#and screen time outside of a non-cannon spin-off

[busiest-bee]

Was thinking about fnaf redesigns earlier today (or yesterday?? Idk I was busy being sick) and remembered this Monty redesign I made at some point. It’s kinda old and imperfect but I still like it enough to post. It’s also technically part of an au/rewrite for either Just security breach, or the entirety of fnaf. I love him and Honestly? I’m Kissing him on the mouth

[breekento]

Have you ever gone into possible hobbies that Nanami has vs Higuruma? I'm disappointed we never got to see his likes and hobbies 😭😭😭

Welcome back to another HiguNana analysis by Bree!

Unfortunately we don’t ever get to know very much about the personal interests and hobbies of Higuruma and Nanami throughout the show. They already have very little screen time and what we do see is usually pertaining only to the world of sorcery. But something that Higuruma and Nanami nation have decided is that both of these hunky men are wealthy and wealthy men have hobbies.

Like usual, these are my personal head-cannons please don’t be mad at me.

Hobbies that HiguNana have in common:

They are men of style and class, both wearing luxury suits and splurging on nice cars and watches. They adore shopping with you. They’ve worked hard in their careers to be able to afford their lifestyle and they both have the love language of gift giving. Those two things combined equals shopping trips for the two of you. They love dressing you up, watching you spin around for them. They can put their money where their mouth is. When you can’t decide which dress to buy for their work party, they say, “Just get both, darling. You can use one for a date night and one for the party.”

In a similar vein, they love traveling. And they love bringing you along. Even if it’s just a weekend getaway somewhere you’ve never been, they will book a last-minute trip and pack your bags for you. They already know your essentials and favorite outfits so you can expect your bag to be packed as soon as you get home.

Nanami’s hobbies:

Starting off with the most obvious, something we do know about Nanami is his love for reading. Before his death, he mentioned all of the books he never got around to reading. I like to think he has a home library and a wide range of taste in books from historical non-fiction to fiction fantasy books. In the mornings, he brews a cup of black coffee and sits outside, reading whatever current novel he is on before getting dressed and ready for work.

Something that we don’t have any clues for but is something that I can see fitting his character very well is a love for baking and cooking. He seems like the type of man to insist on cooking for holidays like Valentine’s Day, Christmas, and Thanksgiving. His love for pastries only signifies that he at some point has dabble in baking. Plus, he would look just adorable in an apron.

Maybe this is just me self-inserting myself but as an avid plant mother Nanami has the type of personality to be a loving plant father. He’s patient and gentle and would take the utmost care of a garden or home jungle. He could use his own fresh vegetables in his cooking!

Now, this might tie in to the shopping hobby but we all know Nanami is a man of funky ties. I could see him collecting fun ties. Shopping for other items and coming across a new pattern he has never seen before, he can’t help himself. He has a drawer only for his ties and picks them out for every occasion.

Nanami is a white collar man and who do all white collar man love? Golf. Nanami is a man of golf. It only makes sense that he would have a section of his closet dedicated to his golf attire. Many times, business deals and business meetings are done over a game of golf.

Higuruma’s hobbies:

Higuruma was much more difficult to identify some hobbies but after some deliberation, I think I’ve found a handful that I would coin. Maybe I will even write them into future Higuruma fanfics.

The first one would be poker. You can’t tell me you can’t imagine Higuruma, cigarette in mouth and whiskey on the table playing poker with a group of other lawyers in his firm. After a long and stressful day of being professional, they undo their ties and relax over a game of poker. They have enough money to make the stakes higher by adding bets and money on the line.

To me, Higuruma strikes me as a music type of guy. More specifically, old music. He has a collection of vinyls that he will pull out and show guests and more importantly, you. Weekend mornings, he heads down to the local record store and thumbs through the new albums they have in stock. He has a well up-kept vintage record player, only the finest machine to play his collection.

I honestly can’t remember if it was ever made evident in the manga that Higuruma smoked or if we all just collectively gave him that head cannon but Higuruma is a smoker. Not only a smoker but he collects cigars. Rarely does he smoke his fine cigars, only pulling them out for special occasions such as weddings or other important events.

Similarly, Higuruma is a bar hopper. Not in the same sense as a twenty-something college kid but as an established lawyer with a wealth behind him. He finds new and fun bars with good live music to sit and have a few drinks at. His favorite thing is bringing you along. He gets to hear about your day, listen to the smooth local band behind you and have a nice drink. It’s an excuse to see you dressed up in your shopping spree outfit.

[lemonlushff-iy]

DAMNIT CARRA

@clearwillow​ because this is all I can apparently contribute to this....DAMNIT CARRA!!! And sorry @keichanz​......I’m playing only a tad early.......... (and you know this isn’t everything anyways)

Sometime in the future in non-cannon A Heart’s Abduction...

“You can do better than that,” Inuyasha taunted, rolling his upper body to the side as Kagome tried to land a punch. Again. And failed. Again.

She let out a growl of frustration, causing Inuyasha to break out into a wide grin, and she swiped out at him. They had been at this for God only knows how long and she still had yet to even graze the fucker.

“If you stopped moving, maybe I’d be able to land one.”

“If I stopped moving, this wouldn’t be much of a challenge, and what would be the point in that?”

She swung her foot out, attempting to kick him in the side of his torso, but he just caught it firmly with both hands and gave it a nice, solid tug. She was on her back before she could process what was happening, the wind knocked from her lungs.

“Fuck,” she groaned, making him chuckle and sit down next to her, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Why on earth had she asked him to teach her to fight again?

“How’s the back of your head? It sounded like you hit it pretty hard when you fell...” He asked gently, the amusement twinkling in his golden eyes fading slightly as he expressed his concern.

“Pretty sure I’ve dealt with worse head injuries recently…”

His concern almost instantly melted into remorse and he pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and perching his chin on top. She absently admired the sinewy muscles moving beneath the surface of his skin, delighting in the way they seemed to dance.

She loved his workout clothes.

His shirt and pants clung to his body like a second skin, leaving little (but still some) to the imagination. He had pulled his hair into a top knot again to keep it out of his eyes as he trained her. His shirt completely exposed his arms and shoulders, allowing for easier movement - the gaps so large she could see a fair bit of his sides and even a bit of his chest...yet it’s collar covered a small portion of his neck.

It was a strange choice of clothing...but that shirt frequently caught her attention and made it hard for her to listen to him. Especially when she could see the muscles of his arms move.

“You have,” he morosely agreed, turning his head to shoot her a genuinely apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for what we did to you…”

“Me too,” she smiled wistfully, “But...despite everything that’s happened...I’m glad for it.”

His eyes widened in shock as she pushed herself to sit with a groan.

“You’re glad for it?” he whispered in disbelief as she tucked her legs to the side and casually shrugged in response.

“I never would have met you otherwise. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, Inuyasha.”

“Kagome,” he breathed, his face softening as he lowered his knees to mirror her posture. His hand subtly inched closer to hers until the tip of his finger tentatively touched hers. He was still so desperate yet nervous to touch her…

She glanced from their hands back up to his face and was surprised to see him lean down, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side to kiss her. She could feel his uncertainty as he pressed his lips to hers, the sensation lingering as he moved slightly away from her with a shy blush. She hooked a finger under his chin, encouraging him to lean forward so that their lips could meet again. It was sweet and tender, and she couldn’t help but enjoy the way his lips moved against hers. She enjoyed the way he silently told her how much he cared about her, and she silently rejoiced when he lightly cupped her cheek.

She sighed when he pulled away this time, but allowed him to put some distance between them. He continued to cup her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her skin as he seemed to contemplate something. Finally, he nodded and stood, his eyes glowing with excitement as he strode over to the other side of the room where a control panel had been installed in the training room.

It was just a simple, padded room that housed different kinds of weaponry. One wall was completely translucent for outsiders to observe, but not get in the middle of the cross fire. She had seen Koga and Inuyasha make that wall opaque before, however, much like the windows in their room.

“Inuyasha?” she called, pushing to stand and curiously following him.

“I think we’ve done enough training for now,” he explained, pressing a few buttons and working through the prompt screen. “I think we should take a break and do something more fun.”

He pushed one more final button, and Kagome let out a yelp of surprise as she felt her feet lift off the padded mat.

Had he…

“Did you turn the gravity off?” she questioned, his giant grin all she truly needed as an answer.

“You haven’t really experienced it yet in a safe setting,” he explained, pushing away from the wall with a spin. She squealed as he grabbed her hands and pulled her with him. She loved his innocent smile as he delighted in her excitement.

“This is a safe environment, huh?” She giggled, feeling him pull her closer.

“Safer than last time,” he shrugged, and she did her best to not think about exactly why that was. “I thought this would be fun,” he continued, spinning her out from his chest. This time he let go, and she shrieked in delight. The room was dancing all around her and she was struggling to see but she didn’t care.

This feeling of weightlessness...it was intoxicating.

She bounced off of the wall, hurtling back towards him and he caught her, wrapping her in his arms as they careened towards the opposite wall. He dug his claws into it, keeping them there as they laughed together, and she buried her head into the crook of his neck.

When she finally calmed down, she looked back up at him, a smile spreading across her face at the shear happiness on his.

“This is fun,” she complimented, and she felt him pull her closer to him.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm…”

“And to think we’ve just started…” he smirked, a fang poking out of the corner of his mouth. That was her only warning before she felt him push up and they floated towards the ceiling. She clung onto him, closing her eyes as they soared higher and higher.

She felt them jerk to a stop, her body crashing into his and he softly told her to open her eyes.

“It’s ok,” he continued, his words a gentle murmur. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Slowly, nervously, she opened them and turned her head. What was once down was now up and her entire world had gone topsy turvy. She dug her nails into the back of his shirt, clinging to him on the ceiling.

“Hey,” he whispered, “it’s ok. Don’t be scared…”

“I...I’m not, I think. I think I’m just...not quite used to the world working this way.”

“Do you want to go back?”

“No...I think I’m ok. Just...don’t let go?”

“Never.”

She smiled gently at him, taking in the way his hair floated around him, his silvery strands mixing together with hers...like they belonged together. She gingerly reached out and grabbed a strand, feeling it’s silken texture between her fingertips before letting go.

“It’s like a sea anemone,” she explained, and he raised a lone brow, silently asking her to explain.

She went on to describe them, and he tilted his head to the side. A contemplative smile tugged at his lips as he reached out and plucked a strand of her own hair, running his fingertips across it.

His eyes grew pensive for a moment before becoming distant, and a blush spread over his face before he let the lock go.

“What are you blushing about?” She teased, wrapping her arm around his neck. Her hand accidentally grazed his bare shoulder and she tried to ignore the electricity she felt at the contact.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, but she wouldn’t accept that.

“It must be something! You don’t just blush for no reason.”

“And what if I do?”

“That’s highly unlikely,” she snorted, and he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Some things aren’t worth sharing,” he shrugged and she rolled her eyes.

“Fine...don’t tell me.”

He was silent for a moment before confessing, “I don’t want to tell you because you’ll get mad.”

“How do you know?”

“I know,” he replied wrly.

“Maybe I won’t.”

“Maybe…it’s not worth it though.”

“What if I threatened to use this,” she smirked, her fingers coming to toy with the beads he wore around his neck.

“Not sure how that would work, actually…” he pondered, and she couldn’t help but laugh at how much thought he was putting into her empty threat.

“Why don’t you tell me and then we won’t have to find out?”

His eyes turned dark and he cupped her cheek, gently caressing it before relenting and confessing in a whisper, “I was wondering what our hair would look like mixed together across my pillow.”

“Are you asking me to let you sleep in bed with me?” She asked, her throat suddenly very dry.

“What I had in mind didn’t involve much sleeping,” he replied huskily, his gaze shifting to her lips again and she felt her breath hitch.

“I thought you didn’t want to do that…” she breathed. “At least not now.”

“I changed my mind since last time,” he replied, attempting to shrug casually, and failing miserably. “You might not feel the same way I do, but I’m willing to settle for whatever you’re willing to offer...and...and if that’s still on the table, I’m interested in it.”

“Inuyasha…I…”

He sighed, swearing. “Listen...just forget I said anything, ok? I shouldn’t have given in—”

“—who said I don’t feel the same way?”

He made a choking sound before sputtering a surprised, “Do you?”

She just smiled, and gently tugged at his neck, bringing her lips to his in a down to hers, gently kissing him. He almost instantly responded, hungry for everything she was willing to offer him...and she was willing to offer him quite a bit. She had come to care for him so much so quickly. She needed him like she needed air.

She silently told him that, letting her lips say everything her voice hadn’t. She wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him closer and digging her fingers into his hair. They parted for only a moment before he pulled her back to him, gasping for air but unwilling to let her go. She could taste his desire...it was pure and unadulterated and more intense than anything she had ever experienced before.

A low, unbidden moan escaped her as he deepened their kiss, his fangs scraping gently along her bottom lip. They were so sharp and it was such a foreign sensation...yet he was true to his nature - tender and gentle. He’d never hurt her. He’d sooner hurt himself, and he’d protect her with his life. This knowledge, along with the sensations running through her set her blood on fire.

She was burning - aching in ways she hadn’t known were possible, and she knew that he was the only one that could help with the flames within. She parted from him, panting and ignoring his sounds of disappointment. Soon, she pulled different sounds from him. More carnal noises as she tailed her lips across his jaw line and down to his neck.

“Kagome…” he whimpered, and she could feel him tremble from her touch. She soon ran into the neck of his workout top, and she let out a growl of annoyance, trying to pull it down and away so she could continue to enjoy him. He laughed breathily at her reaction, and he pushed her slightly away from him so he could remove it, letting go of the ceiling. He tossed the shirt and she absently noticed it float away, but she didn’t really give two fucks about that right now.

Or the fact that they were no longer tethered to anything.

She had more important matters to see to. She could feel his chest rapidly moving against hers as she latched onto his neck, nipping, biting and sucking it like she had wanted to before. She could taste the salt on his skin from earlier as she ran her tongue up him, and he shivered from the sensation.

“It’s not fair,” he mewled, as her nails ran across his shoulders, her hands delighting in finally being able to touch him in all the ways her mind had been begging her to since she saw him put that goddamn shirt on.

“What?” she smirked.

“If my shirt is off, yours should be too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he growled, pushing her back slightly to give her hem a light tug.

She had to admit he had a valid point...and besides. She was sure that feeling his skin pressed against hers would be positively electrifying.

“Well...If you think that’s fair...”

YEAH THAT’S RIGHT. I REGRET NOTHING.

[667-darkavenue]

pressurized (part one.)

Catra/Adora

CW for descriptions of blood and injuries.

At this point, fighting Catra runs like clockwork. Swipe. Stab. Push. Block. Flip. Adora knows her tricks, she doesn’t fall for her feints or her traps. She throws Catra on her back in two minutes flat. Two hands gripping the hilt, She-Ra plunges the point of her sword to the hollow of her throat.

But she stops herself before it slices in, as always.

Catra laughs. “Still got my teeth in your heart, huh?”

She dissolves into a burst of pixels. The virtual reality around them vanishes with her. Light Hope stares at Adora, expressionless.

“She gets more personal every time,” Adora grumbles.

“You are at a dead end. There is nothing more I can do for you here.”

“Run it again. I have to kill Catra. I have to kill Catra. I have to kill Catra—I have to kill Catra?” She gets a little more distressed each time she says it. “I have to kill Catra?”

Light Hope frowns. “You seem to be glitching.”

The race is on to find as much First Ones tech as possible before the Horde does. Without Entrapta’s brilliance on their side, the Princess Alliance doesn’t have a whole lot going on for them. They don’t have the Horde’s firepower either.

Today, for once, they manage to suss out a possible location deep within the Whispering Woods and arrive before the Horde has. But nothing’s ever that easy. They emerge from the ruins with a First Ones crystal in hand and what they see waiting for them makes the hairs on Adora’s arm stand up straight. The forest around them is gouged, its trees split apart and blasted out of the way. Four Horde tanks surround the ruins, poised to strike.

“Scatter!” Glimmer barks.

That same moment, the cannons fire. The princesses dive in different directions. Most of them find bushes or fallen trees to hide behind. Except for She-Ra. There’s a tank rolling straight at her and she charges it head on. She leaps onto its hull, where the cannon blasts can’t get her. The other tanks won’t fire at one of their own and the one she’s hanging onto can only swivel its long barrel uselessly, shooting past her. The swiveling jostles her around a bit and makes it a challenge to hold on, but that’s the most it can do.

She climbs up the side with purpose, looking for the outer security panel. She remembers training day in the tanks. She knows there’s a keypad on the outside to let soldiers back in if they choose to exit the tanks. She knows the default code is 1-2-3-4-5-6 and she knows that no one in her squadron wanted to remember a different six-digit code every time they’d roll out in a new tank, so the tanks all use the code they came with.

If she can get in and take out the driver, she can distract the other tanks from inside. Normally, the outer keypad only opens with an ID swipe, but She-Ra’s fingers rip the lid right off with effortless princess strength. She hits 1-2-3-4-5-6 on the exposed keys.

DENIED.

“What?!” she growls at the tiny strip of screen above the keypad.

They changed the tank codes? Since when do they have their shit that together? The barrel swivels around again and she ducks. It’s not even firing anymore, it’s just trying to knock She-Ra off. In an incredulous frenzy, she tries to guess a code before the barrel swings back around. 6-5-4-3-2-1?

A series of interlocking clicks, and the top hatch swooshes open. Ha! She still knows her old squad like the back of her hand. She-Ra heaves herself up, scrambling to get to the hatch before the person in the tank can shut it. The barrel catches her on its return swing, knocking the air out of her and swinging her full body around the edge of the tank. The only thing that saves her is that the pilot needs to let go of the controls to reach up for the hatch, so the barrel hits an abrupt stop before she’s flung off. She-Ra’s hand barely manages to catch the edge of the hatch as she’s almost thrown off the side. She already feels the pilot tugging it shut, and that pull actually helps her gain leverage to climb up over the edge.

She rips the hatch open with the last of her strength before dropping the transformation and diving in. She’s been inside a Horde tank’s teeny cubicle they call a cockpit. Adora could hardly spread her arms out in it, so She-Ra’s eight foot tall ass sure won’t fit. She lands right on the pilot, pinning them to the floor.

“Since when d’you know how to hack a tank?” Catra’s face scrunches up at Adora in utter disbelief.

“Is trying the old PIN backwards considered a hack?”

She starts to laugh, but it turns into a pained “augh!” as Catra uses a complicated twist that Adora doesn’t fully understand to flip their positions. The side of her head thunks against some kind of compressor tank stacked among the cockpit’s supplies. There really isn’t any space to roll around in here. Blinking white spots out of her eyes, Adora throws Catra backwards with all her non-princess strength. The exertion is a thrill, an exhilarated fury. Catra slams into a pile of industrial crates with a vicious yowl.

They’re too close. The space is too tight to swing any kicks or punches. All they can do is thrash each other from wall-to-wall, locked in a grappling struggle. They knock against the controls over and over, driving the tank haywire. They could crash into another tank or run over an ally, but one of them needs to give up control if she wants to be the responsible person. Neither is willing to do that. They’ve popped the cork on all the pent up energy built up since the last time they fought. All the silent rage from during sleepless nights spent glaring at the ceiling with clenched jaws and hands balled into fists, kept carefully bottled for a special occasion such as this.

Their snarls are deafening in the cramped steel pit. Catra snatches Adora’s ponytail and wrenches her face into a sharp, iron corner. Something cracks softly as an egg and a burst of warm wet trickles from her nose. Adora’s simulation training is worthless here. She didn’t prepare for a space where she could barely move, could hardly breathe in.

In the tangle of graceless clawing and shoving, one thing is clear: Only one of them is getting out of this tank alive. There’s no coming back from what they’ve done to each other by now.

A lurching impact flings them both off their feet. The tank crashes into something hard, throwing them both against the windshield. They’re too angry to stop or even to care what it hit. They pounce right back at each other’s throats without giving it a thought.

They don’t notice something is wrong until they start to slide. That gets the pair to pause. Panting, they look out the windshield. The forest outside is warping—tilting. The floor inside  tips with it, rising vertical. Adora has to throw her hand out against the wall to stop herself from tumbling into it. She takes a second to spit out the blood that’s gotten in her mouth.  Then, the wall becomes horizontal and she’s pinned down by Catra’s entire squirming bodyweight—but only for a moment—before gravity pulls Catra away again. She’s held in mid-air, floating for a split second. Adora’s also pulled away. She slides down the wall until her head thunks against the ceiling. Catra hits the other end of the tank.

The inside of the tank looks like a washer steadily picking up speed. Except instead of wet socks, this load is spinning a bunch of loose crates. Adora and Catra are caught in the middle, bashing into everything.

“For the honor of Grayskull!” Adora draws her sword before her own skull breaks open.

A flash of light and She-Ra fills up the cockpit with her size so thoroughly that most things are held in place, unable to get past her. The things that are still loose can’t pick up as much momentum, either. They all pound against her back or her shins with each roll of the tank, which hurts like hell, but it’s far safer than her normal self taking a full crate to the face.

“Catra?”

No answer.

She cranes her head around as much as the tight space allows, but doesn’t see Catra anywhere. All she can do is hang tight until the vehicle thunks to a rough stop on its side. Which, actually, doesn’t take long at all. They can’t have fallen too far. In the stillness after the chaos, She-Ra takes a minute to breathe.

“Catra?” She asks again, her tone a weird mix of concerned and wary.

A little rustling, and Catra slithers out from the narrow space beneath the control panel. She-Ra, huge and barely able to move, abruptly feels vulnerable and drops her form. Without She-Ra’s broad shoulders holding them up, the crates and other items behind Adora topple to the floor (which is technically the tank’s wall). Adora jumps as the compressor tank makes a particularly scary clank when it falls, heavy enough to crush bones beneath its weight.

“Okay! What is even in there?” She demands, a little distressed by how close it came to her foot.

Catra glares at her. “Just get out.”

Adora isn’t sure if that means Catra’s dropping the fight and letting her go, or if Catra intends to take the fight outside. Chances are an even 50/50. Either way, it’s getting claustrophobic, so Adora doesn’t hesitate to do as she says. She reaches for the top hatch (which is a side hatch now) and swings it open, cautious of what will happen next.

An appalling stench floods through the open door. Adora’s first breath of fresh air becomes a gag.

What actually happens when she climbs through the hatch is neither of the 50/50 options. The tank sits in the middle of bubbling black pit. It appears cracked and dry in some areas, oily in others. Plumes of smoke curl out from several spots across the surface. There’s a shoreline well within sight, at least. A little stretch of soil on the edge of the Whispering Woods. It’s not even that far away. As she hangs out of the sideways porthole, Adora’s hand comes up over her nose and mouth. The smell is unbearable.

Catra shoves her over to look out of the hatch as well. “What. Is. This.”

“We fell straight into the Torpid Tar Pit,” Adora realizes out loud.

She coughs back a retch and covers her nose. “The tank’s sinking.”

Adora’s eyes flit between the tar inches beneath the edge of the hatch and the shoreline. “Looks thick enough to walk over. I’m gonna book it to the shore.”

“You’ll get stuck, moron.”

“The tank’s already stuck. She-Ra could power through it.”

“I don’t care what you do, just shut the hatch before I puke,” Catra grumbles.

Adora’s not sure if she’d puke because of the stench or the mere mention of She-Ra. “I’m gonna make it.”

“You’re not gonna make it.”

Adora squares her shoulders and takes a deep breath, preparing to transform and run. “Just you watch.”

“Nah. Just shut the hatch behind you.” Catra goes back inside the cockpit.

Okay. Come on. You got this, Adora. The shore is right there. Adora takes a deep breath, and regrets doing so immediately. The putrid smell filling her nostrils makes her dry heave. God, this place is disgusting. What happens if she does get stuck? She slowly sinks to her death while vomiting all over herself? Nuh uh. Hell no.

Adora looks down. The tar is close enough to the edge of the hatch to seep in any minute now. A putrid bubble on the surface bursts and splashes Adora’s jacket, nearly getting her face. She heaves again and, okay, that’s it. She can’t do this.

“Damn it.” Adora goes back inside, slamming the hatch shut behind her. “We’re stuck here.”

“What, really?!” Catra blinks, eyes round as saucers and voice drenched in derision. She drops the wide-eyed look by rolling them up toward the ceiling (which is actually the control panel now).

“And what’s your genius plan to get us out of here that’s so much better than mine?”

Catra stretches both arms up to tap at the tank’s steering controls. “The bar for a better plan is low. Literally anything’s better than ‘I’m gonna walk through tar.’”

The engine revs and the wheels whirr helplessly against the tar outside. The tank creaks, but doesn’t budge. Infuriated, Adora wonders if it’s not too late to swing the hatch back open and fling herself out of here. She’d rather straight up get buried alive out there if being locked in a tight space with Catra is what she has to put up with for the next… who knows how long.

That question answers itself when she hears Catra swear beneath her breath. Her head is craned straight up. Adora follows her concerned stare up to the tank’s front windshield (which has become a skylight). Murky darkness pools at the edges, creeping across the glass. Catra makes a sound that’s something between a huff and a growl as her hands fly to the communication switches over her head.

She seems to have an awkward time figuring out how to dial when the comm panel is at such an unfamiliar angle. “Come in, Horde. Can everyone hear me? Hello?”

Adora wonders if she should break the bad news. “Hey, uh, I don’t think your comms are up.”

Catra clicks her tongue and tries dialing a different radio. “Come in, Scorpia.” A long pause. “Hey? Scorpia! … What the hell? You always answer.”

She acts like she can’t even hear Adora. It feels weird being more or less ignored by her nemesis after they were in what felt like a life-or-death showdown just minutes ago.

“The antenna’s busted,” Adora says, a little louder than the last time.

That gets Catra to look back. “When did you become an expert?”

Blue eyes narrow at her. “I know what one looks like. And I saw it out there. Sinking into the pit.”

Slowly, Catra drops her arms to her side. “So, we can’t send anyone our location. And we are sinking. That’s just great, Adora. Thanks a lot.”

“Why’re you talking like it’s my fault?”

“I didn’t invite you into my tank! And we’re definitely not here ‘cause I drove it into the Torpid Tar Pit myself.”

Adora makes a series of sounds. Angry half-started sentences that she can’t even get together. “I—You—Ugh—Wow—Do you—Look, I’m not even gonna—Ughhhh.”

She attempts to storm off from the conversation, but there’s nowhere to go. Adora winds up sort of just spinning around in a little circle. Meanwhile, Catra’s already moving on to Plan B. She drags a supply crate out of the weird crevice it flew into during the fall and lugs it to the middle of the floor (which used to be the wall). She flips the lid open and digs through the contents, squinting. It’s noticeably dimmer inside the cockpit now than it was moments earlier.

Adora looks upwards at the window overhead again. Inky black tar has crept over nearly the entire surface. Only a tiny pinhole is left through which she can see the blue sky above. Adora watches that little circle of sunlight shrink smaller and smaller and smaller… until it is gone. The tank fully submerges, swallowed whole by the tar pit. Even if someone comes looking for them on the shore, there would be no trace left that they were ever here; let alone that they’re still trapped right here, just underneath the surface.

The longer she thinks about that, the harder it is to breathe. Is there even enough air in this tiny cockpit for both of them? How long until power runs out and the space goes pitch black? Adora needs to stop staring and start moving. She needs to put herself to work. She has no clue what Plan B is, but she busies herself with lifting one of the supply crates out of the odd corner it has fallen into. Adora opens up a crate of her own and starts digging through it, unsure what to even look for.

They don’t speak to each other while they sift through what they have.

They trained for so many different emergency scenarios in the Fright Zone, but this wasn’t one of them. The supplies Adora finds are familiar. Pretty much what she would expect from a standard excursion kit. Flashlight, tape, flare, nutrition bars, first aid… Adora pops the first aid kit open. She rips a roll of gauze open and shoves some up her nose to soak any blood that may still be flowing. She would attempt to clean the blood she can feel drying and crusting on her face, if there was a mirror anywhere. But there isn’t, so she doesn’t.

She moves on to open a different crate. This one is the largest of the pile. Inside it: a bunch of dissembled metal parts she has never seen and some kind of hazmat suit.

“What is this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Catra doesn’t look up from the crate she’s taking stock of.

A huge, smooth sheet of some thick material is in there. Adora begins to unwrap its folds and finds strings attached to it. A parachute, maybe… But why does a tank need a parachute and what are the other pieces for? What do they assemble into? There are screens and panels in the case that Adora can’t begin to guess the purpose or function of.

She narrows her eyes at the equipment. “This is how you find First Ones tech. Isn’t it?”

A beat of silence.

“Know what this reminds me of?” Catra shuts the ammunition case she’d been examining and sits on the lid. “The underground bunker.”

Adora raises an eyebrow, afraid to take the bait. “‘Cause we got trapped inside?”

“All because you wanted to play house.”

“You wanted to play, too.”

“I just needed time off from everyone else in the Fright Zone.”

They were nine years old and just learned about the Horde’s various fallout bunkers in that day’s classes. They were told the protocol for going into the bunkers when necessary (“Children first.”) and were even given a glimpse inside. Shelves of food, neatly made cots... It looked cozy. By the end of the school day, Adora and Catra were already planning how to get into one. Perhaps Adora remembers the day so vividly because it was also the first time she stole something. A key card from a commander’s desk while Catra caused a distraction.

The door closed behind them, they played for a few hours, they had a sleepover. It was the first time either of them had slept in a room without twelve other people. It was fun, until they woke up in the windowless bunker. They couldn’t even tell if it was morning, if they’d gotten a full night’s sleep or just taken a nap. And the door wouldn’t open.

What they weren’t told in class that day was that the bunkers did not open from the inside. The Horde didn’t trust a closet full of children not to open the doors for a clever enemy or a defected soldier demanding to be let in.

Slowly, Adora winds the strings of the parachute around her hand. “We thought no one would know to come looking for us in there.”

“And you cried like a baby.”

“You cried too!”

“Don’t remember that. Doubt it.”

After crying the panic out of their system, Adora remembers they simply… went back to playing house. “We just accepted that the bunker was our home now and we were gonna grow old in there.”

Catra snorts. “Yeah, I thought that would’ve been fine. I was bummed that Shadow Weaver did eventually find us.”

Adora looks down at her hand, now unwinding the strings around her palm. “We’ll grow old in here, then.”

“If we don’t kill each other first.”

“We nearly did.”

A tense pause stretches between them. Adora tentatively adds, “I think I’m over it for now.”

Catra smirks at that. “C’mon, I wouldn’t kill you in this tank. I’m gonna kill you in front of everyone we know.”

“Wow, thanks. Good luck with that.”

Adora balls up the strings and dumps them onto the folded parachute. She shoves the edges of the material back into the crate, snaps the lid shut, and sits on it. Across from her, knees almost close enough to brush, Catra’s sharp eyes are pinned on Adora. Her gaze radiates a burning enmity.

She leans in and Adora flinches.

“Chill.” She reaches way past Adora, bending over to take the first aid kit by the handle drag it over to her side.

Adora can’t see much of what she’s doing, but she hears the box pop open and then the crinkle of plastic ripping open. When Catra rises to face Adora again, she has an antiseptic wipe in hand.  

Adora’s eyebrows furrow, trying to calculate what kind of bait this is.

“Chill,” Catra repeats. “You really this scared of me?”

The furrow becomes a scowl and Adora reluctantly leans closer, presenting her blood-encrusted lower face. Catra takes hold of her face with a satisfied hum and Adora realizes this interaction was set up to be a lose-lose. Doing as Catra says is a sign of weakness and refusing to do as Catra says means she’s scared. Now, Adora’s at a disadvantage where she doesn’t know what to do or expect. The most frustrating part is that she walked right into it.

She glares directly into Catra’s eyes, hoping it’s as alarming up close as the feeling of her claws gently sinking into the flesh of Adora’s cheeks is. She’s close enough to notice Catra’s gaze shifting from one of Adora’s eyes to the other, before moving on to other parts of her face.

The cloth feels cool and damp, dabbing first at seemingly random spots across Adora’s forehead. Perhaps some flecks of blood travelled up there while the tank fell. Her eye twitches when Catra taps what feels like a bruise forming on her temple.

“Are they worth it?” Catra asks, her voice a low hum. Almost casual.

She isn’t even looking directly at Adora. She’s staring at her mouth and chin as she wipes dried blood away.

“Yes,” Adora answers without a thought.

Catra doesn’t react. It’s an unsurprising answer.

“This’ll sting,” she warns one second before a flare of white hot pain blinds Adora.

Her eyes squeeze shut and her lips clamp together to muffle a yelp. Struggling to hold her still, Catra’s hold on Adora’s face becomes tight enough to hurt. Wet cloth swipes around the open wound on the bridge of Adora’s nose once—twice—a third time—Another yelp huffs out of Adora’s nostrils—and Catra lets go. Adora instantly wrenches herself away.

“Catra—” Her eyes open and her face slowly unclenches as she gasps for breath in the wake of the pain, both hands propped up on the crate behind her as she leans back and blinks up at the tar-covered windshield. “Look—I know what you think, but it’s not true.” She tips her face forward again to look at Catra. “I didn’t choose them over you.”

“You say that,” Catra flings the blood-soaked cloth in her hand at Adora, “and yet, you’re with them and not me.”

“The world’s bigger than us. You can’t be the only person I look out for. ”

“Don’t.”

“It’s the right thing to—”

“Drop it, Adora. Neither of us is sorry. So, what do you expect to happen here?”

“You’re not even a little sorry?”

“No.” Catra shrugs one shoulder. “I’m glad you left. It’s exactly what I needed, but was too chickenshit to admit at first. I couldn’t add up to anything as long as you were the favorite. I can’t believe I actually tried so hard to bring you back.”

“I can’t believe you actually think Hordak isn’t using you.”

“I’m not stupid, Adora. But I bet you really believe the princesses aren’t just using you. You think you would’ve mattered at all to them if you weren’t She-Ra?”

That strikes just the right cord to get Adora’s claws out. “And you were just waiting for me to be top dog so you could tug the leash. You ditched me the minute that wasn’t in the cards for you.

“I—?!” Catra’s jaw drops. She blinks incredulously, then puts her hands over her face to muffle the barks of laughter that bubble up. “You’re so good at playing innocent, Adora. You don’t even realize you’re doing it.” Her hands slide away from her face to reveal a venomous smile. “You know damn well Shadow Weaver would make me pay for your mistakes. I—was—the leash. Fucking excuse me for looking forward to a little control when we called the shots.”

“Catra, I—I hated being the favorite.”

Adora wants to fight, she wants to prove she’s right. But that furious drive gets swept off the offensive by a wave of guilt, and now she’s struggling to somehow defend herself. Catra seems to know every string to tug and when to do it. Was she always like this?

“Doubt that.” Adora opens her mouth to argue, but Catra cuts her off, “Don’t bother. We were kids when it started and there was no way out when we got older.”

“But you still resent me.”

“Yeah. I do. I can feel alI the bitterness I want while still knowing that who you are and who you needed to be to survive are two very different people.”

Adora stares at her, unsure of how to feel about that assessment.

The cabin lights flicker for a few seconds, then go out. The inside of the tank is pitch black as the tar outside. The rumble of the engine powers down. It had been a background noise Adora didn’t even register, but the complete silence when it’s gone is unnerving.

==> part two.

[dibleopard-writes]

Iron, Steel, and Tin - Chapter One

Fandom: Iron Man/Doctor Who

Pairings: None

Word count:  1706

Content Warnings: Referenced Suicide (Spoilers for Waters of Mars)

A/N: I’ve recently started watching the films of the MCU and I had this little idea that snowballed in my head until I began to write it down. This is set after Iron Man 3 (for Tony Stark) and Waters of Mars (for the Doctor). Let me know if I need to add more warnings

Summary: After his disastrous (or so he would call it) visit to Mars, the Doctor is at a loose end and completely, painfully alone. It turns out that investigating a Torchwood facility with nothing to lose is not a good idea because now the Doctor is standing beneath the Statue of Liberty, dazed, and staring at a skyline that seems subtly unfamiliar.

After his revelatory run-in with demons of his own creation (or so he would claim), Tony Stark is at a loose end and ready for it to weave into a new beginning, starting with removing the shrapnel from his chest. A day's hesitance is all it takes for the world to catch back up to him and soon heart surgery is the least of Iron Man's issues.

Or, an army of ghosts appear around the globe and Tony Stark meets a man who knows what they are.

Chapter 1

Also available on Ao3.

Chapter 1: Rust and Roses

And there's no one to stop you.

No.

The words still bounced around his head, their measured fury seemed so burning now, although Adelaide’s voice had been as cold as the snow she stood in. He hadn't seen it until the bright flash lit up the window and the wavering timelines slotted into place. Captain Adelaide Brooke died on Earth, not Mars as she should have, and the world would see the gun lying beside her as proof of her suicide. No one would know that he had forced her hand in his power-hungry craze.

Some Doctor he was.

The Time Lord Victorious’ reign had ended as soon as it began, and now the Doctor felt empty. The slow pulses of the time rotors soothed him as the TARDIS orbited slowly above an earlier, more familiar Earth. 2013, she informed him gently. He was still reeling. How could so much have happened in such a small amount of time?

The flames and the noise of Bowie Base One collapsing around his raged words were still fresh in his memory, terrifying. And yet somehow the calm little Georgian road haunted him the most. He had gone too far. His actions may have saved people -- ‘little people’ -- but they had crashed through the boundaries he had never considered crossing. Maybe he did need someone else to travel with, to keep him from stepping over the line that was nearer than he had first thought. But that would be selfish. He was a magnet for trouble. Who knew what would happen to a new companion? Not all of them could be as lucky as Martha and walk out undamaged. What if they end up like Donna? Or-

The TARDIS jolted, throwing him off his feet.

“What was that?” the Doctor asked, indignant at losing his grace, albeit alone. He got up and swung the console monitor around to face him, trying to push the creeping sadness of solitude away from his mind. The screen showed a map of Greater London and a bright spot radiating from a small industrial area.

“High energy readings. Space-time disturbance. Something pretty big, by the looks of th-” He caught himself. There was no one to explain the screen’s readings to. Not any more.

He zoomed in on the map and a box popped up in swirling Gallifreyan to inform him that the readings had come from a Torchwood facility and that it was one of the few that still ran as Torchwood had before Canary Wharf. An old rage reignited and he tried to pat it down. It was out of duty, not personal issues, that the Doctor plotted the coordinates. It was his duty to the world, protecting it from fractures in space-time, and definitely, definitely not the ghost of someone who hadn't died that moved his hands around the console as the TARDIS materialised outside a complex of warehouses.

The Doctor stepped out. All was quiet, even the roads were free of traffic. He crossed the cracked concrete and shattered the padlock on a nearby door. Checking that nobody could see him, he moved into the building and stopped to inspect the surroundings. His eyes adjusted quickly to the gloom. Light filtered through translucent panels in the roof in a mossy green hue tinted with decaying yellow. Yet for all the signs of dilapidation, the contents of the warehouse was well maintained. Large storage containers were stacked around the room and the floor was littered with boxes of alien debris. Small purple gems glowed beside one box, obviously alien but somehow unfamiliar to his expert eye. The sonic screwdriver told him that the energy readings had originated from the centre of the warehouse, past the labyrinth of containers.

As he picked his way towards the epicentre, the Doctor noted the silence. It was complete and eerie in a place that should be crawling with armed security. Many times he had investigated this kind of building and very rarely did one as active as this turn out to be empty of people. Usually, firearms would be pointing at him before he reached the door. Nevertheless, he continued; he had nothing to lose.

The sonic’s whirring crescendoed in the middle of a circle of technology. Desks with monitors and wires surrounded him. More alien pellets littered the floor and tables and some were hooked up to strange mirror-like devices that stood facing the centre.

He moved up to a computer and turned on the monitor. It flicked on immediately and a number of files occupied the screen. Whoever it was that had used this last had been in a hurry to leave. The Doctor skimmed through the information. The words ‘Project Indigo’, ‘dimension cannon’, and ‘reverse engineering’ jumped out from the reams of technobabble. It rubbed him the wrong way to see them written out in a Torchwood document.

A clatter of footsteps rang out and he looked up to see the security that had been missing emerging from behind containers. Their rifles clicked menacingly and he stepped back into the centre of the room, arms raised in surrender. No leader was among them but they seemed to be waiting for a command.

“Doctor,” said a large voice that echoed around the warehouse, “such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

The Doctor looked at a nearby camera perched on a storage container, “I'm sure it would be if you were actually here.”

The voice, irritatingly inoffensive and yet skin-crawlingly ominous, laughed over the speaker system, “Oh, you've got me there. Unfortunately, I cannot greet you in person as we are running some rather dangerous tests at the minute and, unlike you, I would prefer to stay out of harm’s way.”

“You need to stop. I've seen this kind of thing before; you're putting the whole universe in danger-”

“That's where you're wrong, Doctor. We've taken every step to ensure the world's safety. Our technology is designed from the best materials and soundest science we have. I assure you, Canary Wharf is in the past; we've moved on since then. We've improved.”

“No, you haven't, I've seen the energy re-”

“Doctor, Doctor. So wound up. Perhaps you need some space. Oh! What a coincidence: we have the perfect tool for the job.”

People in lab coats came forward and began typing. The Doctor tried to move out of the circle but was pushed back by the security guards. His mind was spinning and for a second he could hear Rose’s screams over the wind that was somehow picking up. A countdown began.

“No, stop this! You can't see what you're doing!”

“Nice seeing you, Doctor. Shame you couldn't stay.”

“...Three, two, one-”

“Wait-”

---

For a moment he could see nothing

And everything.

---

His retinas still bore the light of that moment like a brand when he woke. Rust-red stained the vision of his still closed eyes but he took no notice, too busy feeling a barrage of time hit his brain like the floodgates of a mighty river had opened and left him to the water’s mercy. Water was merciless, he knew that now, and so was time. Usually, he could see the glittering strands of timelines weaving and separating and interconnecting in a universal spiderweb, always familiar, always beautiful. Now, however, the silken threads had been washed out of sight by something new. He existed, at its mercy, for unquantifiable moments until the flood abated and the roaring waves became a gentle babble. Riverlets stretched before him and he knew they were time. They were wrong -- horrifically wrong -- but they were the timelines of a hundred trillion people in a hundred trillion places and he was a Time Lord. They were his reason for being. How could he have ever thought that the rules of time would obey him?

In the near-silence that his mind now afforded him, the Doctor became aware of his surroundings. Of the breeze -- salty, frying oil and fossil fuels -- of the grass underneath him -- recently cut and well-kept -- and of the sounds of people, distant traffic, and non-temporal water.

He opened his eyes and looked to the sky. It was blue and cloudless, partially obscured by a familiar silhouetted structure. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he blinked away the ghosting lights and saw a city skyline stretch out in front of him.

New York.

The Empire State Building rose confident and complete, wiping a good century or two from the list of possible dates it could be. The absence of twin skyscrapers narrowed it down further. He searched the skyline for further clues but found only a niggling sense of unfamiliarity. He looked up, and the Statue of Liberty, standing tall in her green glory, loomed above him. Deja vu overcame him and he had to look back to the city to remind himself that it wasn't 1930 and that the Daleks were far, far away.

But something was off. The niggling feeling grew into a more specific confusion. New York City’s iconic skyline had been altered somehow. In his frazzled state, it took him a minute to place it. There was a new building near the Empire State, oddly shaped and bearing a glowing blue logo.

But that wasn't the only difference. Looking now, familiar buildings bore unfamiliar neon signs. Had time been tampered with? Was this like the one-hundred-year setback of Satellite 5, changing technologies and attitudes? Surely not. But the only other explanation was-

The Doctor moved to lean against the pale wall of the Statue’s base as a wave of panicked dizziness overcame him.

This was wrong. Time was wrong. New York City was wrong.

Helplessly, his mind reached out to the TARDIS, hoping to grasp her familiar presence past the liquid time, but she was nowhere to be found. He fumbled around, tripping over timelines in an effort to locate her. Fruitless. The only friendly face he had left was gone. He pulled away from the space she should have been and buried his head in his knees. It was too much. This was all too much. He sat there, despairing, and let time wash past him in an unstoppable current until he couldn't tell the difference between minutes and millennia.

Tag List: N/A, let me know if you would like to be added.

[crumblingautumnleaves]

Baby Blue

Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: When the reader discovers they’re pregnant, they worry about how Ethan will take it.

Pairing(s): Ethan x Reader

Warnings: Probably some swears.

A/N: This is my first post with a specific gender, so I apologise to all my male and non-binary readers. Also, I am not familiar/keen on the idea of pregnancy so if I get some facts wrong then I’m sorry. I REALLY ran away with this one, it was supposed to be about 500 words tops. Oops!

“Shit,” you hissed, staring down at the plastic stick in your hands. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

“Y/N, you almost done in there?” Amy called from the other side of the bathroom door.

“I-I’ll be right out.” You hid the pregnancy test behind your back and opened the door, revealing your best friend.

“Hey, you okay?” She asked, grabbing your arm as you tried to escape. “You don’t look too hot.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, it’s been a long day,” you lied, edging further away from her as she scrutinised you.

Amy crossed her arms and glared at you, her eyes flicking over your form before frowning. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing, I’m not hiding anything,” you said a little too quickly.

“Bull crap,” Amy snapped. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You sighed in defeat and held out the pregnancy test for her to see. “It’s positive. About three weeks now.”

“Woah,” she breathed. “That’s not what I was expecting.”

" Me neither. I just- I don't know what to do." You fiddled with the white plastic and chewed your lip nervously.

Amy draped an arm around your shoulders gently. "Come on," she said. "We have a lot to talk about."

You walked up the stairs slowly with Amy and Mark in tow, the only two that knew your secret so far. Poking your head over the banister, you saw Kathryn and Ethan at their stations with their eyes glued to the computer monitors, Tyler sitting on the sofa playing with his phone and Chica at his feet. Uncomfortable, you looked over behind you and Mark stuck his thumbs up reassuringly.

“Ethan?” You called out quietly. The only one that noticed was Chica, who stood up and padded over to you, wagging her tail. Tyler glanced up from his phone at the movement and smiled at you. You nodded politely back at him and nervously tip-toed over to your boyfriend, tapping him lightly on his shoulder.

“Y/N!” He greeted you happily, removing his headphones and spinning in his chair to face you. “What are you doing here?”

“I- erm, I actually came with pretty big news,” you explained. “Can we talk outside for a sec?”

“Yeah, sure, can I finish what I’m doing first?” He asked, gesturing to the screen.

“I can do that, you two go talk.” Mark told him, practically forcing you back down the stairs and out the door.

“Okay, it’s clearly important if you came to me during work. What’s up?” Ethan asked carefully.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet and opened your mouth before immediately closing it again, unsure of how to begin.

“Y/N?” He asked, sensing your nervousness. “C’mon, you know you can tell me anything.”

You looked into his eyes and couldn’t help but smile. Relaxing only a little, you started to speak.

“I don’t quite know how to say this, but I can’t keep it a secret for any longer,” you started. “I- I noticed I was - um - late, so I got it checked out and-”

“Late? Late for what?” He asked with a confused frown on his face.

“My- my period,” you explained. “My period was late.”

Ethan’s face went from confused to sudden realization as his brain processed what your words meant. “So- what are you trying to say?” He stammered, his eyes wide.

You paused before, reaching into your pocket and handing him the test. “I’m pregnant.”

Carefully, he took the plastic from you with shaking hands and gazed down at it in silence. You scarcely breathed as you waited for him to say something. Finally, the silence was unbearable and you broke it by saying his name in a timid voice. Slowly, he looked up at you, his mouth hanging open slightly and his knuckles white.

“I’m- I’m going to be a dad?” Ethan said quietly. You stared at him in shock, unable to speak but your head somehow nodding on it’s own accord. “I’m going to be a dad,” he said again, more clearly this time. “I’m going to be a dad! I’m going to be a dad!”

You watched in awe as he cheered and celebrated, before he finally pulled you into a hug and kissed the top of your head. “You’re not freaking out?” You said, more as an observation than a question.

“Well, a little. I mean, we’re going to be parents! But there is no one in this world I’d rather have my baby than you.” He took your hands in his and smiled happily, tears streaming down his face.

“I love you,” you told him and he laughed softly.

“I love you too,” he replied. “Who else knows?”

“Just Mark and Amy. I was going to tell you first but Amy found out and told Mark. They’ve been so supportive though.”

“Can I tell everyone else?” Ethan begged.

“Let’s wait a month or so before telling anyone just to make sure she’s healthy first,” you grinned.

Ethan gasped and covered his mouth, more tears spilling out. “It’s a girl?”

“Oh, I don’t know yet, but,” you smiled and placed a hand on your belly. “I think she is.” Ethan wrapped his arms around you and held you close. And in that moment you knew that you would never be alone again.

“So?” Ethan asked as you and Amy walked out of the practice room. “How is everything?”

“Everything’s fine, both the baby and I are healthy. Although I feel like I’m going to be walking funny for a few days,” you joked, massaging your slightly swollen stomach gently.

“That’s wonderful,” he said happily. “Amy, thanks for taking care of her in there. We’re lucky to have you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she reassured him. “I’m more than happy to help.”

“Did you- did you find out the sex yet?” He asked excitedly. 

Amy nodded. “The doctor told me. But Y/N wants it to be a surprise.”

Ethan gawked at you incredulously. “How can you not want to know?”

“I just want my baby to be happy and healthy,” you explained.

“Well, in that case, I’m waiting too,” Ethan said defiantly.

“You know what this means,” Amy said with a sly grin. “You can tell everyone now!”

You and Ethan looked at each other and smiled. “Guess we’d better go break the news.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” you told Ethan bluntly. You were watching him have his hair bleached, ready for the next convention. “You realise you could walk out of here with bright pink hair, right?”

“Y/N, don’t make him change his mind, this will be awesome,” Mark scolded you from the other side of the hair salon. “In fact, leave the room, we don’t want you to see the colour until the panel either.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. “This is the most cliched gender reveal ever.”

“Just get out of here!” Tyler shouted.

You went back to the hotel you were staying in, finding comfort in Signe, Amy, Marzia and Kathryn’s company. Everyone was in town for a tour and it was great to see some old friends again. They helped you into one of Tyler’s hoodies, the bagginess helping hide the baby bump and walked you to the auditorium the panel was being held in. You stifled a laugh when you saw Ethan wearing one of Jack’s old hats to hide his newly dyed hair.

“You didn’t see the colour, did you?” You whispered, careful to not let your microphone pick up what you were saying.” He shook his head no and clasped your hand as the Mark began to thank everyone for coming.

Introductions were made, jokes were tossed around and questions were asked until FINALLY the question everyone had been waiting for.

“Ethan, why are you wearing that hat?” A young girl in the audience asked.

“Well, actually, Y/N and I have something to tell you all,” Ethan answered, standing up and helping you walk round to the centre of the stage. “I’m not transforming into Jack - although that would be hecka cool - we have an announcement.”

“So as most of you know, Ethan and I have been dating for a few years now,” you continued, beginning to unzip your jacket.

“We’re having a baby!” Ethan cred, unable to hold it in for any longer.

The audience screamed and cheered as you removed the hoodie and let the cameras pick up your large belly. The noise was deafening, but all you were focused on was Ethan’s wide smile as he watched you. Finally, he waved his arms and the crowd died down, waiting to hear what else he had to say.

“Everyone up here convinced me to dye my hair according to the sex of the baby,” he explained. “We don’t know what it is yet, but we’re going to find out at the same time as all of you.”

Mark, Felix and Jack stepped forwards with what appeared to be confetti cannons, whilst Tyler held up a camera. “Ten! Nine! Eight!” They began to count down and the audience joined them. Ethan grabbed the brim of his hat and braced himself. Meanwhile, you could barely breathe as he mouthed the words “I love you” as they finally got to...

“One!”

Ethan ripped off the hat, revealing his usual blue hair. Blue confetti burst out from either side of you and you screamed along with the thousands of other people. You leapt into Ethan’s arms and buried your tear-stained face in his neck as he swung you round.

“I haven’t got pink hair, that’s good,” he joked breathlessly, his smile so wide that it made his face hurt.

“Well, unless they decide they want to be a girl, looks like I was wrong,” you laughed, hugging him as best you could when your middle section was blocking him from wrapping his arms around you.

“I’ll love them no matter what.”

“And I love you no matter what too.”

“I would say the same, but I was this close to having pink hair today.”

[winsister91]

Crash Trickster Racing

Summary: The angelic master of mischief interrupts a game night that’s getting steamy…

Characters: Dean x Reader, Gabriel

Word Count: 1649

Warning: Language, implied smut, fluff? Is this what is known as crack? IDK

A/N: I can join in my own challenge right? lolol Out of all the things I’ve written, I think this takes the crown as the dumbest. Have I seriously just done a kinda sorta SPN CTR crossover? I should be shot. Pretty niche market here I guess, apologies to all you youngsters/non-gamers who probably have no idea what Crash Team Racing is. 

My Masterlist!

~ Dean and forever tags are open! ~

Dean taglist predominantly from @spnfanficpond . Let me know if want to be added/removed!

“Dean Winchester,” you laugh in triumph, “You suck!”

You throw the Playstation controller to the floor, doing a ridiculous victory dance. The result now was 12-1, in your favour. The only reason he won that one race in Crash Team Racing was because he started it without you while you went to grab a drink.

“You are inhumanely good at this stupid game,” Dean sulks, throwing his own controller down and folding his arms, “If it was a real race, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Whatever,” you shrug, sticking your tongue out and shaking your butt in a tease as you turn, “Victory beer!”

You skip to the kitchen, grinning like a child. As you go to open the fridge, Dean’s hand forces it closed again. He swiftly takes you in his arms, picking you up onto the counter and biting down your neck. You giggle as tingles wash over you, throwing your head back to grant him access.

“Distract me all you want,” you gasp as he moves around to the other side of your neck, “You still suck at Crash.”

“Maybe,” he growls, taking you to a higher place with a deep kiss on your collarbone, “But I know what I am good at.”

“Thank god you do,” you exhale before his lips forcefully clash into yours, instantly allowing his hungry tongue to do battle with your own.

He lifts you onto his hips, you wrap your legs around him and the tongue battle continues. You rake your hands through his hair, your core fluttering with excitement when those beautiful olive eyes of his pierce lustfully into yours. He carries you through the room and into the corridor leading to his bedroom. You giggle, pulling your t-shirt up and over your head on the way. He hums at the sight of you, kicking his door open and bringing you inside.

“What the fuck?” he stops and freezes. The sounds of numerous engines rumbling come to your ears and confused isn’t even the word. You look around, this was most definitely not Dean’s room. It was…outside? Pixelated?

“Okaay?” you jump down from his hips, looking around. You’re at the start line of a race track in a blocky cartoon world? It looks like the Coco Park track…it is Coco Park. Perfect in every detail. There’s a flash of white light and suddenly you’re in a racing kart. You immediately try to pull yourself out, but some invisible force is holding you there.

“Dean what’s going on!?” your shriek.

Dean is in the kart next to you, also struggling for freedom, he curses under his breath. “God dammit Gabriel where are you!?” he shouts viciously.

“Oh no…” you groan, rolling your eyes.

“Now is that any way to greet a buddy?” that familiar chirpy voice comes. Gabriel melts into view, laying on the flat rectangular texture of grass at the side of the road, “I’ve always thought you two were such a cute couple, but man it gets monotonous. A playful argument, sex, self-deprecation, sex, get drunk, sex. The result is always the same!”

You and Dean share a worried glance.

“You’ve been watching us?” Dean shakes his head in disbelief.

“Ew!” you shout.

“Who needs soap opera’s when the Winchesters exist? But its rapidly declining into a porno” he chuckles, snapping his fingers and appearing in a third kart between you both, “Now come on, this is fun! She says he sucks at Crash, he says he could win a real race, let’s combine the two!” “Could I have some dignity please first!?” you cross your arms, remembering you are topless, only a bra and pants on show.

The angel tuts and with a wave of his hand, your t-shirt appears back on you, “It’s game time,” he grins eagerly.

The unforgettable sound of the air horn count down echoes in the air, you can see the in game lights hovering above you. You get your game face on, thinking, Fine! Whatever! I’m gonna kick your asses.

The last siren blares and your foot is pressed firmly down on the gas pedal. The kart shoots forward, much faster than you expected. You squeal in terror as you crash into one of the item crates, the blocky shards of wood flying over you. This moment makes you realise the game’s hud is in your eyesight, like it’s imprinted on your iris. You see your lap time ticking away in the top corner of your sight, and a mini map of the track in a bottom corner. This is insane, and awesome. A box in the top centre of your vision is flicking through pictures of the in-game weapons, stopping on the missile. You grin mischievously before worry hits you. You can’t use a freaking missile! You’ll kill them!

While your mind had wandered, you realise you’re making a bee line for a red bottle, left on the track by Gabriel. You jerk on the wheel hard to try and avoid it, but it’s too late. You crash into it, sending the kart into a spin and you scream hysterically. Your vision becomes blurry and your car a stuttering slow mess as it clumsily bobs along with a black rain cloud following and raining on to you.

“Shit!” you shout in frustration, bashing at the gas pedal, but it’s fruitless while the bottle’s effect is in play.

“Oh yea, feel free to use the weapons!” Gabriel’s voice echoes omnipotently in the air, “They’ll not really hurt you!”

The cloud vanishes and you shoot forward again. Now you’re determined.

You can hear Dean laughing and clearly enjoying the ride, turning back to you and mocking while you try to catch up. You ignore him, focusing on the damned archangel further ahead. You spot a huge red button in the middle of the steering wheel, the angel in your line of sight and you slam it. The missile blasts out of the front of your kart and your grin returns. You watch in glee as it soars away into the distance. Then your face drops as the explosive turns and hones in on Dean.

“Uh oh,” you mumble, remembering these things are designed to aim at the person directly in front of you in the standings.

The rocket explodes into Dean’s car sending him flying in the air in a cartoonish fashion. You hear him cursing you as you speed past.

“Bitch!!!!”

“Sorry not sorry!” you squeak sheepishly.

With Dean now falling far behind, it’s a full on battle for first place between you and Gabriel. Damn, he’s good. You question as to whether he’s tweaked things, being in control over this world he’s created after all. His car is way faster than yours. You can barely keep up using all the tricks in the book, grinding around corners and hitting your boost in a specific timing. Hiding TNT boxes behind the item crates for when another lap comes around. You fire numerous cannons at him, but he frequently swerves away or conveniently has a shield every time one does hit.

“Oh come on!!!” you scream, gamer rage coursing through you as he dodges another one of your traps, “This is bullshit!!!”

You hear another familiar noise and you sit wide eyed. Oh no. It’s an electrical noise, sounding like waves, you turn and see what you dread. A huge intimidating blue ball of electricity flying through the air, its aim to hit everyone in its path. You can see Dean with an evil grin behind it, clearly the culprit as it’s an item only granted to those in last place. There’s no outrunning it, you have no shield in your possession. You brace yourself.

You squeal as it passes over you and your car is flung into the air. Holding on for dear life, you breathe a sigh of relief after spinning in the air and finally landing back on the ground, dazed. Gabriel falls victim to it too, a wail coming from his kart in front of you.

You can hear Dean laughing as he speeds past you both, crossing the finish line and becoming enveloped in a flood of confetti.

“Well done you,” you grumble as you and Gabriel cross the line with glum faces. You were so pissed at coming last.

“I think it’s safe to say I am the ultimate champ at this now?” Dean pokes his tongue out, folding his arms smugly.

“Bite me,” you hiss, “You got lucky with the stupid OP weapon.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, blowing you a kiss in a mock fashion which makes you wanna go over there and part kill him, part ravage him.

“Oh, guys come on now!” Gabriel raises his hand in disbelief, “The sexual tension in the air is just…so obvious plot wise!”

“The winner of your god damn race…” Dean starts calmly before ordering, “says, put us back in our god damn room right now!”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, “Fine, this isn’t the last you’ll hear from me,” with a snap of his fingers, you’re back at the bunker, sat on the floor of the bedroom. Gabriel is nowhere in sight.

“Rematch!” you squeal, jumping to your feet and marching for the door.

“Now just wait,” Dean chuckles, stepping in front of you and pulling you into a tight embrace, “…where were we first?”

In a moment of de ja vu, you find yourself being hoisted back onto Dean’s hips, violently pulling off your t-shirt.

“Really?” Gabriel groans, sat in a place unknown watching a huge TV screen where he watches people’s lives for entertainment, “There’s more sex here than in Game of Thrones…” He tuts, changing the channel with a fistful of popcorn.

Tags! @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @nichelle-my-belle @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @notnaturalanahi @bkwrm523 @salvachester @whispersandwhiskerburn @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @deathtonormalcy56 @samsgoddess @frenchybell @scorpiongirl1 @for-the-love-of-dean @mysupernaturalfics @spn-fan-girl-173 @deandoesthingstome @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @fiveleaf @deansleather @curliesallovertheplace @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @mrswhozeewhatsis @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @ilovedean-spn2 @quiddy-writes @babypieandwhiskey @wi-deangirl77 @deantbh @supermoonpanda @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @plaidstiel-wormstache @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx @writingbeautifulmen @revwinchester @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @ohwritever @ruined-by-destiel @inmysparetime0 @winchester-writes @deals-with-demons @maraisabellegrey @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder  @bennyyh @clueless-gold @deanwinchesterxreader @melbelle45 @winchester-family-business  @4401lnc @sofreddie @sis-tafics @chelsea072498 @arcturuz

[deadlyextract]

@mason-prescott Alyona didn’t watch a lot of television. Doing so required owning a TV in the first place. Sure, the bar she’d frequented the most had one installed, but whenever one of her shifts had been in progress she’d kept it off. The constant interruptions of static and white noise never made whatever did struggle onto the screen not worth the effort. Despite her lack of experience ingesting a variety of televised or pop culture content in general, she knew that the concept revealed to be driving this reality show was highly unusual. Outside of fiction, had it ever been done before? At first listen, she hadn’t paused to question the validity of the proposition. On the outside, her placid demeanor would have remained unswayed no matter which way the pendulum swung. If it was a distasteful lie deployed for shock value intended to be retracted a few hours later with just kidding addendum, great. If it was the truth and everyone she lived with really had been armed with a target on their back and weapon both, great. Neither option was particularly rattling. How she perceived controversial news was a far cry from the average person — which seemed to make up the majority of the house. Inwardly, tucked carefully behind a resigned expression and forcibly slumped shoulders until she was out of sight, she couldn’t deny how deeply she appreciated the twist. The passivity tempered with a vague curiosity she’d walked in with had been dismantled and highjacked with an electric excitement. She was cut out for the task so well, it seemed too good to be true. Whether or not it was appropriate to view the change in such a manner wasn’t a registrable concern. At first. On a regular day, the skills she possessed were merely too illegal to boast about around the wrong people in public. Comparatively, within the house’s walls and the conditions most recently established within them, keeping tightlipped was of dire non-negotiable importance. An upkeep of secrecy her strongest barrier between life and death. It was only due to practically’s sake ( she was severely outnumbered and outmuscled ) that she didn’t toot her own horn purely to get the stagnant ball rolling. Slow burns could be interesting too, she supposed, if one had the patience to endure it. With Alyona’s patience liable to fluctuate on a daily basis, that was probably not the most reliable system to count on. The future was hazy. It’s what made C’s reveal so marvellously suspenseful. Alyona was still predominantly regarded as unassuming. The quiet one ( didn’t they always say to look out for those? ) that stood at a slender and petite 5′4, who hadn’t flaunted any mode of behaviour that would see her linked up to a loose cannon reputation. Back when she’d naively expected the challenges ahead to pertain to petty small-scale competitions that would be recorded out of context and make everyone but the winner seem like sore losers out for blood — well… at least the last part was a little closer to being true. The mixture of delight and relief she felt at being informed of what was expected from all of them, aware she was advantaged in more ways than she’d ever readily admit, had made actively avoiding Mason critical for the rest of the day. Not so predetermined was that singular occasion rolling into days. It was all too easy to aloofly skip going to bed that first evening. She hadn’t been able to imagine spending hours confined to a room cloaked in a loaded silence or being coerced into talking about what she thought ( answer: too much ). Or, even worse, actually succeeding at falling asleep and having to deal with whatever randomized selection from her repertoire of vivid nightmare material would be deposited into her head. The lack of experience Alyona had rooming with another had far less to do with a lack of opportunity than it did hastily shutting down the ones that sporadically arrived, not wanting to explain herself if she was overheard sleep-talking or waking up gasping for air. So she’d maintained her elusiveness for two nights, aimlessly and sleeplessly shifting from cafeteria to pool room by herself. Rinse and repeat. A deliberate choice that, in hindsight, or to any viewer tuned in, probably read as highly death wishy. Whilst that wasn’t at all the case, the thought lingered accusingly at the back of her mind. There she was, wandering around without a weapon or plan, as casually as if she was strolling along some beachside boardwalk rather than an on the brink murder house. The perk of almost every other participant having some grain of sense along with the ability to sleep, locked protectively behind a bedroom door — for several dark hours, the rest of the house was fell utterly silent and devoid of life.  All in all, she believed she’d succeeded at doing a decent job at keeping out of his line of sight, considering how open most of the communal spaces were; how limited the real estate for hiding places was. Her headspace appeared clearer than most. Her reactions weren’t numbed or clouded by shock or fear and it made keenly being honed in to where he was compared to her at all times easy. She was used to tracking others from afar without being obvious, though the context was startlingly different than those referential other times. Of course, she knew she couldn’t put off a proper exchange forever. As enticing as it was to keep up her procrastination game — to preserve the first impressions made and savor the comity that had naturally been forged between them — she knew talking to him would inevitably be necessary sooner, not later. Stubbornness played a heavy hand in dictating her abrupt surrender, for she wanted to be the one in control of permitting such an interaction to begin rather than being approached and called out first. In preparation, she’d hit up the storage room and kitchen a little too zealously. Any qualms about breaking her silence and what would or wouldn’t be shared between them amounted to three cigarettes’ worth of indulgent stalling before she went about suppressing any lingering psychological plagues in favor of a remedy that worked regardless of how intense the situation faced with was. Instant gratification. Blurry grey area that merged together want and need. Better to be prepared for potential unpleasantness by making oneself feel excessively comforted than to go in running on empty. Resources as limited as they were, it didn’t take long for her to collect together just the ingredients she needed to curb the edge. A cup of instant coffee; a fourth drag of tobacco; half a bottle of wine. Consumed linearly, they kicked in just as expected. She had her coping mechanisms à la substances mastered to an either impressive or concerning degree. The effect of the combination imbibed had reaped similar results for years; hardly affecting her body beyond a faint tremble of fingertips and an elevated heartbeat. Conditioned to withstand too much of everything, her sky-high tolerance lent to a metabolization of each that was far too efficient, leaving her in a more resentful mood than a stimulated one. Eyeing the leftover wine she’d re-corked and shelved, imagining it going to waste, she soon found herself picking it back up. Where practicality for the sake of coherence said no, the hedonistic imp that lived at the back of her head insisted she couldn’t leave before emptying it. As she proceeded to make her way toward Casa de AlyMace, she didn’t wish to take back what she’d done. That would have required regret and a thought process in general — both of which, she discovered halfway to her destination, couldn’t afford to have energy spared on so long as her head felt as if it was spinning and the mere task of walking suddenly felt particularly strenuous. She was immensely grateful to find Room A’s door unlocked, even more so to find the space within vacant. Figured the time she actually wanted to track him down, she couldn’t. Whether he was seconds away or minutes, she settled down to recompose herself and wait. A cocktail of familiar matter intermingling with her bloodstream, she lay at an angle across her mattress, dark hair fanned out around where her head rested; one leg bent at the knee whilst the other hung over the edge, calf swinging rhythmically back and forth, toes just shy of scuffing against the ground. It was her first time being in such a relaxed position in a while. She ignored the illusion that was a faint burning sensation pressing up from beneath the bed; her fuzzy subconscious still refusing to let her entirely forget about the box she’d abandoned there on the same day she’d received it, weapon still stored snugly within it. Her initial sentiment upon uncovering the container still stood strong: you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. She loathed what it was. Not because the idea of using it was particularly offensive, but rather how sloppy putting it to use would doubtless be. To further complicate matters, in order to stand a chance at doing so in the first place she’d have to devote herself to coaxing whoever her opponent was into an extremely vulnerable position. With everyone playing the part of suspect at best, it was guaranteed no one in their right mind would grant her the chance to breach a friendly proximity by any degree. Unless no one was in their right mind anymore. The work required was extra, but not wholly looked down upon. Even if compromises had to be made as far as letting an injury be mutual, examined through the cracked lens of every masochistic inclination she’d entertained in the past, it wasn’t all bad getting caught up in the cross wires. Miraculously, on her way over, she’d found a semblance of reading material to busy her eyes with in the meantime lest she feel compelled to stare expectantly at the door, which she’d left ajar. Again, perhaps not a very wise stunt to pull in the grand scheme of things — a silent invitation that anybody could have misused — but the annoying amount of effort required to mobilize her leaden legs to stand up and correct it made the prospect of getting hurt by an unwanted guest seem not so bad. Plus, if no one had been brazen enough to strike at random yet, why would they start now? At any rate, it barely weighed on her mind; too preoccupied, floating somewhere between restless and brooding. Of all the creature comforts she missed having access to, her bookcase wasn’t one she expected to be taunted by, nearly topping her shortlist. Once side eyed in disdain for it’s pathetically small size and the damage that had been inflicted upon the limited collection it housed due to hasty cross country moves and water damage, the wistful memory seemed heavenly in comparison to the even more literarily challenged landscape that was her current reality. Figuring the kitchen would contain the broadest selection to choose from with all the labels to be found there, she’d picked up the biggest object she could find. Which explained why, elbows tucked at her sides, her hands held up a cardboard package of cereal several inches above her face. The brand was generic, the nutrition information bland and scarce, but at least it was something. Any supplement to being submitted to the usual spiral of unwelcome thoughts was downright wondrous. Deliberately taking her time to process each small morsel of wording, she’d then turned it upside down to re-read, followed by making an effort to memorize the content until she didn’t have to look at the box to know it by heart. At last, officially out of ideas, she started to translate it into Russian in her head.

[baepsaetan]

beach songs -> 100 ways to say i love you

17. “Watch your step.” 

Pairing: Yoonseok

Genre: Fluff, non-Idol AU

Warnings: N/A

Length: 1.8k words

Faint and growing fainter, the energetic strains of Fantastic Baby fade dimly from his alcohol-dulled senses, and as he clutches tightly at the warm hand in his own and stumbles over the sand, Yoongi finds that he doesn't much care. Under his bare feet the cold ground shifts and slides and, seven or so cans of beer into the night, he's not really sure if the fault lies with the earth, himself, or the lanky man dragging him enthusiastically along the shore. In a different circumstance he might have protested the fast pace, but the beer is sloshing through Yoongi's veins, blanketing all of his sharp impulses in a benign and comfortable hum. To their left, the constant wash of the ocean lapping at the sand is steadily consuming the noise of the party they're leaving behind, and blearily Yoongi thinks it's a good thing the moon is so bright tonight. Otherwise, he's almost positive Hoseok would have already managed to lead them straight into the water.  

Unaware of – or at least, impervious to – his skeptical thoughts, Hobi hums an offkey rendition of the BigBang hit, tugging Yoongi along. Frankly, as he almost falls on his face for the umpteenth time, Yoongi can’t help but wonder how Hoseok managed to pry him from the comfy corner of the couch that he'd claimed as his own during the party. Content to watch everything going on from his isolated perch, he'd resisted all previous attempts by his friends to get him up. He vaguely recalls their conversation, the words that led to him unfolding reluctantly and following his friend outside, but somehow it doesn't seem like any of them should have been persuasive enough to get him moving. Except -

Except the night is warm, balmy, sighing softly with the lazy contentment of summer, and he finds that he doesn't miss the younger boys doing body shots off each other, or Namjoon and Jin singing karaoke completely out of tune. Not much anyways.

It's almost quiet now, as close to quiet as it ever gets with Hobi, and Yoongi takes the opportunity to complain, out of habit far more than conviction. "Yah, you said we were going for a short walk, not a hike to Jeju Island."  

Completely unaffected, Hoseok slows his quick stride, glancing back and beaming at Yoongi in a way that makes the alcohol in his arteries fizz. "Jeju Island?" he asks playfully. "Did hyung want to go for a swim tonight?" He takes a few deliberate steps towards the water, and it actually takes Yoongi that long to realize what a horrible idea it is.  

Hurriedly he digs in his heels, not really sure if his friend has drank enough to actually consider it. The alarm doesn't do anything to help him fight off the wide smile pulling up his lips, though. "Idiot," Yoongi laughs, and can't stop fondness from saturating his voice. "Maybe some other time."  

"Mmkay," Hobi accedes easily, and they start walking again, leaving Yoongi's accusation unanswered. They're still holding hands but there's no one around – of course not, it's like one in the morning – and it's not really uncomfortable so he can't bring himself to protest. He kind of wants to ask what the hell they're doing, but it's also nice to just walk next to Hoseok, hands swinging loosely between each other, so he decides not to. Hobi's excited chatter washes over him in much the same way as the waves push against the sand, smoothing all the sharp edges, and he realizes faintly that he's still smiling. If anyone had asked, he'd blame it on the intoxication.

He'd have a totally straight face while he lied, too.

A steep dune rises hazily from the darkness, and the other male doesn't slow down as they reach it. "Almost there!" Hoseok declares, and now they have to break apart. Caught up in the rich thrum of energy he always feels when around his friend, Yoongi doesn't even think to question why they're climbing up the shifting tower of sand; he just follows the admittedly more agile male as they begin to straggle upwards, sometimes having to use their hands for balance.  

At one point in time, after at least a minute or so of climbing, when he's almost lost track of Hoseok in his intense concentration, the treacherous footing proves too much and abruptly Yoongi finds himself floundering, flailing, sand trickling through his fingers as he scrabbles for a purchase that just won't come. There's a moment of horrible, breath tearing vertigo (possibly alcohol induced) during which he's absolutely certain he's about to teeter off the mound, but then Hoseok is there. His hands dart from above and to the side, one to grab at the collar of Yoongi's shirt, the other latching onto his wrist, and suddenly they're collapsing against each other, against the sand – but they're not falling. They're stable, with spinning heads set atop remarkably steady bodies. And Hobi is laughing, almost howling, barely able to get his words out. "Watch your step!"  

And damned if Yoongi isn't laughing too, chuckling until he can't breathe – laughing, that is, until sand gets in his mouth and he has to stop or risk choking to death. Still grinning broadly at each other, giggling in snorting bursts, they haul each other up the rest of the way with only a modicum of struggling before collapsing in a heap at the top of the dune. Gulping in air, his sides aching, breathless more from amusement than from the climb, Yoongi lies flat on his back, staring up at a sky that's blanketed with stars almost outshone by the bright moon. Beside him Hoseok is giggling, also looking upwards, and it's a while before either of them can find their breath.  

Pulling his phone out of his back pocket, Hobi momentarily winces as the brilliant light blinds both of them, leaving white-hot streaks of colour across their vision. After a moment of dramatic cringing, he peers at the screen again, lets out a relieved sigh. "Ah, we're just in time. I thought we might have to wait, or maybe that we'd miss it."

"'It'?" Yoongi echoes, his voice coming slow and dreamy. The alcohol is definitely starting to push him down the slope to drowsiness, or maybe this is just too strange of an experience to absorb, but when Hobi replies he feels no surprise, just a sudden flicker of interest.

"It, yeah, yeah. The fireworks!"  

"Fireworks?" Another repetition, but this time the small man wriggles until he's on his side, facing Hoseok with a raised brow. "What fireworks?"

Eyes fixed upwards, unaware of the close observation he's suddenly under, Hobi nods energetically. "There's a monthly festival that happens at that closed off part of the beach – we saw it yesterday when we were touring around – and it has fireworks. I heard some people talking about it before. And I asked some of the locals and they said this was a good place to watch them and not a lot of people came because everyone's seen 'em all before, right? And Jin-hyung said you've never seen them before and -"

His words are obliterated by a sudden whistling shriek that blooms into a boom so deep it's more of a concussion that reverberates his bones than an actual noise, and beside him Hobi jerks in automatic fear. Above their heads a flower unfolds, or blossoms, or just whirls into being, a red and green flower so bright Yoongi finds himself once again struggling to breathe against the pressure on his chest. Hobi's right – he's never seen fireworks before. And suddenly, painfully, wonderfully, he knows exactly what he's been missing, and a world with fireworks is a world without room for his anxiety or skepticism. As another cannon-shot heralds the arrival of more fantastical colours, these in a sparkling, winding ribbon of blue and purple, Yoongi blindly reaches out, fingers fumbling along the warmth of Hobi's body until he finds the other's hand.

Hobi clings to him like he's an anchor and the fireworks are a black hole, threatening to pull them both in, and every time another boom echoes across the dusky sky Yoongi can feel a slight flinch wrack the other man's figure. Part of him wants to look over, to say something reassuring, but his eyes are fixed in unblinking amazement at the light show dancing over them, like their own personal parade, and he can't rip his gaze away. So Yoongi settles with giving Hobi's hand a gentle squeeze every time a new shower of sparks bleeds vivid colour into the night, and he shifts so that they're closer, sharing the warmth that the cold sand beneath them is trying to leech away, their thin clothes doing little to protect them.

He wishes – as fervently as he's wished for anything – that the fireworks will last forever, but like most of his wishes, that one lingers just long enough to leave the tart taste of hope in his mouth before it dies, trickling away on the tail end of the last of the fireworks. As the soft murmur of the ocean once again overtakes them, filling up the ringing silence left by the thunderous explosions, Yoongi stirs, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He feels – abruptly, jarringly – sober, and when he turns to look at Hoseok, he sees a similar sobriety (but not solemnity) reflected in the other's long face.  

"...Wow," Hobi eventually exhales with a grin, seemingly no worse for wear, and it occurs to Yoongi that he has seen fireworks before, in the broad stretch of lips, the flash of teeth, the delighted eyes that hold an energy at least equal to the lights that danced above their head only seconds ago.

"Wow," Yoongi agrees, but for once that's not enough, not nearly enough, and he crafts the words so quickly he might as well be rapping them. "Seriously. That was no joke. Ah, Hobi-ah, thank you. Thank you, that was one of the coolest things I've ever seen."

With a low chuckle Hoseok sits up, pulling Yoongi with him. "Just don't tell Jin-hyung that, okay? He might be jealous." Snickering, the wiry man makes to stand, but Yoongi stops him with something incredibly close to fireworks exploding in his chest.  

As Hobi frowns curiously, Yoongi tilts his head in a brief, uncertain twitch, his lips pressed together. Voice rasping hesitantly from his throat, eventually he says, "...Let's just stay for a bit. I bet everyone at the party hasn't even missed us yet." And he means it, he does, especially the first part, because Yoongi has always been very aware of the special moments in his life, and he wants this one to draw out for as long as possible.  

When his friend considers, shrugs and settles back onto the sand, Yoongi lets himself breathe a sigh of relief. He angles his head back to admire the sky, leaning lightly against Hobi's solid form, and he couldn't have said how long they stayed that way, trading words like useless currency and enjoying each other's presence as if they themselves were fireworks. 

A/N: Writing this made me very soft. Always and ever, thanks for reading guys! And if anyone has any requests from the 100 ways to say I love you list, just give me a number and pairing (it can be x reader) and I’ll try to get it done!              

[flairina]

Flair’s Dreams, January 2018

Certainly been a while. Some of these are written in shorthand, so if you bother browsing through these, forgive me for that. It gets better later on.

1/3/18: (2:00-6:45)

I end up inside Shin Megami Tensei world (again- it's apparently happened at least twice before) due to someone taking an unwanted photo of me, and thinking that I'd like it to do such. The SMT world in this case is a giant, ever shifting tower of some sort, which rumbles as if hit by an earthquake while changing. I end up in a section controlled by Alice (the demon) called "Tick Tock Goes the Clock", with decor describable as the inside of a building from Alice in Wonderland where the main colors are pink, white, and gold. I have some sort of feud with the White Rabbit (the guy/demon who brought me in here?) before I'm finally left alone. I try to remember the way a few demon conversations proceed (the short mushroom demon likes men and alcohol, the four winged cerulean bird thing thinks pants are kind of cool, etc) when the tower shakes, and an 8-demon procession turns down the hall. Some are the bird thing but there are two kinds I've not seen before, one of them a sort of floating blue horse thing. They enter the room on the left (structured like a classroom) and emerge from the other door, behind me, singing and generally unaggressive. Two girls who are permanent residents here are also part of the line, and notice me. Brooke (a black girl with long, thin pleats/braids) says hi, while the other girl (a white girl with her hair curling up at the front off of her head like a squirrel's tail) asks her how I keep getting here. I tell her it's sheer random chance, as is how I keep getting out of here. The demon's singing appears to be summoning a wedding chapel, which I stop through my own music somehow, causing it to make a weird whiffling noise as it blinks back out of existence.

1/5/18: (Powers Dream?)

I'm either "playing" as, or actually am Samus (Metroid), and am currently in the middle of Metroid Prime 3, which requires me to ascend a space pirate "tower" ("urchin"-like room was notable). This is a late game area, and the entire 3D outline of it can be seen on the map. I make it to a normal office room (somewhat out of place) filled with space pirates, and use the photon beam to eliminate them. The charged shots are purple, and track/hone in on the enemies. There is a "tooth" language that only the pirates can access/understand, but by pulling them out of the stomach of a dead one in the corner (it ATE the teeth for some reason), I should be able to understand it soon. I'm no longer Samus, and decide to raid the nearby wardrobe for something to wear, but mom is suddenly in the room, trying to move stuff out. In the closet behind me, there are lotions on the top shelf, including a "snuggling" lotion.

A strange species of creature catches four DnD-type characters (all human men) and intends to transform them, allowing a single last request from each. They then twist the requests to make the transformations ironic, turning the group into a girl, a mutant raccoon, Princess Daisy (request involved a sneer), and a ____ (ICR what, but it wasn't human). The non-humans alleviate this by make themselves look like copies of the girl and Daisy member, and progress on, thinking that someone can reverse this in the area below a nearby canyon. Just as they're about to head down, they all transform back- but as each other instead of themselves, which shocks and frustrates them.

1/8/18: (2:??-7:20)

There is a person who is repeatedly turning into combinations of three different animals in order to fight something in a dark, pseudo-futuristic room. I can see them on screen to shoot at one point, and the twins from Flip Flappers are involved.

A giant snake "person" (just looked like a two-story tall snake) attacks me and others in a city alley. It can't tell people apart easily, but recognizes me from smelling my runny nose somehow, and comes after me.

The tent I was sleeping in outside an apartment is torn apart by the weather, which picked it up and proceeded to rain, HARD, solely above my stuff.

I need to give an example of something I have "triumphed in" for a required stage show. I'm slightly late, and the first example I give has something to do with electric powers? I then switch to saying I triumph in comedy itself.

1/10/18:

2D version of a 3D game, sand "castle" area, stars to collect Mario-style, giant mantis creature (boss?) in 3D Pikmin-esque leaf area, fought using morph ball (Metroid)?

1/11/18: (9:00-9:45 and 10:00-10:22, naps) (1:17-6:45)

Endbringer attack (Worm), it’s The Simurgh, “sometimes they stay dead for days, but they always get back up” (the Endbringers can be killed, but they don’t stay down), I’m at work, Blasto’s stuff turns everything inside purple and monstrous, and dogs become zerg-dogs, I’m Taylor, I run outside, “unlike inside, here, the bodies were real” I think to myself, envisioning them, except there actually aren’t any, I can’t even see the destruction, find some old guy and walk with him, there’s a giant model of earth to the right, see places on the continents being struck with poofs of red smoke, it represents something that’s actually happening, one barrels right into us, something to do with the endbringer attacks, some other guy with us now, old guy climbs into treehouse, which is thankfully unoccupied, speaks a little about how fire extinguishers are less effective in the arctic, then falls asleep in a bed in the back, me and the other guy sleep ourselves, and wake to the kid and his friend recording something nearby, they don’t notice us until I stand (I’m me again), they protest my presence, tell the kid to help me wake the guy in the bed up, they’re related?, go to scientist guy’s large yellow house, guys named Rick and Ray live here, they have a “human tainting” chamber/tube, think I’m watching videos at class/work and just getting really immersed, stop and wake as a result

I’m in a movie theater watching an animated movie, and become convinced that because the movie has characters named Rick and Ray and I JUST dreamed about that that I got the info about the future, movie ends, person in snake cosplay, accidentally head off in a sideways moving elevator for 50 minutes, come back, see giant gel monster things, fancy plaza with tennis courts and such, night sky looking ceiling, family has been waiting

I receive information that implies I am the girl who “won the game” and left for Heaven 6 months ago. I took “The Lilac Path”, was compared to a flower, and either literally was or was represented by a white, harsh featured woman’s mask with thorned briars behind it.

1/12/18: (1:??-9:30) (Powers Dream)

Fast vampire guy with long hair and Klaus (BBB), huge and intricate mansion, they’re after me/her (multiple tenses- I was “playing” as the female MC from a forum quest?), there’s a person cannon in the next room which is somehow Homestuck related, vote on song to play as we send off to another house, decide on Here from The Ancient Magus’ Bride, I still have pills left, but didn’t realize until I literally bit into them.

Five story playground equipment in backyard of house me and two girls broke into, we go inside, Yoda uses Spaceballs to distract a bunch of stormtroopers so he can turn them into water, I ask how that makes any sense, The Force can’t do that

Filthy purple room with green stringy things everywhere, on a team playing “hide and seek” (keep three items away from other team), room is too small and empty for this, novel new strategy, I distract the seeker when he comes in by fighting him with a rubber sling ball, and time runs out

A black guy with dreads/braids is sitting in a mostly black room at the top of a tower, a silver staircase leading inside. I’m not him, but can feel him comb his hair, somehow. He threatens Hannah Montana, until I, as Ayumura Tamako (but seen from a third person perspective), along with some tall guy, break through the outside wall (which has only air beneath it) and interrupt. I throw some sort of purple laser boomerang at the black guy, the results of which ICR, before I start to feel as if I’m just imagining this part, like I’m just daydreaming. Not liking this, I decide to leave this dimension, and fly(?) outside to do so.

1/13/18: (1:??-9:30) (Taste Dream)

There is a "Dream Dungeon" game, played in the style of SMT: Strange Journey, with a black and white map. There are small, reddish-pink bipedal creatures with oversized arms called "Neebles", that are extra powerful compared to the normal enemies, but I beat the first one fairly easily all the same.

In order to change fate, I need to alter a teddy bear/my alarm/my phone, which allows me to wake up early.

Card game where pictures must be matched, in a kitchen, blue and white buttercream doughnut I can taste, need Dad to help me snap a lobster's neck, which I think I'll be able to taste as well, something about planetary alignment and 413, I suck root beer from a fish grenade thing

1/14/18:

List of chapters, two centered around betrayals by cultists with red robes, Mom and I in a light white-greenish hallway, star projections on our feet, they signal that this is the spot to leave from, we spin to teleport out, we were on chapter 6, but then chapter 9 happens

Good, bad, and normal dream all forced to revolve around the same thing: a yellow and red thing with scales.

Make it to "banned" area by getting banned, made completely of sand colored blocks (seamless), indoor confinement with a single reception desk, place a portal there so it's a good thing (would have taken forever to get there otherwise).

Competition, sports style events, grannies and ___ on one side, robots and ___ on the other, I end up winning (most were gun events), take granny as prize, it'll all be connected soon anyways so it doesn't really matter...

1/15/17: (2:00-6:30)

I'm in my house, upstairs, while everyone is sleeping. I head downstairs, and Mom (who was asleep upstairs) sits up from the couch and screams at me, seriously startling me.

I'm playing/editing a game, from the inside, via the dev mode. The beginning mostly consists of large colorful platforms (with things on them) and floating bars (balance beams), some of which have yellow "slowdown" pads on them, all floating in the sky. There are two large, worm-like dragons with dark blue shell armor flying in the sky above. I passed by the Sun and Moon God area before, and end up going back to interact with them. They stand on small platforms above a larger central one. The sun god has eight arms. They speak to me, but their dialogue implies that you shouldn't be able to see both at once- I can, because I'm still in dev mode, which I'd forgotten. Cursing, I restart in normal mode, with a lot of progress lost.

The setting is a school, where many of the teachers are special (supernatural or otherwise) in some way. A wiry black "electric gremlin" locks 33 other monsters in with it in a room to play hide and seek, or rather "hide and shock" with them. In the hallways, there are several vocaloid-like beings who have "load" put upon them whenever a video starring them is uploaded. This existence is hard on the original/first of them, a girl with shoulder-length brown hair and a yellow and pink outfit, as because of the other's popularity they won't ever leave or fade away (while she will?). Phoenix Wright is nearby, and becomes angry with her, rushing at her to attack. I'm also there, and try to hold him back, but he begins transforming into a giant blade armed monster thing, making this difficult. I try disabling him with elbow strikes to the head, and ICR what happens after. Elsewhere, in a giant gray stone cavern with a thin spread of water covering the floor (possibly in the school), there are a ton of people milling about. A mouse cursor (moved by someone unknown) that can jet water out of its tip climbs up a rock near a big deal villainess woman in a black dress. Her name is revealed to be something familiar (something with "night" in it), just before she grabs and restrains a tall black man with pink dreads, who slashes at her with his hands and wounds her arm. She's intrigued, as that hurt her more than she's been hurt in the last ___ (some number of hundreds of) years. She tears away his disguise, revealing him to be Death the Kid (Soul Eater). Because he's in danger, a portal forms and teleports him out. I'm left somewhat confused however, as the "disguise" person is still around. The scene then plays out again, fully animated this time (it wasn't originally), no different except that DTK briefly turns into an orc. Above/upstairs, a group with bulky red and yellow cloaks (like bulky, darker versions of the Journey characters) and names based on angels have been waiting to leave this place, and are disappointed when the portal (the upper half of which was sticking through the ceiling) quickly closes. Later, an older male teacher fed up with doing nothing, along with me, decide to go looking for whatever is going on around here after hearing about the animal colonies that were here being gone (only the moving pictures/drawings remain). A horse and maid were previously kidnapped from here; if we could find the horse we'd have a lead. We proceed down a long hallway with rooms in the middle, but I keep getting ultra tired, and have to keep resisting sleep. We get to the front area, which has a setup like a shop with fully stocked shelves (mostly wigs?). The teacher decides we need wigs, and steals one. I grudgingly take another (a tokyo ghoul one), but don't think I'll be able to fit my hair under it. The teacher tells me to just do the best I can until we get downstairs. I think to myself that I'm glad he's having fun at least.

1/19/18:

Game with woman in blue who dies, I wonder how it affects Mom and Ian's dreams, Ian wants me to watch Castlevania "M___ of Blood" because it ties up plot threads from Dawn of Sorrow, but I don't want to, part of it plays out IRL in front of us, guy in white suit fights the boss on an altar at the back of an elementary school library like place, using millions of spears from the walls and floor, the boss counters with vines and just as many swords.

A familiar (as in a witch's familiar) sort of thing is floating over the sink, but I don't want to accept it as one (as mine?) because I know it won't listen to me.

There are giant piles of snow stacked in mountains outside the house, in the middle of spring, the huns from Night at the Museum are going around the neighborhood hitting everyone in the face with snowballs, I get excited (this is apparently an annual event), I go outside to change my panties for some reason, dude with a sharp object in hand comes after me, I flee through tall grass back to the house, recent argument between me and Elizabeth?

1/20/18: (2:00-9:??) (Powers Dream)

I'm in a small (less than 20) group of people with "God" powers, allowing us to fly, and giving us various other abilities as well (some of us, at least?). I'm relatively new to the group (and the area?), and worry that they dislike me, especially after I did something that I didn't think was rude, but they did. I try to find a moment to apologize, but can't seem to- there are too many kids in the house that all (or at least most) of us are living at, leaving precious few moments that everyone is available at the same time. Later, I'm at a sort of futuristic store, full of white plastic tubes and such, where I pick up two small items I didn't mean to. The one in my right hand is small, white and pink, and semi-triangular, and somehow shakes me when I hold it. Nearby, a girl from my group who sort of looks like Miu (DRv3) points out a tiny hammer either in or near something on the floor, which was relevant to the adventure/plot that happened previously where we attained said flight/godhood from. Later, I'm walking with Josuke (JJBA) under a winding overpass. It starts raining the second we step under open sky, and stops when we step under the pass, repeatedly. This indicates to both of us that we're under attack, thus we summon our stands. Josuke's looks kind of like Frieza (DBZ), while mine is long and kind of insectoid, with at least six limbs and enough flexibility to curl through the air. I then warn myself, still also back at the store somehow, and am that version of myself again. I tell the girl from my group about it and she goes to get the others, before I realize that it hasn't actually happened yet (there are two different time versions of me running around, and I'm currently the earlier version). I run out of the store and down the stairs, trying to talk to someone telepathically as I do(?). I come across a girl I know/have talked to on the stairs, and tell her I need to break her arm (which we discussed previously) in order to draw "their" attention, as I can't think of any other way. She's not happy about this for obvious reasons, and so tries to jump from the stairs and break MY arm to prove that will also get their attention. This fails utterly (my arm fails to break with her weight), and I tell her that's why it won't work with me before lifting up the girl (the crowd gasps) with the same arm and tossing her into the bookcase on the nearby wall, feet first. This makes her body turn cartoonish, and other people around pull her out as I hope that's enough and rush out of the building. Even later, there are many floating pillars high in the sky, with a central larger pillar meant to be reached by jumping from the smaller ones. A guy from my group is up here, doing just that (landing on the sides), and upon noticing the three golden glints in the central pillar, starts making his way there (they indicate either treasure or entrances). He doesn't manage it via jumping, and so ends up just flying there. I follow him in, and it turns out this is just the temple of the "Jungle boss" we beat already, so there's no new treasure here. The boss is basically just moving circular sawblades on a slope that descend slowly on a conveyor belt, which need to be broken by being "bowled" over. There are cardboard cutouts of rocks that turn real when bowled off to the side for this explicit purpose. The guy didn't do great on this before, but he just didn't get it I don't think, because I do very well with no practice at all. Also, by clogging the entryway, you can basically win automatically. Once we do, the guy who monitors this place asks if we want to go up to the top again, to which I say nah, we've got it, and just fly up on my own. While doing so, I think to myself that I'm getting too used to flying, and won't know how to go without it soon, to the point that I've memorized how it feels (like being "lifted" by the inside of the back of the shoulders/heart area). It then "slips" out of me in midair, which I panic about ("Hey!")- it feels as if God (who I envision as a long haired black guy made of stars and space) is lifting me up by my shirt.

In Grandma's room, whole slabs of my leg meat suddenly fall out, causing me to fall to my knees. My leg looks like raw chicken on the inside, and a large shard of rough, bloody bone comes out from just above my ankle, along with a chunk of the side of my foot. It doesn't hurt, but I still panic, and ask Mom what to do... and she just tells me to put it back.

Girl with seven different voices in her head, she's a parahuman, she sings to Lung (Worm), which is hilarious, on the Christmas before, a nerdy boy (who was the girl?) is driving, his different personalities are taking over intermittently, he gets in trouble due to something that happens in the car.

Sentient, pyramid shaped guy made of rock called Mr. Volcano, he's actually really tiny, church area where the ground is covered in high dark water that can partially(?) be walked over, all the buildings are black, giant orb building I get on top of, see family below and wave, will have to backtrack all the way if I want to get to them though.

1/21/18:

I get out of (my) bed, wander out to the theater area, starscape ceiling everyone is staring at, find family in the crowd, was backstage earlier (metal area with green room in back) that I was seen in.

There's a weird researcher looking guy in my bed, he all but tries to molest me, I know he's not real but still feel him poking me under the armpit, to get rid of him I sit up fully, say when I look up he'll be gone, and he vanishes.

1/22/18: (Powers Dream?)

Check-in room for an unfinished movie (early access?), I look like a woman with dark hair in a suit and have a fake ID/page to get in (the result of disguise magic?), guy with "Taurus" in his name tries to get in, I can tell he's also disguised/fake by what he says, somehow he's revealed to the rest of the room, he escapes into the dark-bluish dungeon/labyrinth outside, Ben 10 (or someone similar) pursues in a tiny, fast, white spider form (Kumoko?)

1/23/18: (1:3?- 6:40)

Four people meet up at the center of a town after a period of time, and show off proof of what they beat in order to let them proceed. Two did the normal version, one did a lesser version, and the last did something strange. They enter an aqua green palace, and somehow complete several “incorrect” fights.

1/26/18: (2:50-10:00)

Giant waterfall with bumpy, multicolored ground all around, the waterfall itself and the ground goes all around the area, it has a complicated "fall", Ian and I are there?

Robin, Jason, and Anne (The Wotch) are in a pink, cluttered bedroom, Robin is wearing a weird ninja outfit thing, they transform, Robin turns female and his clothes constrict into a really tight dress, later, on a lawn, Anne straight up admits to a guy (cheerfully) that she's altered his memory, with a display on a laptop that has a bunch of gold rectangles together and flashing, missing red ones to display the missing memories.

Someone is coming after an enemy “boss”, but it's actually a decoy, being issued commands by a scientist girl (the real final boss, so to speak). She goes through the underneath of her base to change the wires and such, where the light is dark purplish.

Guy who makes those around him extremely clumsy and can make himself Happosai-sized, making him very hard to hit or catch, I was on a team to guard against/catch him previously, one of the girls on the team gets frustrated enough to suggest arming everyone with guns, I corner him in a mall, in an area that's sort of like a giant tube, I still can't manage to hit him though, he goes on to be an ice skater, in the same mall someone is trying to use their henchman to kill people, but they're too incompetent, I'm on to them.

1/27/18: (2:00-9:30) (Powers Dream)

In a flat, "outer space" void, there is a spiral of gymnastic mats that leads to the Five God Dragon (Yugioh) at the glowing center, you can step outside the spiral of mats too, but that's no fun, there are enormous, whale-sized fish under the blackness that you can catch.

I'm a beautiful female ninja with shiny black hair and an elegant pink and green (seemingly peach inspired) outfit that looks like a mix between a dress and robes, walking through a town. It is possible to obtain small chests there (both normal brown and aqua green ones) from events, the latter only being openable with keys obtained from fights. There is a free hot spring that I want to go to, but I get interrupted before I can, and end up stuck going to a snowy mountain area for a mission. The entire time I just want to get back to the hot spring, to the point that I keep letting my clothes partially slip off. The guards, of which there are two lines on either side in front of me, find this very weird. I drop into the below-ground snow tunnel they are standing over to begin my mission.

I'm in a mansion/dungeon that anyone who enters supposedly only has a single night to escape. However, you actually have an endless amount of time, because time will stop progressing outside it the moment you enter. I'm dressed in a black leotard with gold accents along the sides. Coming up from a dark below ground area, I progress through an area of enemies that are no longer tough for me to beat (though they're destroyed before I can encounter them, via horizontal lightning), picking up the lightning items they drop. I think to myself that I need something blunter to kill them, since I want the kind of items they'll drop if I use a blunt weapon. I've explored most of the place, but have no idea where to go now. There is a rule that I need to stay out of the sight of the mansion's guards/servants, which poses a problem as there is one crouched right in front of the door to get back to the entryway (their stare is seen as a red cone of light). I hit the lights from my end (which only lasts a few seconds) and scamper out, climbing up a ladder across the way on to a catwalk. There are buttons on the wall to the left to press, and a gathering of people up ahead of me, one of whom is a kid who will alert the adults in 7 seconds that I'm here. It's possible to bribe him, and I have before, but I don't this time, instead swinging to a slightly lower catwalk, followed by another. I then fall/slide down a pit that leads to a furnace, turning into Bendy (Bendy and the Ink Machine) and moving off into a smaller side-tunnel.

1/29/18:

Video game/board game/obstacle course, Mario-like bit with aqua blue flooring and small electrified bits to jump around, upper area with movable present like boxes.

1/30/18:

The Protagonist (DDLC) was meant to be a girl from the start, but was changed. He enters a mall where there is a large flashy display overhead with the DDLC girls on it. Later, it turns out Monika has been with us (in the real world) the entire time, possibly due to a game glitch caused by a poster. Furthermore, because of someone's severed hand, she is  omnipresent/everywhere at once at all times. She can control things by using her left hand for the mouse and her right for the keyboard (or the cursor, which is separate from the mouse?), which she reveals while in a car with me and _____ while suffering from awareness overload.

In a store, I "hatch" shriveled, radioactive bats. There are bats that "counter" them that look more like bluish, quadrapedal lizards the size of large dogs, most of which are sealed off in a toxic/radioactive factory mostly composed of tunnels, which ends up becoming the "endgame" area we have to traverse. Inside, the Homestuck trolls are sprawled out in a tunnel to the left, looking dead (they aren't), and for some reason we start a cookout just inside the entrance.

[oreramar]

The Quest of Stones

Game of Genres contest, week 1: Space Opera.

Took names from Arthurian myths, with occasional changes. How many can you guess the source of?

This can also be read along with a compilation of flash fiction from both this year and last on Wattpad. I appreciate any hits and likes there. Thanks for reading!

It was drizzly in this part of Munsalvasche today; grey and miserable enough that not many people were on the streets, but without enough static charge to inhibit air travel. Peri watched yet another humanoid - indistinct beneath their layers of clothing - pass by the window outside. Her fingers tapped an unconscious rhythm against her hip, just below the snug weight of her concealed holster.

 A hiss of air, and the Munsalva proprietor appeared through the back doorway, pushing a crate on a humming hoverpad in front of them.

 “You’ll find it all there,” they promised, popping the lid on the crate open with a keytab from their belt. “Take a look.”

 Galeas and Borden shuffled closer and peered inside, humming and nodding for the Munsalva’s sake. Peri mostly kept her eyes on the windows and outside door, but she did sneak a quick look between her squadmates. Round grey lumps of stone surrounded by black synthetic padding sat in their box. She’d seen Corbenicite before, raw and processed alike, but for some reason it always disappointed her a bit. She supposed that she simply expected such a rare natural power source to be…shinier.

With the product’s presence and quality duly demonstrated, the crate was sealed again and a copied keytab exchanged for payment confirmation. Galeas and Borden shifted the crate onto their own hoverpad, which whined but held up under the weight.

“Forgive me if I am confusing you for other humans, but you are not the usual couriers, are you?” the Munsalva asked, glancing over the account numbers used. Peri couldn’t call herself an expert in reading tone or expression on non-human faces, but they seemed more curious than anything else.

“They were running into problems on the route back,” Borden replied, locking the crate to the hoverpad. “We swapped with them to try and troubleshoot.”

“I see. I hope it goes well for you. Safe travels, and I thank you for your business.”

They left, Galeas in front with his easy, boyish smile, Borden pushing the crate behind, and Peri sweeping her eyes from side to side, cataloguing attack vectors and ambush spots. Trouble had never come on-planet, but things had been getting worse; there was no such thing as too careful anymore.

“That was nicely phrased,” Galeas called back to Borden as they headed for the small nearby spaceport. “Troubleshooting.”

“It’s the truth,” Borden replied, bland and even.

“Perhaps literally, depending on how things go,” Peri said, watching another shrouded stranger - a local, by the shape of the shoulders - scurry through the rain across the street and duck under an awning. No obvious threat, but she stayed alert.

“We’ll see,” Galeas agreed as he led the way into the hangars where their massive cargo ship was waiting, already being loaded with other trade goods and fueled up by the rest of her replacement crew. Peri glanced over the crates, then up the slightly ramshackle siding of the ship, and caught herself smiling a little.

Yes. They would see.

-

Even in space, a cargo ship lumbered. It was big, and heavy, and somehow unwieldy no matter what was done to it, and could only slip in short, direct bursts. If you knew a ship’s likeliest flight pattern - often the shortest or most fuel-friendly, given the priorities of cost and cargo and profit - then you could fairly easily guess where and when it would emerge. If you didn’t, then there was always the fallback plan of dragging such a ship out of slip forcibly, and they tended to have enough mass to make it easy.

They could’ve made it back to the fleet without a problem. Not every ship was hit. Still, the odds were against them, and when the craft suddenly lurched from a broken slip, nobody was especially surprised. 

Peri, Galeas and Borden were, it had to be said, almost eager.

“Attention, crew of the Gradalis, this is your toll booth speaking!”  The voice crackled over on all channels. It was smug, and judging by the accent and diction likely belonged to a human. “We see you still have a patch job up from our last meeting. There is no need for another; you know the drill. Release the cargo and you’re free to go.”

Peri adjusted her helmet and thumbed on the short frequency. In an instant her ears were full of her squad’s anticipatory breathing. They quickly checked in, then fell silent, waiting.

“This is the captain of the Gradalis speaking. We have not met; I assume you were speaking to my predecessor. To be clear: you were the cause of recent losses of cargo and of the mentioned hull damage?”

The voice returned a moment later, a little less smug, but still self-assured.

“We were, and we will be again. You can limit the damages, though, by following our instructions. You are surrounded. This is your last chance.”

Readouts flashed on the screens around Peri, information transferred from Gradalis’ viewports and external sensors. One mid-sized ship of non-standard make, heavily customized. Three smaller two- to three-person fighters, all different models from different planets. A formation similar to Greb’s Talon, with the largest ship fore, one smaller ship to each side and the third not aft, but below. All bristling with weaponry, all likely equipped with draw-wells at least strong enough to pull in unresisting merchandise from the void.

She flexed her fingers on the humming controls and leaned forward. She rose a foot, almost to the roof of her improvised hangar. Any moment now…

“Noted,” said their captain. “Opening hatches. Our regards from the flagship Prydwen.”

Then multiple doors disguised as patchwork repairs around the ship flew open, and Peri darted out into space, thrusters spinning the Kingfisher to the side and taking the threatening fighter by surprise. She caught a glimpse of a wide-eyed face in the cockpit before she flashed by, her ray guns pulsing. The pirate fighter had no shields up; they probably didn’t think they’d need them against a defenseless cargo ship. By the time she looped around for another pass, it was so much dead scrap.

“Starboard bogey down,” she reported on the short-range.

“Ditto port,” Galeas added. “Borden, you got the belly?”

“Almost,” the man grunted.

“Going below,” Peri said, dipping her Kingfisher in a direction she could only call ‘down’ because it was beneath the Gradalis. The remodeled cargo ship was itself turning in space, bringing a newly-mounted and somewhat makeshift cannon to bear against the raiders’ main ship; Peri caught a glimpse of Galeas’ Perilous spiraling in that direction to harry the big bully alone. Idiot, she thought, and then could spare him no more consideration, because Borden’s opponent had caught on faster than the others and had raised shields and taken evasive action, and she’d just flown into a dogfight between it and the Lion. The two seemed equally matched in speed and power, but the Kingfisher was faster than both; Peri twisted her controls, spun and spiraled dizzyingly against a backdrop of distant stars, and gave their opponent hell enough to distract them. One shot from the Lion and the shield snapped; another and it was as dead in space as its fellows.

“Belly bogey down; coming to assist against the head,” Borden reported, and they darted up into a latticework of light. There was neither aim nor art to it, Peri thought; it rather seemed as though someone was firing blindly, missing more often than they hit and hitting only glancing blows easily thrown off by their shields.

The enemy ship was listing, shield flickering already from whatever damage their imported cannon and Galeas’ pinprick attacks had done.

 “We’ve got them!” the captain shouted from within the Gradalis. “Bring it down!”

 Then, with a sudden burst of thrusters and a twist of space, the pirate ship vanished into a slip.

 “Gold squad, tracking formation!” Peri ordered. The three fighters fell into formation, tracing a pattern around the Gradalis, searching for any sign of the enemy’s return, but as the seconds stretched into minutes it became clear that the other had fled.

 “They’re gone. Return to ship, Gold,” the captain said at last. “Bring in the bogeys; at least we can put any survivors in custody.”

 “Damn,” Borden said, but he brought his Lion in regardless.

 “And we were so close,” Galeas bemoaned, following to his own makeshift hangar.

 “The mission was still a success,” Peri said, guiding the Kingfisher in. “The Corbenicite’s safe and on its way to the fleet, and we’ve potentially captured a few mercs in the bargain. As for The Fey…we’ll just have to catch her another time.”

 And they would, sooner or later, Peri was sure; they were, after all, Knights of Carlion.