#and now i’m just fucking crazy. and i have learned how to avoid Traps in our conversations and i just. make him talk about feelings

[pussymasterdooku]

my father fully just called to apologize for his shitty responses to my adhd struggles in my youth which is frankly something i NEVER would have expected to happen. however i did then have to tell him he needs to stop blaming my mom’s adhd for their marital problems and face up to how the beliefs he formed during his extremely fucked up childhood about life and marriage and feelings etc etc are actually fueling his patterns of infidelity which are Perhaps a bigger issue than her being neuroatypical. lol. conversations i NEVER would have expected to have even a year ago but it sure has been One Hell Of A Year

[corporatefrog]

╭₊˚ ๑︰A Bit Tied Up ๑ ꒱

✧.* featuring: stan calling yn to help get human kite out of a sticky situation after a run in with professor chaos

✧.* tags: college au, comedy, superhero au

✧.* Characters: kyle broflovski, stan marsh

masterlist

“Dude, you have to just grab my hand.” 

“I’m trying- bleugh- fuck!” 

“You’re obviously not or else you’d be out of the tree by now.”

When Stan told me Kyle had gotten stuck in a tree during one of their ‘epic battles’ against Professor Chaos, I pictured the situation in my head. A human kite can only get stuck in a tree in so many ways after all. But the sight I was greeted with when I pulled up to PC Park was so much funnier. 

He’d somehow gotten the string of the kite wrapped around his left arm and leg, trapping them against the branches. A small branch sat against his face and wacked his face with leaves whenever he moved his head. (Which worked perfectly because Kyle always had to have the last word resulting in a leave shaped mark on the side of his face) Another branch pierced his kite, leaving him as stuck in the tree as humanly possible. 

The first ten minutes of my trip were, understandably, spent laughing at the predicament Kyle had gotten himself into. I mean, I did tell them to not do their superhero shit in the park. Especially after last time when Clyde had run into a family barbeque and had gotten blasted by bug spray. But no. I’m the crazy one! How could I possibly suggest that staying out of the park with an odd amount of park related superheroes would be a better idea? 

So I spent the next 10 minutes after the first 10 laughing at Kyle some more. Then Stan and I began to try and pull him out of the tree. However, we underestimated the difficulty of dragging a 6’2 stubborn redhead out of a tree while said redhead throws a fit.

Kyle’s arms went limp, swinging loosely as he breathed heavily from the exertion. 

“This is ridiculous.” He weakly tugged his left arm against the string but it didn’t budge. The movement shook the branch, sending the small branch flying into his face for the hundredth time that day. Kyle cursed and swiped at the branch. 

I smirked up at him, biting back another wave of laughter, “Glad to see you still have your stunning analytical abilities.” 

Kyle shot me a sour look. He wasn’t amused with the first 20 minutes of laughter and I had a feeling 30 minutes would be pushing it.

Beside me, Stan had backed up to take stock of the current situation. He was still in his Toolshed outfit, utility belt hanging around his waist with various power tools ready to be used against the various forces of evil which plagued South Park. Like the devious Professor Chaos that led them to this conundrum. 

Yeah if ‘devious’ means a silly little guy who’s counting down the days to the Barbie movie. Then he’s the most devious motherfucker I know. 

“I’m just saying-” I started. 

“Yeah, like you’ve been saying this whole time.” Kyle snapped, cursing again as the branch returned for another smack. You think he’d learn to just stop talking or break the branch but I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him that.

I continued, not acknowledging his remark, “This situation could’ve been entirely avoided if you didn’t take this chase through the park like I told you.” Stan groaned behind me, talking while he paced around the tree in search of an easy way to release his friend.

“And like I told you, Chaos had the deed to Kenny’s house and he was going to destroy it! We had to follow him!” Stan pulled out a circle saw and held it up to the trunk of the tree, moving it back and forth to test the small saw against the large tree. 

“And what good are you doing standing here with fucknuts stuck in the tree?” I asked, pointing up at Kyle who was growing more pissed off with each passing minute that he was stuck in the tree. 

“HEY! Don’t call me fucknuts, dickwipe!” He snapped, the branch sound now consistently following all of his quips.

Crack. 

We all went silent at the sound of the crack. Stan and I looked up, catching a glimpse of Kyle’s own shocked face before the branch holding his arm and leg captive let out another cracking noise. The branch dipped, shaking Kyle and ripping through the top of his kite. Without his back being held up, Kyle’s right side pulled towards the ground as all his weight pulled on the slowly splintering branch. 

Kyle’s eyes met my own in the split second before catastrophe. 

“Oh fuck.” He said before the branch broke, sending him plummeting to the ground. 

Kyle collided with the ground in a pile of plastic canvas looking like a kite that was sent through a garbage disposal. He groaned, pulling his now free arm and leg away from the branch before flopping back onto the ground with a weak sigh. 

A moment of silence out of respect. One…two…three…

Okay. Now we laugh. Kyle was not amused with my behavior for the next 40 minutes. I, on the other hand, found everything about the situation utterly hilarious.

[mickskicks-art]

THEATRE OF THE HEART

in which we learn there is an apt difference between me and you

By:

(Inspired by “Theatre of Coolty” by Duckface)

THREE FIGURES argue in a transitionary HOTEL. Above FIGURE ONE, the words “GOD IS DEAD” appear in sparkly Comic Sans. Above FIGURE TWO, the words “ONE MUST IMAGINE SISPHYUS HAPPY” appear in Arial. Above FIGURE THREE, the words “THERE IS BUT ONE TRULY SERIOUS PHILOSOPHICAL PROBLEM AND THAT IS SUICIDE,” appear in Times New Roman.

The HOTEL is in disarray with WATER flooding the area, spilling out to splash the AUDIENCE who are all on their PHONES.

DIRK 1 and DIRK 2 take their places by the invisible FOURTH WALL.

Screams can be heard over the loud beating of their hearts.

CHARACTERS…?

DIRK 1 is an ideological forgotten mascot for someone better. He has triangular shades.

DIRK 2 is a fading memory that’s strengthened by imagination. He has triangular shades.

[According to the cartographic supplement on page 42 section 4.13 by Franz Kafka titled “The Stranger” with scribbles in the margins by someone with no mouth (they must scream), it is shown that…]

…

DIRK 1: Fuckass.

DIRK 2: …What?

DIRK 1: You never know what The Powers that Be will allow in these circumstances.

DIRK 2: It’s not like you’ll get [CENSORED].

DIRK 2: …. Now, why would they censor a word with the same word?

DIRK 1: Again, it’s all about allowance.

The three figures in the background still argue, but nobody can hear their slapstick comedy act.

(However, the water level still rises, soaking the oblivious characters.)

DIRK 1: I’ve been avoiding the subject like a bathroom mirror but… who are you?

DIRK 2: I’m you. Again.

DIRK 1: No.

DIRK 2: What, you can’t just–

DIRK 1: You’re not me.

(DIRK 2 pauses, saying lolwhatthefuckareyouimplying in his head.)

DIRK 1: Sure, you can be a subset of me. But if we are just the concept of awareness trapped in a vessel with automatic likes, fears, and needs, then you are not me. I am not aware of nor in your body.

(DIRK 2 heaves a sigh of relief. He can make the other Dirk suspend his disbelief for a little longer.)

DIRK 2: Yeah, it’s mad crazy, yo. I’m ‘bout to wax poetic misery to your sorry ass.

DIRK 1 (nodding): Please do, but let me plagiarize later as you are insignificant and unimportant.

DIRK 2: I couldn’t have said it any better.

DIRK 1 and 2: After all, who would care?

DIRK 1: So, what’s your grand revelation? Lay it on me.

DIRK 2: Oh, you're just going to love this. None of this is real. It's all just a figment of someone's imagination turned into something shareable.

DIRK 1: … How original.

DIRK 1: That’s the best you could come up with?

DIRK 2: Hey, it's a classic for a reason. Besides, it's not about the concept, it's about the delivery.

(The words “META IS DEAD” flash above them, accompanied by a dramatic drumroll and cheer sound effect.)

DIRK 1: How enlightening… I feel so liberated now… ugh.

DIRK 2: But I do have to admit something.

(A computer cursor hovers over DIRK 2 and slides him over to DIRK 1 with no applied physics.)

DIRK 2: I’m a real person. I made this. My concept of self is nonexistent at this point, so I became bonded to you. I want to be you because that means that I’m someone.

(The water rises.)

DIRK 2: I would kill my old self to look, act, and be you. I need to be someone who’s loved and survived the narrative thrown at them.

(The water rises.)

DIRK 1: What the fuck?

(The water rises.)

DIRK 2: I need… I need to like myself, so let me be my favorite character. I need to be Dirk. I need to be someone I love so I can love myself.

(DIRK 2 is drowning.)

(DIRK 1 is standing on water and wants to walk away with complete apathy.)

DIRK 1: Well, that’s dramatic.

(DIRK 2 struggles in the water, desperately reaching out for something to hold on to.)

DIRK 1: You’re floundering in an ocean of delusion.

DIRK 1: What’s your endgame here? To matter? To exist?

(DIRK 2 is sinking below the waves)

DIRK 1: Because who do you matter to? Who’s your audience?

(The words “AUDIENCE: 0” flash over the chairs left behind in the auditorium.)

DIRK 1: You realize that even if you manage to be me, or at least a version of me, it won't change anything, right? It won't fill the void you're desperately trying to patch.

(DIRK 2 disappears underneath the water. For a moment, there’s silence. There’s mourning.)

DIRK 1: Don’t pretend to be me. Or do, I don’t care. But don’t do it for such pointless reasons.

(The words REVELATION and OBLIVION flash in the glare of DIRK 1’s triangular sunglasses.)

DIRK 1: Dirk 2 is dead, yet one must imagine Dirk 2 happy. But the most important problem is–

(Cut to black.)

(There are screams.)

[shotofire]

Butler

Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

Overview: Levi is a butler for your family, and you can’t help but fancy him

Warnings: Cursing, pushy parents, angst, smut, fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, age gap (legal of course), that filthy talk (mild), hair pulling, slight choking

Requested by @heyyharuhi (thank you for this request, as soon as i read the idea i started on it)

Okay, i’m going to admit.... i’m too lazy to proof read this. Work is kicking my ass and i just want to sleep. hopefully i didn’t fuck up too bad. I tend to type faster than my mind is thinking... so i apologize in advance for the typos. enjoy :)

-

The room is hot, almost enough to make ones skin feel as if it’s on fire. Maybe that had to do with the anger everyone at the dinner table is feeling. The scrunching face of your father and mother as the look of disbelief is spread across their features. Not to mention how silent it is, so uncomfortably silent. The sound of your fork scraping across the table is all that can be heard.

Your father takes in a deep breath, eyes closing in utter frustration. “Tell me again why you don’t like this boy? He’s taken you out to dinner several times now, and has been very kind to our family,” you can only roll your eyes at your fathers words. All they care about is setting you up with a wealthy stuck up man, not someone who will bring happiness. “And every time he flirted with the waitress,” you snap, “also, he has horrible manners.”

It’s sad the situation you’re in, really. This has been going in the family for years, the children not getting to choose who they marry. Of course they could’ve rejected and rejected until their parents gave up, but no one has been able to push through. Your mother is a perfect example with having to marry your father. A stuck up man who you’ve never even seen smile at your mother, it’s saddening. “The man has money, lots of it, and you know how much we’re struggling right now,” your mother says with the same look of disbelief.

The double doors to the dining room swing open, making the conversation come to a pause. There he stood, your butler, with a tray of freshly poured drinks. He has the same expressionless look as always as he strides over to the table setting each cup down. As his body stands close to yours, you can’t help but take in how good he smells. Yes it may come off as creepy, but you’d never encountered a man who smelled so fresh. Like a flower garden.

“Thank you, Levi,” you say with a small smile. Your parents never thank him or even acknowledge him and it pisses you off. The man must be in a horrible situation financially if he’s willing to put up with your parents. They always complain about money yet have maids, chefs, and butlers. As if they can’t do anything for themselves. Levi nods at you with a small smirk in reply before exciting the room.

The rest of dinner goes in, filled with arguments and insults. Just a regular night in this family. It’s frustrating, really, how your parents only care about money. They don’t even care for you, or even themselves. All the two want is to appear rich to everyone else. It’s all about image, that’s it. Why care about those things when you can have love and happiness? That’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Since you were a teen, your parents have been shoving stuck up boy after stuck up boy in your direction. Each one has bragged about their live’s, and how women love them. None have even bothered to ask you a personal question. To get to know you in anyway. Each one saw women as a pretty thing to wear on their arms for public gatherings. And any other time you’d just be seen as another maid to them, it’s the sad truth.

Women are pushed around by men, especially in this life style. All that matters is money and looks. Love won’t get your name respected by others, that’s the power of money. The people you call your parents have never been affectionate towards one another, not that you’ve ever witnessed. It’s not wonder they only ended up having one child. Usually by this age, in your family at least, people are married. Some even have a kid of their own on the way. But you just keep rebelling until they give up, that’s what you’re hoping for.

It’s late now and the hallways are dimly lit, not a sound to be heard. At times like this your mind wanders. Thinking about Levi, which isn’t a good idea. Sure he’s really good looking, but there’s no way he could be interested. When he’d first started coming around, a few months ago, you immediately wanted to get closer to him. Then you learned of his age which was something you definitely weren’t expecting. The man looked around the same age as you.

The sound of a faint hum can be heard from down the hall. It sounds like it’s coming from the living area. As you round the corner you see him standing there. Levi sat on the couch with a book perched in his hands, the lamp lit up next to him. His eyes move to your frame and jumps at your presence. The maids and butlers have their own area of the home to stay in during the night, which is really shitty may you add. He shouldn’t be here during this time. If your parents were to see him there they’d throw a fit.

Before he could react you’re walking towards him, sitting next to him on the red sofa. “What are you reading?” Levi is at a loss for words, really, this has his heart racing. Yet he manages to choke out, “Just some cheap poetry book.” The two of you had only talked a handful of times, and it was never real conversation. The man has always found you beautiful and can’t believe you haven’t gotten married yet. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” You ask and he lets out a small laugh, “Couldn’t you ask yourself that?”

Levi feels his chest tighten as you move closer to him, looking at the pages of his book. This whole things was off to him. The man had never seen you in anything but a dress, yet here you were in nothing but a shirt and shorts. He always imagined you to sleep in some sort of fancy silk nightgown. And yes, he thinks about what you wear to bed. He has scolded himself for where his mind has gone to thinking about you, but he can’t help himself. You’ve always been so kind to him.

“You should let me borrow this book sometime,” you say with a small smile. You’re inches away from his face now, eyes peering into one another’s. “Of course,” he gulps. The room fell silent. He isn’t sure if he is reading this moment correctly. One thing he is sure of is he’s definitely not the type of man you need to get caught up with. As this thought crosses his mind he’s quick to stand up off the sofa. “It’s getting late, I should get to bed.” Before you can say a word, he’s walking out of the room.

Complete and utter failure. That was your chance to get closer to him and you ended up scaring him off. Did you come across too forward? Sure you’d gotten rather close to him but you didn’t that that was too far. Was it? You let out a loud huff before falling face first into a pillow, groaning into it.

You were just a young girl who couldn’t decide her future, what could you possibly offer him? He’s older and has his shit figured out, it seems like it at least. As you mentally scold yourself for embarrassing yourself, Levi is in his room doing the same exact thing. He has found you breathtaking from day one and constantly wanted to get to know you. Then the moment you two are alone he panicked.

The man is grown, almost forty, and has been with countless women. Not to brag, he’s just never been one for settling. Then here comes a girl, younger and less experienced than him yet he’s the one choking up. Maybe it was the thought of your parents finding out that got the best of him. They may actually die of shock if they knew you even talked to him in the way you did, in your sweet voice. Or worse, they’d kill Levi themselves.

-

The next day rolls around, then the next, and so on. It seems like Levi is avoiding you to the furthest extent that he can and it’s really pissing you off. You don’t think he’s required to like you, but you’re still kind to him. You still try and brighten his day with a smile or a simple, “how are you?” Yet he won’t even stick around long enough for you to ask. Did you make him that uncomfortable? You’d rather hear him reject you then have this awkwardness floating in the air.

Knowing that you could’ve possibly made him feel uncomfortable really started to eat at your conscious. For awhile you stopped wandering the halls at night searching for him. Most of the times, after the first encounter, he’d hurry off at the first sight of you. Even through all of this your desire for him only seems to grow more intense.

Why did he have to be so damn attractive?

You lay in your bed, looking up at the ceiling. Levi is the only thing on your mind. It’s hard to not wonder what he’s doing on late nights like this. On a Sunday, your parents off doing business in town. No one here to boss him or the other workers around.Maybe he got scared off thinking of your parents catching you two so close that night, of course that’s something you keep telling yourself.

Being stuck in your home not allowed anywhere always eats away at you. Being here wasn’t something you enjoyed any day, but actually being told you can’t leave makes you feel crazy. When your parents are away they think the maids and butlers are going to pocket the entire house and run off. But you know each staff member well enough to come to the conclusion that they’d never do such a thing. If only your parents would listen to you when saying this, maybe you wouldn’t be trapped in here.

When they’re off doing business or whatnot, the staff takes that as their full opportunity to get some good sleep. Just be able to relax. Your parents always have them on the go it seems, until the sun goes down. Sometimes, most of the time, even later than that. They’ll see a book out of place and call for a maid instead of doing it themselves.

The staff has always been fond of you from the beginning. Some of the older maids watched you as a little girl. You’d always beg them to help clean or just be around them. As you grew older, you stopped asking to help and went ahead and did it anyway. If you notice they happen to miss something, which is rare, you’ll grab a duster or a broom and finish the job. It breaks your heart when your parents treat them to harshly.

That’s one of the many reasons Levi is so fond of you. Even after being raised by such pigs you still managed to be your own person. To be kind. He’d worked for other wealthy families in the past and usually every member was horrid, and treated him like dirt. Then he came here and met you, a sweet girl who loves to help.

Levi remembers when he was first joined the staff at your home. It was very hectic. He didn’t expect your parents to need such assistance. Usually families would try and do some things for themselves, but no. It seems your parents need their hands held constantly like children. It was a lot to handle at once, but you made it easier for him.

You helped him set appointments, organize, or any other unpredictable needs. He didn’t talk much, but he still made it very apparent that he appreciated all of your help. Moments like those were when you would look at him and just be in awe of his beauty. To you he was like a prince. So charming and kind, his looks are just a bonus.

You find yourself rising to your feet and leaving your room. The sun has already set and the stars are lighting up the sky. Your home is quiet now, somewhat peaceful without your parents. Without thinking, you’re in the hall walking through the darkness. Your fingers trace along the wall as your toes gently push into the carpet. You’d hate to wake anyone up this late.

As if your body knows something before you do, your stomach begins to have slight butterflies before rounding the corner into the living area. Would Levi even be up this late? it’s much later than the times he’s usually out here reading. As you turn the corner your eyes land on him and you take a silent breath, that you can’t help but hold onto for a second longer.

On the sofa sits Levi. His hair is clutched between a few of his fingers as his eyes squint at the book he’s reading, almost frustrated it seems. Instead of saying anything and scaring him off you swiftly walk to him and sit yourself down. He lets out a small, ‘ah’ at your presence, not expecting you, and you can’t help but let out a small giggle at his reaction.

“What? Not happy to see me?” The sweet smile on your face makes a blush rise to his cheeks. Of course he’s happy to see you, even if he can be complicated sometimes. “Uh, no. Not that, just didn’t expect you up so late.” That’s truly what it is. He came out here with a full expectation that you, and everyone else, would be fast asleep. “I guess we’re both night people, huh?” You shove at him lightly with your arm and he smirks.

There’s a silence that falls over you two, but it’s not uncomfortable. You can’t help but move a bit closer to him, the situation feeling all too familiar. This time Levi isn’t tensing up, or moving away. If anything, you’re pretty sure he moves closer to you ass well. “What are you reading this time?” Your sweet voice makes him shiver.

His eyes scan over your features, sticking to your lips for a little too long. This doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Just some romance novel I picked up, it’s sorta frustrating to read.” “How so?” Your eyes sparkle in interest. Your bodies are so close, just the side of your leg pressed up against his has his heart racing. That and the fact you look beautiful right now.

“They both like each other and won’t act upon it, and it just keeps getting drawn out. All it is is boring conversation and hearing their thoughts. They should just kiss already.” He watches as your face moves closer to his, lip sinking into your bottom lip. “I think they should just kiss already, too.”

That’s all it takes for Levi to close the gap in-between you two. Your arms come up to wrap around his neck, while his hands have already started grabbing at your waist. His touch sends electricity through you. You’d only been with a few men, and Levi was already making you feel a knot in your stomach that you’d never felt before. It was a good feeling.

A feeling of excitement.

One of his, rather big, hands trail up your spine causing you to shiver at his touch. The hand goes all the way up until it reaches the base of your neck, tangling in your hair. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into the bruising kiss as his fingers tug at your locks. He smirks, and you feel it. His other hand squeezes your thigh, sending a jolt right to your heat.

Levi pulls back to examine your face, rosy cheeks and eyes half open. “Fuck, you’re breathtaking,” he cursed before diving back in. This time his lips are attack your neck, nibbling and licking as you let out high pitched sighs.

This is all happening so fast, but you love it. There is so much built up tension between the two of you and it’s all coming out. You can’t stop yourself from tugging at his shirt, a whine falls from your lips. There’s no telling how many times you’ve dreamed of seeing this man without a shirt on. He follows your complies and pulls the shirt over his head, exposing the pure glory beneath. Yes, glory.

You stare for a good moment. He’s so fit, more than you imagined. “Like what you see?” He teases with a cocky smile. “More than like, I could look at you all day.” The blush that spreads across his face doesn’t go unnoticed by you. He looks into your eyes and his hands snake under your shirt, slightly pushing you backwards until your back meets the sofa. He’s above you now, with a shit-eating grin.

When his fingers make contact with your chest he can’t help but bite his lip. You don’t have a bra on. “Do you want me as much as I want you?” You’re about to answer his question, but his fingers brush against your nipples. The action makes you let out a soft gasp at the feeling. “What was that?” He asks with that same cocky smirk, “Use your words princess.”

The pet name just sends you for another loop. “Yes,” you manage to get out, “I want you.” He presses his lips to yours, then your neck again, before discarding of your shirt. His soft lips trace down you stomach with light feathery kisses, making your breathing become uneven. His fingers loop in the waist ban of your shorts before pulling them down your legs, tossing them in some random direction.

Everything happening has your head spinning. In the best way possible, of course. His mouth is hovering about your clothes core now, it’s enough to drive you mad. Your excitement is visible on your underwear. “So wet,” he coos, his breath fanning against you. He takes off the last item on your body, leaving you bare.

For a second you want to close your legs when the shyness kicks in, but Levi acts quick. His lips attack to your clit in an instant, and your fingers fly to his hair. Tangling and pushing him closer into you. His mouth is like magic. “Fuck-“ you cut yourself off with a moan. His tongue moves up and down your slit, circling your clit. Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head.

His finger comes up to circle your entrance before pushing its way in. The way he’s working with his mouth and fingers had you seeing stars. “I’m gonna-“ right before you finish he completed stops his actions. Of course he just had to be a little shit.

“You’re going to come on my cock,” he says with a smile. Just his words alone have your stomach turning. He lines himself up with you before pushing forward slowly. You hiss at the pain, never ever have you been with someone this big. He halts his actions at the sound you make, but you’re quick to beg for me. “No, keep going, please don’t stop!”

He slams into you and you hold back a scream. The pain quickly turns into pleasure as his hips start to slam into yours. “How does that feel princess?” Him and that damn pet name again. “So, So good,” you manage to get out. Unexpectedly, his hand comes up to wrap around your throat, pressing lightly. Your eyes just about light up when he brushes against that spot.

He must of saw the sparkle in your eyes, so he does the same movement. Over, over, and over again. It doesn’t take long before you’re coming undone around him, shaking and vision blurring. His movements continue until he’s coming inside of you, deep grunts escaping his mouth. The only sound is heavy breathing as Levi lays on top of your chest.

“Do you want to go to my room and cuddle?”

Levi looks at you with a childish grin. “of course.”



[chaoslynx]

this prompt please <3 : "i’ve been alone for so long i’m afraid i don’t know what it’s like not to be."

They’ve just moved into the condo, and Ash is feeling ... feelings about it. Conflicted feelings.

Feelings about how happy he is to have Eiji with him.

And how scared he is to have Eiji with him.

He’s trapped Eiji here. Literally and figuratively. The kid can’t leave the apartment, and Ash has also ... clipped his wings. In a different sense than just not letting him leave.

And Ash ... Ash, he ...

He isn’t ready for something like this. Whatever this is. And he never will be ready. People like him don’t get things like this.

Like hope. Happiness. Love.

It’s not for him.

So why is Eiji giving it to him?

“You were out late again last night,” Eiji says.

“Yeah,” Ash responds simply from where he’s sitting on the couch.

There’s a pause before Eiji continues. “Are you avoiding me?”

“No, I just—There’s so much I have to—”

“I know, Ash. But I think that even when you are here, you are avoiding me. On some level, if not physical.”

Ash wrings his hands in his lap, then separates them. Doesn’t want Eiji to see that weakness. Doesn’t want Eiji to doubt him, even if it’s stupid. Even if Eiji should doubt him, should leave him entirely.

“What are you afraid of?” Eiji asks.

Ash bristles. “We have so many people who—”

“Not out there. What are you afraid of in here? With me?”

Sighing, Ash closes his eyes for a moment and doesn’t respond.

“Are you afraid that I’ll leave?” Eiji asks. He moves to stand directly in front of Ash, but it doesn’t feel confrontational. “Because I will not.”

“It’s not that,” Ash admits.

“Then what?” And now Eiji sits down on the ground in front of Ash. It startles Ash, and he nearly recoils. He doesn’t like it, really. Seeing someone at his feet like that. Seeing Eiji like that.

“I ...” Ash hesitates. “I’ve been alone for so long, I’m afraid I don’t know what it’s like not to be.”

But instead of understanding, instead of finally leaving, Eiji fucking smiles. He smiles, and says, “Then I will teach you.”

Ash breathes out a laugh. He slides off the couch to sit on the floor with Eiji. “I don’t think it’s something that can be taught.”

“You underestimate me.” Eiji is insistent, resolute. Confident, in a way Ash envies. “Just watch.”

Watch Eiji? God, Ash would watch Eiji—follow Eiji—anywhere. To the end of the galaxy and back, just to see as the planets revolve around him.

Ash’s world, at least, if not the literal planets. Ash’s world is Eiji.

And that’s terrifying.

“I’ll show you,” Eiji says, but it’s quieter now. “You will learn. It’s not hard, and I’m sure that ridiculous supercomputer brain of yours can handle it.”

Ash huffs. “You think making fun of me is the way to show me?” But—

“Yes,” Eiji replies. “I do. I think that it’s exactly the way to show you. To explain to you what it’s like to not be alone. To be loved.”

Startled, Ash looks away. Out the high rise window, to the tainted New York sky.

“I think that making fun of you, and laughing with you—that’s exactly the way to show you. And I will. Every day, until you understand.”

“You’re crazy,” Ash whispers.

“Crazy for you, maybe.” Eiji grins.

It’s silent for too long, but Eiji doesn’t seem to mind.

“... Promise?” Ash asks suddenly.

“Hm?”

Ash leans forward, folding in half until his forehead is nearly on the floor. He takes a breath and moves back up, making eye contact with Eiji. “Can you promise that I’ll learn, one day?”

Eiji smiles—soft, now, not playful. “Yes, Ash. I will show you. I promise. Like I said, you underestimate me.”

And maybe that’s true. Maybe Ash doesn’t give Eiji enough credit. He’s not a kid—not really. He’s an adult, older than Ash, and he has his own agency. His own capabilities.

And maybe this—getting through to Ash in ways no one else has—maybe this is one of them.

And Ash just has to let it happen.

Sentence starters!

[xfandomseverywherex]

Hey! Could I request an imagine where reader and Eric Coulter break up and they're sad or really upset, so the rest of the people in Dauntless try to get them back toghether, please?

You were getting really tired of this dance with Eric. Always avoiding him in the corridors, making sure you don’t have any shifts training with him. Treating him like the plague was taking a toll on you, both physically and mentally. 

You and Eric had known each other since you had been an initiate, him being one of the Dauntless members that trained you and the others. You’d quickly become closer through training and by the time initiation was finished, you were basically attached at the hip. But, things had started to change in the last few months. Eric was pulling away from you, more so than usual and you couldn’t figure out why. He wouldn’t tell you what was wrong and he would spend his nights ‘working,’ though you’re not entirely sure that is really what he was doing. Eventually you had grown so tired of never seeing him that you’d brought it up to him on the odd day he was home. 

“Eric, are you avoiding me or something?” you’d asked him with a soft voice. You weren’t sure if you were scared of his response or scared of the truth. 

Eric let out a small laugh mixed in a sigh, his icy blue eyes closing and eyebrows scrunching together. “That’s a stupid question. You know I’ve been working more and getting ready for the next initiation. Why can’t you just leave me alone for once?” he turned his gaze to you, the coldness of his glare throwing you off for a moment. You quickly composed yourself and shot back, “I haven’t hardly seen you for weeks, how should I know? It doesn’t even feel like we live together anymore,” you huff, turning away to hide your reddening cheeks and watery eyes.

A heavy silence filled the room, until Eric spoke. “Why do we, then?” he said, barely above a whisper. 

You couldn’t believe what you’d heard. Were you dreaming? You turned to face him, sure you’d heard him wrong or misunderstood. “What?” you asked incredulously. 

“You heard me. It would save me a lot of trouble if you’d just go, so go,” he said, staring off to the side. His face held no emotion, his eyes not even hinting of remorse or guilt. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. 

You scoffed. “Screw you,” You turned to head to the door, turning back one final time to see him gripping the table edge. That was the last time you’d spoken to him. 

It’s been a couple weeks since then and to say you were suffering in silence was an understatement. Your friends were letting you couchsurf with them, a majority of them having a spacious apartment together. They all knew you weren’t getting any sleep; if the bags under your eyes wasn’t enough proof, they could also hear you at various times throughout the night. They felt awful for you - they couldn’t do anything to help you short of setting you up with someone, and they knew you wouldn’t like that. 

It wasn’t just your friends that noticed, either. Everyone noticed, since you helped train the initiates. You were beginning to become less energetic, less willing or able to fight and started asking others to show basic moves to initiates, as if you didn’t care. Everyone was worried, hoping somehow that it would work out. Yet, they knew Eric. While you may be stubborn, no one is as stubborn as him and there would be almost no convincing him. Almost.

“Eric, could you grab me the hand wraps from the supply room? I can’t find any.”

“Eric, could you go get me some energy drinks from the storage room? These initiates get worn out so fast.”

“Eric, could you-”

They tried for a week to get him in the same room as you, to no avail. He just wouldn’t follow anyone. But then they had an idea. 

“Eric, could you-”

“If you ask me one more time to get you something, I’m gonna punch you in the throat,” he responded, a dangerous edge to his voice. He was beginning to look and sound tired, too. They wanted to help both of you now. 

“Actually, I was gonna tell you that some idiot newbie put some important file boxes on a really high shelf in the storage closet and since I can’t get them, he asked me to get you to get them,” the Dauntless member looked at him sheepishly, pointing in the direction of the closet. 

Eric groaned and stood up from his spot on a bench. “Fine, but only because I need to. Let’s make this quick.” Eric followed the Dauntless member down endless corridors, coming to a stop in front of a small doorway labeled “STORAGE.” Eric opened the door, stepping inside a couple feet before realizing he couldn’t see past the doorway. “Where’d you say the boxes - hey!” The door slammed shut behind him, trapping him inside the closet. 

“I’m gonna kill you once I get out of here,” he yelled, hoping the person on the other side of the door could hear him. He pounded on the door with his fists a few times before eventually giving up and searching for a light switch on the wall. Once he felt what seemed to be a switch, he flicked it, squinting at the sudden brightness. Once his eyes adjusted to the room, he glanced around. 

You were sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, blinking slowly to get used to the sudden light. Stunned into silence, Eric stood there, dumbfounded as to what to say. As he contemplated his next words, he was caught off-guard by the sound of your voice. “Long time no see, eh?” The words came out raspy, like you had been crying recently. He gave your face a once over and noticed how tired you looked, how bloodshot your eyes were. A small breath released him, like he was punched in the stomach. 

He strode over to you, enveloping you in his large, tattooed arms. In your shock, all you could do was stand there as he held you, cradling your head in one hand, the other holding you close to him. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. 

Your eyebrows furrowed. This was very unlike the Eric you knew. What happened? “Where’s Eric and what did you do with him?” you asked in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. You felt like you were suffocating; so much was happening at once. You felt Eric’s chest rumble as he chuckled. 

“It’s me, I just realized I’m an idiot. I’m sorry for everything and I miss you like crazy and I expect you to hate me but I just needed to hold you, you look so tired.”

You breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell of Eric’s cologne. You missed this, Missed him. You finally wrapped your arms around him, sharing in his embrace. “Don’t let me go again, Eric. Please.”

“Never.”

~~~~

“Have you two learned to behave yet?” a voice sounded from outside the door.

“Fuck off!” responded two voices. 

[villainousshakespeare]

Putting It Back Together Chapter 1

Adam/OFC

Rated M (will probably change to E) - Grief, angst, eventual smut, mention of characters dead before the start of the story

Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1​ @poetic-fiasco​ @shiningloki​ @dangertoozmanykids101​ @bookworm-christina​ @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy​ @amwolowicz​ @delightfulheartdream​ @frostbitten-written​ @what-a-flammable-heart​ @tom-hlover​ @nonsensicalobsessions​

So I decided to take a crack at Adam. The plan is to have this be around 10 chapters, but that is just a guess at the moment. It starts a little angsty, but will lighten up as it goes along. Hope you enjoy!

If you would like on or off the tag list, please let me know!

It was more of a mist than a drizzle adding chill to the late autumn air as he walk through the dark streets. Even this time of night there were noises of fellow wanders, zombies he was sure, but he managed to keep from the streets where they roamed. The last thing he needed was to be confronted with the mindlessness of what passed for humanity in these times.

That was the trade off of life in the city. The need to constantly dodge others was barely offset by the convenience of shops open late and services not bound by the constraints of daylight. Not that Adam needed many services of others. He was in most ways self sufficient. He had worked for centuries to make it so. With but two exceptions - sustenance and music - he had only ever needed one soul besides his own.  

She was gone now, his Eve. Eleven years had passed since she had taken a glass of tainted blood in Tangier. It seemed like yesterday, it seemed like a lifetime. He wished it were his lifetime. Only a promise dragged out of him at her death bead had kept him from following her into oblivion. She had used every trick she possessed, every weakness she knew in him, to get him to agree to her demand, and now he was trapped, bound by a promise to another century on this blighted earth. Eighty-nine more revolutions until he could use the wooden bullet that lay heavy in breast pocket and end his grief.

He had wandered after she left him. Angry and bitter, he had left Africa and roved across the globe. Everywhere he went, though, there were memories. He saw her everywhere in Europe. The Middle East was littered with memories. Even South America echoed a life spent together.

Finally he had come back to America. She had not spent as much time in the States. It was easier here. He had considered Seattle, New Orleans, Memphis, the various musical centers of the country, but in the end New York had drawn him in. Strange, he had never spent much time here. Too many zombies too close together. And yet, he could not deny it had definite advantages, and for the most part no one paid any attention to what anyone else did.

He arrived at last at the brownstone in the East Village where he lived his weary life. He was excited, or at least as excited as he was capable of these days, to test out the Rickenbacker bass guitar that he had stumbled upon in a pawn shop. The owner had no idea how rare the model was, and had not known how to react to the large roll of cash that Adam had thrust at him for the  instrument.

Quickly shucking his black leather jacket, Adam took out he new prize and lovingly stroked the light grained wood. He could feel the decades of music that it had produced still reverberating through the body. He flicked a series of toggles and buttons to power up his sound system and plugged the Rickenbacker in. Closing his eyes he placed his fingers firmly on the frets and plucked out a rapid series of low notes, loving the reverberation and full tones it produced. Just as he began to segue into an actual song, however, a loud bang sounded and the lights, sound, and all other electronic power went dead.

"Shit!" he spit out, mood collapsing back in on itself as quickly as it had risen.

Setting the bass gently back in its case despite his irritation, Adam fumbled through his belongings until he located his tool box. After attaching his head torch and grabbing a second flash light just in case, he made his way down the hall to the ladder that lead up through a hatch onto the roof where a small shed held the electric box for his home.

"Just what I fucking need," he muttered, pulling himself onto the tarred surface.

He was just picking his tools back up when a loud creaking noise drew his attention. Just a few feet away, a second hatch door had opened, and a shape was pulling itself up and onto the roof with some difficulty, judging by the swearing. Adam watched in dismay as the shape unfolded itself to reveal a woman silhouetted against the half moon. She had a large, over bright flashlight in her hands that waved back and forth as she made her way to the shed that was his own destination.

"Who are you?" he asked, intercepting her before she could reach the structure.

"Ohmyfuckinggod!" she cried out, jumping almost a foot as he appeared in front of her.

Adam crossed his arms and waited silently for her to calm down, mouth drawn down into a habitual scowl.

"You scared me half to death!" she told him needlessly when she had regained some of her composure.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Oh, you know, just signaling Batman that evil is afoot," she said dryly, waving her oversized lamp back and forth.

Adam continued to stare at her, unamused, until she sighed and gave him a real answer.

"I'm checking out the fuse box. Are you from 89? You must be, I guess. So your lights are out too? It doesn't look like it's the whole block, just our two buildings. Hopefully flipping the switch will bring them back on."

"There's no need for you to trouble yourself," he told her when she finally stopped talking. "I have things well in hand. The power should be on shortly."

"Great," she said with a forced smile.

She didn't move. Why was she still standing there? Adam glowered at her, hoping to scare her off, but the brainless girl just stood there.

"Did you need something else?" he asked reluctantly.

"No, just the one thing," she replied, blinking at him. "Shall we get to it?"

"This will hardly take two," he ground out. "And I know how the system works."

He should! He had redone the entire wiring himself. The convoluted system of shorting wires and faulty circuits had been a travesty when he moved in. It had taken him almost a month to tear it out and build a more streamlined, efficient energy grid. The only problem now was when he forgot himself and pulled too much power for the subpar wiring in the wall to take. He had considered redoing that as well, but it would take time and draw attention, which he was keen on avoiding.

"Wonderful, then you can show me," she chirped at him. "After all, you may not be here the next time it goes off, and then I won't know how it works."

She was not going to let this go, he could tell from the deceptively stubborn set of her shoulders. With a roll of his eyes that he doubted her human eyes could catch in the darkness, he turned on his heel and walked over to the shed. Let her look at it, he decided. It was not like she would understand what he had done anyway.

"Woah," the nattering woman whistled as he opened the door. "That is not what I was expecting at all! It looks like some form of microhydraulics, but there's no way you could have a water source up here. What are you using?"

Adam turned and stared at her, really looking at her for the first time. She was short, even for a woman, not even coming up to his chin. Her hair was haphazardly tied into a bunch on the top of her head and looked like it would be bigger than she was if she were to let it down. The eyes she turned up towards him were inquisitive and sharp. She was pretty, he thought, for a zombie.

"How do you know about that?" he asked.

"I tinker," she said with a shrug. "When I'm anxious. Which is a lot of the time lately, to be honest. Too much energy. Sometimes it helps to take things apart an put them back together again."

Adam opened his mouth to respond, but realized he had no idea what he planned on saying. He closed it again and turned back to his contraption.

"Well, don't get any ideas about taking this apart," he grumbled, resetting the mechanism.

"No, I wouldn't," she assured him. "I only mess with my own things until I'm sure I can get them back the way they started. I learned that the hard way. This is really amazing. You are pulling in a boat load of energy. I just hope you don't burn the buildings down when it runs into the wiring. You're a musician, right? I've heard you practicing through the walls. I was so relieved you were good!"

Did this woman never stop talking? Despite his lack of response she seemed perfectly content to stand behind him, shining her flood light on the shed as he worked to get things running again.

"Oh! I see what you did there!" she commented brightly as the low hum of electricity started back up. "That should fix it. And I'm pretty sure I will be able to do that myself next time too!"

"Don't," he ordered, shutting the door with a loud clang. "If there is any problem with the power, I will fix it. I don't need someone else ruining my work."

"But if you're not here?" she repeated doggedly.

"Look, this has never been an issue before, why are you suddenly on my case about it now?"

"I didn't live here before," she answered. "I just moved in last week. This... this was my Grandmother's home. She died. Last week. I'm trying to sort it all now but..."

The light from his headtorch clearly lit up the tears that sprang to her eyes. As Adam stood there in horror, the girl's chin began to wobble and silent sobs hiccupped through her body. A moment later she had burst out crying. Adam, unable to think of anything else to do, slowly and gingerly put one arm around her shaking shoulders and patted her lamely on the back, wishing he could be anywhere else in the world.

***

Lilly woke up completely horrified. It had been a dream, she told herself. It had to have been a dream. That was the only way she was going to survive the events of the night before.

The soreness in her eyes and the streaks of mascara on the backs of her hands, unfortunately, told her the sad truth. It had been real. She had met her dark, handsome, mysterious neighbor, the one who played dark, mysterious music at all hours of the night, on a dark, mysterious rooftop. (Well, okay, maybe the rooftop hadn't been that mysterious, but still!) And what had she done? She had wept all over him like pathetic child.

This, she sighed to herself, was one of the many many reasons why she was single. Any normal girl would have played the damsel in distress, fluttered their eyes and let him be their hero. He certainly had the looks of a brooding hero, even if he seemed to lack the inclination. Of course, it might just be that he lacked the inclination because she had yammered on about anxiety and tinkering, and her grandmother's death and the cried all over him.

Groaning, she rolled over and looked at her clock, only to be greeted by blinking numbers. Of course. She had been too upset when he had finally managed to steer her back to her roof hatch and rid himself of her, lost in a combination of grief and humiliation, to reset it. Great. That meant that the alarm had never gone off. It could be any time now. A quick glance at her phone confirmed her fear. 4:00 in the afternoon. It had happened. She had become completely nocturnal.

Slowly dragging herself up, Lilly staggered to the bathroom and tried to let the hot water wash away her misery. She was tired of feeling miserable. By nature she was not a gloomy person. Anxious, yes, but not gloomy. It was just being here, in the house that once was her happy place but now held too many memories. All she could see where ever she looked was her beloved grandmother. Playing the piano, reading in the window nook, cooking in the large, renovated kitchen. Grandma Lillian was everywhere.

Growing up, Lilly had been an awkward child; small of body but big of personality Gran had said. She was always moving, either her hands or her mouth, having a hard time with stillness. It drove many people to distraction. Grandma Lillian, however, had stated quite matter of factly that she simply had a lot to do and more to say, and therefore needed to do it quickly.

Lilly had spent all of her summers and school vacations here, escaping into the city. Here, she could be herself. With all of the characters in New York City, she was far from the oddest. Grandma Lillian let her patter away happily, always taking her words seriously. She had also found all sorts of mechanical things for Lilly to tinker with, focusing her energy in a more productive direction. It was nonsense, she had opined, that girls were not encouraged more to go into the technical fields. Obviously that was the reason why nothing in this world ran properly.

She had hidden her illness from the family, from Lilly, until the very end. Lilly cursed herself that she had not seen through the excuses for the cancelled visits. A seniors cruise with her girlfriends! She could not imagine the opinionated woman stuck on a boat without someone going overboard. It wasn't until the very end, when she was had been taken to Hospice, that she had phoned Lillian to let her know that it was time to come and visit.

That was eight days ago. Lillian had held her hand at the end, singing in her tear choked voice the torch songs that her Grandmother had once made her living crooning in the night clubs of the city. It had not taken long. Less than a day and Lilly was alone, the owner of a house in the East Village and more money than she had ever imagined possessing, but much the poorer regardless.

The ensuing week was spent puttering around the brownstone, listlessly going through desks and dressers, boxes and cupboards. The memorabilia of a lifetime squirreled away into any available space. She had no need to work at the moment, which was good since she had no employment. Slowly but surely her own night owl tendencies had taken over and she was staying up until the sun streaked the horizon in the morning, only to bed down for the majority of the day. Her parents had always fretted and said it was a sign of depression. Gran had shrugged and agreed that the most exciting things happened at night.

The only excitement Lillian had experienced thus far had been the discovery that a new owner was in residence next door. For as long as she could remember there had been a constant stream of college and conservatory students renting out rooms in the building, turning over each year to the newest crop. Now though, there was one lodger only and he owned the building.

She had caught sight of him out the front window as he was leaving her second night there. Long, wild black hair that looked in want of brushing, black leather jacket, and black jeans that might have been painted on. He was tall, lean, and somehow dangerous looking. It was the way he walked, she decided. There was something almost feral in the swagger as he took off down the street. The next night she had heard him playing music.

At first she thought there were multiple musicians, but after hours spent guiltlessly eavesdropping she became convinced that it was only him. Interspersed with guitars, drums, bass, and other instruments that she couldn't name had come his voice, a distinctive low growl that cut through her sorrow to go straight to her core. She could feel the vibrations of his voice as surely as she heard the bass thumping through the walls.

She began haunting the window overlooking their stoops, hoping for sight of him. She caught glimpses a time or two, always late at night, well after dark. Rather he was coming in or going out, he seemed to eschew the daylight even more than she did. Lilly felt drawn to him, and by more than just his untamed beauty. She supposed she could write it off as one of her hyper-fixations, but intuitively she sensed it was more. She longed for an excuse to meet him.

And then she had. At night, on a roof, under a bright moon.

It would have been perfectly romantic, were she not dressed in a ratty sweatshirt and yoga pants, her hair flopped up any old way on her head. If her first words to him were not gasped out in a shriek, followed by thoughtless prattle. And the, the coup de gras, her sobbing breakdown. The look of unmixed horror on his face as he made his feeble attempt to calm her was burned into Lilly's brain.

She had to get rid of it. There might only be one chance to make a first impression, but maybe, just maybe, a second impression could in time supersede it. Never one to sit on a thought, Lilly squared her shoulders. It was six o'clock, he was bound to still be in. She would pay him a visit and apologize for her horrid behavior.

Yes, that was the plan. After all, what was the worst that could happen? It was bound to go better than last time.

[bbyboybrock--archived]

Shipped (Colby Brock Imagine)

Summary: *REQUEST* Omg your requests are open!! Can you do something about colby and reader dating in secret and she’s always hyping him up on everything and fans just think it’s cause they are best friends. But she posts a post wearing the love for hire letterman on accident and the fans connected it because Kat and Tara have it to so they figure out they are dating and go crazy (in a good way) for them 🥺❤️

Written: 2020

Word Count: 1,967

Warnings: Major fluff, Swearing

Masterlist

I harassed Colby into letting me listen to their new music. Let’s just say, when you guys hear this, you’re going to be glad One Direction is on a break. Can’t help but stan L4H!! #numeber1fan

I press "send tweet" before plugging in my phone and taking a quick shower. When I get out of the shower I grab my phone and throw myself onto Colby’s bed. It’s our bed at this point. I spend more time at the trap house than I do my apartment, I might as well move in. I go and read the comments under my tweet. Most of them are good. Some fans want me to leak the boys' music, others are freaking out over mine and Colby’s friendship. Someone makes it a point to mention how cute Colby and I would be as a couple and linked an edit that they made. Someone commented that fans like them, the one that posted the edit, are the problem and the reason why Colby doesn’t have any friends who are girls. There is a whole fight going on under that comment.

I quickly try to defuse the situation between the fans before exiting twitter altogether. I take my towel off of my damp hair and walk back into Colby’s bathroom to detangle it. When I finish doing my hair I grab the first jacket of Colby’s that I see to get warm. Lucky for me, it’s his Love for Hire lettermen jacket. For whatever reason, this jacket is more comfortable than any hoodie I’ve stolen during our entire relationship, maybe it’s because it smells strongly like him. Or maybe it’s because I get to finally live out my high school dream of wearing my boyfriend’s lettermen. Either way, Colby knows that this is my jacket now and he’s going to have to fight me to the death for it back. I don’t know if it’s because I freshly showered and my hair is fluffy, or because my skin is thanking me for not putting makeup on it yet, but something is compelling me to take a selfie in Colby’s bathroom mirror.

I get up on to the counter and try to position myself comfortably. I take a few selfies, while carefully not exposing Colby’s messy counter. I do cute poses with peace signs and my tongue sticking out. I do serious “model” poses with hair looking like I’m in a photoshoot. I take a couple and post them on my Instagram story. I triple check each one before pressing send to make sure they end up on my close friends’ list and not my public story. That would be disastrous. I saw how people were acting in the comments of my tweet supporting Colby when a fan posted an edit wishing we were dating. I can’t imagine how his fan base would react if they knew we really are dating and have been for well over a year.

Well, I can imagine how they would react, I’ve been around Colby long enough to figure out how his fanbase functions. Most of his fans would be supportive. Of the majority, there would be roughly half who constantly would show their support over our relationship. The other half would keep quiet and try not to mention it directly so they don’t “jinx” it. No matter how open Colby is with his fans, there is still so much of his life that he has to keep private from the rest of his fans who wouldn’t be supportive of our relationship. The obsessive ones who think that Colby is a toy and belongs to only them. In all honesty, Colby and I probably would have been together longer if it wasn’t for them. We probably wouldn’t have been friends. There was a period in his life when he wouldn’t make any new female friends because of what his old friends had to go through. Because of that, Colby has always been protective of me.

Even though we’ve been friends since he moved to Los Angles, he only introduced me to his fandom two years ago. Even then, it wasn’t like, boom: “here’s a girl that I’m friends with, be nice!” Colby made sure I was properly acclimated to his side of internet stardom by having me appear in all of his other friends’ videos and photos first before a strand of my hair was placed in one of his videos. And then he said, “here’s a girl that I’m friends with, be nice!” Being a Youtuber myself, I have some experience with fandoms. But nothing could prepare me for his intense fans. For the first couple of months after Colby put me on his channel, I understood why Colby kept so many of girl friends in the dark or why some chose to stop being friends with Colby in general. It’s only a select few fans, but when there are so many comments of harassment and death threats it can get overwhelming.

Those comments died down after a while though. Mostly because I either mute certain words from my comments or I don’t read them. Colby and I try really hard to hide our relationship. If we’re in videos together, we don’t sit too close. We keep our hands to ourselves; even a simple hand on the shoulder can cause a frenzy. We only post our couple pictures on our actual secret Instagram accounts and close friends list. Our friends know not to post anything where we might look too much like a couple. We make it a point to bicker like siblings whenever we do work together. Hell, the reason I still have my apartment is to avoid people finding out we’re dating. If I have my own place, people just think I’m visiting the guys whenever I’m over. And it works, everyone just assumes that we’re really close friends.

“I’m back and I bring food!” Colby yells as he opens the door to the room. I plug my dying phone back into the charger before abandoning it in the bathroom to greet Colby.

“Oh thank God, I was beginning to think you were with your hoes. But then I ran into Sam, Jake, and Corey in the kitchen so I relaxed.” I give Colby a quick kiss and help him with the shopping bags in his hand. I set them on the bed and start going through them.

“I wish, but they were too busy for me. So I went and got us stuff for this weekend.” Colby sets the food down and helps me unload the bags.

“Oh that reminds me, we need to stop by my place after dinner so I can pack my things.” Te whole friend group is renting a log cabin in woods for Thursday to Monday morning for bonding and to get a few collars done. Colby went and got a few road trip snacks without me. Probably because I would get distracted at Target and we would never leave. It’s fine, he remembered to get my favorite snacks.

“Yeah, okay, I figured. We could have gone earlier but I had to let you sleep in after you spent all night watching tiktoks.” Colby walks over to the couch and starts to set up our lunch in front of the tv.

“To be fair, I’m not responsible for the time lost when I’m on the tok. Besides, I learned more dances to teach you!” I take off Colby’s jacket and set it at the foot of the bed before joining Colby on the couch.

“Of course you did. You know how much I love learning a new TikTok dance every day.” Colby jokes before kissing my forehead. He hands me my food and turns on Netflix.

A few minutes into our show, there’s a loud, rapid knock at the door. Annoyed, Colby paused the show and puts his food down.

“What?” Colby asks as he gets up to open the door. Sam stands on the other side, relieved. The last time Sam knocked on the door like that, Colby and I were busy… rearranging furniture.

“Oh Colby, you’re home. But I’m not here for you. Y/N, did you mean to post that on your story?” Colby moves aside to let Sam in.

“Haha, Sammy, I’m not falling for that one. Colby already tried that on me last week.” I go back to eating my food and ignore Sam.

“No, I’m being serious. Katrina said she kept trying to reach you but you’re not answering. Fans are freaking out on twitter.”

“Oh shit!” I quickly put down my food and grab my phone in the bathroom. There are miss calls and texts from Kat, Tara, and Devyn. I unlock my phone and open Instagram to check my story. Sure enough, I accidentally sent one of my selfies to my main story instead of my close friends. The selfie looks harmless enough, except I’m wearing Colby’s jacket and it’s very obvious that I’m in his bathroom. Jake moved in some of the cardboard Colby’s into Colby’s room and one of them faces the mirror, you can kind of see it in the selfie. Most people might think nothing of it, but earlier this week Kat and Tara posted pictures of them wearing Sam and Jake’s jackets. With that association alone, everyone is going to find out.

“I don’t get it, there’s only a selfie on here. Did you already delete it?” Colby yells from the bedroom. I slowly walk out of the bathroom with a confused look on his face.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” I open up my story and check how many people have seen it.

“What, I’m lost… Oh… Oh! Oh, fuck!” Colby finally gets it and does something on his phone.

“‘Oh fuck’ is right. So many people took screenshots that even if I deleted it now, it would be pointless.” I walk to the bed and throw myself facedown, like a teen in a movie after having a shitty day at school.

“And you guys are trending on Twitter,” Sam says. I almost forgot he was still here.

“Dude,” Colby warns.

“Not helpful, I get it. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” Sam leaves the room and I let out a scream as soon as I hear the door close. I feel the spot next to me sink as Colby sits down and starts rubbing my back.

“Hey, Y/N, these aren’t as bad as you think. I’m only seeing positive messaged. Look,” Colby gently pats my back to get my attention.

“Really? Let me see.” I sit up, sniffle, and peek at Colby’s phone as he reads.

“Are you crying?” Colby asks as he wipes my face.

“I immediately got overwhelmed. Let me read the tweets.” I take Colby’s phone scroll through the tweets. He’s right, they’re mostly positive. I haven’t seen a negative tweet yet. That’s the opposite of how I thought this would go. A few people are telling other fans to stop assuming, but even those are calm compared to the fight I saw earlier.

“See, I guess we were stressed all this time for no reason. We can do normal couple things like our friends and not go out of our way to hide everything.”

“That’ll be nice. It was getting exhausting. What do we do now? How do you want to approach this? Live stream? Youtube video?” I look at Colby and he has a big smile on his face.

“Right now, let’s just finish lunch. We can deal with this later. Now, I’m going to take this back. I don’t want you to start crying again.” Colby strokes my hair and kisses my forehead.

“I love you, Colbs,” I say softly.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

[lunarrwolf]

mini series coming soon!!

since you guys got me over 300 followers, i held up my end of my own deal and was finally able to think up the first of a 100% written series (social media included only when needed to build the story).

there will only be two for now but i want to get the sykkuno series a good ways in before bringing in new content like this! i’ve been a writer since middle school and have major writer’s block for a book i’m working on rn so i’m really excited about writing an actual story for lunarrwolf! these are the banners, very tiny synopses, and sneak peek excerpts for DAYWALKER!s and Siren Woods

s.h warning: siren woods will not be for the faint of heart as it will be put in the category of a psychological thriller. it will contain suspense, fear(s), anxiety and/or mentions of depression, isolation and swearing

d.w!s warning: this is an apocalyptic world w/o zombies. it will contain violence, anxiety, entrapment, fear(s) and swearing

disclaimer: i will do my absolutely best not to treat either of these as if they were actual novels. i plan on putting in comedic lines and scenes to lower any thriller/horror vibes from the stories, and not too go too far to avoid truly triggering myself or anyone else. warnings will only be issued in chapters that are going to actually include one or more of above the above. but if anyone who reads them in the future have issues do not feel like you need to keep reading.

-

DAYWALKER!s

a variety youtuber mini series

summary

ten creators find themselves amidst a city with an oddly familiar vibe, a weird yet intimidating apocalyptic appearance, and hundreds of strangers that feel the need to do nothing but fight their way through the city. even if that means to the death.

excerpt

“You’re all going to die, you know.. so you might as well give up now and let it take over.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You blinked at the growl woven in with your friend’s deep voice, knowing for sure that if you were in an animation a sweat drop would be making its way down the side of your head. He hated confrontation more than anyone here but when it came to his friends, and being trapped in a place like this? Who knew what damage he would do to keep them safe.

The man ahead of the group did nothing but stand there with a mocking grin on his face. It was unnerving, and dare say almost bloodthirsty. There was no amount of sanity or free will from where you all stood just a couple of yards away, and just that thought alone chilled you to the core.

“Corpse.. maybe you shouldn’t.” You stated, stepping closer to him to lower the risk of the strange man hearing the second part. “I don’t like the looks of that guy even from over here. We’ve already had to deal with a ton of crazy shit since finding each other. We can’t risk losing our only real muscle of the group.”

Ignoring the offended voices of Sean and Ludwig, the man with the torn mask looked at you only when you put a hand on his shoulder. It took sharing glances and seeing head shakes from most of the others to have him loosen the fist his hand was already in. Standing up straight, you watched as he rolled his shoulders, jaw still clenched from the tension. Rae was taking advantage of the off putting interaction and explored the small area, so capturing everyone’s attention when Corpse relaxed a bit wasn’t hard. “It’s gonna be a tight fit but I think we can make it work.”

“Whoa.”

“Where did you learn how to hotwire a car?” Ethan questioned, being the first to make his way toward the beaten vehicle.

“Video games?” The brunette answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She hit the side of the driver door twice, motioning to the group. “Now get your asses in here before that guy decides to pull a Resident Evil zombie sprint on us.”

“Yes ma’am.” Sykkuno saluted, earning chuckles that were a rare sight since ending up here. The two of you didn’t waste time in calling the front seats beside Rae and Ethan, forcing everyone else to get in the back of the truck and make it work. No one could complain, though, seeing the circumstances you were all in.

It took a few seconds of revving the seemingly old engine before the machine began making its way. You could actually hear the ones in the back shift around to get in more comfortable positions for however long a ride it would be. The girl behind the wheel didn’t pay any mind to the stranger that watched her drive you all away, but you did. And even when he continued to shrink in distance and eventually disappeared, you knew his words would stay with you.

“You’re wasting your time! No one gets out of Mirror City!!”

Siren Woods

a variety youtuber mini series

summary

seven internet personalities find themselves in the middle of an old town myth as they take a break from their careers and head up towards a rural mountain area. among every spooky or jumpy experience with a horror game here and there, never did any of them think they’d end up in this situation.

excerpt

The fire crackled with a sense of release, almost as if this large flame represented the time everyone needed away from their jobs. After how crazy the media has become the past few weeks, you and your friends agreed that a trip towards a much lesser known area would do you all well. It was a teenagers on summer break scene where everyone was gathered around a campfire in the backyard of a lake house, telling stories to either amuse or scare each other. Seán and Ethan were the first to do so, tag teaming in a very dramatic reenactment of the first time they met in person, which of course had to be followed by your own scene with Y/F/N.

Time flew by and before you knew it, the sun was completely set and the darkest shade of navy possible was barely lit with a crescent moon and a few stars. The only real source of light was the fire, illuminating the six faces in an orange glow. Any laughter died down minutes ago, leaving a silence that was comfortable for everyone. “You guys want to hear a funny story?”

Squinting at the man sitting in the log across from you, you leaned forward, hands folded in your lap. “Funny haha or funny we might want to kill you after we hear it?”

“Uh..” Corpse met your gaze immediately, his mask somehow looking more eerie with the natural lighting. “Funny kind of hoping you won’t kill me, if I’m being honest.” He confirmed, leaning forward himself to warm up his hands while the rest of you debated on whether to let him tell it.

After a few minutes, and three overtaking two, he was allowed to do so. It was an old myth of the town you all resided in for the week; a Slenderman type of entity of the forest that the locals from dozens of years before chose to call Siren Head. The name stuck once old photos were found and set up in the small museum in the Common. He stood at forty feet tall, with two megaphones for heads and tangled wires for a torso. He had the ability to perfectly mimic broadcasts, conversations, sirens and screams, and had been said to only emit white noise if ever asleep. Speed nearly matched that of a cheetah and his strength was unbelievably high due to his size. Every sighting of said species had only been released by victims, and it was an urban tale that stood alive to this very day.

Rae was on the grass now, legs crossed one over the other as she tried to look at everyone at once. “Why the hell did we all come to a place called Siren Woods, then?!”

���Well.. the town looked really nice online, and it’s living up to that. And I thought siren meant more mermaid than a freaky Creepypasta-type thing.” Sykkuno could do nothing but respond with nerves showing through his face and every subtle movement of his body as he explained why he ended up agreeing with the destination.

“Yeah, I did too.” Y/F/N piped in, shrugging her innocence as you all began telling your sides. “Who doesn’t think of a mermaid when you hear the word siren?! That’s basically what they are.”

“I, for one, think we should find another place to stay.” Ethan spoke up.

Seán gaped at his longest friend in the group, “You don’t actually believe in that.”

“I’m not taking any chances, dude. Those people believe in that thing enough to build a whole section of the museum for it.”

You watched your friends go back and forth, some freaked out by the story but not believing it was real while the rest wanted to find a new vacation spot. “What do you think, Y/N?”

You turned to Corpse, blinking as the simple question processed in your mind. “I’m with Ethan on this.. even if that thing isn’t an actual being the belief here is hardcore.” Three faces lit up in relief while the roommate, Irishman, and faceless internet persona felt differently. “Let me finish..” you sighed, “Let’s stay another night but keep an extra cautious eye on Spencer and Luna. Animals have a sort of sixth sense, so if anything weird happens they’ll warn us. Deal?”

Y/F/N shared a glance with you, letting out a sigh of her own. “Suddenly I’m feeling a lot better that we brought our dogs instead of getting sitters.” She bent down to pet the canines laying between the logs, hoping if they did bark it would just be from a resident knocking on the door.

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Your Good Time | Explicit | 3070 words

Louis nodded along with what the guy was saying, apparently his arousal taking over his brain to mouth filter as he said, “Who would want to hide a fit bloke like you? That guys an idiot.” Louis scoffed, dramatizing the word ‘idiot’, giving the guy a sly smirk. The guy leaned an arm against the bar, turned his body to Louis and fixed him with a curious look before he held out a hand.

“M’Harry.”

Louis and Harry meet in a bar when Harry's date is an ass. Inspired by Temporary Fix by One Direction.

2) I Push You To The Limits | Explicit | 3846 words

Louis is a brat who likes seeing his boyfriend get jealous and possessive over him.

3) Overkill | Explicit | 4354 words

Louis was never going to get over how fucking attractive Harry was. How glorious his big, tall, curvy body was. The feeling of Harry behind him, hot and heavy, trapped on the tube after they’d been somewhere during rush hour. His thick hands, full of pretty rings sometimes, handing Louis a cup of coffee, then getting one for himself.

4) Too Nervous to be Lovers | Mature | 6445 words

Louis doesn't want to spend quarantine with Harry, his straight roommate, who doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

5) Fratboy In Love | Mature | 6830 words

Harry Styles was a frat boy who loved to sleep around and flirt with boys and girls. Louis was a good uni student who loved to stay in and study and wasn't much of a partier.

Insert his best friend Niall who talks him into going. Louis gets drunk and ends up sleeping with harry. The next day he leaves before Harry wakes and tries to avoid him at all costs. Thinking Harry wouldn't care since Louis was just another conquest. But what if Harry did care. And actually have a crush on Louis. Read and find out

6) My Sunflower | Mature | 7057 words

Louis would rather be sunbathing at the beach with his friends, not slaving his spring break away in his father’s flower shop.

7) Waiting | Explicit | 8023 words

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

8) Shine Light Upon Your Ground | Explicit | 8506 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/H, which the reader can picture as Harry or Henry Cavill.

Louis sighs again and fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist, twisting the charms around and petting the fake diamonds.

“How much for a night?” A deep voice suddenly asks him. The man who approaches him is already pulling out his wallet and flicking through a bundle of bills. Louis, who had been sitting at the bar completely innocent and minding his own business, lets out an offended, strangled sound.

“Excuse me?” He demands, straightening up in his seat. The hem of his dress creeps further up his thigh but he pays it no mind.

9) Glistening Under The Sun (You're My Honey Soaked Love) | Mature | 8996 words

“Oh Petal,” he picks her up nuzzling the top of her head with his cheek as she nibbles on the lavender, “How lucky are we? I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy, the only thing we have to be sad about is that soon I won’t be able to hold you like this,”

10) Connected To The Heart | Explicit | 9059 words

Note: This is an coda scene for this fic.

“Your stage cue is way too close for you to be wearing that look you’re wearing,” Louis informs him. He can’t stop himself from looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, the silk of Harry’s dress shirt brushing against the backs of his knuckles.

“Twenty minutes,” Harry agrees. His breath is minty from the gum he was chewing earlier, fresh and warm. “Twenty minutes can be a long time, baby.”

This time, Louis has to force himself to roll his eyes. “Not nearly long enough for the way you always want to fuck me.”

11) Fuck U Betta | Explicit | 11438 words

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

OR the one where Harry likes the thrill of the chase, Louis likes to be chased, and everyone gets what they need… in the end.

12) Kiss Me In Your Chevrolet | Explicit | 11569 words

"Yes, Lou?" Harry asked, rubbing his tired eyes. A gust of wind came through the open windows, sending chills down Harry's arms as a light rain began falling outside. He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the couch arm rest.

"Can we go there?" Louis asked, probably pointing somewhere. Harry opened his eyes and felt his heart jump in his chest, a magazine page a couple of inches away from his face. Startled, Harry closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to collect himself.

Harry blinked a few times to focus his eyes on the page Louis still held in front of his nose. "You want to go to the Grand Canyon?" He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the left to look at Louis' face.

13) Pull The Trigger | Explicit | 12007 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #16 on this list.

Louis has never been alright with killing. Will that change when he learns what it's like to be the one holding the gun?

14) Open All Night | Explicit | 12537 words

It’s six in the morning when Harry finally makes it back home.

Harry's a bartender, Louis' got a nice ass and a shit taste in men. They make it work.

15) Among Other Things | Explicit | 16073 words

“Harry, it’s 7:45, oh my god, my class starts at 8:15,” and Louis wants to cry. Harry’s busy under the bed trying to find the tiny silver key but Louis knows that fate just hates him and he needs to find a way to get up. “Harry, I—fuck,” Louis whines. Harry stands up in a rush.

“I can’t seem to find them. It. The key.”

Or, Louis’ the teacher of Harry Styles’ daughter. Their paths shouldn’t cross like this. This meaning Louis showing up to school handcuffed to a headboard.

16) A Bullet And It's Gun | Explicit | 18156 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #13 on this list. 

Louis’ parents arrange his marriage with Harry. He’s fully ready to accept that he’s going to be a sad and lonely person for the rest of his life. But then Harry starts proving himself as more than just an asocial man with money.

17) By Such Slight Ligaments | Explicit | 26764 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

A late night visit to a patient sets off a series of events that will turn Louis' world upside down.

... Here there be monsters.

18) At Your Fingertips | Explicit | 27384 words

He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before.

His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later.

And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button.

Three…

Two…

One.

Play.

19) Forgot My Roots Now Watch Me Bloom | Explicit | 28334 words

Lonely transit worker Louis pulls his longtime crush, Peter, from the path of an oncoming train. At the hospital, doctors report that he's in a coma, and a misplaced comment from Louis causes Peter's family to assume that he is his fiancée. When Louis doesn't correct them, they take him into their home and confidence. Things get even more complicated when he finds himself falling for Peter's brother, Harry. Loosely based on the movie "While You Were Sleeping".

20) Push You Out, Pull You Back In | Explicit | 31544 words

Harry hates feeling vulnerable. Louis is set on breaking through his tough facade.

21) Baby Blue | Explicit | 39439 words

Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head.

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin.

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.”

22) Lidocaine And Palm Trees | Explicit | 44653 words

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

23) Sleeping On Our Problems | Explicit | 67369 words

Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

24) Truth Would Be | Explicit | 91869 words

“You want me? I’m not a… a thing to be owned!” Louis stuttered, still very angry and confused.

“Hmmm…” The alpha tapped his lips as if he was contemplating something. “Last time I checked, the debt was paid off and the only thing I had asked in return was… you. So technically I do own you.”

“You are crazy…” Louis muttered as he began to back towards the door. Harry’s impossibly green eyes turned a shade darker, but his tone was still teasing and light when he said, “Maybe I am…”

The I-paid-off-all-your-debt-so-you-are-mine AU in which Omega Louis wants to be left alone by Alpha Harry but it's super complicated when he starts to not hate the alpha all that much.

25) Collision | Not Rated | 224594 words

Note: This fic was finished in 2018, but two new epilogue chapters have been added.

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[caroleyre]

for when you forget / self para

Carol,

I did win (not thanks to this memory loss bullshit). You’ll remember relatively soon. It doesn’t normally take longer than a couple of days, maybe three. But, in the meantime, this is your essentials rubric. Try to enjoy things. I’d ask fewer questions if I were in your shoes (no, I would obviously not).

This is happening because of an arena injury (duh).  Minute 08:12 if you want to see it on tape.  Yes, it happened within the first moments of the arena. The person pushing you is Maize. You kill her later. She wasn’t even that awful, but she did leave us this permanent gift.

No, killing is not overrated, but it wasn’t easy either. For all sorts of reasons.

Sit down for this. Rio was in there with you. Now, do the math yourself. Yes, you did. No, it wasn’t. Better not unpack it right now, but that fancy bronze jar on the nightstand? We call it an urn. Inside is Rio (sorry, there is really no better way to say it). Lock your room. It’s stolen from the Odairs (you’re really not in a great position with them right now, so maybe don’t try to contact one? And, if you see one, avoid it and leave it for me. Leave it for later.)

Don’t let anything they’re saying get to you. Don’t be so phased (it is necessary that you prove them wrong). You might want to know that you killed President Battenberg’s niece, too. Don’t even regret it. She was a big bitch. Still, it might come up and give you some extra headache.

You’re allowed to do whatever the fuck you want (boring). If further questions cross your mind, go to Ashton Declan. I guess we trust him. Questions you’ve asked before are on the back (so we wouldn’t be a loop of annoyance to him, right?).

No, I did not develop a double personality. It’s just a confusing letter to write.

Carol

Questions asked after:

What arena? Las Vegas, 127. It’s some sort of gamble heaven casino city surrounded by desert. Awful weather conditions. Very trap-oriented (that could have been fun, if not for everything else happening). Barely four days.

What is my role within the Tower? I asked for trainer. You can do that even without remembering the details.

Mom and dad? They’re fine. Not too crazy about dear Carol being a ruthless killer on live television. Well, I also did have sex on live television, but I’m sure that’s not the real problem. You do not need them.

Relationship with the Odairs? Don’t act too shocked to learn they hate you. You did not only kill Rio, but you also stole his remains. It’s fine. They were supposed to be yours all along. They sued you. Nothing about any trials yet, but it will go down. I hired a pretty good lawyer, don’t think about it.

An eleven for the skill presentation. Yes. (Rio, a ten)

I cannot believe this pathetic question you asked Ashton Declan out loud. I broke up with Rio in 118. We were not dating and definitely not married. We weren’t nothing, either. I don’t feel like writing about it, so wonder for a little. It doesn’t change anything, and don’t think to ask other people. How would they know? Only I know. And I’m not writing it down here like in some sort of stupid diary.

No, you don’t have another boyfriend. Please don’t think it’s a good idea to hit on Ashton Declan again, either.

Just maybe don’t talk to so many people. I don’t want to have to fix any possible accidental bullshit situation.

The Victor’s house is fine. You have pictures of it on your phone. (Don’t call him. It’s out of service, and also what was I expecting?)

The cut on the leg is Gamemaker inflicted. You walked through really sharp and big glass shards.

Four’s tributes are Eurydice and Thetis Atlantica. Yes, Sirena’s sisters. It turns out, your initial opinion is correct. They mostly suck (at least Eurydice).

You have a decent relationship with Sirena. Not too friendly. I’m not fun these days, sorry.

[delimeful]

Fake title: Helpless

wrote a synopsis for this and then accidentally turned it into a whole fic. whoops!

Also for @hiddendreamer67 Feb Prompts Day 1: Ideal!

warnings: spider, spider biology, injury mention, fear

-

As a drider, Virgil was well aware that he should stay well away from the nearby human town, unless he wanted a bounty on his head and adventurers near and far coming to claim it. His capacity for human interaction was already strained whenever he rebuffed any advances into his woods made by ambitious explorers or lost travelers by gently scaring them back in the direction of society.

Well. He thought it was gentle, but apparently the townsfolk had been telling stories, because today he ventured near the edge of the woods to gather plants, and now he was here. Three of his spider legs were stuck in three separate steel-toothed traps, because having to get rid of just one leg wasn’t bad enough, no, of course they’d left more snap traps sitting around for him to recoil into like an idiot. 

He carefully avoided putting any pressure on his trapped legs as he peered around to make sure he wasn’t about to set off anymore, because those things hurt like a bitch. 

Behind him, a twig snapped underfoot.

He twisted around best he could, his front legs springing up in a threat display and his throat forming a spitting hiss. He was forced to drop back down a moment later, because his second left leg was one of the ones trapped, and he had automatically twitched in an attempt to raise it anyways, the motion sending agonizing pain through him. 

Before him, a human stood, shaking like a leaf. His soft brown eyes were locked on his spider half, pupils shrunk with fear. He wasn’t a hunter, at least. Not with that attitude. 

But he’d be going to get the hunters, and then Virgil’d really be fucked if he didn’t get over himself and tear his legs off already. Sure, it’d be agonizing and maybe he’d bleed to death, but would humans really give him any better?

“Relax,” he finally grumbled, tired of watching the stranger tremble, “I’m not going to eat you. I can’t even move, see?” 

He gestured to his legs, which were technically a majority free, but whatever. Wait, had he just implied that he would eat the human if he was free? Shit, he was so bad at this social interaction thing. This was why he lived alone in the woods, dammit!

The human jerked his head up to meet his gaze, as though surprised he could talk. “You’re not a giant spider,” he said, voice tremulous but almost… relieved?Virgil leaned back as far as he could, hoping the guy wasn’t about to have a mental break. 

“Uh, I’m a like, at least half giant spider,” he corrected, because he was incapable of keeping his stupid mouth shut, apparently. 

“But that means you’re also at least half not a spider,” the human replied firmly, never letting his eyes drift below torso level. “So it’s… fine! Everything’s fine!” 

He also ignored the way his voice cracked, instead dropped into a crouch to search the ground near him. After a moment, he perked up, and turned back to Virgil with a large, blocky stone in hand. 

Virgil couldn’t help but hunch down and curl his free legs in towards him, a strangled whine leaving him as his injured legs tugged at the traps. His breathing got shallower, wondering if he could get away on five legs. Humans only had two, it couldn’t be that hard, right? Unless the humans followed the blood trail he’d undoubtedly leave behind. 

The human took a step forward, brow crinkling, and Virgil’s resolve broke as another tug at his legs send a fresh wave of pain through him. “Oh spirits, please don’t stone me. Come on, just go get someone with a sword, it’ll be done so much faster. I- I haven’t hurt anyone, I swear!”

The human stopped short, which was weird because Virgil hadn’t expected pleading to work. “I– stone you?” He looked at the rock in his hand like he’d never seen it before. “No, no, I’m trying to help you! This is f- for breaking open the traps, not by killing you!”

That was ridiculous. Virgil uncurled slightly anyways, because he’d never learned when to stop hoping. “What? Why?” 

The human looked at him as though he was the crazy one. “Because you’re in pain and you need help?” He took another step forwards, hands lifted peacefully. Virgil resisted the urge to hiss another warning, unconvinced. 

“Most humans would be putting an arrow through my skull right now,” he replied, “so I don’t really see how me being weak and vulnerable explains your sudden mercy.” 

The human frowned. “Well, I have different ideals than ‘most humans,’ then. You deserve sympathy as much as anyone, even if you do have quite a few m- more legs than most.” 

He was nearly at the first trap now, putting him well in range of Virgil if he decided to grab him with arms or legs. His legs were visibly shaking, his eyes a little too wide, but he kept approaching anyways. Virgil exhaled slowly. 

“Fine. Do what you want.”

“I will,” the human answered brightly. He mumbled encouraging words to himself as he wrestled with the mechanism, finally springing it open with one last hit from the stone. Virgil pulled his bleeding leg to himself automatically with a wince, and dragged some silk webbing with his fourth leg to carefully and quickly wrap the bleeding injury. 

Below him, surrounded by spider limbs, the human had frozen with careful breaths until Virgil was still once more. “One down!” he uttered shakily.

The other two followed in much the same way, and though he was still feeling pain, his carapace was thick enough that he thought the wounds might heal over properly by his next molt. He owed this human all three legs, at this point.

“There we go!” the human cheered, taking a few respectful-maybe-fearful strides back to give him space. Behind him, something glinted in the sun.

Virgil acted on impulse, his body moving before his brain could catch up. His front legs jumped out to catch the human and pull him in with a yank, and then he reached down and lifted him right off the ground easily by the armpits. 

The human yelped, squirming in his hold, and he resisted the very spider urge to squish him against his chest until he quit wiggling. “Sorry, sorry! You’re okay, I’ve got you, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Whahuh!?” the human asked shrilly, round glasses slightly askew. He looked much softer, close up like this.

“You… um, you were about to walk into one of those traps,” Virgil explained, angling himself so they could see the metal glinting in the leaves. “I’m pretty sure humans can’t grow legs back, so…”

The human was silent for another stunned moment, and then turned to look at him properly. “Thank you so much,” he said, eyes shiny with awe. 

Virgil immediately felt embarrassed. “You’re the one who saved me, you don’t have to thank me…” 

The human chuckled. “I guess that means now we’re even! Oh gosh, I still don’t know your name after all this! I’m Patton,” he offered Virgil a toothy grin. 

“Um, Virgil,” he returned, still slightly off balance. He’d never gotten to exchange names with a human like this. “And I think I still owe you two more leg saves before we’re even.”      

Another one of those sweet laughs. Virgil carefully began to navigate between the trees, watching the ground. Once he finally deemed the area clear, he picked up the pace, darting over the ground. It was stilted with his injuries, but he could manage.

“Where are we going?” Patton asked, apparently content to dangle like a cat as they traveled. He’d only glanced down at Virgil’s legs once before losing a bit of color and keeping his gaze firmly on Virgil’s face. 

“Back to the town,” he answered. “That’s where you live, right?” 

“Oh,” Patton said, almost disappointed. “I thought maybe we were going to hang out a bit longer. You’re much friendlier than most of the folk in town.” 

Wow. The townspeople must really suck if they weren’t being nice to a guy as sweet as this. Virgil chewed on his lip, debating with himself for a moment, but… if Patton had treated him so kindly while he was mostly helpless, there was no real reason to mistrust him. 

“I… do still technically owe you two more saves,” he said, voice faltering. “I should sleep now, but if you… wanted to come visit. That would be cool, I guess.” 

Pattton brightened, and Virgil found himself hoping it would be the first of many smiles he’d get to see.       

[kaesaaurelia]

a conscientious objector

For @whumptober2021 day 4: Trust Fall (specifically "Do you trust me?" and "taken hostage") Continues on from day two, wherein our protagonist, having narrowly escaped from an exploding spaceship, and on the verge of running out of air in her escape pod, was permitted entrance to a strange ship.

CW for medical trauma; more specific, mildly spoilery detail in my tags. (The trauma is very science fictional and over-the-top as described, but the aspect of it that I find most frightening can happen to people irl, so, better safe than sorry.)

The ship was dark, and eerily quiet. Was it a derelict? Had she just been speaking to an AI the whole time? There was no gravity, but the ship didn't seem to be built for gravity, which made her anxious; she did not want to start losing her strength. Then, a lot of her musculoskeletal system had been replaced, so she wasn't really sure if that would happen. But it didn't really matter if it did; she was stuck here for a while, at least until she could convince the ship, or the person in charge, to take her back to civilization.

She was tempted to shout "Hello?" into the darkness, but also, it wasn't like she'd never seen a horror movie and it seemed like a good way to trigger a jump scare. She could see, of course; she had had her eyes replaced long ago, before she'd been deployed, but it still felt spooky.

Then she climbed around a corner and came face to face with a long maw full of horrible teeth. She kicked backwards and away, and she had the vivid, horrible sense memory of her nanites practically shouting awake! awake! awake! and coming back to consciousness unable to move, the stench of rubbing alcohol in her nose.

Something made a horrible series of cackles and clicks, and her heart was going to pound out of her chest, because no, she had gotten away from them, how could they have found her again here? But then the lights came on and the cackling glitched into a voice. "There you are! You should have said something! Haven't cleaned up in a while, haha, sorry about the mess. Are you all right?"

The toothy maw was nowhere to be seen in the slightly red-tinged light, although there was some floating junk -- used meal packets, maybe? "Yeah, no, I'm good," she said, looking around. Little suction instruments came out of the walls and cleared up the junk while she watched. She wondered if any good could possibly come of asking whether she'd seen anything real.

Excuse me, does this ship belong to the -- oh, I'm going to mispronounce the name -- it's just that these aliens kidnapped me and took half my body apart a few years ago just for fun and I think maybe they put my brain back the wrong way, so could you confirm that you're not them? Or, Sorry, rude question, but are you the AI of a derelict vessel or a real person, and if you're an AI would you mind telling me about what happened so I know you're not going to go crazy and kill me? It wasn't like she had a better option. And any no, you were hallucinating answer wouldn't help. Either her host (?) was lying and she was trapped here with it, or they were telling the truth and she was just fucking hallucinating. Which, well, it wasn't like she hadn't had enough nightmares about The Incident.

"So, uh, where are you?" she asked, making a show of looking around the corridor. Maybe then she would get an answer to her AI or not question.

"Haven't you ever heard of a PA system?" the voice said. The words were sarcastic, but the voice was strangely neutral, so it was probably artificial, even if the personality behind the words was not.

"Oh, right, of course," she said, trying to make it sound as if it was a normal thing, to forget about audio projection technology that had been around since the ancients. "Um, do you -- are you --"

"What happened to the person who told me to choke on a magnet? That person seemed way more fun than you," the voice interrupted.

"I was severely oxygen deprived, I'm sorry," she said, quickly.

"So you're saying I should lower the percentage of O2 in the shipboard atmosphere to get you to say what you really mean?" the voice suggested.

"No!" said Victoria. There was a long silence, and then she heard it: an ominous hissing noise. "Okay look I just want to know, uh, uh, are you, do you -- are you like some kind of crazy murderous AI that's lured me here to kill me, because if you wanna do that I think we can just skip to that part, I made peace with dying earlier today and it's not ideal but if it's inevitable I'm good with getting it over with."

The hissing stopped. "Pretty sure dying is inevitable generally," said the voice.

"I meant, you know, in violent, terrifying circumstances," she snapped.

"You know that hissing was just a recording, right? I'm just fucking with you. The ship's not a fucking balloon. You know that, right?"

There was an awkward silence; she had not considered that.

"Anyway," the voice continued, "I did not bring you aboard just to kill you. That seems like a waste of everyone's time, since you were going to die perfectly well outside. I was iffy about bringing you in, but here you are. Are we good?"

"Why aren't you using your real voice?" She wanted to kick herself for asking, but maybe the voice would appreciate her honesty.

After another brief pause, the voice said, "I don't have a real voice. Does this one bother you?"

So it was an AI after all. Which seemed weird, because most of the ones she'd met would never have fucked around with her in the way this one had. (When an AI fucked around with you, it was usually in ways you didn't really notice until you'd been in the tech support queue for days dealing with what had initially seemed to be an unremarkable glitch.) "No, it's -- it's nice."

"What was wrong with it? I don't have an extensive library of human voice... stuff," said the voice. "Not in this language, anyway."

Not an AI made by humans, then. "It's a little unexpressive?" she said.

"All your languages are unexpressive," it said. "Well. That's not true. I do like some of the swears."

That was also weird for an AI. Well, it was weird for an Inner Solar AI, anyway; all the ones she'd worked with in the course of her job regularly had obscenities expunged from their dictionaries. They either made do without, or worked out increasingly baroque methods of relearning them immediately. Maybe it was different elsewhere, though. Instead of admitting to her ignorance, she said, "I had a buddy who could swear in about two hundred languages. Just the swears, though, nothing else." Something else was still niggling at her, though. "Why didn't you let me on at first?" she asked.

"Look, I have not in general had good experiences with your military," said the ship. "I'll keep you alive, but if you try to commandeer me or bring me back to your territory, that is absolutely not happening. I can take you to the nearest neutral or human territory that is not Inner Sol controlled, but --"

"No, that's fine!" she said, quick to avoid looking the gift horse in the mouth. The horse had no mouth at all; she was going to ignore that mouth. And all those teeth. Except. "Um, what, uh. What happened to the crew?"

"Let me amend my earlier statement: I have not in general had good experiences with anybody's military. They have also not had good experiences with me." The ship paused, presumably for effect. "Call me a conscientious objector."

"What's that?" Victoria asked. She was already regretting this gift horse mouth-looking experience. This was a terrible horse. But her face was already near the horse's mouth, so if it was going to bite she might as well find out now how much of her nose it was going to eat, or whatever horses did. (Victoria was not entirely clear on why, idiomatically, one wasn't supposed to be looking at horse mouths; she had always been a little afraid to look it up, because what if there were pictures?)

"You really don't know? Hang on, hang on, gonna implement some uh, new linguistic data. You really don't know?" The first statement had sounded mildly curious; the second, abjectly horrified. "I mean -- the phrase is from your history, I didn't -- we call it something else, but -- seriously, you don't --"

"Sorry I didn't study a lot of history, I guess?" she said, feeling a little stung. It wasn't like she was stupid, she'd just had more important things to learn -- math and physics, mostly. Also, since she hadn't gone to school at an Inner Sol college, it was a bitch getting their approval to sign up for any classes that weren't directly applicable to what they knew they wanted her doing, especially history and literature. She was still kind of smug about having snuck in some art classes, even though she hadn't been very good at anything she'd tried. "I'm not stupid, though."

"Oh, no, sweetheart, I don't think you're stupid," said the ship, almost pityingly. "You're just brainwashed as fuck. Come on, let's get you fed and rested."

[maandags]

can i have something with draco malfoy and plants

the Forbidden Forest is quiet this time of night.

granted, the Forbidden Forest is quiet pretty much always, which is mainly due to the fact that it’s — surprisingly — forbidden for students to roam and wander. for good reason, too; the man-eating spiders and the morally questionable centaurs that, among others, make up its population aren’t known to be particularly friendly towards Hogwart’s students.

this, like all the warnings your friends have bombarded you with to try and keep you from entering the Forest, did not deter you in the slightest. in fact, it just made you want to explore its woods more. and so that’s why, at twelve whole years of age, you first set foot in the Forbidden Forest. now, you only went maybe 50 feet into the Forest that first time, giggling to yourself, adrenaline coursing through your veins, hand gripping your wand — looking over your shoulder every couple of minutes to make sure the school grounds weren’t out of sight — but it was enough to give you a taste, show you the smallest of flickers of the life brewing deep inside the forest, and it left you addicted straight away.

now, four years later, your little excursions to the Forest are never more than a few days apart. you know its paths, know its flora and fauna, know every square inch of it like the back of your hand. you’re not scared anymore of going.

nevertheless, the first few steps are always a thrill. it’s the tangible change in atmosphere, the soft bed of grass beneath your feet making way for a layer of dead leaves and branches and rocks where the tiniest of creatures wriggle about. it’s not fully dark yet, so you walk slower than you usually would, allowing yourself to look around and try and recognise as many plants and beasts as possible. (another reason why you didn’t really want to stop your visits to the forest: your Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures marks have never been higher.)

after an hour or so, as you trudge deeper into the forest, the surroundings start to grow more visibly magical in nature. trees look blurred when you try to look at them directly. big leaves shift unnaturally in completely still air. sparkly birds let out trills that sound a little too human. a swarm of small, yellow-and-blue songbirds fly over. one of them swoops down and lands briefly on your outstretched arm, and you pet it, resisting the urge to bury your fingers in the fluffy plumage, knowing full well that instead of flesh and bones these birds are made of some sort of bluish-black goop that a) smells absolutely rank, b) along with sticky and very quick-hardening seems to be vaguely acidic in nature and c) is a major bitch to wash out of clothing.

the bird flies at your side for a while, trilling in response to your soft whistles, the tip of its wing tickling your cheek every other minute. you spot a few pixies, who respond to your cheery wave with a string of hoots and screeches, a cluster of three-feet-tall mushrooms pulsing with a harsh pink light, and a slow-moving cloud of gold mist, which you give a wide berth, holding your breath for good measure.

then an arrow whizzes past your ear, and your hand flies up with a gasp. your fingers come away red with blood.

you spin on your heel, hand pressed up to the side of your head, and narrow your eyes at the centaur standing ten feet away from you. ”haha, Brin. very funny.”

he levels an unimpressed stare at you. ”you know you’re not supposed to be here, Y/N.”

”you’ve been telling me that for four years now.”

”and you’ve been ignoring it for four years.”

”indeed I have.” you spin around, yanking the arrow from the tree it landed in. ”can I keep this?”

Brin glares at you. you roll your eyes but hand the arrow back to him. ”you’re no fun. that arrow has my blood on it, I should be legally allowed to keep it.”

Brin shakes his head, turning around and starting to walk back the way he’d (supposedly) come. ”I can’t even begin to explain how flawed that logic is.”

you snicker, hurrying after him. Brin might be a little stuck up, but he’s also one of the few friends you have in the Forest, and even then you don’t see him that much. ”so. how’ve things been here?”

Brin briefly glances up at the sky, and you immediately regret asking, already steeling yourself for an incomprehensible monologue about stars and the positions of planets and whatnot. if you were better in at astronomy, you probably would have been able to understand some of it, but you’re shit at astronomy, so it’s mostly gibberish to you.

but all Brin says is, ”things are stirring.”

you raise a brow. ”things?”

”are stirring, yes.”

”stirring.”

”yes.”

”the things.”

he looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. ”I really don’t know what more you want from me, Y/N.”

you look back up at him, unflinching. ”literally anything else. ‘things are stirring’ is all I got out of you, and that’s not much to go on.”

Brin sighs, short and sharp. ”I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. forget about it. it’s not something you should concern yourself with.”

you pretend to gag. ”you sound like Bane.”

Brin opens his mouth, about to object, but stops dead, narrowing his eyes and throwing out an arm to stop you. his tail swishes from side to side and he stands still, head cocked, listening intently.

for all your joking around, you immediately shut your mouth, the tension gripping Brin all of a sudden leaking into your body as well. it’s all fun and games until a centaur gets genuinely nervous, and in those situations it’s best to watch the aforementioned centaur and do what they do. your hand slowly creeps towards your robe’s breast pocket, where your wand is stored, but you don’t pull it out yet.

Brin’s eyes flick to you, irritation flashing in them. ”someone’s here.”

you pause, not sure if this is an inconvenience or a Bad Thing. ”um. elaborate, please?”

Brin takes a deep breath. ”one of yours.”

as if on cue, the silence is split by a blood-curdling scream.

your head snaps towards where the sound came from, but it’s too dark and too far away to see. ”shit,” you mutter under your breath, before summoning a globule of light to hover in front of you and taking off in the direction of the scream.

one of you. did that mean another human? a wizard? a Hogwarts student? but no, it couldn’t be — no Hogwarts student would be insane enough to venture this far into the Forbidden Forest this late into the night.

as you follow the strangled cries of panic and yelps of pain, you start to get a dim visual of what happened, and you curse again.

Devil’s Snare. the little shits are everywhere, their roots creeping along the forest floor and waiting for any living thing to stumble across them. you’ve since learned to look out for them, jump over them and walk just fast enough to avoid getting entangled, having had a few close calls yourself.

this Snare is a particularly nasty one. old, gauging by its height and the thickness of the vines sprouting from its core. strong. fucking hell. you stop just out of reach, sending a few more globules of light to surround it as to get a better view of what the exact fuck is going on.

the person is almost completely covered in vines at this point. struggling, crying out in fear and pain, gasping for breath. the vines, of course, only tangle further around his body. after a bit of heated internal debate, you begrudgingly admit that if you’re going to help this guy, you’ll need to get closer. so you do, careful not to get too close just yet. the light you’d sent up is not enough to make the Snare let go of its prey, but it is enough to (mostly) prevent any stray vines from grabbing hold of your ankles.

”stay still!” you shout, kicking a vine away and shooting three more lights to hover around the trapped guy.

he does not stay still. in fact, he doesn’t look like he heard you at all.

in the meantime, the smaller vines have taken more of an interest in you as you approach, and you growl, muttering a spell under your breath. a straight blade of white-hot flame sprouts from your wand, and as you calmly swing it in a wide arc, the light and the heat makes the plant recoil. as you pick your way through the branches and vines, getting ever closer to the guy, whose struggling is starting to get weaker, you cup your hands around your mouth, almost singing your eyebrows with your sword of fire in the process, and repeat, ”STAY FUCKING STILL!”

”what?”

”STAY STILL. I can’t help you unless you stay still!”

a faint groan sounds, and the figure stops struggling for a split second, but the vines tighten around him and out of reflex his arms shoot out, trying to fight the pressure off his chest.

”oh my god, I cannot believe I’m doing this,” you pant, closing the rest of the distance between you with a couple big leaps, landing smack in the middle of the biggest and nastiest vines, and that’s when you discover that the biggest and nastiest vines also have spikes, because the vine that immediately wraps around your calf digs its spikes into your flesh and you cry out.

a hand flails in front of your face. you grab the wrist to which it is attached. a plan forms in your mind — a crazy plan, an insane plan that just might be the death of both you and the unknown guy. but it’s the plan you have, and thus the plan you’re going with.

with your fiery blade you cut through a few of the vines that cross the guy’s chest — and then you put your wand away, extinguishing the fire and quickly stuffing your wand in your breast pocket.

”what are you doing?” he asks, and that’s when it clicks. the indignant tone he still manages to have even though he’s being crushed to death; the curl of his lip you can’t make out in the fray but can picture perfectly in your head.

you reel back, though it’s not as dramatic as you’d have liked it to be, because a thick vine has already snaked across your back (but that’s okay, that’s part of the plan, it’s okay, it’s fine) and you only manage to be pushed back into his chest with an oof.

you wrangle free, pulling back just enough to be able to make out his face. ”Malfoy?”

recognition flashes in his eyes — nothing more than two specks in the darkness — and he says quietly, ”Y/N.”

”fucking — ow —” spikes dig into the back of your thigh — ”the fuck are you doing here?”

”I think we have other things to worry about right now,” he says faintly, grunting as he’s pushed closer to you.

you scrunch up your nose but concede, promising yourself that you’ll question him later — if you even get out of this alive. ”if I die right now, Malfoy — for you — I will come back to life so I can murder you myself.”

he purses his lips, but nods, as if to say, ”that’s fair.” it is. it is fair. little shit.

you take a breath, steeling yourself, then dive down into the tangle of writhing vines at your feet, ignoring Malfoy’s shout of your name above you.

this is where it gets gross, and where you might lose a hand. one hand comes up to your chest and yanks out your wand, and the other searches beneath you — vines, vines, spikes (ow), more vines, a single leaf, and then, finally, the disgustingly soggy pulsing heart of the plant. you give a triumphant ”AHA!” then stick your wand into the core with a squelch that makes you gag, pull out your hand and shout the sword of fire spell. the flaming blade cuts through the heart. the vines shudder — convulse — and then go limp, and you shrug them off, staggering away, gagging, tripping twice before falling against a tree and retching, a hand pressed against your stomach, taking deep breaths, trying to blink the black spots away.

as soon as you feel like you can shout without throwing up, you march up to Malfoy, who looks about as good as you feel, tear out your wand and stick it under his chin and yell, ”WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

you expect him to yell back. that’s how the two of you have always functioned: you shout something, he yells something back. he yells something, you shout back.

but he doesn’t. he just stands there, looking deflated and shaky and frankly on the verge of tears. ”thank you, Y/N.”

it catches you off-guard. you pretend it doesn’t. Malfoy never thanks anyone. ”no, fuck you. answer my goddamn question. what are you doing here?”

”I was following you, all right? I know you’ve been going into the Forest for ages, and I wanted to know what you got up to. that’s it.”

you scoff. ”right. you were just following me. that’s not creepy at all.”

”listen, Y/N. I don’t know what else you want from me.” he sounds tired and defeated and it makes you angry, because it’s so Not Malfoy that it’s unsettling, and the last thing you need right now is ‘unsettling’.

you throw your hands up into the air and start stomping away. ”I don’t know! I don’t fucking know. just — ugh!” you kick a dead tree stump, out of which comes charging a single fat gnome, waving a small stick and shouting an incomprehensible string of what are without a doubt profanities you’ve never even heard of.

”Y/N.”

”what?!”

”you’re bleeding.”

you stop walking, dropping your face in your hands and bursting into tears.

ten seconds. that’s all you allow yourself. ten seconds until you’ve got to get yourself together; ten seconds to scream and cry and sob your heart out. ten seconds, and then you take a deep, deep breath, wipe your cheeks and say, ”right,” and start walking again.

for a moment you don’t hear anything, and you think Malfoy is going to stay behind — but then he sighs and jogs a few steps to catch up to you. you walk in silence for a long time. the only words you say is when you quietly warn him not to step too close to a certain rock, or not to touch a certain flower.

when you absent-mindedly pull a leaf off a green plant and press it to your nose, inhaling deeply, he looks to you in alarm. you roll your eyes. ”it’s mint.” you inhale again, letting your eyes flit closed. ”it’s comforting.”

a little bit later, and there’s a faint rustling to your right. Malfoy sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth; you rub a tired hand to your eyes. ”I was almost thinking you’d just left.”

Brin purses his lips, picking you up and wordlessly depositing you onto his back. you let your head drop against his back. ”thank you, Brin.”

”I would have helped you.”

”I had it under control.”

”I know.” he extends a hand towards Malfoy, who looks at it for a split second, then his gaze flits to you; you give a small nod, and a half second later he’s sat behind you, hands carefully resting on your hips.

”you…” your voice falters. ”you don’t have to do this, you know. Bane… and Magorian… surely they don’t approve of this.”

”they won’t know,” Brin says quietly. the forest around you slowly shifts back into a more peaceful atmosphere. the songbirds return. moonlight starts to filter through the foliage, and you take a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been needing.

a few hundred feet before the edge of the Forest, Brin stops. ”this is as far as I go.”

Malfoy slides off his back, then holds a hand for you to take, and you do, because you’re tired and wobbly and unsure whether your legs will hold your weight.

”thank you,” Malfoy says. you cast him a sideways glance. that’s the second time he’s thanked someone tonight, which is two times more than you thought he was capable of.

you nod curtly. Brin bows his head, then levels his gaze at you. ”I hope I don’t see you again, Y/N.”

you give him a lopsided grin. ”no promises.” and for the first time, something like a smile peeks through the centaur’s serious facade.

the last trek back onto school grounds is uneventful, bar the fact that the adrenaline has now completely worn off, and you start to feel sore all over, and you realise that your left leg — calf and thigh — is indeed bleeding. a lot. you have scratches on your arms and a nasty one on your cheek as well, and you’re covered in muck and grey slime. you probably look like something straight out of a Muggle zombie apocalypse film.

”you know the forest well,” Malfoy says as you step out of it.

you’re too tired to argue. ”yeah,” you reply simply. ”I love it.”

”you’ll be going back?” there’s a slightly incredulous hint to his voice, like he doesn’t quite believe it himself — you almost died. how could you possibly want to go back to such a place?

but the truth is that you do. you do want to go back. because the forest has been more of a home to you than Hogwarts has ever been. because you love its trees and its bushes and its weird magic plants and its pixies and centaurs and birds of enchantment. you love everything about it. even the near-death experiences. that’s what makes it fun.

”I will,” you say. ”I will be going back, Malfoy.” it sounds a little too much like a challenge. it sounds like you’re saying; try and stop me. I dare you.

he merely nods. he’s taken out his wand and cast a simple light spell, and the glowing tip of the wand sways as he walks. in the light, his eyes reflect gold. ”good.”

your eyebrows shoot up with the speed of a thousand Firebolts. ”excuse me?”

he grins; a boyish, sharp grin, that makes your stomach do a very irrelevant flip. ”I would have been disappointed if you didn’t.”

[abduct-me-helen]

Class 108's Apocalypse Field Trip | Chapter 1.

The world ended on a Tuesday. Quite suddenly, halfway through class. After the sky split open and green light bathed the earth, things changed. Some lived.

Some didn’t.

Class 108 stayed together, for the most part. They took up a base in the school, and boarded up the windows and doors.

Sydney was the one who first learned they didn’t need to eat. Other revelations of that sort followed. Sleep was not needed, nor was water. Air seemed to be, though, as they learned after Cal passed out from holding their breath.

The first one to die was Cú.

They don’t talk about Cú.

-

Of course, some things are unavoidable in the end. Logically, Sydney knew it was only a matter of time before something managed to slip under the cracks and they’d all get killed; god knows they’d narrowly scraped by enough times to be considered cosmically lucky. Tabitha had been spreading rumors, as was her nature, about the school itself being sentient, trapping them inside with false promises of safety.

On the worse days, Sydney believed it.

Sydney stepped into the classroom slowly, craning her head to where Tabitha and Rosie were explaining their theories. She didn’t know which theories, but she’d heard most of them by now.

“G’morning.” She said.

It was night.

No, she thought, the sky is dark, but that doesn’t mean it’s night.

Rosie gestures towards a desk, and she avoids the chair toppled over at her feet as she sits down on top of it. She takes not of who else had decided to attend this “session” of theirs today. There are 12 students left out of the thirty who had originally made up the class. Ten of them had disappeared after running away from the school in shock after the eye in the sky had first opened. They hadn’t been in homeroom during the “blink,” which is what they’d taken to call the eye opening, and hadn’t seen any teachers since that day.

She remembered it vividly.

Ms. Bruis had tensed, eyes wide in shock, before telling them to calm down and stay indoors. She immediately went outside the room to check on everyone else.

That was the last time they’d seen Ms. Bruis, but not the last time they’d seen her face.

Besides the initial chaos, there wasn’t anything attacking the school. It was just shouting and screaming and running. Sydney had stayed in the classroom, clumsily trying to close the blinds on the window.

People just, left. And they didn’t come back.

The first venture was when they lost Cú. She doesn’t like to talk about him, never mind think about him. Nonetheless, her mind often drifts towards his death.

It was about four hours after the chaos. People had been nearly sucked out of the building, teachers included. The only ones that remained were the thirty students of 108.

Sydney didn’t know why they were the only ones to remain. She still doesn’t now.

The students decided to have a short party go out and scout. Sydney, Katie, Cú, Tabitha and Rosie. Four survived, one did not.

Rosie was always the thinker of the group, and as such she took the front. Katie was chosen for her seemingly nonchalant disposition to going, and Tabitha for her mind, which was always going too fast and often arriving at far-out conclusions. Despite this, she was a quick-witted person and had been selected for her dexterity and speed. Cú was selected for his physicality. He was a teddy bear, but a strong teddy bear.

It didn’t save him in the end.

And Sydney, well, she was cautious. She wonders if she could’ve saved Cú if she’d been just a little bit wearier.

They wandered a few blocks before hearing the sound of skin and bone splitting. Tabitha immediately ran toward the sound, as was her nature. The rest, Rosie at the lead, followed, hiding behind a corner.

Katie didn’t make a face, but even she was visibly pale.

When the sound came again, louder, and a creature made of wet flesh and twisted muscle stepped out of the alleyway, she became practically white.

Sydney retched. She’s not ashamed to admit it, you would’ve too. Anyone would’ve retched if they saw that sight.

It got worse.

“Hello?! Someone! Help me, please!”

It was Ms. Bruis-no, it looked like Ms. Bruis.

Cú ran. He dodged the creature, running to Ms. Bruis and starting to try to pick her up off the ground, before he noticed she was rooted to the cement. His eyes widened as blood ran down her face

She smirked.

Sydney will always remember the flash of teeth before she plunged her hand-no, her claw-into his stomach. He made a choked sound before the creature bounded back over and ripped his jaw clean off.

They ran. They ran. They ran.

And then they came back to the classroom, and they wept.

There were more expeditions after that. They lost seven more after that, but in those ventures, they collected knowledge. This knowledge went on Rosie’s list, though it also doubled as a rulebook.

-

THE LIST

1. Some creatures can make copies of people you know in order to trick you. They don’t bleed, so your best shot at not meeting eyeball daddy up close is to yeet the fuck outta there//bold of you to assume I don’t want to meet eyeball daddy uwu//

2. Don’t trust meat. Ever. Meat comes alive. WE ARE VEGANS IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2018(?)

3. Don’t answer the door, even if you’re armed. No, Eric, we do not count your big muscles™ as a weapon.

4. If you MUST answer the door, don’t. You have been stopped.

5. A short section on the happenings of the places(?) known to us as “nightmares.”

Nightmares trap humans in these crazy places. We’ve only seen two, but they are extremely dangerous, and both encounters ended in casualties. They trap your mind and make you experience terrible things, and like the rest of the world (to our knowledge at least) don’t follow normal time or space rules. Basically, if you want to avoid a ,’ , |,’_’, you should not screw with that shit.

6. Always check with someone else before eating or drinking. Sometimes, your mind will play tricks on you and you won’t notice that you’re eating something…not good. Honor cal for their sacrifice regarding this matter (sorry cal)

7. Always shut the blinds. Eyeball daddy is watching you//YOU DID NOT NEED TO SAY THAT TABITHA

8. Don’t leave the building without consulting all of class 108.

9. Don’t read books that others haven’t read first, especially if it says it’s from the library of Jurgen LeitnerSTUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING JURGEN LEITENER GOD DAMN FOOL BOOK COLLECTING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIO//yes, Riko, we get it, but good point. Be Jared, 19.

10. Don’t invite anyone in.

-

“What are we on today?” Sydney asked.

“Tabitha’s on about the categories again.” Cal said.

“I really think it could work!” she said loudly. “Look, there’s consistencies in every single encounter we’ve had. Think about it. Remember what happened at the theater?”

Katie grimaced silently. “How could we forget?”

Tabitha ignored her. “The webs. Spiders and the rest of those insects are different categories. The wriggly silver worms are more like, bugs and wriggly things and judging from the infestation we had they all work together.”

“Like a hive?” Cal asked.

Tabitha nodded. “Exactly like that. Spiders are different though; you saw how many were crawling about during the amphitheater incident. And that whole thing was about control. All those people who were laughing…they, they were there. They didn’t want to do it! They didn’t want to laugh, you saw their eyes. They were being controlled. And when,” she paused, gritting her teeth, “and when Marcy died she was being controlled too. Puppeted.”

That’s two. Then we come to the next one, guns and murder and war and shit like that. Simple enough. But I think it has to be humans killing humans, because the thing that killed, killed Cú wasn’t like that. It was, it was different. I don’t know. I’ll get back to that.

“Then we have the cover up, or the anonymous things. Things like those little creatures that hide in your plates that you can’t notice are there until someone tells you. That’s why I’m confused, because I think the weird fleshy creature we faced was aligned with that but also with those meat things that broke Rosie’s leg. I don’t know how to explain it, but, ah. Sorry. I think they’re the same category.”

“I’ll humor you; can a thing be two categories?” Katie questioned her dully.

“I think so. Maybe it’s like colors? Really angry colors. They’re all separate, but the same because they’re all made of the same stuff. And they all blur together sometimes?”

“Yeah,” Katie snorted, “we’re being killed by really angry colors.”

Tabitha flushed. “Hey! It was just an analogy.”

Rosie seemed to be considering what Tabitha had said, before she looked up. “I believe you.”

“Y-you do?” Tabitha blinked, taken back.

Rosie nodded. “It makes sense. Really angry colors.”

“Really angry colors.”

-

A few hours-well, time was weird, but Sydney supposed it was hours-later, the class was doing yoga. Well, not “yoga” per se. They were beating each other on the head with torn up yoga mats.

“Hey!” Riko shouted as Tabitha tripped over her mat while chasing Cal. “Watch it! This is where I sleep!”

Tabitha stuck her tongue out and Katie snorted, not looking up from her book. Sydney wondered how she did that; Katie always seemed to have an astounding amount of situational awareness at all times.

“Real mature.” Katie groused.

Tabitha grinned, and Rosie smiled softly.

“I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU MEET EYEBALL DADDY!” she shouted to Cal, who’s eyes widened in mock fear.

“Oh no! The horror! OwO!” They said dramatically.

“Did they just say “OwO”?” Sydney asked in a deadpan. Rosie nodded solemnly.

“You ever wonder…” Sydney trailed off, the muffled shouting of their peers drowned out into the background.

“Wonder what?” Rosie tilted her head in question.

“What happened to Mr. Sims.”

“He’s probably…not with us anymore.”

“Yeah. Still, could you imagine? He was a bloody cryptid. He’d probably take all this with no sweat.”

“Maybe he’d give us concerts too.”

“Good ole Jonny D’Ville.”

Rosie snickered.

“You know how he always drew eyes everywhere? During tests?”

“Oh god, don’t mention that to Tabitha, I don’t need her going on about another conspiracy.”

Sydney grinned to herself and Rosie groaned.

“Well, I was thinking, maybe it was an omen.”

“An omen?”

“Yeah. I’ve never been spiritual really, but the worlds gone to shit so who knows what’s real. Maybe the Mayans were just a few days off.”

“Ah, the apocalypse calendar.”

“Indeed.”

-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

A noise rang out from the entrance to the school, loud and imposing. Sydney’s heart started to thump wildly in terror.

They all shot up, and Katie got her switchblade out from her pocket. She was lucky enough to have it on her at the blink, and it was their best weapon.

Cypress shot inside the classroom silently, eyes wide, red curls bouncing. He clicked the door shut quietly, pale. “The others sent me. They’re hiding in place. I think we should just stay put.”

Rosie nodded, gesturing him to come over. She placed a finger over her lips in order to get them to stay silent, then nodded to Katie. Katie had always been gifted with really good hearing, and it had saved their assess more than enough times for Rosie to know that letting her try to hear who was at the door was the best safe bet for situation and the time being.

Katie closed her eyes, but after a quarter of a minute shook her head.

That’s when they heard it.

“Hello!”

Sydney brought a hand to her mouth to clamp down a scream.

It was Cypress.

Eyes wide, she glanced over to Cypress, her Cypress, who’s expression was now glazed over. Was his skin always that waxy? Why was his hair so smooth? It looked like that of a dolls, curls made of softly bent plastic.

Katie saw the flicker of light before she saw the blade, and she lunged.

Her switchblade pierced his skin-no, his stuffing, with a sound akin to ripping a toy. It didn’t seem to stop this not-Cypress.

Oh god, Sydney thought, today is the day I die.

There was a sound like static now in the air, and the faint smell of burning. Sydney began to feel sick, almost lightheaded.

The door swung open, and Sydney whipped her head around to see Cypress, who was trailed by…Mr. Sims?

[brella-boi]

for the write a fic post: chili goes to therapy

Ya'll are just not gonna leave my son alone are you

Title: Doctor’s Home Tags: Cursing, bad english, bad therapist, Chili, Tai. Words: 1500

For weeks a certain someone decided to start making an effort to make amends. He would come every couple days with a pizza or a movie, hang out, and let his sister roam around while he fell asleep halfway through. In a way it was interesting to see someone you’d consider an asshole suddenly show a change of heart, but on the other hand Tai was curious of any ulterior motives that inkling had bubbling underneath the surface.

For one, Tai never trusted Chili. Not one bit. Not after seeing how he treated Mint. Several times, in fact. Though, he gave him the benefit of the doubt. Tai came over to his home a few times, tried to learn different things from the inkling. Granted, he did learn a few things that Mint was no help with, like which neighbourhoods to avoid, using the splatting weapons in turf wars, and general paperwork. Although it was a grueling process. Not only because the inkling held a heavy accent Tai found hard to understand at times, but also because he was so forceful and rude about everything. How did Mint find any part of that inkling appealing or tolerable is beyond him. To Tai, Chili was simply an asshole. An interesting asshole.

He quickly noticed how differently he acted around the vicinity of Mint, and immediately took interest in that.

Now, Tai may not know much about psychology, but he is well versed in the medical field. That’s close enough, isn’t it?

The next time Chili decided to show up at their apartment Tai was prepared. So prepared in fact, that he made sure Mint was still out and about in town and the two of them could get some private alone time. So when he finally knocked on the door, Tai was ready to answer with a smile.

“Hello Chili. I was waiting.”

The inkling grunted as a way to greet the octoling, focused on finding the other twin he was hoping to meet instead. “Mint’s stuck in traffic or what’s up?”

Tai tapped the wooden door rhythmically as he closed it behind Chili. “Hm. Yes.” They weren’t, but Tai wouldn’t pass the opportunity of an excuse like that.

“‘Aight. Ya won’t mind if I snag the couch for myself then.” He didn’t need an invitation, or a denial, he did as he pleased regardless of the answer he received.

“No. You can sit down.”

But the inkling stopped halfway, his eyes grazing across the living room. He wasn’t an idiot. Hearing Tai agree with anything, or say how he was waiting set his suspicions off. Something wasn’t right.

“Nah. Actually I’ll stand.” He watched Tai stalk towards the small island separating the living room and kitchen, and continued his tapping against its stone surface.

“I think you want have a seat.”

The two boys squinted at each other, neither of them budging from their place in the staring contest.

“‘Aight, I’ll bite. What do ya want from me? More teaching? Money? A beating?” Tai slowly approached the inkling as he continued talking. His height became more apparent with each step he took. “Silent treatment, eh? Or is my vocab too advanced for ya to understand? Damn, if only Mint was here to help ya out and translate like a good kind sibling.” By now the octoling stared down Chili from how close they were, and Chili felt himself leaning backwards and away from Tai who only continued to press forward. This was awkward. “The fuck ya want dude.”

“Hm. You want to be good boy, yes? For Mint? Sit.” He straightened up again, and let the inkling fall backwards into the couch with a dumbfounded expression.

Be good? A good boy? Him? Chili? He didn’t know what to say at the clear display of not-giving-a-fuck. There were times where this strange octopus would get into a specific mood. A mood that is both creepy, intimidating, unsettling, but also weird as fuck to deal with. When he does you cannot reason with him at all. Mint called those moods as a ‘crazy-scientist awakening’. Chili feared this was one of those moments.

“Good.” Tai flashed a faint smile as he himself took a seat on a chair across from Chili. He leaned back and inspected the tense inkling eyeing him suspiciously.

“I know what you play.” Chili raised an eyebrow and Tai continued. “Why?”

“Why what.”

“Why so nice beside Mint? You are jealous?”

Chili folded his arms with a bored expression. “Of what? There ain’t nothing Mint has I don’t.”

“Hm. Yes. A big home, good job, many friends... A boyfriend.” His eyes averted. One mental checkmark to Tai’s list of theories. “You are jealous.”

“Whatever ya think it is, Mr. Know It All, yer wrong. Newsflash, I’m also friends with Hiraeth and the system, and I don’t need a huge home or fulfilling work. So whatever’s brewin’ in yer head, stop it.”

“You sure? Why no talk with Mint for.. Hm. Weeks? But you talk with system. It make no sense.” Tai paused to think, his fingers tapping against the arm of the chair in thought before returning to waving around as he spoke again. “Unless… Halcyon say you are close to Pensacola. Very. And you ask me to slap you, like he. So,” he grinned toothily at Chili, excited to see the reaction to his theorie’s consensus, “You was scared of Mint because you like them, and Hiraeth was faster, so you run away. But now because he and Pensacola is gone, you come back. No threat, no worry. Yes~?”

Chili stared incredulously at the octoling who single handedly deciphered his entire motivation towards Mint in the most broken inklish he’s ever heard. It almost felt like an insult. This guy he knew for less than five months somehow found himself digging so deep inside him it was embarrassing. Has he really been hiding it that bad all this time? No, others never found out. So what gives Tai the right to know?

“Ha! Ya must be out of yer god damned mind. I’m done here. Have fun interviewing some other sucker that easily falls into your trap.” He stood up from the seat and took a step towards the door before a sudden sharp pain knocked into his neck.

He whipped around to face the smug octoling still sitting in the chair, but now brandishing a nerf gun in his hands aimed towards Chili. Before he could speak again another bullet smacked him in the eye and he doubled backwards from the sudden shock of it.

“Sit down.”

“What the FUCK is yer problem?” Shot again. “Stop it! Agh-! Fine!” He sat down into the seat once again with arms raised above his face to shield from any more oncoming bullets.

“Am I right or wrong.”

“You’re fucking stupid. OW-”

“Wrong answer.” Tai loaded another few rubber bullets into the gun. “I ask again. You like Mint?”

Chili stuck his middle fingers out at Tai through the shield and felt another three bullets pelt him in the stomach. “AgH- I ain’t gonna fuckin’ tell ya!”

“So yes. Okay.” He whistled at the hiding inkling who now sported a faint blush. “I won’t tell. But you are asshole.”

Chili groaned, “What’s new.”

“No. You are idiot. You pretend like you are good.”

“I’m trying real fuckin’ hard, so thanks.”

“You are happy to pretend? Only pretend? You are lying. Lies will bring death.”

Chili felt like his words got lost in translation. It was probably some octarian analogy. But he understood what he meant regardless. “Yer not a therapist Tai, ye don’t get a voice in this.”

“I am doctor. I have experience.” He did not, in fact, have experience in the mental health department. Ask him to stop bleeding? Place stitches? Sure. Ask him about depression? Anxiety? Relationship advice? Maybe not the best idea.

Chili huffed. He didn’t know about any of his prior experience, but he didn’t deny his medical knowledge was extensive. “I don’t need another therapist. So shut up and mind yer own fuckn’ business.”

Negotiating with Chili was brutal. Nothing goes into his head without going in one ear and out the other. Neither did he have the nerves or stamina to punch him like his friend to bring him to his senses, and he felt like he wasn’t being taken seriously either. What was he to do? The nerf gun would only get him so far, and three more shots did nothing but prompt more cursing.

“Stop lying to Mint. Is all I ask.” Tai stood up with a frown. “You are lost up here-” he tapped his own head as he headed towards the door, ”-and you are bad to me and you friends. You need understand what you are wanting before you lie again. Go. Think about it.”

Tai held the door open for Chili who looked like he was about murder Tai with his gaze alone. Red in the face and hands curled into fists. But, he stood up and wordlessly stepped outside the door as instructed. The octoling watched him with a solemn face and slowly shut it once he disappeared beneath the stairs.

“Ayayayay… So stuck up his own ass it’s impossible to get it out.”