, TJ" I didn't realize it till now but I had tears running down my face, I didn't want to give myself away. Though I felt my cover was completely blown at this point, I could lie though from the look of Jacob he'll make me talk.

"I was looking for my former TO-" he cuts me off before I could say anymore.

"And former lover. Continue" he says, I clear my throat and am confused how he knew that, obviously no lying can be done, he probably killed Johnny, made him talk then offed 'im.

"Mm' yeah, I uh- was suppose to only come get him or his remains, maybe part of me was overly ambitious-" he cut me off again.

"You know he's dead, but you wanted information to get the Fed's here and more, as revenge for ol' Johnny Linder or hes better known alias Robert Utah" Jacob said as he pushed me back then stood up and looked at me as I quickly sat against the corner, he chuckled at his sick thoughts.

"Pratt may have over done it, you look wobbly and pitiful yet scared" Jacob said as he growled a low rumble, a smile on his face.

"And you're a fucking murderous hill billy monster fuck fa-" he is at me faster than I could blink, he's looking at me real good, his big hand gripping at my neck his expression is intrigued. He pulled me up to a stand, I yelped at his rough handling and my hair snagged on a something. He didn't care,

"Oo, you're so tough underneath it all, until I hurt your soft skin, huh? You won't be in pain for long, the others didn't know about you or Linder but I'll be the only one who knows" I'm silenced, I smell cold, dirt, blood, magnolias and Johnny? I look at Jacob hoping some weirdo knocked me unconscious and I was having some horrible nightmare but I wasn't, it's real. I'm confused how this strange cultist smells like Johnny and magnolias? This is too absurd, I assume I'm to die now, my life'll flash before my eyes soon.

"Fuck" I sigh as I close my eyes and remember a better time before all this, I'm just going to have to accept death. A sparkly memory comes to mind, after an under cover mission together, Johnny invited me to a wedding and we snuck away after and made love under a magnolia tree. I'm afraid but something was arousing desire in me, I opened my eyes once a new sensation overwhelmed me now, shock and wetness in a very noticeable place on my pants. Jacob isn't choking me anymore but his mouth is at my neck, I'm wrapped around him, grinding onto him. I stopped and he looked at me confused my blood on his mouth and fangs, I quickly elbow him hard in the neck and jumped off and ran out the back. I could hear Jacob laugh as I turn to run to the nearest trees but am immediately whacked unconscious. I wake up tied to a bed in a cabin, I try to yank myself free, this couldn't be happening. But my body hurt my head throbbed like a hangover.

"Hello, Penelope, I punished Pratt for hitting you a little too hard, I couldn't wait for you to wake so I went through your stuff" Jacob said with familiarly that I didn't like, I also didn't like that he went through my things. I noticed a pair of my panties sticking out of Jacobs pocket, but I look at his mouth, fuck the panties, this man is a monster or other. I watch intently.

"You have fangs, you were drinking my blood-" but I couldn't finish what I was going to say, my brain was remembering memories in my mind that I never experienced, I felt unease wash over me in heavy waves. I couldn't make sense of it all, Jacob looked at me curiously like I was a specimen. My head spun and nausea sat in me like weights, I'm doing my best to get a handle on this overwhelming sense of dread. I let my head fall back on the bed feel dizzy, I can't move much but feel a slitting headache.

"You ok kid?" I looked at him then away, I couldn't explain it and I just blanked out, and woke up to Jacob sitting by me on the bed my restraints undone I quickly try to go. Then a wave of dizziness pushed me back in bed, Jacob just looked at me perplexed.

"What'd you do to me" I moan in pain and anguish, the feelings, sensations and emotions I was feeling made me realize that I wasn't leaving anytime soon. Even if I wanted too.

"Well, you have to tell me what you are experiencing, or I won't know what happened to you, not that I could explain it. I've never had this happen before but I then again a meal hasn't got away from me before" I stared daggers at him but it softened, why did I botch his feeding, I come to realize he could finish it.

"You could, finish it, I mean. Finish what you started, here, I don't- I don't want to be here and keep experiencing this. Please don't let me suffer any longer, please, please, please" he watched me cry at him and exposing my neck, he just held me to him in a way that was too familiar, like how Johnny held me. I clung to Jacob, wanting him to make it all stop, wanting to hold on to him till he does.

'I couldn't live long like this, I wished to see her again even if it was for a second but being life long bed ridden from a bullet wasn't my future. Granted I was here to gather information about the Project at Eden's Gate and the disappearance of particular missing persons maybe I got in too deep. I asked Jacob to end it, I couldn't stay like this, I didn't want to. The thought of trying was sickening. Luckily the man agreed and like that am in a memory of Penelope and I, it's a better time-'

"You helped him die? Why won't you help me?" I choke out the sob and I want Jacob to kill me, I don't think he knows what happened or what he did to me. Suddenly I feel a poke and a cool sensation where I was stuck, I just stayed and let the sedative work. I had more experiences of many lives in their best and worst moments and other unsavory bits till they lessened in my sedated slumber.

___________________

Jacob observed his unfortunate specimen, he wasn't expecting her to wake from his feeding or her knowing how Johnny died. She didn't specifically say but he knew just from the look on her face, but he had questions, for now he'd watch her some more. So many things could have contributed to their situation, he wrote in his notes and checked her vitals and took a few vials of blood then put a small IV in her to make up for drawing blood and drinking her blood. Jacob had Pratt take the vials to the medical labs for testing, and said for them to send the results in a sealed envelope. He waited for Penelope to wake up, checking his watch every now and then timing her breathing. Soon she starts to stir, he remembered her tell signs from Johnnys memories, he watches intently. Memories from Johnny littered his mind. She rolled over looking away from Jacob like she knew he was there, he took some offense to that and gave a stern glint of his eyes.

"You royally fuck up this time?" Penelope asked, a bit of malice in the question, but she was right I didn't ever devour two lovers in close time much less same year. I almost forgot and now I remember, it happened the first time a couple years back, maybe almost a year since being turned. I was learning to control my hunger, so as not to practically crush their necks causing their immediate death. I look at Penelope wondering if am doing right by studying her, or should I have just crushed her neck instead trying to enjoy what she and Johnny had. The pleasure and the feeding is another high, with all my past feedings, nothing came close, and it was so fast then I hadn't enough control of my hunger. I was almost not going to say but I decided to tell her what I thought she could handle for now.

"That. And you're intriguing to me, I don't understand it, why what happened, happened. I have to look more into it, I've a theory but I need to test it before I come to a conclusion" I see and feel her tension before Penelope can act am infront of her in a blink, she flinched reality setting in that I'm not putting up with her.

"Just kill me" Penelope pleaded.

"Oh don't start that again, sleep and stay asleep for a few hours" I command with disgust and disdain, then I call Pratt at the secluded cabin with more needles and clothes for my lovely specimen. When I'm not with her I want her in restraints and sedated till I find out more about this situation and her lab results. Or have her past the point of wanting to die and cooperate with my curiosity.

A two days later.

"I don't get it, you think I lost my mind trying to figure this out" I jest at my guest as she lay there on the couch, feet in my lap, my eyes feeding into every little move. Maybe she was right, I was feeding the part of Johnny that missed and wanted his ex. She was feeding her own wants too, Penelope wouldn't admit it but maybe she was actually starting to like me. I only held memories what it was like with them and it was fueling my hunger or a hunger.

"But- I hate to get heavy. How did Johnny die?" Penelope asked and sat up after moving her legs off the couch and looked at me earnestly. I knew her sweet on me act was leading up to this but I thought I wouldn't have to retell it, yet.

"We spent a lot of time going through the Whitetail Mountains, he was former military, of course. Almost same time as me, actually. I knew Johnny was here to infiltrate, I let him. He grew on me, I just thought he'd be like a brother I could keep with me after I drained him. I just wasn't aware that you'd jump on his assignment" Penelope looked on anxiety making her smell delicious. She swallow back her anxiety and nodded for me to continue with what had happened. I focus, but I took a moment to view that neck.

"We come across a squabble with some our own and the resistance, nothing unusual, but one guy was heated he wouldn't let up and Johnny was covering me. I should have covered him, if I got shot I'd been fine but Johnny jumped in. We rushed him to triage and got someone to do their best so a doctor could work on him. He got the help and John took care of the bill and all that, doctor said he was paralyzed from the neck down. Nothing was going to help, I thought about turning him. He just wanted to come back then he finally asked what I was, he said he seen me break the guys arms who got him. I told him, he asked if I could end him, he didn't want to become like me, I tried talking him into doing it but you know Johnny. We talked for days then he asked to be cremated, gave me permission to drain him. He said your name as he passed" Penelope now was breathing a calm breath through a heavy sob, hand to her heart. That was just Johnny.

"Damn it. Is it possible that I knew how he felt? Because I feel it and- and I think you can, or felt that as well?" I did and it was odd facing this with a victim and knowing her like this, why'd I have this power, kinda useless for a murdering vampire to feel this. A time like this and I'd rather be human again, having started this as a human was easier but with this woman, now. I felt a sense of humanity and more complex, had I known Johnny had these feelings for her I'd not drained him and just not dealt with this. I think this but am feeling Johnny's attraction, and thinking on how they do what lover would do. Also thinking how I could initiate something with her maybe, they had such close passionate intercourse, I shouldn't but I wanted to feel it too, wanted to feel her too.

'Focus, damnit', I should have taken up what's her faces offer but I don't think it'd matter if I did as I sat by Penelope. All I wanted was to bring her close and kiss her and lay back to let her sleep on my chest. I look out the window and mentally name what I seen out there, just get my mind out of the wanting and needing. I didn't have time for that or maybe I could do it later if Penelope wanted to. Wishful thinking.

"You look distracted, maybe we could do this another time" Penelope said obviously feeling tension not only did I want deep inside her in many ways. I also wanted to bite and have her blood all over her as we fuck, maybe rip her apart when I cum. The thought of her last breath and that familiar squelch of flesh made my dick twitch. I also wanted to kiss her for hours, have her cut me open, use my blood for lubrication as she fucked herself on my dick till I cum in both her pussy and ass or wounds. But she's human and that'd probably kill her if her blood is involved. My lack of soul was jumping between mutilating and abusing her and the Johnny part of wanting keep her safe and loved was going back and forth, up and down.

"Uh yeah, I better get-" I say kinda hesitantly. Penelope touched me on the shoulder and I felt a flutter in my stomach, fucking Johnny. That dark haired son of a bitch, he deeply loved her, wanted her to live a good life but she only followed him. I feel it stir, I doubt Johnny would approve but we were kinda giving into the sexual tension bit of this odd phenomenon. I shift in my seat to face her, give her the option and I watch her to get my go ahead.

"Jacob, you scare me and make me question the reality of this world, and the cultist thing is so fucking fucked-" she said but looked down in my lap and quickly looked up, I see and sense that she knows am feeling something, maybe it'll make her mad or maybe she feels the same. Knowing she knows makes my cock ach, she squirms a little in her seat and in a way that isn't helping our situation or my thought process.

___________________

The two struggle to focus, the sadness of the moment shifted, spending too much time alone and Jacob was giving into Johnny and Penelope feelings. Penelope wasn't fairing any better with the same feelings, she was hoping it was just an odd paranormal phase. Something.

"C'mere baby" Jacob said I didn't hesitate and got on his lap, I immediately kiss him while his hands roamed and grope, it felt familiar but not with whom I was familiar with. Soon he pulled me so tight and close and moved me against his groin, he was so strong I could feel it as I touch and rub on his arms and shoulders. His kiss was strong too, I could only imagine how good it'd feel in other places besides my mouth, neck and shoulder. I pulled away for a moment to breathe, Jacob groaned and I felt a rumble in his chest that I had to tease little kisses on his face and kiss his neck. Just to cool off a bit but I knew they'd make him hotter, was that possible for a vampire. I suppose as I felt him plenty hard under me, I lick and kiss as he worked me against him. Our lovers baited breath, panting and his soft growls filled the little cabin, and that got me but then a surge of energy vibrated through Jacob.

"Did you fucking vibrate?" I asked surprised and amused, Jacob smiled and did it again, I giggled then felt unsure after a moment. He noticed and cupped my face to bring my lips to his, he kissed me softly at first. I'd say it was like Johnny but the way Jacob moved and kissed it was like he was trying take my soul through my mouth. I reciprocate till am panting helplessly, I smell a scent like blood as I'm held to Jacob, I hadn't realized that he was drinking my blood till now. I look at him and he pushes me back to look at me better with me on his fanged mouth. I see he ripped the shirt I was wearing and my bra was in view, the blood run down and stained my clothes.

"Jacob" I say only for him to rip the rest of my shirt off, am put on the couch and I push down my panties and leggings, Jacob ripped and pulled off his shirt and sweater. I was so impatient I was practically trying to rip off my bra, but am helped with a fast, steady vampire hand. His fanged kiss, licking and sucking along my body from my stomach to my breasts. I looked down to see blood where he kissed, he had bit me and I didn't feel it, but at this point I didn't care, it felt euphoric. He softly kiss me then went back to enjoying my blood, I could taste my blood and kind of enjoyed it. Jacob was at my left tit sucking blood from the bites then licking and lapping at the splatters. He switched to my right tit but engulfed it hungrily with a growl that made me sigh, fangs pricked my flesh I giggle at how cute it looked despite the blood and fangs.

"Hhf, Jacob!" I gasp and he's inside me so fast and working into me, the kisses on my body all feel wet from blood. We look into each others eyes, he has a glow about him with a bit blood dripping from his mouth, also smeared on 'im. Before I can even close my eyes Jacobs mouth is on my mouth and he's pulling me on him and he is thrusting in me, I moan in his mouth. I tighten 'round him as he uses me rougher, his mouth latched on harder, he growls while drinking my blood. I groaned and feel my legs shake, I feel myself getting weaker but it feels so good am softly moaning. He moves faster than I can react and feel myself squirting and I black out from blood loss.

"Oh fuck, Penelope. Wake up, Pratt hurry the fuck up and bring the blood bag. I almost drained you baby, come on focus angel" Jacob says trying to get me to regain consciousness, I feel so weak and dizzy but Jacob still smells like Johnny but a little less now.

"Ah Jacob, Jacob" is all I can muster, fastest sex but deadliest, Jacob kisses my bite wounds and licking them.

"You're probably going to be weak for a little while Pen but Pratt will get you more blood and food to get you back to normal. I'm sorry, I got lost in the moment and forgot I just needed a taste and not to drain you. Fuck was it amazing though, well, till you went unresponsive for a bit then I had to check your pulse.." I fall asleep.

"Shit, maybe I won't be fucking her like that again" I smile and lay back and fall asleep unfortunately but I try to stay awake.

[scariusaquarius]

blood, guts, and transformers.

Chapter Seven: Veritas Lux Mea

Winchester! Reader

note: title is latin for "[The] Truth is [My] Light" and "En Ho Madariatza" is Enochian for 'My true heaven' :D

Will was weary around the new transformer, Custos's glowing green optics unsettling to him. While Will was glad that (Y/n) was going to have even more protection than he could offer her, Will didn't know how to feel about the old Cybertronian. Currently, Custos was sitting within a circle of the Autobots, Optimus's optics watching Custos with interest and familiarity.

"It's been a very long time, friend."

Custos chuckled, shaking his head as he crossed his arms.

"That, it has been. It's been what, three or seven hundred stellar cycles?"

Optimus chuckled and Custos shook his head. Optimus crossed his arms as Custos said.

"Hell, ya knew me when I was Cortus...and when I knew you as Orion Pax."

"Those were old times, Custos."

Custos laid his head back and shrugged.

"Can't let me reminisce, can you?"

Optimus shrugged, and Will couldn't help but ask.

"Wait, you know this guy?"

Optimus nodded

"When Cybertron was still a mighty empire, Custos, who was known as Cortus, was a colleague of mine at Iacon. We worked together there until I was made into Optimus Prime. When Megatron began the Great War, Cortus had decided to fight alongside the autobots. He saved my life. From that day on, we called him Custos, which is, indeed, Latin for 'guardian'."

"How did you guys know these languages?"

Ratchet replied, blinking at Will.

"We had come here way before you might think we did. We've learned many languages over the years. Nevertheless, it is easy to download a language into our processors nowadays."

Will was awestruck. He had no idea about any of this, and he was lying if he said he didn't want to learn more. Will looked at Custos and remembered.

"You said you were conscious a lot of the time that your body was dead, right?"

Custos nodded, immediately getting defensive.

Kind of like someone he knew.

"Most of the time. What of it, bub?"

Will rolled his eyes but asked.

"You mind telling me what all those weapons were doing in the trunk?"

Custos glared at Will and snapped at him.

"Listen, glitch, I don't have to tell you a damn thing about what was with me and what wasn't. I don't care if you've been doing everything you can to treat (Y/n) right. My family is none of your concern."

Will widened his eyes and backed up, hands in the air.

"Hey, man. I'm just asking for government reasons. If you see it from my view: having that many guns and shit like that...it doesn't look good on a guy."

Custos replied.

"Dean Winchester is a great man. The greatest man I ever had the pleasure of being the Guardian of. He's done more things for the greater good of this world than you will ever know. Don't ever write him off like that in my presence again, bub, or it's the canon."

"Alright, that's enough."

(Y/n)'s voice spoke out. Custos perked up, and (Y/n) gave the transformer a look. Will asked.

"Hey, what are you doing up?"

"If it wasn't the dreams that would wake me up, it would have been your bickering. What are you two, children?!"

-READER POV-

Slamming the folder Will had onto the table beside me, I continued, looking at Will and Baby.

"We need to be focusing on finding my parents, not focusing on who has the most right to speak about what. I don't give a fuck if I have to do this by myself, because you both know that I will."

The room was quiet before Will apologized.

"You're right. I'm sorry, (Y/n). I just wanted to know."

"That makes two of us, Will. But fighting about it won't solve anything. And you-"

I pointed at Baby.

"Be nice."

Baby rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, tilting his helm at me.

"You really think it's that easy, sweetheart?"

"I'll make it easy for you."

Baby paused as I glared at him, and he huffed.

"Fine, fine. I'm sorry."

I looked at Optimus, saying.

"Sorry about the kids, Optimus. They can be hard to keep in control sometimes."

Sensing the joke and the sarcasm, Optimus piped in, smiling slightly at me.

"There is no need to apologize. I went through the same thing with Bumblebee."

The two men gawked in offense, and I grinned at Optimus. Optimus declared.

"Autobots, let's help (Y/n) search for her creators."

Ironhide huffed, and I glanced at him.

"Aw, don't tell me you're still mad at me for calling you 'robodick'?"

Ironhide gave me an unamused look, saying.

"I'm offended that you couldn't do any better."

I was too in shock to say anything else. Growling, my pride hurt, I turned and opened the folder, arranging the papers. I looked at Will as he walked up to me.

"I want you to look at the surveillance video. Gather as much as you can about it. I'm going to figure out what is up with the weapons cache...though, I think it might mean a trip back to Texas if I don't find anything here."

Baby piped in.

"Your best bet would be Lebanon, Kansas, bub."

I turned, frowning.

"Lebanon? Why Lebanon?"

Baby shrugged.

"Might be best to try going back to your father's roots, I guess. I just think Lebanon would be your best bet."

I shrugged and turned, saying.

"Well, if you think so, then we can go."

Will hissed quietly at me, his eyes wide.

"What, just like that? You're going to take his words for that?"

"Will, he's the next big lead that we have. Not only that, but I'm trusting my gut this time."

I grabbed the report on me, waving it in Will's face before shoving it in the paper shredder.

"Remember: The government and I are not friends, and anything you have on me needs to get torn up or deleted. Got it?"

Will frowned and asked.

"What did you do that was so bad to where the government would snatch you up in a heartbeat if they found you?"

I gave William a look.

"Don't ask stupid questions."

Walking away, I was quick to find the weapons cache that Will was talking about. I was in awe. Shotguns, pistols, machetes, and a different assortment of weapons were laid onto the table. On a different section of the table, there was a jar of blood, a couple bags of salt, a couple other small baggies and the like. I was in awe. Why did my dad have this?

I looked to see a whole bunch of different ID's, all with my fathers face on them, but with different names. What the fuck was going on? Why did he have these? There was one for FBI, Park Ranger, Homeland Security. How did he obtain these...or make these? I scratched my head, and Baby came up beside me, muttering softly.

"I know ya got some questions, kid. I can't answer all of them, but I can answer some of them."

"Baby, what the fuck is all of this? Why does my dad have all of this? What is going on?"

Baby just shook his head, crossing his arms.

"I can't tell ya that, bub. You have to find that out for yourself."

Biting my lip, I began to think. if my father was still alive, then he was going to get in a lot of trouble for having all of this stuff. However, he was apparently considered dead in the database. Had Will told anybody, yet? Looking at Baby, I made my decision.

"We're packing all of this up, and following the yellow brick road, Toto."

Baby grinned before transforming back into that wonderful chevy impala I knew. Baby popped the trunk, and I began to put the items back into the trunk. I asked.

"Am I going to have to take all of this out before every time you transform?"

"No. I got a way to move it. That compartment pops right out. Once we get to home base, we can pop that stuff out and whatever we might need, just pack it up for the road."

I nodded and mumbled to myself as I closed the trunk.

"Maybe I should invest in more duffels."

Getting into the drivers seat, I said, grabbing the wheel.

"One rule for the road."

"What's that?"

"I drive."

A chuckle came from within, and Baby said.

"More sleep for me."

Rolling my eyes, I drove out the base, William frowning as he watched. I hummed and admitted.

"It feels nice to be with you again, Baby."

The seat seemed to warm up, and Baby muttered quietly.

"Quit flattering yourself, kid."

Chuckling, I frowned before admitting.

"You're going to have to drive when we go to Kansas, though...I have no idea how to get there."

Baby replied as we rolled up the Winchester Automotive.

"I figured I would have to. I'm surprised you made it to Chicago by yourself."

I got out, gently smacking the hood.

"Hey, I may be seventeen, but that doesn't mean I don't know my way around."

Walking in, I grabbed what I needed, writing on the sign 'On vacation! Be back soon!' before exiting once more. Sighing, I looked at Baby before muttering.

"Bilbo, we're going on an adventure."

"Would you stop?"

"No."

-WITH WILL-

"This new development will prove to be troublesome in the future, Captain."

Ironhide muttered as they watched the video tapes.

"What do you mean? Custos, or the fact that Dean is considered legally dead?"

Ironhide sneered.

"Both. Custos may be one of the best warriors I know, but giving his life to a human so fast like that...it's cowardice."

Will frowned before explaining.

"I don't think it's cowardly. Dean's dad just wanted his kids to be protected in ways that he couldn't. Custos was already in debt to him, so that was just the payment he was paying for John's help."

"John purchased him from a car dealer when he was dormant. How is that being in debt to him?"

Will shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe John saved him from being lonely?"

Ironhide was quiet, stunned into silence, before turning back to the screen. He declared.

"I am getting a face recognition for Dean Winchester from cameras in South Side Chicago."

Will stood up abruptly, his eyes wide as he stared at the bloody and dirty face of Dean Winchester.

"Oh my god."

-WITH READER-READER POV-

I sighed as I relaxed into the seat, Baby taking over for me. The music he had put on was low, the familiar tune of House of Broken Love weaving itself into my brain. My lips gently mouthed the words as I snuggled into the material of my fathers shirt. I asked.

"You don't think you would get caught if I laid down to sleep, do you?"

Baby hummed, replying.

"Depends on if I use my hologram or not."

"Hologram? You mean like a projected image?"

Baby revved the engine, whipping out from behind a slow driver, and beeping the horn angrily at them as he passed by to get in front of them.

"Yeah. It's a projected image of a human form. Most Cybertronians have the ability to mask a hologram from a human. For example, since I know what you look like, I can construct a 3D image of you to make it look like you are driving."

I was in awe. I had no idea that Cybertronians were so advanced. I hummed and replied, laying down.

"Well, you do that projecting thing, and I'm gonna catch some sleep. Don't road rage too hard. I don't want to get the cops on our trail."

"Don't worry, I got it under control. We'll be there in approximately Eleven hours, so get some shut-eye."

Without protest, I closed my eyes, and allowed myself to fall asleep to the sound of Dream On even though I was afraid of the dreams that were impending.

Instead of the fire that I had felt before, it was cold. So undeniably cold. I was in some kind of field, and the trees surrounding me were leveled in a perfect circle. Turning, I was startled to see a grave, a cross seeming to stand guard over it. However, when a hand shot up out of it, I screamed, falling to my ass and crawling backwards. However, when I saw my father crawling out of it, I was horrified. What the fuck? Why was I seeing this? What was this? This wasn't real, Winchester. Wake up!

"You can't wake up, now. You're getting closer to the truth."

I spun to see my uncle Castiel, his blue eyes tired and wistful as he watched Dean crawl out of the grave. I whispered, grabbing onto his hand, finding comfort in the warmth he was emitting.

"Cas, what is going on? Why am I here? Why am I being shown these things? Where are you? Please...please stop leaving my questions unanswered!"

Castiel caressed my head, his eyes softening. As he quieted down, the world around us morphed into a new area. Fields surrounded us again, however, I could see a road and some sort of structure built into the Earth. A staircase led to a doorway, but what I noticed was my father and uncle exiting from the building and getting into Baby with bags on their shoulders. Sam seemed to be holding a strange book, and the symbol caught my eye. Castiel whispered.

"I know you are confused. You are hurting inside, and I am...heartbroken...that I cannot give you the answers that you deserve. But you are getting closer to the truth with every step that you take. You will not understand it now, but in time, you will."

Kissing my forehead, Castiel reassured me.

"I am always going to be with you, (Y/n). In fact, I have never left. Your eyes may not be able to see me, but that does not mean I am not there. Have faith."

I sniffled and shook my head, burying my head into his chest as I hold onto him as if he was my lifeline.

"Cas, I'm scared. I'm scared that I'm doing this all for nothing...and I'm scared that I've lost you and Uncle Sam. God, I miss you all so much."

Castiel held me tight, seeming to choke up too. I was surprised, if I was honest. In all my years of living, whether in my dreams or while I was awake, I had never seen Castiel cry.

"You will never lose me, en ho madariatza. I miss you as well. It pains me that I cannot be with you physically, but you must stay on your path. Trust in your instinct."

I whispered to Castiel.

"Please...please allow me to stay with you just for a while longer."

Castiel looked conflicted before giving in. The world around us became dark before lighting up into my room back at the house in Texas. I sat down, Castiel following after, and I snuggled into his side, asking him.

"Castiel, are you real? Is this real?"

"I am real...but this is a figment of your imagination."

"Will I remember any of this?"

Castiel paused before giving a quiet answer.

"No."

I bit my lip to keep myself from crying, and I sniffled. I asked him, though not knowing what to expect.

"Is Uncle Sam ok? How come you two disappeared?"

"Sam is alright, but just as distraught as you are. We are actively searching for Dean and Lisa as well."

I looked up at him and asked as he brushed a strand of my hair away.

"Why won't he return my calls?"

Castiel bit his lip and replied.

"It is complicated, but I believe he feels guilty. When the war in Chicago began, his first thought was not of you, but of your father. I guess the fact that he did not think of you is making him guilty, which is in turn making him distant."

I shook my head and muttered sadly.

"He's an idiot anyway."

"I attest to that."

I involuntarily chuckled, and Castiel smiled. He kissed my temple once more before whispering, seeming pained as he did so.

"I must leave, and you must awaken. You will not remember this dream, but I would still like to tell you that I love you and miss you. You are the only other person other than the Winchester brothers that makes me feel like an angel again."

I whispered to him, hugging him tightly.

"You're the only one who ever made me feel truly human, Cas. I love you so much."

Castiel gently squeezed me before the world, and he, faded away.

The rumble of the car was gentle in my ears as my eyes fluttered open. Looking around, I noticed it was sunny outside, making wonder just how long I slept. Slowly sitting up, I wiped my eyes, confused to the moisture I felt. Was I crying in my sleep? I felt very...at peace, oddly enough. Like comfort had wrapped me up in a blanket and held me through the night. Happy that no dreams had visited me, Baby greeted me cheerfully.

"Morning, bub. Welcome to Kansas. We're just a minute away from our destination."

It was quiet for a moment before Baby admitted.

"You were crying in your sleep, even calling out to Cas once. Do...you want to talk about your dream?"

"So, I was crying? Strange."

Why did I cry? What did I dream about that made me cry? I answered.

"I don't remember what I dreamt about, honestly. I'm actually surprised by the fact that I was crying in my sleep. I woke up...oddly feeling at peace with myself."

Baby grunted, and I stayed quiet. We pulled onto a gravel road, and I blinked at a structure that seemed to be growing out of the Earth. Something about the place seemed to be oddly familiar to me, though I couldn't place my finger on it.

"What is that?"

"Our destination."

I made a face at the radio, before glancing back at the building. Baby continued as he pulled up to a staircase leading down to a door.

"It's an old bunker that was built around the 1930's. I think it was 1935? I don't know. I remember that it apparently took a long ass time to build though."

"Ok, but why are we here?"

"I don't know, go knock on the door and find out! I'm not gonna spoon-feed you everything, bub."

The door opened by itself, and I muttered as I got out, slamming the door shut.

"Bitch."

The door slammed open onto my butt, and I gasped, kicking it.

"Hey, watch it, Rust bucket!"

"Bub. Just because I'm your guardian doesn't mean I'm not against kicking your ass. Now go knock on the damn door."

I huffed before turning, walking down the steps. The closer I got to the door, the more anxious I became. Why was I here? Who was here? Were they friendly? If they weren't, what was I going to say? That my friend was having a slumber party and sent me to this address? Biting my lip, I knocked on the door as loud as I could, and waited, bracing myself. As I listened the best I could, I became aware of the sound of approaching footsteps. When the door opened, I was not expecting to get a gun to the face.

"(Y/n)?"

My eyes trailed up the barrel of the gun, up the arm and shoulder, up the neck, and to the face of the armed man to see my Uncle Sam. My breath caught in my throat, and my eyes widened. Was this real? Was I actually seeing my Uncle? I whispered as my eyes filled with tears.

"Uncle Sam?"

Sam's eyes lit up, and he immediately grabbed me, bringing me into a hug. I did not hesitate to hug him back, crying into his shirt as I held onto him. Sam was shaking, his own tears falling onto my shoulder, and he whispered.

"God, I'm so sorry I didn't call you back. I was just so scared and...and-"

I reared back, shaking my head as I struggled to form a sentence.

"Shut up! Just shut up, you stupid idiot! I don't even care. I'm just...I'm just so happy to know that you're alive and that you're ok. "

Sam laughed through the tears, and his smile made my heart soar. Wrapping me up in another hug, he kissed the top of my head, whispering.

"You don't know how happy I am to know the same about you."

Tugging me inside, he closed the door and asked as he walked me through the bunker.

"How did you find me?"

I paused. Could I tell him about Baby? Although, I was sure that Sam wouldn't appreciate knowing that Baby was a transformer at the moment. I replied.

"When I grabbed Dad's car, I searched it for anything that might help me get to him. I found a couple phones...and one of them had a text from you that was pretty recent. I traced it, and it led me here."

'Nice job, (Y/n).'

Sam widened his eyes and he asked.

"You did all of that? I'm impressed."

"Well, not exactly. I have a lot to tell you, Sam. But first, I really could go for some food and something to drink."

Sam nodded, his smile lighting up his face, and I followed him into the kitchen. As he made my food, I told him everything I had to tell him, excluding the dreams and Baby. By the time I was done, Sam had been quieted into a shock. His hazel eyes were trained onto me, and he whispered.

"You...you died?"

I bit my lip, looking down.

"Yeah. Will told me that my heart had stopped. Ratchet was able to detect it after the EMT did a couple rounds of CPR. I somehow survived something I shouldn't have. I don't know. I guess I got angels watching over me, or something."

Sam stared at me, a strange look in his eyes, and I raised an eyebrow.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, um...I just can't believe you survived something like that."

"You know us Winchesters. We can't stay dead. Dad apparently died like a hundred times."

Even though the joke was there, Sam didn't laugh. Feeling bad, I simply took a sip of my drink, and sighed. Noticing there was a person absent, I asked.

"Wait, where's Castiel? Please tell me he's ok."

Sam smiled and replied.

"Cas is ok. He's just off doing some business at the moment. Dean's disappearance has really gotten to him, so he's been doing all he can to figure out where he is."

I nodded and admitted.

"Knowing that the Autobots, Will, and his team are searching for Dad and Mom...it brings me comfort because I know that the more people we have, the better chance we have. Not only that, but the more grounds we cover."

Sam nodded, running a hand through his hair.

"I just...I still can't believe that you actually met the autobots. That's honestly the coolest thing ever. Is Ironhide really a stick in the mud, or were you being a pain in the ass as usual?"

We laughed, and I replied, poking Sam.

"He has his moments, but he's actually really cool."

Sam sighed. It was quiet, but Sam broke the silence by saying.

"(Y/n), I'm really sorry that I didn't try to find you or contact you."

I shook my head.

"Uncle Sam, it's ok. I promise. I understand."

I grabbed his hand, and he smiled softly at me.

"Dad means just as much to me as he means to you. I get it...but I have faith we're going to find him. I know how to."

Sam nodded before saying, trying to hold back his tears.

"I'm so happy you're here with me, (Y/n). I don't know how much longer I would have been able to go without you."

"Hey, no chick flick moments, Uncle Sam. Please. I promise you that I get it."

Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes, but he wiped his eyes. Standing up, he declared.

"I'm going to go call Cas to tell him about your arrival, alright? Dean's room is, er...was...room 11, just in case you didn't remember. So, if you want to sleep in there, you can."

I smiled in thanks, albeit confused by what he meant when he said I didn't remember, and Sam left. Standing up, I decided to explore, and walked into the library. Looking around, I was surprised to see all of the books, and the telescope in the back. There were a couple of books open on the table, and I looked them over, frowning when I found folklore. I had no idea Sam was into folklore. Spying a journal, I grabbed it, flipping it open. Immediately, my eyes widened as I read the diary entries of my grandfather. Sitting down, I flipped past the diary entries, becoming sick to my stomach as I began to read on.

-WITH SAM-

"Castiel, call me back. It's really important!"

Sam huffed as he hung up once more. He really didn't understand why Castiel wasn't answering any of his calls or prayers. Surely, Castiel would have sensed the urgency in his prayers, right? So, what was keeping him? The fluttering of wings made him sigh in relief, and he turned, meeting the gaze of the blue-eyed angel.

"I heard you the first ten times, Sam. I don't see why you need to repeatedly call to me."

Sam guffawed.

"Dude, this is super important!"

Castiel glared at Sam, the exhaustion in his eyes evident.

"What could possibly be more important than finding Dean?"

"Um, the fact that (Y/n) is in the bunker right now."

Castiel's eyes widened, and he blinked as it began to settle in. He whispered, the shock evident on his face.

"That...that's not possible. You're lying."

Sam was confused. What had gotten into Castiel?

"Cas, why would I lie about something like that? She is in there, right now. She got here about ten minutes ago. Cas, she's really here. She's really ok!"

Castiel looked down at the ground and mumbled.

"I..but I made sure to erase her memories."

Sam frowned.

"Cas, what do you mean by that?"

Castiel admitted as he glanced at the impala.

"I've been visiting her in her sleep...as dreams...giving her some comfort and guidance the best I could. However, while I am allowed to visit her, I'm not allowed to let her remember. There are much bigger things at work here, Sam. She has a destiny that must be reached, and I cannot interfere with it. Her coming here was supposed to never happen so soon..."

Castiel bit his lip.

"Something has changed...something's been changing."

Sam grabbed Castiel's arm and warned.

"Castiel, if there's something you're not telling me, you need to."

"It's not that I'm choosing to not tell you, it's that I'm not allowed to. As I said: There are things at work here that are much bigger than me...than Heaven...than anything we've seen."

Castiel turned and began to walk into the bunker, muttering.

"I'm going to go see (Y/n) now. Hopefully, it will all become clear soon."

Sam, although weary, followed Castiel. As they walked to the kitchen, they were confused. However, as they turned, and glanced into the library, Sam's blood ran cold.

"Oh no."

They approached the library, but when they walked in, (Y/n) backed away, holding the journal in the air.

-READERS POV-

"What the fuck is this?!"

Sam held his hands in the air, as if trying to comfort me.

"(Y/n), I can explain-"

I slammed the journal onto the table, snapping.

"You know, there's a lot of things that I keep from you. I'm a teenager. I gotta have my teenage angst bullshit a secret. But this? What the fuck is this, Sam?"

Sam closed his eyes, sucking in a breath, and Castiel glanced at Sam. Castiel, becoming impatient with Sam's silence, admitted.

"It is your grandfathers journal of the supernatural."

"Exactly. Why the fuck did he create this. Why the fuck do you have this, and all of these books on the supernatural? First, the weapons cache I found in Baby, the different ID's...Dad's police report stating him as legally dead...the jars of blood and salt that I found...the strange symbols. You two better explain to me what the hell is going on, or I swear to god, I'll shoot you both myself."

Sam sighed, his shoulders slumping, and he admitted.

"Your dad and I...we hunt monsters...anything supernatural, we hunt it."

"What the fuck do you mean 'hunt' the supernatural? What the fuck are you, Buffy the Vampire Slayer? This stuff isn't real, Sam! None of this is real!"

Sam replied back.

"I wish I could say the same, but I can't. It really is all real. I can prove it to you."

Did I want him to? On one hand, I didn't, and on the other hand, I did. But if he proved it to me...what would I do?

"Oh yeah? And how the hell are you going to do that, Sam? Make the tooth fairy magically appear right before my eyes? I fucking doubt-"

My voice caught in my throat as Castiel's eyes glowed a brilliant blue, and the room lit up in a brilliant light. On the wall, I noticed something that made my blood run cold. Two shadows of wings, unfurling and gently swaying. The light disappeared, and I was frozen. Castiel looked down, almost looking ashamed, and I stumbled into a chair as I stared at him in awe and fear. Sam bit his lip and whispered.

"Your dad wanted to hide you from this life, and we did the best we could...but deep down, I knew we wouldn't be able to hide you from it forever. The Hunter's life will always find a way to you...no matter how far you run. Everything...all of the things that go bump in the night...it's real, and we hunt them. Well, I do. Dean didn't hunt as often when Lisa found out she was pregnant with you, and completely stopped when he moved to Texas. I'm sorry, (Y/n). We just wanted to protect you."

The memory of Will's lies to protect me ran through my head, and I yelled, slamming my hand down onto the table.

"Stop fucking doing that! Stop trying to protect me by lying to me! As a matter of fact, just stop protecting me in general. I fucking died once, Sam. I died. You can't protect someone who can't be protected. Not only that, but you can't protect someone by lying to them. It doesn't fucking work."

Sam looked down, looking like a kicked puppy. While I felt ashamed for yelling at him, I was also tired of being lied to and getting treated like a baby. Biting my lip, I whispered as Castiel gave me a sad look.

"Sam, my dad could possibly be dead right now. Lies...Lies are the last thing I need right now."

Castiel asked sweetly.

"Is there anything I can do to ease your pain?"

I looked at him. What could he do? I didn't even know what he was nor the extent of what he could do.

"Depends. Mind telling me what the hell you are?"

Castiel straightened up, admitting.

"I am an Angel of the Lord."

My mouth unhinged, my eyes widening. Castiel was an angel?

"That would explain why technology isn't your best friend."

Sam grinned as Castiel huffed, playfully glaring at me, and I smiled softly at him. Cursing, I muttered.

"I seriously don't know how you two can't let me be mad at you two."

Standing up, I walked to Castiel and gave him a hug, his arms hesitantly wrapping around me. I murmured, glancing at Sam.

"No more lies, alright? Right now, we are all we have. We need to stick together, and lies aren't going to be the way to do it."

Sam nodded, and a group hug ensued. Baby crossed my mind, and I grimaced, backing out of the hug. I fidgeted my feet, saying.

"Speaking of which...there is something I need to admit to you guys as well."

Sam nodded and murmured.

"It's ok, you can tell us anything."

"Um, well...Baby is actually a transformer..."

"Oh...wait, what?"

-WITH WILL-

Will growled and slammed the phone onto the floor.

"Why the fuck is she not answering? I've called her over thirty times!"

Epps theorized, shrugging.

"She might have silenced her phone, Will. I'm sure there's an explanation as to why she isn't answering her phone."

Will glared at Epps.

"Epps, her phone would have lit up or something. There's no reason why she shouldn't have her phone on her, especially when I could have potential information about her parents."

Sam Witwicky walked in, holding up the girl's phone.

"Um, I think I know why she isn't picking up."

William's jaw jutted out as he breathed out in anger.

"That girl...I'm going to rip her a new one when she gets back."

Sam paled, handing the phone to Will. Will pocketed the phone, and Ironhide offered.

"Perhaps, a comm link could be established with Custos?"

Will nodded, muttering.

"That should be our best bet. This is really important, and if he is the person we need to tell, then that is who we should tell."

Ironhide nodded before bringing a digit to his helm, saying.

"Custos, do you copy? Custos, I repeat. Do you copy?"

-WITH BABY-

Custos was startled out of his recharge at the sound of Ironhide's voice, the com link automatically connecting.

"What? What's so important that ya gotta wake me from recharge, bub?"

Ironhide scoffed, muttering.

"You can't stop being lazy for one klik..."

Custos huffed, rubbing the tires against the ground.

"Lazy? I'm not being lazy. I'm doing something, and that something is nothing. Now, what is it?"

Ironhide growled before taking a calming breath. He informed.

"Captain Lennox has found information on the potential status of Dean Winchester and Lisa Braeden."

Custos perked up, and replied.

"That so, eh? Well? What's the news, bub?"

"It appears that Dean Winchester was able to escape through South Side Chicago. Although, his current location is unclear, we have reason to believe that his current status is alive."

Custos was shocked. His old friends son was alive? His spark was filled with happiness, but then Custos realized that Ironhide had not mentioned Lisa.

"What about Lisa, Ironhide? What about the kid's mom?"

Ironhide was quiet before replying.

"She is presumed to be offline."

Custos's spark dropped. How was he supposed to break this to (Y/n)? She was going to be heart broken.

"Frag...'Hide, how do I tell the kid her mother is dead?"

"I don't know...but I send my regards. Ironhide out."

The com link went dead, and Custos could not help but wish that for just a moment, he could cry. The pain in his spark was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Even though he did not know Lisa, the thought of (Y/n) not having one of her creators in her life anymore pained him. Sighing, he decided to go back into recharge, hoping that a night of sleep would ease the pain in his spark.

Chapter Eight

[the-inkwell-variable]

Lochmallow Mystery Novella Snippet!

I've decided to write a little prequel novella to the Lochmallow Mystery cozy fantasy series I've inexplicably been inspired to write, to get myself into the heads of the characters and figure out the world a little before I throw myself headfirst into it.

This little snippet explains how Hendryk and Amara got such a good deal on their shop. Enjoy! Concrit is welcome and appreciated, just don't be a jerk about it <3

"Just one more, Hendryk. I promise."

The handsome tiefling groaned, running his hand through the amaranthyne curls between his curved horns. "We've been through three empty shops already. Must we really make it four?"

"l saved the best for last. I think this one is exactly what we're looking for."

"The 'best'," he mocked, drawing his fingers up in air quotes, "can wait until tomorrow. My contract states I'm entitled to a meal and a sit-down after four hours of work, and it's been six. Six! You may be a glutton for drudgery, dear sister, but I am not. If I don't find myself back in the tavern sharpish, I fear I shall wither away!"

Amara, hand resting on the door handle, rolled her eyes as she shot him a patient stare. "Are you quite finished?"

He grinned at her, pointed canines glinting in the golden rays of the late afternoon suns. "Would I be myself if I was? You love my flair for the dramatic." He swept her his most gallant bow, and she could not help but smile. "Shall we get this little song-and-dance over with, dear sister?"

"Let's shall."

As Hendryk slipped his arm around hers, their personas draped around them like a comfortingly familiar cloak. He pulled the door open with his free hand. The soft tinkle of a bell welcomed them and attracted the silvery gaze of an elderly half-elf woman. She clapped her leathery hands on the counter to push herself off the barstool. "Sure and how can I help you on this fine day?"

Hendryk flashed his winning smile. "We're looking for a shop to make our own, and the mayor's assistant said you might be able to help us. Rose Fenwick, I presume?"

The woman studied them, smoke-gray eyes flicking between their faces. Amara innocently twisted the thin band on her finger until the afternoon sunrays glinted off its plum gem. It seemed to catch the woman's eye, and her lips parted in a hearty, partly toothless grin of her own. "Aye, I am. And you must be that couple she warned me about. What do they call ye?"

A question like that was practically begging to be snarked at. Amara braced herself; there was no way he could resist such an opening.

"Trouble, usually," Hendryk quipped with a chuckle and an easy smile. "They call me Hendryk, and this is my dear wife Amara. We've only just moved to Lochmallow, you see, and it's our dream to open a quiet little teashop in a quiet little town. Grown a bit weary of the Verthurst glamour - you understand."

To Amara's surprise, Rose let out a hearty guffaw and slapped her hand on the counter. Yet another lesson in judging a chimera by his mane - she'd assumed the half-elf would be stoic at best, stuffy at worst. Perhaps rural folk were more chill than the other carnies had led her to believe.

Yet another piece of her to leave behind.

As usual, Amara was content to let Hendryk handle the bulk of the proceedings, choosing instead to wander the empty shop with keen eyes. It was well suited for the tea shop they claimed to desire - Rose informed them that it had previously been her family's fried fish shop, which explained the astonishingly well-stocked kitchen. The front-of-house was spacious enough for Hendryk's bookshelves and a few small, cozy tables. Tall windows let in plenty of fresh light, and the loft above ensured they didn't have to stay in the tavern any longer. It truly was the perfect place to open a cozy little tea shop.

But it was the little room just before the kitchen that caught Amara's full attention.

At first glance, it wasn't much to look at - a little supply closet perhaps the size of a very small child's room. Rose scoffed as she opened the door, declaring it "good for keeping the fish cold but naught else." But Amara's mind's eye filled in the missing pieces with ease. A candle-lit table to flicker the shadows. Faintly glowing stars on the ceiling and walls. A silver-backed mirror that cast no reflection on that wall. And in the center, a beautiful glass ball on a silver pedestal.

"We'll take it."

Hendryk and Rose glanced at her, startled out of their conversation by her sudden interjection. Her brother shot her a questioning glance as the half-elf drummed her fingers against the counter. "Ye sure? Yer man was just saying it might be a wee big for yer tastes."

Amara slipped her arm around his and stared into his eyes with the most adoring smile she could muster. "Not at all - your shop is perfect. Please, Henny?"

He chuckled even as his fingers tightened over hers in a warning. "Well... one more look through won't hurt, I suppose."

Her smile became genuine, her eyes crinkling at the corners. He had done his part - it was her turn now. She pulled from his arm as if reluctantly, her finger trailing a quick sigil the bulk of his tricep hid.

Rose's pointed ear pricked immediately. "Did ye hear that?"

Hendryk glanced at Amara, a poorly timed twinkle in his glowing coal eyes. "Hear what?"

The half-elf didn't move for several seconds as she scanned the room. Finally she shook her head. "May aught I'm hearin' things. Could've swore I heard a-"

What a perfect time to scream.

"Mouse!" Amara cried with a deceptively shrill trill as a tiny shadow darted across the floor from the darkness of one corner to the dim light of another. She clutched his arm and let out a faint whimper. "Ugh, how awful! How filthy!"

Hendryk patted the back of her shoulder a little too hard, a clear warning to dial it back. "How awful," he echoed solemnly, gazing steadily at the frazzled half-elf. "And here I thought you had a reputable establishment. What a shame."

Rose stamped her thick boot in the corner where the mouse had fled, but it had vanished seemingly into nothing. "Tis a coastal town," she protested, her voice husky. "Ye'll aught get mice from time to time, for certain in the autumn. Though I've ne'er seen one in me shop so soon in the year.". She crossed her arms over her burly chest and drummed her fingers on her thick coat. "Odd that. Tell ye what. I'll drop by rent by fifty bob and have the place treated on my coin. That's the best I can do ye for - that is, if'n ye still want the place?"

Hendryk pretended to think, gnawing on his thumbnail with a troubled expression. "It is the finest place we've seen today... I'm quite partial to it. Amara, dear, do you agree to those terms? I think they're quite fair."

Amara shuddered one last time. "If you think it's fair, Henny, then I'll trust you. Ugh, hopefully those awful mice are gone when we're ready to move in. How dreadful that was, and what unfortunate timing!"

"Aye," agreed Rose with a dark expression and a darker tone, "that it was."

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 4/11/2023

more concise than usual. don't get used to it.

listening

the trombone is an underutilized instrument in indie rock. this is a delightful music video, the vocals bother me a lot less now that i know they're deliberately going for a robotic effect.

if you liked the Killing Eve soundtrack (largely brought to you by Unloved and Junoire), that sort of very smooth lightly psych-rock flavored thinking woman's music to smoke clove cigarettes to while slouching around used bookstores, you may like this song! reading this back it sounds kind of snotty but sometimes you need a french woman main character song to make doing errands feel like being on a secret mission

i found one of their previous albums, Psycho Tropical Berlin, sort of a one-hit wonder with Hypsoline (the credits song for As Above So Below) but it really is a fucking banger

i want the album art as a shirt So Bad but not enough to pay $25 shipping from france about it.

i think this was off the spotify weekly discover playlist? can't imagine where else i would have run across it

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reading

remember the vampire-adjacent private detective novels i was reading? not the ones from last week, the earlier ones. the author alexis hall chucks you a free short story Sand and Ruin and Gold if u sign up for his mailing list.

i think the orca comparisons are a touch heavy-handed at times, but the imagery in this thing...i really am a sucker for the rot of a coastal tourist trap. i bear no fondness, but i do give them a weary nod of acknowledgement. this town is a construct for other people to enjoy. i typed out a very long thing about how the economics of tourism shaped the town and everything about the civic calendar down to the school year, but--it was not really meant to have real residents or be a real place. there was absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to hang out without paying for anything in the off season.

It was just after closing on Reunification Day, the last of the stragglers gathered up and banished back to their world. A spiral of faded, plastic bunting from the celebrations had blown into one of the pools. I went to get a pole to hook it out but heard a splash and turned in time to see Nerites leap from the water in a gleam of skin and scales. The wind whisked the ribbon from between his fingers, and he reached after it, his body twisting sinuously in the air before he crashed into the pool again.

I’d never seen him—or any of them—move like that before. The jumps and slides we taught them were supposed to mimic their natural behaviours, but they rarely performed them spontaneously. And this was something else again: a wild leap and an ungainly splash, more beautiful to me than the most perfect bow or spin because it seemed so absolutely heedless.

He surfaced again, almost vertical, spinning in the pale-grey spray, one hand catching for the bunting’s tail. A tug, and it tumbled from the sky, nothing but a lifeless piece of string.

i am beginning to remember that all the shit that really sticks in my brain is in short stories and novellas you (general, including me) have never heard of.

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watching

star wars resistance. i am finding this far more enjoyable than the bad batch or the mandalorian bc it has something of a storyline that it sticks to, even though most of the runtime is a teen... he's not really a teen, he was a new republic pilot so he's probably like twenty but in my heart he's like fifteen. part of the appeal of ds9 for me was a very consolidated set of recurring background characters and getting to see that there are other things/factions/people all working for their own ends. baby's first practice spy mission.

the ship design is really killer: it asks and answers the question "what if a pirate spaceship was also a galleon?"

i find myself excited to watch the next episode, which is not a familiar feeling when i watch star wars stuff. i really hope s2 holds my interest as much as s1 did.

why am i doing this? i have seen all the star wars except for: most of the LEGO stuff, most of the addendum and errata for tcw (including the crystal crisis arc), the holiday special, and most of the droids and ewoks animated shows. like i am Really scraping the bottom of the barrel here, even though i'm not really sure why this show fell into such obscurity.

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playing

a bit cranky with weird west, bc i think to get past this stealth level i will have to dismiss my companion (can't seem to knock out guards unless i'm standing up, the companion AI has a very loose definition of "staying close" and is only "invisible" if you're also crouching, and you can't direct your companion to stay put in one place OR to stay close/stay crouched permanently. i may have exhausted most of the appeal of the world on my first fifteen-hour run through the first story. i am more than a little disappointed bc i did have a fuckton of fun in those fifteen hours and was expecting the good times to continue.

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making

still halfheartedly poking away at the baby blanket, less than half a repeat this week and i don't feel like getting up, digging the blanket out of the catproof bag, and putting enough lights on for a real photo. this is repeat 7/10 tho so we are slowly approaching the end