#and somehow I didn't crumble into dust

[thischarmingand]

Speaking of Zombies Run, I went to see Tokyo Poliec Club's farewell tour last night (the first time I have seen this band in at least 10 years) and was bodied back to listening to this song while listening to Sam Yao talk about the previous Runner 5 for the first time and... still hits, man.

[cuntwrap--supreme]

Someone's tiny child drew a Something and they put it in their box saying the kid drew it for me. Which is cute, I guess. My mom did stuff like this when I was a small child who was obsessed with the arrival of mail. It's in the route's case to be immortalized forever.

Now to figure out how to read the drawing so I can find what I assume is treasure beyond my wildest imagination.

[bloggerspam]

DPxYJ Haunted Mansion AU!

My gift fic for @pennerjones for our server's anniversary gift exchange! Dead Tired, background Dark Ages :)

===

"What the hell is that." Cassie scrunches her nose, looking up at the Mansion that looms before them.

"It looks like a Castle." Bart stuffs his face with more chips, seemingly unconcerned.

"It's more of a Mansion." Tim idly drawls.

"A Mansion that just showed up out of nowhere." Kon emphatically gestures at the broken gates that are swinging open on rusty hinges.

"To be fair," Bart has somehow acquired candy, though he probably just popped over to the nearest neighborhood to trick or treat, considering the day "We just showed up out of nowhere too."

It's Halloween, and Young Justice has been caught up with, of all things, a surprise cult.

They dispatched them quickly, thanks to support from Raven, but were still somehow caught in a summoning circle that popped them out here.

Here being a random forest, somewhere in…Tim checks his wrist computer, Illinois.

They were just about to fly home, the other three arguing on who gets first shift of carrying Tim, when the Mansion suddenly appeared.

"It looks abandoned." Tim idly looks around, checking the differences. Some trees had disappeared, and he isn't sure if that means space was made for the Mansion, or if the forest itself is a hallucination.

"We can always ask?" Bart dusts his hands, finally done with his food, heading towards the gates. "Do you think they have a bathroom I can borrow?"

"A Castle this old and abandoned would not have indoor plumbing." Cassie grumbles, following after him.

"I'm telling you, it's a Mansion." Tim corrects, but Kon simply pulls him after the other two.

"Don't!" A voice yells, frantic enough to make them all stop.

All of them, that is, except Bart.

"Shit." They turn to look, and there, floating and ethereal, is a boy. A young man, really.

He's their age, seemingly, late teens or early 20s. He's bout Cassie's height, with bright glowing hair. He's wearing a uniform similar to Alfred's butler garb, sharply dressed but no less rumpled. Even still, he looks beautiful, hair flowing like some invisible wind is blowing just for him.

His eyes, though, are a toxic green. They make Tim flinch at memories rising unbidden, but his expression is despondent, and almost wrecked, and it softens the harsh glow.

"Sorry," Kon turns on the charm, walking over to the other man, "We didn't mean to trespass, it's just that this place wasn't here two minutes ago and—"

Kon stops short as a glowing green shield is erected in place of the broken gate, separating Bart from the three of them. They instantly go on alert, Kon banging on the barrier with a loud thump!

"Hey!" Cassie yells, jumping in to punch just as ineffectively at the barrier, "Give him back!"

"You're heroes, right?" The man touches down just behind Bart, who is banging at the barrier from his side, "What year is it?"

"It's 2014." Tim answers, scanning the rest of their surroundings.

The man freezes, eyes widening, before shaking his head. "Doesn't matter. Listen, Listen!"

They don't. Well, Tim does, but only halfheartedly.

Tim notes that shield doesn't extend above the gate, or past it, really. Only the entrance. The rest, the man seems to be relying on the crumbled wall surroundings to keep them out. Tim tosses a batarang and finds that it flies over just fine.

"You can't step over the border," the man puts up his hands, palms down as if placating wild animals, "Your friend here is—I'll try and get him back out but he needs to—wait!"

It's too late.

Tim has already shot out a grapple, using it as leverage to jump-climb his way over the wall. Kon and Cassie already jumping over the wall and all of them barrelling towards Bart and the man keeping him hostage.

"Fuck. I should have known a hero bearing an S could fly." The man says forlornly.

Tim tosses a bola that shoots open, only instead of capturing the man it goes through. Kon and Cassie grab Tim and Bart, flying straight up, but bang into an invisible barrier.

Cassie accidentally lets go, and is about to catch him but is beat to the punch.

Tim lands softly in strong, solid arms, held bridal style and staring up into soft features and masculine brow.

"Sorry," The man looks tired now, resigned, and that more than anything makes Tim stop squirming.

He sets Tim down gently, waiting as the others cautiously land nearby, all of them tense and disliking the idea of being trapped.

"I told you, you can't step over the border." The man sighs, covering his face with his hands and groaning into them, "I knew I should have come earlier."

"Why can't we leave?" Cassie demands, fists up and braced for a fight.

"Because you stepped over the border." His voice is irritated, "Like I told you not to."

Honestly, Tim doesn't blame him. They did after all, not listen. But.

"You had our friend." Tim quietly growls.

"Temporarily." The man rolls his eyes, hands on his hips. "Getting one of you permission to leave would have been easy. Four of you is a little trickier."

"Why?" Kon demands, crossing his arms.

"Because Vlad is a self absorbed lunatic," The man huffs, "and obsessive."

That answers their questions, but explains nothing. The team share a look, whilst the man starts mumbling to himself about amulets and knockturns. Whatever that means.

"Danny!" Two voices, young and childish, overlap each other and freeze them all.

"Heeeeeey kiddos." Danny, apparently, greets the newcomers after giving the team a warning glare.

It's two children, as expected. One dressed as a pirate, Captain's hat and everything, the other is a girl in a pink shirt and overalls covered in patches. The pirate, a boy, is stumbling on a peg leg with an abundance of missing teeth. The girl has pigtails and big buck teeth. They're both smiling widely at Danny, hands reaching up for uppies.

"Didn't I say to wait for me at the mausoleum?" Danny hefts them both up, spinning around as the children giggle.

"But a Captain's nothin' without his first mate!" The pirate boy waves his little hook, thankfully not real, around.

The girl rolls her eyes. "I told him you got work to do, but Youngblood wouldn't listen!"

"Boxlunch," Youngblood growls, "tattlers walk the plank you know! Besides. you wanted to see if there was any fresh blood anyway."

Boxlunch squeaks, looking up at Danny guiltily. Danny sighs, placing them both on the ground and kneeling down to their level.

"I know the Living fascinate you, but we're trying to get keep them out, remember?" Danny's voice is gentle, admonishing. The two children twist at their hands, looking down and guilty.

"I guess we don't want more dead to crowd the place. A ship's only got so much room after all…" Youngblood agrees, even though he clearly knows there's an abundance of room. He looks away, tipping his hat down to cover his face.

"Sorry Danny, I keep forgetting—" Boxlunch starts tearing up, biting her lip and gripping at her overalls.

Danny shushes her, holds them both in his arms to comfort. "Ghosts forget, it's in your nature."

Tim jolts. Ghosts? He shares a look with Cassie, the nearest one, and the horror on her face mirrors his. Kon and Bart aren't doing any better.

"Dead men tell no tales." Youngblood sniffles, "But will you read us a bedtime story?"

"Always, bud. I still—I still have to watch the gate, take care of these guys, but I'll be right up okay?"

"Aye aye, Danny." Youngblood jumps off, wiping his eyes with his non-hook holding hand before addressing the team, "Try to survive!"

"Hope we never see you again." Boxlunch waves to the team, sincerely. The two of them then fly off towards the side of the Mansion in the distance.

Danny watches them with a pained expression, all the way until they fade out. Ghosts.

They only looked about 7 or 8.

Tim wants to throw up.

"What did we walk into?" Kon's voice is low, regretful.

"Welcome to the Keep." Danny sighs, eyes flashing green at them when he stands back up, "You're gonna have a hell of a time trying to get out before the night ends."

Read the rest here on AO3!

[libraryofgage]

A Place Like Steve in a Boy Like This

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One (you're here!)

The Mummy (1999) is one my comfort movies, actually, and I realized Rick and Steve are very alike actually. It's the looks, it's the hair, it's the loyalty and devotion.

Anyway, here's an AU where Rick and Evelyn O'Connell are Steve's parents lol

If there are any other people you think would make good parents for Steve, let me know! I'll take them into consideration and see if inspiration sparks :D

Anyway, if you'd like a tag on any future parts, let me know!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

-----

After being relegated to the open-air portion of some ruins in Crete, Steve entertains himself by slowly moving closer to the cats nearby in the hopes of petting them. His parents said he couldn't go into the ruins, but they didn't say a thing about playing with the ruins' inhabitants. Said inhabitants are gathered in a circle, some standing and some stretching out in the sun, but sticking together as though they're waiting for someone to begin a discussion.

He takes a piece of jerky from his bag, tearing it into small pieces as he peeks around the corner of a column. A few large stones are scattered around it, nearly reaching his shoulders and helping to hide him from the view of the cats on the other side. Though, in all honesty, they're probably only sticking around because they smell the jerky in his hand.

Steve grins and tosses a piece of meat over the stones, watching as it lands in the middle of what he's dubbed the Cat Council. A calico cat jolts, ears perked as she stares at the meat before taking a tentative step forward. She sniffs the meat, decides it's an acceptable offering, and eats it.

When it's gone, Steve tosses more pieces. He feeds a few more of the cats now, and he's practically buzzing with excitement. Deciding they're less likely to scatter, Steve clambers onto the huge boulder in front of him, managing to find little footholds to boost himself up. With a grunt, he makes it to the top and looks down on the Cat Council, ready to throw the last of his jerky when he hears the stone beneath him shift.

In the time it takes to blink, the ground crumbles beneath the rock, scattering the cats and dropping the stone out from under Steve. He falls with it, momentarily and terrifyingly weightless before gravity takes over and he drops. A yelp escapes him, followed by a pained cry as he lands feet-first on the rock, his ankles taking the brunt of the impact and, if not breaking, severely spraining for the effort.

Grit, dirt, and dust coat Steve's tongue and throat, and he coughs up as much as he can while taking in his new surroundings. Thankfully, sunlight filters into the underground space, allowing him to see the tiled floors and walls covered in a carefully carved and painted frieze that has, somehow, survived the centuries since its creation. Several figures wearing togas and carrying baskets line up outside a darkened arch. They don't exactly look happy to be there, but they seem resigned to their fate. Steve can even see the tears meticulously carved into several faces.

When he follows the frieze, he realizes the space he's in is really a hallway, one that seems to stretch forever on either side of him. Amazingly, there's no other sign of aging in it. No spiderwebs crowding the walls, no erosion from wind or water damage, and no sign of people having walked the passageway in centuries. It's the kind of perfectly preserved discovery Steve and his mother lose their heads over while his father waits for something to go wrong.

Steve is about to try standing (if he can stay upright, maybe he can explore a little and find something to show his mother before they realize he's gone missing) when he hears...a snort? Maybe it's more like a heavy puff of air. He tilts his head, twisting around to squint down the corridor to his right. Something glints in the darkness, close to what he assumes is the ceiling, and Steve grabs his flashlight.

He clicks it on, aiming the beam at the ground and slowly moving it down the corridor. He stops when the light shines on cloven hooves, a bad feeling beginning to build in his chest. With a now somewhat shaking hand, Steve slowly raises the beam, that bad feeling growing as it shines over furry hind legs and a furry waist that seamlessly blends into scarred skin just below the navel. Despite everything, he keeps going, only confirming his worst fears when his flashlight finally reaches the top to find the head of a bull staring straight at him, the horns cracked and nearly scraping the ceiling, the black eyes undeniably trained on Steve, and a glimmering golden ring looped through its nose, as untarnished by time as the friezes.

For ten seconds (Steve counts while trying to control his panic), he and the minotaur stare at each other. Then, it puffs out air again, the force strong enough to sway the ring in its nose. Steve grips the flashlight tighter, swallowing around the wariness threatening to choke him and briefly wondering if, maybe, centuries have somehow soothed the minotaur's anger.

And then it roars, deep and loud and powerful enough to shake the corridor and bring more dust and grit raining down on Steve from above. It lowers its head, aiming its horns straight at Steve, and charges with all the fury of a creature that's been denied centuries' worth of sacrifices.

Steve screams as the minotaur's hooves shake the ground with each step, too scared to do anything more than sit there and wonder if there will be enough of his body for his parents to identify when the minotaur is done with him.

He's just about accepted the answer (it's no; the answer is no) when something grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him up just before the minotaur crashes into the boulder. Strong arms wrap around Steve, holding him close as his father's familiar voice says, "I gotcha!"

Steve blinks, his heart still hammering as he clings to his father's neck and looks at his mother over his shoulder. She's staring at the hole, a frown on her face as the minotaur's enraged roar sounds from below. "Rick, I think we should go now," she says, grabbing the back of Rick's shirt and yanking him back just in time to avoid the minotaur's giant hand slamming into the ground next to the hole.

"Great idea, Evie," Steve's father says, his voice a little strained as he passes Steve over and pulls out a gun. "I'll cover you. Get Steve to the car, get it running, and I'll meet you there." The minotaur screams again, and Steve is still close enough to see it realize it can climb the stone to reach the surface.

"You have three minutes, or I'm coming back for you."

Rick looks over his shoulder, flashing a grin at Steve and his mother. "I'll be right behind you," he promises.

And he was. With a minotaur right on his heels and another week added to their time in Crete while they tried to get the whole situation straightened out without too many casualties or Steve's uncle Jonathan ruining more than one good pair of trousers.

-----

Steve doesn't think he'll grow used to the smell and sounds of the hospital. The antiseptic, sterile atmosphere isn't too bad, but the constant background noise has the potential to drive him up the walls. It helps that he, Eddie, and Max were finally moved to a room together, mostly muffling the beeps and PA announcements with each other's chatter, snoring, and other noises.

Right now, everything is drowned out by the kids arguing with Eddie about their next campaign. Eddie wants to do a sequel of their current one while they've been gunning for something sci-fi-themed if Steve is understanding their debate correctly. He's not sure why it's so important, but their voices are creating nice background noise, and Robin's rhythmic, habitual tapping of her fingers on his arm grounds him, so he lets his mind wander.

Honestly, Steve thinks they'd all benefit from a nice trip somewhere. Maybe Paris. They can't possibly run into anything in Paris, right?

Well. The catacombs do exist, and nobody knows what's down there. So they'd have to stay well away.

But still. Paris. The food. The Louvre. The history. And, you know, maybe they could just pop into the catacombs just so Steve can take pictures and show his mother later. Following a strictly regulated guided tour should be perfectly fine.

Steve drops his head back against the pillow, wincing slightly when the action tugs at the stitches along his throat. They hurt, but his worst injuries are on his sides where the demobats bit and feasted. The doctor said they'd scar permanently, looking somewhat apologetic about the fact until Steve waved her off. What's a few more for the collection?

Besides, at the time the doctor was giving him a rundown of his injuries, another had been doing the same for Eddie. His list was pretty similar to Steve's, and it only took him a few seconds to realize something very important: if Steve hadn't been there to share the demobat burden, Eddie would be dead.

That fact had sat with him for a while. Death is no stranger to Steve. In fact, he's intimately familiar with the concept. And all the ways it can be subverted. Steve doesn't want to think he'd be the kind to pull out the Book of the Dead after everything his parents have told him, but he also knows he'd do anything for the people he loves. Like Eddie. Like Robin. Like the kids.

Steve has risked his life for them numerous times, and he'd do it again without a moment's hesitation.

"I can't believe we're only just finding out!"

This statement comes from the hallway on the other side of the room's closed door. The voice is achingly familiar to Steve, one he's only heard over the phone for the past few months, and he sits up straight. The conversation in the room falters for a few seconds before picking up again after the kids decide it's probably not relevant to them.

And then comes hurried, angry footsteps outside the door and a doctor's voice saying, "I'm sorry, but only authorized visitors are allowed to see patients."

"I wouldn't stay in her way," a man's voice says, his tone teetering between amused and genuinely sympathetic toward the doctor.

Apparently, he doesn't heed the warning, and the room is silent enough that everyone hears the following tirade. "Authorized visitors? Authorized visitors?! Are you stopping me from seeing my son? Who on earth do you think you are? If you don't get out of the way, I will make you move, mister."

"I wonder when she'll realize she's got the wrong room," Dustin says, sounding amused.

"Ma'am, I ca--," the doctor's words are cut off by a sudden yelp and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor outside.

The door is thrown up to show a woman, her shoulders heaving and her curly hair in disarray. She's covered in grime like she dragged herself out of a grave and came right away without stopping to clean up. Which, honestly, might be the case. Behind her is a similarly disheveled man, a fond smile on his face as he looks at the woman. "That's my girl," he says, the smile becoming a full-blown grin when the woman smacks his chest without turning around.

The sight is so familiar that Steve nearly tears up. He hasn't seen his parents in months, and their appearance suddenly lifts a weight that he didn't even realize was on his shoulders. Whatever else happens, they'll take care of it.

Finally, Evelyn's eyes land on Steve, and the anger on her face melts away into relief and worry. She rushes over, sliding around Robin before she can move, and cups Steve's face in her hands. "Oh, my poor boy, are you okay? What have the doctors said?" she asks.

Steve's father hovers behind her, giving Steve a once-over with his eyes before determining he's fine. "Better question," he says, placing a hand on Evelyn's shoulder and leaning closer, "Where in the hell were your guns?"

Steve is about to answer when his mother whirls on Rick. "His guns? Our son is in a hospital bed, and you're asking where his guns were?! Are you daft? Have you lost your mind?" she asks, poking her finger into his chest.

He sighs, takes her hand, and wraps his other arm around her waist. "Evie, he's fine. He's awake, and nobody in here looks like they're preparing for a funeral. Clearly, he's gonna be discharged soon. So, I think asking where his guns were is reasonable because maybe he wouldn't be in a hospital bed if he'd had them."

"Dad is right," Steve says, getting his parents' attention. He grins at them. "I'm fine. Doctors said it would just be another scar. Or, well, like three more scars. Doesn't matter. I should get discharged later this week."

Before Evelyn or Rick can say anything else, Dustin asks, "What the fuck is going on here?!"

"Language!" Steve shouts, turning his head to glare at Dustin.

"Did you seriously just call him out on language?" Rick asks. "You?"

"His mom gets upset when he swears, so I've been trying to set a good example," Steve mumbles, slumping down in his bed. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Everybody, these are my parents. Evelyn and Rick O'Connell. Parents, this is, well, everybody."

"Oh, let me see if I can name them," Evelyn says, her eyes lighting up some at the challenge before pulling away from Rick. She points to each child as she correctly names them. "I already know Robin. So nice to see you again dear--"

"Nice to see you, too, Mrs. O'Connell."

"--Now, you must be Dustin. I've heard plenty about you, young man. And based on the haircut, you're Will. You've got to be Mike, and you two are Lucas and Erica. This must be El, and you're Max, right? I'm sure you'll get better soon, dear." When Evelyn turns and sees Eddie, she gets a softer smile. "And you're Eddie. I've heard quite a bit about you, too. All good, I promise. It's so nice to finally meet you."

"Wait," Lucas says, frowning slightly in confusion, "Eddie and Steve have only known each other for, like, a week?"

Everyone looks at Steve, and he shrugs in response. "Eddie was pretty impossible to ignore in high school," he says, brushing off the questioning looks until only Robin and Eddie are left staring, the former with a knowing glint in her eye and the latter with a confused one in his.

"Sorry, I still can't get over Steve having parents," Mike says, his nose scrunched up like this entire thing might be some hallucination.

"Did you think he was an orphan?" Robin asks, shooting him a similar scrunched-nose look.

"I don't know! He's never talked about them! I thought his parents were, like, absent assholes or something," Mike says, his shoulders raising defensively.

"That's our fault, I'm afraid," Evelyn says, smiling apologetically as she moves to stand by Steve again. She places a hand on his head, gently carding her fingers through his hair. The motion is familiar and reassuring, and Steve leans into the touch, unaware of Eddie staring at his mom's hand.

"Our work is pretty, uh, need-to-know," Rick says, shrugging as he reaches behind Evelyn and places a hand on Steve's shoulder. "As in, nobody needs to know."

Steve is nodding in agreement when more footsteps sound from the hallway and his uncle slides into the doorway, nearly tripping on his own feet. He clears his throat, adjusts his jacket, and looks up to find a whole room staring at him.

He blinks and tugs on his collar, shifting his gaze to Evelyn and Rick. "Well, after you lot ran off, I got us visitor passes," he says, holding up three stickers.

"You stole them," Steve and Rick say, their voices in synch and nearly indistinguishable.

To his credit, Jonathan doesn't question it. He just scoffs, walking into the room and slapping a sticker on Rick's chest. "I am offended. How could you possibly think I stole them?" he asks.

"Should I remind you how we met?" Rick asks, raising an eyebrow at Jonathan.

"Fair enough. Carry on," Jonathan says, looking away and moving to Steve's side. "Good to see you, old boy. Glad you aren't dead, and sorry it took so long to get your parents here. It's not easy making phone calls to the Amazon Rainforest."

Steve shrugs. "I figured," he says, watching as Evelyn pulls her hand from his hair to place the visitor sticker on her chest.

There are going to be endless questions later. The kids are definitely going to try to grill Evelyn and Rick about their work and about Steve as a child. But there's plenty of time for that later.

For now, Steve is happy to just relax and let his parents take over. He doesn't have to be the responsible one anymore, and he can finally breathe with that weight off his shoulders.

----

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@badgerburrows

[chaotic-fandom-writer]

Adam x Reader P.1 (Hazbin Hotel)

Warnings: Heavy cursing, violence, adult themes

Chapters

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII

Extermination day was never easy, nor fun. But you fought nonetheless. You would do anything to keep your friends and the hotel from being exterminated.

Today was a harder one than usual. You noticed they seemed to be sending more and more angels down every year, making it nearly impossible to hold your ground anymore. Maybe it was your hood and mask, or maybe it was all the attacks, but you were out of breath quicker than usual, too.

You were doing okay, until an angel came from behind, knocking one of your daggers out of your hand. Mind spinning, already nearing exhaustion, you turned and ran as fast as you could, fully aware the angel was gaining on you quickly.

You turned a sharp corner and dropped into the cellar doors of one of the shops nearby. You could hear the angel go past, holding your breath and waiting extra long, just to be safe.

After you finally catch your breath, you ran outside, ready to fight again, only to see a brilliant burst of light come crashing down on you. You barely managed to jump away, looking up for the source.

Horrified, you realize where it came from - Adam, the leader of the angels.

Of course he's the one who happens to find me.

You mentally curse your own luck before jumping again, avoiding more of his strikes. "What's with the fucking mask? You some kind of bimbo robinhood bitch?"

"What the fuck does that even mean?" You laugh, not even sure how to process the insult.

"Fuck you! That's what it means!" And more strikes. You jump again, seemingly irritating your attacker.

"Hold still, bitch!"

You laugh, and run into a nearby shopping center, running up the stairs to the second floor and hiding in a shop.

You had no weapons, aside from one small dagger, and honestly, that didn't look like it could do much against the literal leader of the angels.

"Where are you, slut?"

God, he's a real charmer, this one.

Slowly, you start to creep around the shop, trying to get a better peek, when suddenly, you take a wrong step, and the fragile, crumbling conrete gives way underneath you.

You let out a scream as you fall from the second floor, landing flat on your back in the shop beneath. You gasp for air, ripping the mask and hood off of your face.

Adam appears before you, his cocky grin suddenly faded. You tense your body, waiting for him to attack, but he does nothing. He stands there, staring at you.

"What's your fucking problem?" You ask, looking away, somehow unable to bear the sight of his gaze anymore.

He says nothing, instead walking slowly over to you. You scoot back as far as you can before your back hits the wall.

Looking up at Adam, you squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head away as he reaches down for you.

Suddenly, before you know it, you feel his arms lift you up. But before you even have time to process that, you're flying through the roof of the building and into the air.

Unable to speak, you gawk at the sights below you, flying at insane speeds in Adam's arms. He stops at a tall building, dropping you on the rooftop.

"It's almost over. Stay here until we leave, or you'll get killed."

Before you can even respond, he flies off into the distance.

"What the fuck?"

--

It took you a while to climb down the building, and even longer to walk back to the hotel. The asshole had really taken you far from the battle site.

You wearily walk up the steps of the hotel, swinging the door open and collapsing at the bar.

"And where the fuck have you been?" Husk asks, pouring you a drink.

"I don't even know dude." You slam your drink, and he pours you another one.

Another voice chimes in. "What do you mean, 'you don't know?' What happened?" Angel Dust now joins you at the bar.

Sighing, you explain what happened, also gaining the interest of Vaggie and Charlie.

"That's.. strange. I don't understand why he wouldn't just kill you. He's kind of notorious for that." Vaggie says, a confused look on her face.

"Maybe he felt bad?" Charlie says enthusiastically. Husk snorts at this. "Maybe not." She says more quietly.

"All I know is, I'm going the fuck to bed." You stand, slamming your last shot before heading up and turning in for the night.

--

What you thought was a random, strange occurence, ending up turning into a yearly routine.

Every single year, the angels would come down for extermination, lead by Adam. And every year, he began to seek you out, snatching you off the streets and dropping you on the top of a random building.

Every time, you fought, kicked, and screamed. You demanded, yelled, cursed. But still you recieved no answers, only "rescues" you weren't asking for.

This year would be different, you decided. You were going to fight him back, and demand to know why the fuck he kept doing this. It didn't make any sense, and you deserved answers.

You had a plan. All you had to do was stand in the open, and wait.

Sure enough, Adam came flying down. You could see his eyes sweep the crowd, before landing directly on you. In the midst of the chaos, nobody else ever notices him swoop down and grab you.

You played it up like you always do, yelling at him to let you go. He did the same as always - ignored you.

As he neared the top of the building, you suddenly grabbed onto his wing and bent it as hard as you could, earning a loud CRACK.

"FUCK! What the FUCK!" Adam shrieks in pain, dropping you onto the rooftop and collapsing alongside you.

You grab daggers out from under your shirt, and begin wildly slashing. Despite his wound, he recovers quickly, fighting you off.

But he's not going anywhere with that broken wing.

The both of you jump backwards. "Adam. Tell me what you're doing. No more games!" You scream.

"You broke my fucking wing, you bitch!" He yells back.

"ADAM! No more games!"

You lunge at him again, tackling him to the ground, stomping the heel of your shoe down into the broken wing. He screams, but holds tightly onto both of your wrists, keeping your daggers away from his face.

"Just tell m-"

You're suddenly cut off by a sharp pain in your chest. You gasp for air, looking down and seeing the tip of a blade poking out through your shirt.

Through your chest.

"NO!" Adam screams out, cradling you as you slump off of him, now the one on the ground.

Behind you, Lute stands looking confused, holding onto her bloody blade.

"LUTE! What the fuck?"

"Sir, I thought -"

"FUCK!" Adam screams, holding onto you.

You simply smile, aware of the life draining away from you.

Before you die, all you can manage to say is,

"At least the game is finally over."

--

All you hear is a loud POOF! and suddenly, you're awake, standing, and feel no more pain.

Standing before you, angels. Surrounding you, more angels. White, white everywhere.

You look down and see yourself in elegant white clothing.

"What the FUCK?"

"Welcome to Heaven!"

--

Don't forget, I'm always accepting requests!

Chapters

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII

[itsabouttimex2]

I loved the reactions to the lady bone demon defendant! But what about LBD reacting to it? Platonic of course, but would she try to manipulate them? Perhaps get them to join her willingly or by force?

Descendant of the Lady Bone Demon: Part Three

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Maybe they should've seen this coming. Maybe there were a few warning signs they didn't pick up on. Looking back on it now, it's pretty obvious, isn't it? All those little things should've added up a long time ago.

The way the room grew silent and tense when you walked in, no matter how how exuberant it had been prior. How you manage to sneak up on everyone without even trying, as though you had no presence. The wide berth that strangers give you, even though they can't explain why. That last one had been particularly strange for your friends. They hadn't understood why people would treat you so coldly, not back then.

They understand now.

Just because someone loves you doesn’t mean that they want the best for you.

The man that Megapolis calls their ‘Mayor’ has somehow become your most enduring caretaker thus far. Everyone that came before him had either given you up after a few scarce months of guardianship, disappeared without a trace, or succumbed to some kind of sickness.

Frequently, the blame had been put on you. If a child gets passed through foster home after foster home after foster home and never acclimates to any of them, there’s a conclusion that many will draw- the child isn’t trying hard enough.

Never mind how many of your guardians would leave you locked outside for hours on end, well into the freezing cold night.

Never mind how often they ‘forgot’ to properly feed and clothe you, pocketing the allotted care salary for themselves.

Never mind often you weren’t allowed to explore the temporary houses outside of your own room, kept away from areas meant for ‘real’ family.

Never mind often how you were fed box-mix macaroni-and-cheese while your foster family ate real meat and vegetables.

Never mind any of that, of course.

The problem was obviously you, your ‘families’ had decided. And so had their friends and extended families, and even the system that threw you from one miserable little home to the next, leaving you with no one and next to nothing. All that you owned you carried around in a disposable plastic sack, never bothering to unpack and try to settle in.

You’d be gone in another month or two anyways.

Until you had been introduced to the mayor of Megapolis, that had been all the life you had ever known.

With one hand firmly on your back, he leads you into his house, a discreet building hidden away in quiet part of the city. It stands proudly above you, an ancient building refitted time and time again to suit the ever-changing trends of time. The walls are painted in elegant grays and a variety of tastefully selected blues, providing a clean and refined atmosphere.

It wasn’t often that you could truly call a temporary home clean. And this was certainly the first time you could apply an adjective such as ‘elegant’ to a building.

So many houses run-down from lack of care, pet urine long-seeped into fraying carpets, worn cots covered in dust and packed six or eight to one crumbling room.

His arm shifts down your back and to your wrist, holding tight. With such unnervingly wide eyes and the rictus grin he sports, you should be scared.

You should be scared that he’ll hurt you. But you’ve lived a life that’s proven to you a single fact: getting hurt is inevitable.

No matter how much you come to trust someone or how long you live with them- there’s no love or kindness. Just an always-ticking clock, counting down until the moment they break and throw you out quicker then they would toss trash.

But there’s no bruising grip this time. No harsh shoves. No unkind words. No molded side room that smells of bleach and detergent.

“Welcome home, Y/N!” he calls out with a much too loud tone, grinning ear to ear. “I hope you like your new room!”

It’s… actually nice. Not ‘for your standards’ nice. It’s ‘hotel’ nice. ‘Lavish guest room’ nice.

The longer you spend basking in the pleasantly smooth greys and blues of your new room, the more welcoming they feel.

“Thanks,” you manage to say, hoping that you weren’t ‘too late with gratitude’ as you had been so many times before according to many, many caretakers.

“Why, of course!” The grey-clad man pats your back with far too much force, pushing you inside with a stretched grin. “Please, get comfortable! I hope you’ll enjoy your- hopefully- very long stay!”

The door slams behind you, but doesn’t lock. That’s good, you think. You could leave, if you wanted to. You weren’t just trapped in here until your case worker came and asked for you.

And you think that might be the case when he knocks on the door hours later, probably to hand you a metaphorical eviction notice and throw you out because he got ‘unnerved’ like everyone always does-

And you are instead invited downstairs for a hot drink.

How could you say no?

The fireplace is hot, stoked by old papers strewn between the logs inside. If you looked closer, you’d see the names of your previous caretakers and case workers, printed onto them in neat lettering, all in a short, succinct list. And you’d notice the big ‘missing persons report’ stamped in bright red.

But the tea is warm and sweet, and the ‘Mayor’ has his arm around your shoulders as he holds you a little too close-

And you’re naive and desperate enough to consider this safe.

The Lady Bone Demon watches from within. She’s an ever-present force creeping through your veins, ice-cold and unearthly. Her power courses your blood, pumping slow. She feels through your hands. She sees through your eyes. She hears through your ears.

There’s no escape from her.

Carefully, the Lady sows and reaps your suffering. From the confines of your flesh, she makes note of all that brings you to tears, all that brings you to your knees.

In pulses, she strengthens you. Where you walk, crystals grow, smothering flowers and grass in your unknowing wake.

In waves, she activates the powers lying dormant in your veins. Bones buried deep underground shift and stir, waiting eagerly to heed your call.

In surges, she unleashes her presence, staining your eyes the color of a deathly cold ocean. All but a select few retreat in droves, leaving you to wonder what you’ve done to deserve your loneliness.

It is nothing short of cultivation. Within you blooms a small seed of her power, and she stokes it from the inside. The bud of cold blue slowly blooms, rooting deep through your blood. In time, she weaves those roots further and further into the fertile soil of your flesh, ensuring that they may never be pulled free without the utter destruction of your life.

A flower; unremovable, of crystalline sinew and careful tending, a slow and creeping overtake of your life woven by hands unseen. A growing mote of power to be plucked and consumed, taken as part of a greater whole when the day finally comes that you bloom.

And what a wonderful sacrifice you shall make for her cause.

[todorokis-girl]

I Never Knew You Were Alive - Soulmate AU (III)

Chapter III: Belive or be Doomed

Touya x f!reader

I've actually been supper excited about this story, and I MIGHT be stretching it out more than I have to.

No actual dabi in this one

Chapter I: So it starts Chapter II: A late arrival Chapter III: belive of be doomed Chapter IV: What are we doing? Chapter V: Last minute encounter Chapter VI: Deciding to fall in love with you

masterlist

Next chapter

She walked the dark streets, carefully considering whether she should really do this. Hawks had insisted that it was both stupid and dangerous, and she couldn't disagree. But there was no way to avoid it; she had to see this through.

The city's seedy underbelly had a foreboding air, a stark contrast to the vibrant, bustling areas she usually patrolled. The broken streetlights cast a dim glow, their flickering bulbs only accentuating the shadows. Graffiti marred the crumbling walls, and the stench of decay permeated the air. The occasional rustle from a nearby alley or the distant clatter of a can reminded her of the ever-present dangers lurking in the darkness.

Dressed in plain clothes rather than her hero suit, she tried to blend in, taking what appeared to be a casual stroll in the middle of the night through a dangerous part of town. The quiet, deserted streets gave her a moment to think, her footsteps echoing in the silence. She passed by boarded-up shops and derelict buildings, their windows shattered and interiors long abandoned. The eerie silence was punctuated only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional distant siren.

When she opened her eyes, she saw him, standing at the end of the sidewalk, staring at her. The moment she noticed him, he turned and walked into an abandoned building.

"Wait!"

She followed him without hesitation, her steps guided by an almost instinctual pull. The building loomed ahead, its facade covered in grime and ivy, windows like dark, empty eyes staring back at her. The entrance was a gaping maw, swallowing the faint light from the street. She didn't take the time to look where she was going, and soon found herself enveloped in pitch-black darkness. The interior smelled of mold and rot, the air heavy with dust that clung to her throat with every breath.

Despite the lack of light, she somehow knew where to go. The name on her arm itched, urging her forward, and with each step, the pressure in her heart intensified. The entrance to the abandoned building loomed ahead, a gaping maw of darkness. The doorway, framed by crumbling bricks and overgrown with ivy, seemed to invite her into its depths. Shattered glass crunched beneath her feet as she crossed the threshold, the air inside heavy with the scent of mold and decay. The faint, distant sound of dripping water echoed through the cavernous space, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

She turned to her right and sensed his presence, but instead of moving to grab him, she just stood there, facing the darkness.

“Any reason you’re not jumping to arrest me?” The darkness spoke, his voice resonating through the void. It was the first time she heard him speak, and the calmness in his tone was oddly soothing, almost addictive. Yet she felt defensive, knowing that his awareness of her intentions made the situation precarious.

“No need to feel so anxious, just making an observation,” she replied, her eyes slowly adjusting to the surroundings as she searched for a place to sit. The interior of the building was in a state of advanced disrepair, with broken beams and collapsed walls casting jagged shadows. Debris littered the floor, and the smell of dampness and decay permeated the air. The scant light filtering through the boarded-up windows barely illuminated the space, casting eerie, shifting patterns on the ground.

Dizzy and overwhelmed, she was determined to go through with this. She spotted a precarious-looking chair against the far wall and cautiously made her way toward it, her heart pounding with every step. She could feel the tension radiating from him, adding to the heaviness in the room.

“I’ve been looking for you ever since the fire last month.”

“Isn’t everyone?” he responded, his voice carrying a hint of amusement and challenge.

The tension between them was palpable, a mix of unspoken words and unresolved emotions. She knew this encounter was fraught with danger, but it was also a chance to confront the truths they had both been avoiding.

She sighed, the weight of her thoughts pressing heavily on her chest. Of course, everyone was looking for him; he was one of the most wanted villains right now. But she wasn't here to arrest him, at least not at this moment. “My soulmate,” she began, her voice trembling, “he died when I was 13. I never got to meet him.” She swallowed, trying to find the right words to explain herself. “Your quirk… I think it could turn into ice at some point, not as a quirk awakening, but… just as growth.”

The room seemed to close in around her as she spoke, the shadows dancing with her unease. She could barely make out his silhouette, a dark figure in an even darker void, but his presence was unmistakable. The oppressive silence that followed her words made her skin crawl, each second stretching into an eternity.

Her mind raced with thoughts and memories, the pain of her past intertwining with the fear of the present. The abandoned building, with its haunting atmosphere, felt like a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil. Every creak and groan of the old structure seemed to echo her doubts and regrets.

She shifted uneasily on the rickety chair, her eyes darting around the room. The walls, covered in graffiti and grime, seemed to close in on her. The only light came from a flickering bulb somewhere in the distance, casting a sickly yellow glow that did little to alleviate the darkness.

The intensity of his silence was almost unbearable. She could feel his gaze on her, piercing through the gloom, and she fought to keep her composure. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, and she felt an overwhelming urge to flee, to escape the suffocating pressure that threatened to crush her.

But she stayed, determined to see this through. The name on her arm itched again, a reminder of her purpose. She took a deep breath, steeling herself against the fear and uncertainty that swirled around her like a tempest. She had come this far, and she couldn’t turn back now.

“Your flame…” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, “it felt different. It wasn’t just fire; it was something else, something more. I need to understand why. I need to understand you.”

Her words hung in the air, a fragile bridge between them. She could sense his internal conflict, the struggle between the persona he had created and the remnants of the boy he used to be. The tension crackled like static electricity, a palpable force that threatened to snap at any moment.

The room around them seemed to close in, the darkness pressing in from all sides. The distant sounds of the city outside were muffled, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them. The air was heavy with dust and decay, the scent of old wood and forgotten memories mingling with the sharp tang of rust and mold. Every creak of the building, every flicker of the dim light, seemed to underscore the intensity of their confrontation.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and filled with a complexity of emotions. “You think you know me?” His tone was laced with bitterness and curiosity, a challenge and a plea wrapped into one.

“I’m not claiming to know you, I’m just… trying to figure this out. I felt it on me, and I’ve stood in fire; I’ve been burned by fire, caused by quirks or naturally occurring. Fire doesn’t feel like that, not to me. Fire terrifies me. I have to concentrate a million times harder to keep myself from burning just to walk through it, and I can never manage it well during an active fight.” Her heart rate increased, driven by a mix of hope, desperation, and confusion. “But I wanted to stay in it. I wanted to stop and be in your flame… forever. It was so calming… nostalgic.”

Her voice wavered, and her eyes started to water. She paused to process her emotions, waiting for him to respond. Yet again, nothing. The silence felt like an abyss, threatening to swallow her whole. The shadows in the room seemed to grow darker, the faint light barely holding them at bay.

“I’m going to say something that I’m not even sure of, but the fact that I looked for you all this time should be a clear sign of what this means to me.” She took a deep breath, tears spilling onto the ground, glistening briefly in the dim light before disappearing into the dusty floor. “If I’m wrong, I hope me letting you go will allow you to forgive me for putting this on you; if I’m right… well, I don’t want you to answer either way.”

The air between them was thick with unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, each beat a reminder of the gravity of this encounter. She was walking a tightrope, one misstep away from disaster, but she was determined to find her way across.

In the dim light, she saw him shift, his outline becoming clearer. The vulnerability in his posture was almost imperceptible, but it was there, a flicker of the person he once was. It gave her a sliver of hope, a reason to keep pushing forward despite the darkness that surrounded them. Her heart pounded in her chest. She was nervous, but she felt most of that anxiety was coming from him, even if she had no way of knowing for sure.

“Dabi. I think you’re Touya. I think you’re Touya Todoroki, and if I’m right, you’ve known who I am for a long time.” She stopped, fighting back a sob, overwhelmed by a river of emotions. This was more than she had anticipated, and it was tearing her apart. She wanted to cry, but that had to wait. “If that’s true, why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you try? I wanted to be with you, all my life all I’ve ever wanted was you, however that was. You left, faked your own death, and came back a villain, but never once did you think that maybe you could send a letter. A sign of life.”

The room felt like it was holding its breath, the silence after her words echoing louder than any noise. Her tears fell freely now, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. She stood there, raw and vulnerable, waiting for a response that might never come. The light flickered again, casting long shadows that seemed to dance around them, as if the building itself was listening to their exchange.

He remained silent, and unchaging, his figure a dark silhouette against the faint light. The seconds dragged on, each one an eternity. She could see the conflict in his eyes, the war between the persona he had become and the boy he once was. The vulnerability in his posture was almost heartbreaking, a reminder of the pain and loss that had shaped both of their lives.

Deep down, she knew she was right, and she wasn’t crying for herself; she was crying for both of them. She stood up from the spot she had taken on the rusty chair, deciding to return to UA. She had said what she needed to, and his lack of reaction showed that even if she was right, he didn’t care. She meant nothing to him.

Either way, Touya was dead. Even if his former self was standing in front of her, he was gone. She swallowed and took a step back, ready to let go; let Touya be burned and dead. Insisting on a connection with him would be dysfunctional and selfish on both their ends.

She heard footsteps approaching, slowly coming closer. She could feel him standing in front of her, the intense warmth radiating from his body. She was tempted to reach out and touch him. He was less than a step away, but she couldn’t see him. She couldn’t even see herself in the darkness. She quickly braced herself for whatever was coming. 

“You want me to believe you didn’t know?” The question struck her like a physical blow, her heart plummeting into a deep chasm of despair. An overwhelming heat surged through her body, intensifying the gravity of the moment. This revelation shifted the narrative drastically; to him, it meant she had deliberately rejected him. He had kept his distance, believing she didn’t want him.

“I never stopped feeling things, yours or mine,” he continued, his voice laden with the weight of suppressed emotions.

“What?” she stammered, struggling to process the accusation. Her mind raced, searching for a coherent response. “I… I didn’t… I swear,” she pleaded, her voice cracking under the strain.

“Try again when you believe your own lies,” he hissed, his breath hot against her face. His hand moved deliberately, slowly wrapping around her neck. The gesture was a mix of threat and disdain, his fingers pressing just hard enough to convey his dominance. The heat of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, an unsettling mix of fear and something else, something she didn't want to acknowledge. The proximity of his body, the intensity of his gaze, it all created a confusing blend of emotions that left her feeling raw and exposed.

“For the sake of giving you a chance, I’m not killing you today. Next time, you might not be so lucky.” He tightened his grip momentarily, a final warning, before releasing her with a shove. The force of his push made her stagger, and she barely managed to stay on her feet. Her hand instinctively went to her neck, where the heat of his touch lingered, a ghostly reminder of their encounter.

The room felt suffocating, the air thick with unspoken hatred and a twisted undercurrent of something almost primal. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat resonating with a confusing mixture of anger, fear, and a strange, unwanted attraction. The darkness seemed to close in around her, amplifying every sensation, every emotion.

She watched as he retreated back into the shadows, his silhouette disappearing into the black void. The oppressive silence returned, only broken by her ragged breathing. Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, the realization of his hatred cutting deep, while a small, treacherous part of her was drawn to the intensity of his presence

The dilapidated room around her seemed to echo her inner turmoil. The flickering light cast eerie shadows on the cracked walls, the air thick with dust and the scent of decay. She felt a profound sense of loneliness, the weight of their encounter pressing down on her like a physical burden. Her tears fell onto the dusty floor, mingling with the dirt and grime, a stark contrast to the heat and passion she had just experienced.

She stumbled back, pressing a hand to her throat where his grip had been, feeling the residual heat from his fingers. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder of the danger she had narrowly escaped. She looked around the abandoned building, its dilapidated state a stark contrast to the turmoil within her. The silence was oppressive, broken only by her ragged breathing.

For a moment, she struggled to gather her thoughts, her mind a whirlwind of fear, confusion, and the painful sting of betrayal. How could he think she had rejected him? The realization that he had misinterpreted her actions cut deep, adding to her emotional turmoil. She sank to her knees, her body trembling as the weight of the encounter settled over her.

The room seemed colder now, the earlier warmth from his presence dissipating into a chilling emptiness. Her tears fell onto the dusty floor, creating tiny dark spots that mirrored the growing darkness in her heart. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the stark isolation of the moment.

Her eyes welled with tears as she replayed his words in her mind. The venom in his voice, the coldness in his touch, and the haunting promise of a darker future if they met again. She knew she had to pull herself together, to find a way to make him understand the truth, but for now, the enormity of what had just happened overwhelmed her.

In the stillness of the night, she felt an aching loneliness, a stark contrast to the brief, terrifying closeness they had shared. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to steady her breathing and gather the strength to stand. The path ahead was fraught with danger, and she knew she had to be stronger, more resilient, if she was to survive and find a way to reach him.

The building creaked around her, the sounds of its decay echoing her own sense of disrepair. As she stepped toward the exit, the flickering light seemed to fade, casting the room into deeper shadows. She was alone, but she carried with her a glimmer of determination, a faint hope that maybe, somehow, she could reach the boy he once was and pull him from the flames of his own making.

As she walked away from the abandoned building, her mind churned with a tumultuous mix of emotions. The encounter with Dabi, or perhaps Touya, had left her shaken to the core. Each step felt heavy, as if she were carrying the weight of the entire world on her shoulders.

Her thoughts kept circling back to the words he had spoken, the accusations he had hurled at her with such venom. How could he believe she had rejected him? How could he think she didn’t want him? The pain of his misunderstanding cut deep, slicing through her heart like a knife. She had spent years searching for him, longing for him, and now he stood before her, believing she had turned her back on him.

The night air was cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the heat that still lingered from his touch. She shivered, a shudder running down her spine, but it was not from the cold. It was from the knowledge that the path ahead would be treacherous, filled with obstacles and dangers she could scarcely imagine; but she would not falter. She would not give up. She would find a way to break through to him, to make him see the truth, even if it meant risking everything she held dear.

She picked her phone from her pocket to check the time: 4:00 a.m. The early hour felt like a cruel reminder of how little time she had left before her morning patrols began. Groaning bitterly, she realized she had to get ready quickly. The promise she made to her best friend to call him if and when she found Dabi lingered in her mind. Reluctantly, she scrolled through her contacts, the screen's soft glow illuminating her weary face. She decided to call him, even though she hated the idea of disturbing him. He was an early riser, and she was almost certain he’d be awake anyway, but there was always a chance he was still sleeping, and she hoped she wasn’t waking him up.

After a couple of rings, he finally picked up, his voice sounding wide awake, which relieved her a bit. “Hey there, lovely morning today,” he greeted, his tone bright and cheerful.

She raised an eyebrow in confusion, her exhaustion making it hard to process his upbeat demeanor. “Yes?” she responded, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“Yes,” he repeated, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “What’s up, birdie?”

“I found Dabi, and we talked,” she said, swallowing the lump that was building up in her throat again. The pain of the interaction was still fresh, her arms wrapping protectively around herself as she spoke. The night had started hopeful, but now she felt lonelier than ever. Her soulmate had just threatened to kill her, and he thought she didn’t want to be with him.

“How’d it go?” he asked, still sounding chipper and blissfully unaware. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he might know more than he let on about the villain's feelings for her.

“Well, I have a target on my head, and my number one hater is the one person who is supposed to love me,” she said, her voice breaking as she struggled to hold back tears. The weight of her words hung heavily in the air.

“Whoa, what do you mean?” he asked, his tone shifting to concern, the seriousness of her situation starting to sink in.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “He thinks I rejected him. He said I lied, that I didn’t care. He nearly killed me, but he decided to spare me this time.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, the tension palpable even through the phone. “That’s... intense,” he finally said, his voice softer, filled with empathy. “Are you okay?”

“Physically, yes. Emotionally... not so much,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I just don’t understand how everything got so twisted. He was my soulmate. I’ve been searching for him, trying to find a way to reach him, and now...”

“Now he’s a villain who thinks you don’t want him,” he finished for her, the reality of her words sinking in.

“Exactly,” she whispered, feeling the tears finally spill over, the emotional dam breaking. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t just let this go, but I don’t know how to fix it either.”

Her friend sighed deeply on the other end of the line, the sound filled with both frustration and determination. “We’ll figure it out together, okay? You’re not alone in this. We’ll find a way to make him understand.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her, the gesture bringing her a small measure of comfort. “Thanks,” she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude. “I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, birdie,” he replied gently, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “Now, get ready for your patrols. We’ll talk more later.”

She ended the call and took a moment to collect herself, the stillness of the night wrapping around her like a heavy blanket. Despite everything, she felt a glimmer of hope. With her friend’s support, she believed she could find a way to reach Dabi and make him see the truth. She wiped her tears away, took a deep breath, and steeled herself for the day ahead. The path would be challenging, but she was determined to navigate it, one step at a time.

With one last breath, she continued on the path back to the school, hoping that for some miraculous reason she could stay in and play chaperone to the kids. Despite only living there for one week, she had already almost fallen in love with the class.

[sillysillygoofygoose]

A Beach day with Nanami Kento Part Two!

MDNI!!! EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD!

Cw: Smut, breeding, daddy kink (only once), small mention of death.

Thank you all for your love on the first part 💕

Link to Part One!!

Previously:

"You'd be a good mama. I wove you." He says softly, you melt, touched by how appreciative he is.

Kento let's out an audible 'aw'.

"Love you too, Jiji." You respond, rubbing his back soothingly.

Kento was fighting his tongue not to repeat Yuji's words to you.

...

After a couple of hours in the blazing sun, Yuji decided that he was ready to go and ready to go now. The boy aggressively throws down the small plastic shovel that he was previously using to pack down the top of his crumbling sand castle, catching the attention of both you and Kento.

"Ughhh, I wanna be home. Dada, Y/N, can we please go?? It sooo hot." He stomps away, abandoning the small kingdom the three of you had just spent the upper part of forty-five minutes building. You hear Kento sigh, watching as his little boy hurriedly grabs scattered towels, angerily stuffing them into the open beach bag.

"Yuji, honey, please calm down." You reason, beginning to stand up and dust off the sand that stuck to your sunscreen-slicked legs.

In his small fit of rage, Yuji stubs his toe on the metalic support pole of the beach umbrella, falling backward dramatically. He tilts his small head back and begins full on sobbing, the pain in his little toe and the rough sand coating his body being the cherry on top for his building agitation.

"Alright." Kento breaths out, collecting the toys that built the mighty Nanami Empire.

Nanami Kento is a very patient man. However, one of his greatest pitfalls as a father is that he can not stand crying children. The high-pitched screams make him want to pull on his ears until they detach from the side of his skull. Luckily, that's where you came in. You fit into the equation like a missing puzzle piece.

You hike over to the small child, who is now looking up at you, big puppy dog eyes evident of exhaustion, tears streaking his chubby cheeks.

His stubby arms reach out for you, cries increasing in volume. You grab him off the sandy floor, hushing him quietly, bouncing him up and down softly. He clings onto you like his life depends on it, quickly calming down, sobs turning into soft sniffles.

Kento looks up from reorganizing the bag, shocked. How does she do it? God, how perfect can a woman be? Even when Yuji was throwing a completely blown out of proportion temper tantrum (as toddlers do), you didn't even huff, gently embracing the emotional boy.

Nanami smiled, relieved that his son found comfort and quieted down. He finishes packing up the rest of your items, walking over to his favorite pair. Yuji had passed out on your shoulder, a ghost of a smile present on his sleeping face. You're leaning your head on the smaller figure, the essence of a kind mother radiating off of the loving image.

Kento rests his hand on your upper back, catching your attention. You meet his eyes, staring into the honey brown souls.

"You really are so perfect for us. Such a beautiful girl, too." He smoothly expresses, for once in his life, speaking before thinking. Before calculating.

"You really think so?" You whisper, gazing softly at his lips.

"Mhm." He responds, beginning to lean in...

"Mama?" You hear a small mumble from your chest, tearing your focus away from the man next to you. Yuji is still dead asleep, slightly smacking his lips before nuzzling deeper into your neck.

"He must be dreaming about you... come. Let's get him home." Kento snaps back to reality, starting to grab the heaves of crap he somehow has to transport back to the car. You lightly pat Yuji on the back, almost as a 'Gee, thanks kid'.

...

The ride back to the Nanami residence was silent for the most part, both you and Kento just as tired out as Yuji. You felt yourself slightly drifting off when Nanami's large hand landed on your mid thigh. All you remember was gripping onto one of his long fingers before falling asleep yourself.

You woke on a suede couch, the fabric cool on your skin. You take in the familiar surroundings of the luxury condo, wrapped in a blanket that is busy combating the cool air conditioning.

"Oh good, you're awake." Kento walks into the spacely living room, two cups of tea in hand. He handed one to you before sitting across from you, studying your tired face.

"Don't worry, he's fed, showered, and asleep upstairs." Nanami smiles, picking up on the small look of worry present on your angelic features. He heard a small sigh of relief as you delicately lift the fragile, hand painted porcelain to your begonia-shaded lips.

"Thank you again, Kento. I really did have fun. You two are so special to me." It's Kento's turn to blush, his name rolling off your tongue like it was made to say it.

"Of course. You're really special yourself... you'd be a wonderful mother in the future. Have you ever thought about having your own kids?" Kento took a chance with the slightly personal question.

You look up at him, once again holding eye contact. Something in the tone of his was different. Almost suggestive, enticing to you.

"Uhm, yeah, yeah, actually. I would love to have kids." You stutter out, slightly taken a back.

"How many?" Rapid fire questions. Are you being interviewed for the job again?

"Hm, I'm not really sure. I think that's something that would come with time." You respond, unsure. Kento hums, seemly pleased with your answer. However, you have your own questions.

"Mr. Nana- I mean, Kento... what happened to Yuji's mother? If you don't mind me asking." A deep sigh exits the older man's mouth, making you immediately regret your question.

"Never mind, I'm so sorry... that was extremely inappropriate of me to ask." You immediately backtrack, covering your mouth, deciding you should've just stayed curious.

"No, no, don't apologize. It's alright. We separated before we knew she was pregnant with Yuji. We tried to make it work, but the flaws always overshadowed the strengths. She... she passed during childbirth. It really was a shame." Kento explains solemnly, clearing his throat as his eyes focus on the tea leaves left in his cup.

"Oh, I see. I really am sorry, Kento... sorry for your loss." Feeling your face drop, you quietly express your sympathy, the air around you thickens, becoming suffocating.

"It's quite alright. We get along just fine, don't you think?" He offers up a small smile, warming up the cool room. You nod, bowing your head as he takes your empty cup from your hand, walking it to the kitchen sink.

"You still look sleepy, let's head to bed, okay?" He turns, reassuringly rubbing your shoulder, guiding you to stand up. You furrow your brows, looking over your shoulder at the discarded blanket and pillow on the large couch.

"Don't be silly, you're not going to sleep on the couch... it's not good for your back. You can join me in bed. If that's alright with you, of course." Reading your thoughts before you even articulated them. You simply nodded again, still shaken up from the small feeling of guilt deep in your stomach.

...

Kento lended you a baby blue, oversized night shirt, watching as you walked out of the bathroom suite, the fabric falling almost to your knees. Your hair was still damp and slightly strewn after washing the smell of sunscreen and salt water off of your tired body. You looked as beautiful as ever to him.

The two of you crawl into the crisp sheets set atop of the memory foam mattress.

"Goodnight, Y/N." Kento speaks into the muted atmosphere of the shared king-sized bed.

"Goodnight. See you in the morning." You mumble, eyelids heavy and fighting to stay open.

...

Your eyes flutter open at the sound of a harsh beeping ringing out in the restful ambiance of the room. Eying the angry alarm clock, you attempt to sit up, stopped by a heavy weight on your waist. Kento has his strong arms wrapped around you, face nuzzled into your back. You shift in his arms, body heating up as his grip tightens at your scurrying. You gently glide your fingers through his blonde, disheveled locks, grazing your nails gently across his scalp.

"Kento... Kento, it's time to wake up." Your hand travels from his head to his neck and down to his muscular bicep, shaking him awake. He sits up, freeing you of his warm embrace, reading the alarm clock... four a.m.

Pushing multiple buttons, he stops the blaring alarm before laying right back down, pulling your back even closer to his bare chest.

"Kento, you need to get ready for work." You remind him, gently squeezing his forearm.

"Mmm, I know. Just lay with me, Y/N, baby. Just for a bit." He slightly presses his hips against yours, punctuating his request with his prominent bulge. You feel yourself clench around nothing as he groans, the pressure in his sweatpants building.

"Do you... do you want me to help you with that, Mr. Nanami?" Your voice shaking, anxious that you somehow got the wrong idea. He hums, moving your hand from his forearm to his growing erection.

You turn around in his arms, taking in his sharp features as you begin palming him through his thin sweatpants before completely pulling out his length. He looked unreal. Strong eyes softened, half lidded in pleasure. His normally stoic expression is broken, mouth hanging open, cheekbones tinted pink. Your fingertips lightly grazed the tip, sending sensations of euphoria through his still drowsy body. Slowly, you lower your head, keeping your eyes on his blissed-out expressions. You place kitten licks all over the head of his cock, each lick becoming progressively more lengthy. Before he can blink, you're taking his entire length down your throat, feeling each thick vein on your tongue.

His dick is just as gorgeous as he is. He was average length, but he made up for it in thickness. Your tiny hand can barely grip around the whole thing. The shaft a shade darker than his light tan skin, the head a blush pink. One prominent vein travels completely from the base, stopping right before his tip.

You bob your head up and down, small, muffled chokes escaping from your throat. Sucking in your cheeks, you create a strong suction around his member, making him buck his hips and moan.

"Oh fuck, Y/N. Stop, stop, stop, I'm gonna cum." Kento hurriedly blurts out. You try to keep your mouth on him, but he laces his strong fingers through your messy hair, pulling you off his dick with a 'pop'. You pout, eager to feel his cum hit your taste buds.

"C'mon baby girl, don't you want me to cum inside you?" He slurs, sitting up. You nod as he flips you over, hovering over you. His nimble fingers circle your clit, the cotton fabric of your panties sticking to your wet pussy. Wasting no time, he pulls the soiled fabric down your soft legs, almost salivating at the flower blooming between your spread legs.

"How about I give you your babies now, huh? Make you a pretty little mommy..." Kento whispers, nipping at your ear as he slides his erection up and down your aching cunt.

"Ah, please, please, Daddy, give me a baby. I want you to breed me. I need you."

That was all Nanami needed, pushing his fat dick inside your desperate pussy. He lets out a deep guttural groan, only for it to clash with your heavenly moan. You prop your legs up over his broad shoulders as he grips onto your hips, pushing himself as deep as he can reach. Your velvety walls entice him to snap his hips into yours harder, pounding you into the mattress.

"Fuck, wanted this for so long, sweetheart. So. Fucking. Long. You feel incredible, baby." He moans, trying to keep his breath steady. The two of you were in pleasured bliss together, the skin on skin contact overwhelming. You have found your nirvana.

"Oh Kento, you fuck me so good. God, I'm going to- I'm going to..." You throw your head back, clinging onto his shoulders.

"Go ahead, pretty. Cum for me." He cups your cheek, forcing you to gaze lustfully into his sharp honey eyes.

Everything goes white as the headboard bangs against the wall, Nanami fucking you through your orgasm. He follows close after you, the feeling of your soaking cunt clenching around him sending him over the edge.

He pushed your legs to your chest as he pulled out, holding onto your feet, hypnotized by the sight of his thick, white, creamy cum oozing out of your swollen pussy.

Licking his lips, he collected his own cum on his tongue, moving up to your fucked-out face. You open your mouth wide, allowing his tongue to intrude, mixing the combination of his cum and spit in your mouth.

He kissed your forehead, leading you to the bathroom, giving you privacy as he allowed you to take care of your business.

You settle back into bed, slipping on Kento's shirt as he went to shower, his rough fucking tiring you out.

You hear the bedroom door squeak open, revealing a small boy, hair sticking up in five different directions.

"Dada? What was that bang? Did something fall owver?.. Oh, good morwning, Y/N!" Yuji ran over to you, jumping onto the bed and cuddling into your side, quickly forgetting about the sound that startled him awake.

"Good morning, sweetie!" You held his small hand, disregarding his prior remarks.

...

Nanami steps out of the bathroom, a towel hanging from his wide hips. His heart melts at the sight in front of him... you and Yuji deep asleep, holding each other. He walks over to the two of you, big hands engulfing both of your smaller heads. His kisses both of your foreheads before getting dressed for work.

~Four year time skip~

"Mom, Mama! Hurry up! You have to see what Daddy taught me!" Yuji excitedly exclaims, running toward the ocean the second you reached the beach. You place your hand on your prominent baby bump, struggling to walk on the shifty sand under you.

"You doing okay, sweetheart?" Your husband Kento supports your back as he holds your hand, following your kid to the shore.

"Never been better." You respond, waddling along.

Eventually, you reach where your son was skimboarding on the thin waves crashing under his toes. He falls but quickly gets up, waving at you and his father. You both wave back like proud parents, smiling at your pride and joy. Kento pulls you close to him by your rounded waist, kissing the top of your head. You rest your head on his chest, smiling up at him. He smiles back.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Fool's Errand Pt 1

Part (1) of Fool's Errand, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Warnings: Back to some good, ol' whump here. Minor ptsd, blood, broken nose, needles, profanity

WC: 3,183

“Damn it, get down!!”

“I am! Any lower and I'll need a kriffing shovel!” I snapped back, tempted to mute him just to hear myself think.

“I’ve got eyes on her, Cross; just focus on finding us a way in!” Even Echo's voice held the faintest rush of unease.

We'd known this wouldn't be easy. They'd caught someone – some big-name politician I hadn't made much effort to remember, but the Republic deemed them important enough to send us behind enemy lines to get them back.

The Marauder lay hidden nearly a dozen klicks away, nestled amidst brambles and fallen logs until even I struggled to notice it. We’d stolen a pair of Separatist transports to approach the black ops site without raising much suspicion and split up to search the compound faster. Tech and Wrecker infiltrated the northern side, Echo and I came in from the south, and Hunter was on his own along the crumbling remains of the eastern wall with Crosshair posted in the nearby tree line. He’d violently opposed my going in, but we had no means of knowing what kind of state our target would be in when we found them.

The politician was the least of my concerns, though. I’d been on edge since entering those transports. The ping of the metal walkways against our boots, the hum of the engine, even the color of the walls… it was just too similar. But were weren't on Agamar, and I hated how softly the others were stepping around me. I hated even more the undeniable knowledge that I needed them to.

That tension hadn’t lessened as we reached the Separatist black site. It looked abandoned; scarce buildings in such a perfect state of intentional disarray as to almost promise nothing but ancient debris and decades of dust lay within, but Tech's scans confirmed massive power fluctuations underground. It wasn't a huge compound, but it didn't need to be. Barely a half dozen structures remained standing, skeletal framework partially hidden by an overgrowth we now used to our own advantage as we crawled through the dense brush, thorns somehow numerous enough and sharp enough to occasionally find purchase in the slim crescents of skin left unprotected between sections of armor.

Echo and I had just finished sweeping through the second building in search of an entrance to the lower level when the site’s defenses suddenly roared to life. Numerous turrets burst from the soil that, mere seconds prior has shown no trace of anything beyond untouched wilds, and we’d just managed to hide behind a partially caved-in room before being noticed.

I could hear dozens of gears whirring to life just beyond our dilapidated shelter, the harsh crunch of leaves and branches breaking beneath heavy, metallic feet. Droids were flooding the site. We were pinned down by the turrets. And Hunter wasn’t answering his com.

“Can we make it to the next structure?” Echo asked, voice forced into a whisper.

“Not yet.” There was a long moment of silence, and I could feel myself tensing more with each passing second, legs coiled beneath me. “Now!” We were moving before the hushed order fell silent, both crouched so low that we were practically crawling, one hand occasionally darting to the ground in a gate more natural to some forest dwelling beast, but our awkward appearance didn't matter. The half dozen droids mere meters to our right posed little threat in and of themselves, but revealing our presence now might cause untold numbers to swarm. If they had Hunter, our only hope to free him was to keep ourselves hidden.

My legs burned from the effort of keeping up with Echo. He moved as though he’d been born for such things, body stalking preternaturally through tall grass and biting bramble effortlessly, but I still found myself watching him, worried I'd note some hint of a falter in his stride, but whatever strain the motion surely wrought upon his residual limbs was a torture to which he was far too accustomed to show amidst the threat lingering over us.

“Down!” We dropped harshly to the ground, and my every instinct balked at the helpless position. Mere seconds passed before the almost musical chorus of shifting counterweights and metallic limbs raced through the foliage just feet ahead of us. Droidekas. The nervous tension dancing beneath my skin turned to dread in an instant, ice bursting through my chest in a rush of panic. I didn't want to notice the way Echo glanced back toward me, the depth of concern that tiny movement conveyed. The droid presence was no longer a simple annoyance. We were in danger.

Was Crosshair switching between com channels to warn Tech and Wrecker lest their chatter create a lethal distraction? Were they balancing the risk of striking first versus continuing what felt like a doomed plight to remain unnoticed? My lungs ached from the effort of controlling each breath, body eager to fall into the too tempting frenzy of fear.

Echo’s hand flared out, signaling me to move around his left flank before readying his pistol, attention trained toward the sound of machinery falling into formation. I knew at least fifteen meters still lay between us and the next building; knew that he was purposefully placing himself between me and the enemy units; that, even among this squad of elites, Echo was the most capable soldier I could hope to have guarding my back, but, still, I had to grind my teeth against useless objections, abhorred at the very thought of letting him act either as distraction or delay if we were seen.

That fear surged anew at every shuffle of leaves and snap of twigs as I crawled forward, stealing one final glance just as I passed him. He couldn’t see the plea in my eyes, the order begging to scream from lips carefully trapped between ground teeth that he not put himself in danger, but he didn’t have to. With the smallest movement, he looked toward me in kind and offered the faintest nod, and that tiny gesture was enough to push me on.

He waited until several feet separated us before he started after me, and something about that, about knowing he was following just behind me granted me a confidence I had no right feeling, determination numbing me to the burn in my arms as I hauled myself through an undergrowth that showed no sign of the wear it ought to have from the abuse of concealing a Separatist base.

When the ridge of a tattered roof finally jutted above the line of greenery, I couldn’t restrain the deep sigh of relief, but I had to remind myself that any façade of safety feigned by the crumbling walls granted only a fool’s comfort and forced myself to pause just shy of the entrance. Echo didn’t stop until he was nearly flush against my side, and we both waited with bated breath.

“Tech and Wrecker found an entrance. If you don’t find one in there, stay hidden until they report back.” Crosshair’s voice fell into a carefully detached hum. I wanted to respond, to offer some reassurance, but we couldn’t risk even that, so I merely watched in silence as Echo took point once more, waiting for his signal before following him into the derelict structure.

Once, it stood a couple stories high, brick walls more akin to a school than a prison, but there was no sign of such possibilities within any longer. Nature had reclaimed the half-dozen rooms and interconnecting hallways long ago. Ferns draped through shattered windows, and mounds of dirt collected in the corners reached halfway to the ceilings. There was no broken furniture nor remnants of belongings hidden amidst the rubble, and I found myself wondering if it had ever been anything more than this. Had the Separatists built it solely to be abandoned; its fate preordained to ruin from the start purely to act as camouflage for what horrors lay below? I wanted to hate them for it but knew it was fueled by naivety; knew that far more had been wasted for less in this war on both sides and that even more would be lost before there would be any hope of armistice.

Only after Echo stood did I move to regain my footing as well, body still hunched forward in that instinctive drive to hide as we searched each room in turn. When he paused in what must have been the central chamber, attention trained in the corner just to the right of the doorway, I stepped back toward the hall, carefully watching for any signs of encroaching danger, my own pistols at the ready.

“We’re heading in.” Echo stated seconds before the hiss of an airlock screamed through the tense silence.

“Copy.” Crosshair replied shortly. He hated this. I knew he hated this: being forced to wait behind as we tread beyond his sight, beyond his reach should something go wrong, and my heart ached knowing there was no comfort I could offer as I turned to follow his brother down the narrow porthole into what was surely a maze of identical passages designed to be inescapable.

No veneer of color was granted to bare metal walls and exposed purlins overhead, and what few lights flickered within granted only fleeting glimpses of the lifeless passageways. This place was not created for comfort. Every detail was made through cruel intent to rob those trapped here of even the thought of warmth, and I couldn’t force the memory of that filth-stained cell from my mind; the scent of stale moisture and blood and rot.

My stride must have faltered; my pace slowed or breath hitched. Something drew Echo’s attention back to me, and shame sank into my gut like something rancid and squirming, and I couldn’t find the strength to push it back in time to dismiss it entirely.

“You alright?” He whispered it, body leaning carefully over mine as though he could hide me from the nightmare surrounding us, and I hated the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to answer him directly.

“Let’s just get Hunter and the damn politician, and get out of here.” I nearly growled. He hesitated a moment longer, and I wanted to yell; to shout that there wasn’t time for this, to berate myself for causing even this short delay, shoulders pulling back with a determination fueled by the rage I felt toward myself for my weakness. He drew a slow breath before wrenching his focus back toward the long hallway, and a shaky sigh of relief escaped me.

I wouldn’t have noticed the port had Echo not stopped suddenly beside it, needing only to shoot a quick look for me to take watch as he plugged himself in. There was no cover here, nowhere we could hide if a patrol came upon us, and each second we lingered stoked the anxious certainty that we were moments from being found, but I didn’t waver, attention shifting between the direction we’d come from and the path ahead.

“Tech, Wrecker; looks like the target’s in the far west corner. Are you guys near there?”

“We are.” Tech responded quickly. “Have you located Hunter?”

“No, but we’ll head east and see what we can find.” My heart dropped at Echo’s response, and I fought to convince myself that that didn’t mean they didn’t have him; that didn’t mean he was…

Echo disconnected from the port, and I forced myself back to attention. He didn’t say anything more before continuing forward at a quick trot, weapon held loosely before him. Our footsteps boomed around us, mocking our every attempt at quiet. We slowed at every intersection, carefully searching down each hall before crossing. It was a perfect grid, an even number of paces separating each corner for what felt like eternity.

I heard it first. It was wet. An occasional crunch of metal against meat. I knew that sound. I knew the heat of abused flesh swelling beneath the assault; knew they would kill him long before he talked.

My hand was reaching for him before consciously acknowledging the movement; a quick tap on Echo’s shoulder singling him to stop. He needed only to pause before he heard it, too, and I watched his body tense as he reached the same conclusion I had, breath quickening beneath a flare of rage and dread. Without a word, we took off toward the wretched sound. There was a rhythm to it. Two strikes and a pause. Two strikes. Pause. I couldn’t hear what they asked in those fleeting seconds between, but my mind wouldn’t let it remain quiet long enough to wonder.

Who ordered the hit?

I swallowed back the bile that tasted too akin to rancid water.

We barely slowed at crossings now, nearly sprinting through the underground base.

Who placed the bombs?

Two strikes. I could hear him cough in the brief silence that followed, heard the splatter of liquid against metal and knew it was blood.

Echo looked over his shoulder to catch my gaze, to make sure I was ready, before tearing through the door. An alarm blared. The lights flashed a deep red that paled beneath the blue of our blaster fire filling the small cell. His armor was gone, blacks torn where they’d snagged on metal fists. I didn’t count them, nor did I need my overlay’s targeting system as Echo and I stormed the room, both strafing the enemy units in a frenzied rush.

I vaguely noticed the lethal elegance of the man beside me as he dove between a pair of B2s, rolling to his feet behind them, pistol already raised and firing before he’d come to a stop. I ducked to the side just as another droid raised its arm, the wall behind me hissing as metal melted beneath the powerful, crimson shots. It didn’t get the chance to fire again, and I watched with eager satisfaction as the towering machine fell heavily to the floor.

It took mere seconds. I didn’t have time to find a new target before Echo felled the few remaining enemies, sparing only a fleeting thought toward a figure among the metal corpses that was far too soft to belong among the droids, nor did I pause to wonder if it had been my shot or Echo’s that claimed their life. Whoever they were, I was too happy to leave them to rot among the destruction they sowed, attention training instead on Hunter.

Already, Echo was working to sever the bounds securing his wrists to the metal slab behind him, and I rushed forward to catch him as his first arm fell free, wincing at the stifled groan my touch drew from him.

“T… took yuh… long ‘nough.” He slurred, jaw barely moving around the strained words.

“Not our fault you let yourself get caught at a kriffing black site.” Echo retorted, already working on his other wrist.

“S… st’nned m…” His reply broke into an agonizing flurry of coughs, thick drops of crimson smearing across my chest plate.

“Alright, enough – you can make all the excuses you want after I patch you up,” I interrupted, a gentle warning in my hushed voice, “For now, just try to slow your breathing and stay awake, alright?” His head shifted toward me in silent consent, and my worry spiked. He was barely recognizable from the sickeningly wrong angle of his nose, and already his eyes were nearly swollen shut. His ribs were far worse off, however. I could see the heavy bruising through tears in his shirt, could hear the rattle in his every hitched, shallow breath.

“I presume the alarm indicates that you’ve found Hunter?” Tech asked just as the other shackle clicked open. Hunter fell against me with a choked grunt, and I tried not to imagine the pain shooting through his torso.

“Easy; just sit back.” I murmured softly, carefully guiding him to the ground.

“Yeah. He’s hurt, but Doc’s with him.” Echo responded, already treading back toward the door to watch for incoming troops. He paused briefly at the figure lying amongst the droids, but I didn’t see what he did, attention devoted to helping the wheezing man before me.

“Hunter, I want you to focus on me for a bit, okay?” My voice left in a whisper void of the urgency with which I dug through my bag. He hummed some manner of a reply, but I couldn’t make out anything akin to actual speech.

“We located the prisoner, but… it seems we were only given a portion of the information regarding this mission.” I had to stifle a surge of frustration that I could hear mirrored in Tech’s clipped statement as my scanner buzzed to life.

“Great.” Echo groaned.

“We’ll rendezvous at the Marauder and discuss how to proceed. Crosshair, is-” He was interrupted by a violent shockwave tearing through the base.

“That… wasn’t me.” Wrecker said hesitantly after a moment of tense silence.

“All clear.” I nearly scoffed at the haughty pride in Crosshair’s voice before returning my attention to the scan results, stomach twisting as I read over his injuries.

“Looks like you’re gonna live, Sarg.” I managed to tease softly despite my own dread, earning a groan heavy with mock disappointment. “You’re going to be pissing blood for a week, though.” He let out an even less thrilled grunt that drew a quiet chuckle from me. “How about I get some pain killers in you, and you let me help you back to the ship?” His eyelids shifted but weren’t able to fully open. Still, he offered no objection when I laid an autoinjector against his neck, and my worry grew at how quickly his body went limp.

“How is he?” Echo asked, voice tense as he walked back toward us. My gaze caught on a sack thrown over his shoulder. “His armor.” He explained, much to my relief. They hadn’t had him long, so it shouldn’t have surprised me that they wouldn’t have had time to dispose of it, but it was still a stroke of luck that he was able to find it so easily.

“He’ll be alright… but we should hurry.” Even through our opaque visors, I knew he felt the intensity with which I held his gaze, that he understood the truth behind my carefully even reply. He gave a small nod and dropped to a knee at Hunter’s other side.

“Hey, brother, think you can hold on to me?” My lips pulled into a small smile at the gentleness of Echo’s deep voice, the care in his movements as he eased Hunter’s arm over his shoulders. I threw my bag back on and followed suit with his other arm.

“Mmm… m’alri’.” His dismissal faded into a barely audible mumble as we pulled him upright, head slumping toward his chest.

“Those drugs won’t last long.” I warned quietly. Again, Echo responded with a short nod, and, together, we began the lock trek back toward an exit I doubted I’d ever find without him.

Next Chapter

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[llondonfog]

No pls 😭 i hate the idea that raising Silver was a fun experiment out of curiosity to see if he could love a human or not, and that the answer still isnt clear. I hate the idea of Silver, the son of their enemy, being raised to be nothing but a soldier to serve Malleus in some poetic irony. I feel there’s love there but I’ve almost been transported into Silver’s mind where everything is melancholy and unclear. Does he matter as much as I believe he does 😭😭😭 or is it just a cruel tale of some foundling human always meant to be put somewhere else when the fairies are done with them

The thing is, is Silver capable of accepting the fact that Lilia's happiest moment is Malleus' hatching? Yeah, of course, who wouldn't. The man suffered for years, absolutely driven mad with guilt over Meleanor's death and the fear that he wouldn't be able to keep his promise and hatch the one thing that remained of her, the proof of her existence and love. He had to hatch Malleus, because Meleanor believed that he could, that he somehow carried enough love in those tired, aching, and emptied bones, a love that she saw in him when he couldn't even believe it of himself. If he couldn't, it would be one more insult to her name, a failure yet again, a last betrayal of her trust that he couldn't afford and wouldn't survive.

So that weeping? He's so damn dizzy with relief and love and affection for this silly creature inside that's a symbol of the love of the most important people in his life, how could one react in any other way? How fragile and vulnerable, to know that the happiest moment in Lilia's life is to realize after hundreds of years, he was capable of that love all along.

And Silver sees this— he sees the lengths that Lilia went to in order to hatch Malleus, the horrible abuse he stoically suffered from the Senate, the massive disrespect for all that he had lost and sacrificed. Of course he'd accept that this is Lilia's pivotal moment, the bittersweet reward for centuries of despair.

But on the other hand, Silver; a boy who has lost equally, if not more. He's been cast out of his own time, four hundred years into the future, where everyone and anyone who might have known him or his family (save for Lilia) has been long since dead, the kingdom he might have ruled long crumbled to dust. Is it even a footnote in the history textbook he reads? Is there any mention of the Knight of Dawn, of Princess Leia? Anything at all besides the ring in his hand and Lilia's memories to prove that they existed, that they were real, that they loved and wanted him as much as Meleanor had loved Malleus?

All he has, all he's known, is Lilia. Lilia, who found him, who woke him from the spell as the one fated to truly love him. Lilia who thought of killing him upon learning who had sired him, Lilia who raised him to be a guard, to serve those his father once stood against. Lilia who wondered if he could ever love a human, a question that I agree hasn't fully been answered (or acknowledged by Lilia himself) if we are to associate the fact Silver still bears the effects of the sleeping curse with the belief that either Lilia hasn't called him his son and confessed his love, or if Silver still struggles with self-love himself (and we can get into a whole debate over his self-worth and his view as a sacrificial tool, that's an endless discussion).

Lilia . . . whose happiest moment has nothing to do with the boy who calls himself Lilia's one and only son.

And regardless of how I fully understand why Malleus' hatching is that moment, it's still so fucking sad to me.

Your whole life is centered around this one person whom you love more than anyone else— your short, human life— and in reality, you didn't even feature in that person's dream. We only saw Silver's past due to the blot, memories that were completely out of order and not in sync with Lilia's true dream at all.

And Silver will never harbor resentment over this, he will always place his family and loved ones first, but damn it, I can be a little miserable about it. All that trauma we went through with the last update, and now we learn that finding Silver and learning to love the son of his greatest enemy (the son of the person that killed Meleanor!) wasn't Lilia's happiest moment?

Was it just for the poetic irony? I really hope not. I really hope that TWST gives the conversation that Lilia and Silver need to have the due gravity it deserves, because Lilia needs, whether Silver realizes it or not, to look that boy in the eye and tell him that he loves him, he's always been his son, and no matter what their pasts may show, he's been Silver Vanrouge all along.

[wifey-ohara]

ok ok I got an idea

what if Miguel ohara found an orphan who was a spider and decided to raise her🥺

I love this sm🥺🥺🥺

Under my wing

Fatherfigure! miguel&spidy!teen!Fem! Reader

Notes: some angst at the start but the rest is fluffy, good dad miguel, distrustfull reader at first, road trip writing, hcs and drabbles, can you tell i can't write good father figures? That's bc mine doesn't like emotional support:) not proof read

💙Miguel was fighting off an anomaly with some other spider people, shouting orders left and right, when he ordered some feral-looking spider and she went exactly against his order which he was gonna follow them, save her and then scold her about being reckless

🩵but then he noticed that that specific spider was not from his team

💙he saw her swing forward, hit the anomaly with both legs, knocking it off it's feet, and he took that chance and tied it up with webs

🩵she did a couple flips and landed, looked back, and miguel could feel her intense stare at him

💙he was about to call out for her, and maybe even invite her to the spider society

🩵With a roll of your eyes and a "tsk" you jumped forward, swinging away

💙when miguel returned, he searched up your earth and information about you

🩵he found out that you only a teenager living a double-life, been bitten by a spider as a child, and that your parents were your canon and that you're alone in there

💙so he visits your earth a lot to check on you

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~you said goodbye to your friend and watched them disappear from your sight, leaving you with that uncomfortable feeling of eyes on you, you felt this way alot ever since those many spiders appeared the other day

With a sigh you walked over the little abandoned apartment complex you lived in, put your back pack there and put on your spider suit to patrol the streets

Miguel on the other hand, he only got more protective of you and needing to keep you safe as he watched from afar

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🩵you didn't see miguel again until another gaint anomaly destroyed your home

💙you were just taking the sight in, the rubble, the dust, the destruction, another home crumbling before your own eyes, and again you couldn't save it, so you just stared at it, thinking what stuff of yours survived,probably none

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You sighed, deeply, then, your spidey senses were ringing in your head, you turned around, ready to fight whoever it is, pulling down your mask

It was that big spider-man, and you felt uneasy about his stare, but you pulled your mask off anyway

" what" you attacked,no actual violence in your voice, you were so tired, and now even more homeless then before

"you're looking at the apartment complex a little too long" he answered, calm, yet somehow knowing? You hated that

"yeah well i lived there" you rolled your eyes

"it looks abandoned?" he inquired yet teased, you hated the brain games he's playing

"i never said others do, also cut the crap, what do you want" you snapped weakly

"ok" he lifted his forearms in front of him "i noticed that your are most times alone, and homeless as it turns out and i wanted to invite to the spider society" he offered

You were quiet for a moment

"so it was you" you yelled, annoyed "why the fuck were you stalking me like that, was it so hard to

talk to me?"

"no but i need to know you before inviting people into my society" he reasoned

With a scoff you asked "what's this- pfft- i don't know spider group thing?"

"a society from people just like you from other universes, team up and fight off what might be in the way of the smooth running of multi-verse, seeing your circumstances, i think you'd like it" he adviced.

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🩵And boom! You→in spider society!!

💙you sticked to miguel's side most time, he didn't mind one bit

🩵you'd sit in his office while he works, scrolling on your phone/tablet (or whatever you like) that miguel got you despite you arguing that he didn't have to

💙"I've seen the kids carrying them around, i think its important to y'all or something " he argues,knowing damn well that its a luxury thing

🩵you get him lunch everyday and you two eat it together, talk about stuff and all that father/daughter all that good stuff

💙you two joke around lots too! You'd crack a joke and he'll chuckle and add to it until you're crying laughing

🩵you join him on most missions, its more of you swinging and playing around and helping whenever you can, and he actually fights it off

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"oh my god!" you yelled when he stopped beside you "are you spider man!?" you asked him, acting like a fan girl who just saw her dream idol

His wide eyes turned into an eye roll at you as he swung away again

You laughed about to get down from the wall you were clinging on, when it broke with some force, knocking you down

A surprised noise tore off your throat as you fell down, you turned around, your back facing the ground, looking for something to web yourself to

On the other hand, miguel felt the life leave his body

He's losing A daughter, again, he couldn't let that happen

He swung to you, wrapping you in red webbing just as you webbed yourself to another building, he pulled you up to him and held you

"are you ok!" he checked frantic, looking you over for the smallest cut

"I'm fine" you smiled "it just caught me off guard "

He sat you both on a surface, gears turning in their head, then he took a deep breath "go back to HQ" he told you, voice gentle

"what? Why!?" you asked, surprised by his offer

"just do what i say.. Please" he pleaded

"alright.." you argeed, releasing his arms as they lowered from your shoulders

Stepping back, clicking a few bottoms on your watch, making a portal appear behind you

"be safe!" you said, before stepping into it

•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•

💙you two didn't talk about that day since

🩵you of course knew about his daughter and past

💙 that day, he acted weird, and you just thought that it was because he had a long day

🩵he became more protective of you, not letting you go to as many missions as before, it annoyed you a bit but you chalked it up to you being reckless and careless and he couldn't have you fucking up missions

💙he'd call you things like "mija" or "niña" yk indearments and cutesy stuff like that

🩵you're so petty most times, and you like to get under his skin so you and lyla gang up on him

💙he doesn't like hobie being around you, but you do, soo that's that..

🩵he teaches you (mostly technology) stuff and answes all your questions

💙after a year and some months, you gave him "the best father" gift card on Father's Day and he went home and cried about it

🩵after that he became even softer (somehow) with you

💙"I'm proud of you"s and "good job kid"s were a reaccuring

🩵he asked to move in with him from the HQ rooms and you agreed, and hugged him

💙he spends more time off now, with you, learning more about you hobbies and interests, cheering you on

🩵you started calling him dad, he teared up the first few times when you did, still warms his heart everytime

💙he helps you with school, and not in a "WHAT'S 5 TIMES 7 while you cry " kinda way lol

🩵he scares off any dating possibilities too

💙if you have a bad day, he'd be a lil sad that you didn't call him first thing, but he'd buy you/make you your favorite food and sits with you and listen to you ramble about it if you want, if not, he'd sit with you on the couch watching a movie

🩵he lets you do wierd things on his face ( "dad they're called face maskes!)

💙he tells you dad jokes ironically, you always roll eyes at him

🩵you're an endless supply of old man jokes ("mija I'm not even that old what the fuck")

💙so yeah,it's happy vibes all around

You guess it, next is probabs platonic hobie

[gooppoo]

ok but imagine subby whiny jake

i would love to imagine that. hc coming right up!

whining.

Requests Closed!!

mdni.

warnings: sub!Jake, you tied him up hehe, handjobs, teasing, edging, you're just a menace tbh

Jake had asked for this.

Typically you were the one being 'taken care of.' Which usually meant Jake had complete control over the situation

And that was nice, both of you were always left satisfied

But sometimes you have to switch it up a little bit, and Jake was the one to ask for that!

He asked you, "Can you tie me up? Wanna see how long I can go."

And you doubled checked with him, "Are you sure? Do you want to do a safe word?"

"I don't think it'll get that far. We're done when you're done."

It seemed that Jake didn't know you as well as he had thought.

You took the dominate roll very seriously, and very naturally, too

The entire time you had a vixen like look in your eye, an evil - but somehow still soothing - smirk on your lips

After Jake was secured, you let your pointer drag across his arm and around to his chest, up under his chin

"Not too late to back out."

He matched your smirk, "Who do you think I am?"

That was your signal to give him all you had

You found yourself perched on his lap, palms exploring his chest and abs, sometimes swirling a braid around your finger

You'd let your lips hover inches away from his and force him to close the gap, do most of the work, too

Then your lips were dusting against his neck, nipping and licking in places until you heard him begin to whine

His arms started tugging at his restraints, but you ignored him, continuing to leave a faint purple patch near his collar bone

Meanwhile, your nails teased the skin on his torso until they were on his thighs, edging awfully close to the growing tent beneath his loincloth

He sighed, "What're you doing?" Frustration creeping along his features.

You didn't answer, only flashed him a stern glance, then continued

Slowly, you shifted his garment to the side and revealed him

You took his heavy length into your hands and let your fingers wrap around his base, your chilly fingertips warming to his temperature

He hissed, quick to bite down on his lip to mask the sounds trying to escape

Again you glanced at him through your lashes, your eyes speaking more than whatever you had to say

Keeping this eye contact, you started stroking him languidly and watched his demeanor crumble

His brows furrowed when you chuckled at him

"Wh-what? Shit..."

You directed your focus at his tip, and kissed away anymore questions he had for you. There was a noticeable difference in his stiffness after your lips parted

Picking up the pace, you flicked your wrist faster and faster, watching his chest rise and fall and his pupils dilate

When his gasping became unmistakable whimpering, and his jaw began to clench, you slowed your hand

"W-wait wait wait-" he huffed "No no no!"

Jake knew exactly what you were doing

You pouted at him, "Oh...I'm sorry. Were you going to cum?"

"Yes!" He exasperated, his shoulders flexing as he wriggled against the ropes

You tsked him mockingly, "Should've came when you had the chance..."

And truthfully, you would've left it at that, but there was a look about his face that made you feel cruel leaving him as is

There was a genuine frown and grunt of frustration, perhaps even tears were forming?

"But...I guess I can give you another chance. You have to cum when I say so."

Jake nodded feverishly, choking out his words, "Yes! Yes...please."

So your hand found Jake's length again and smeared his pre-cum along his inches

Like before, you started slow, letting him enjoy the feel - this time he was more jumpy, more vocal

Sometimes he'd even buck his hips a little to fuck your palm, but you'd pin his hips into place and glare at him

When his groaning grew to a certain volume, you flicked your wrist faster

Jake swore and whined and grumbled, afraid of when his moment to paint his abdomen white would come

"Cum, Jake."

He didn't expect it so soon, and so it was a little difficult to produce his orgasm, but nonetheless he did

Spurts of creamy white splotched onto your fingers and against his abs

The feel of his dick twitching in your hand as you pumped his cum against him was nothing less than sinful

You made sure there wasn't anything else left

Jake slumped and fought to catch his breath, yelping when you'd even graze him

Lifting his gaze, you held his eyes as you cleaned your fingers of his dripping seed, taking your time to dip into the crevices of your hand and suck on your digits

This image was burned into Jake's mind

It also had blood rushing below his belly button, and you felt it against your thigh

You hummed, "You think you could handle more?"

Jake paused for a moment, unsure if his body could endure all the sensations it had just gone through

Yet, he reminded you, "We're done when you're done."

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest Halloween - Greed

Summary: Eddie Munson has some regrets.

Word Count: 1031

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Minor FOI compliance, friendship, angst, guilt, regret, self-doubt, self-hatred, desperation, implied trauma responses

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn't start on the first day, you can still participate.

Tagging @the-unforgivenn @1lostsoul0fishbowl upon request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Tuesday, October 29th 1985

Let the record show that Edward J. Munson was a greedy piece of shit.

Of course he was, why wouldn't he be?

He was an attention whore.

A power-hungry fiend when it came to Dungeons and Dragons.

And he sought fame and fortune through his band. Enough that he pretty much broke them up and abandoned them at the first chance when he knew they wouldn't be able to succeed, but he would.

Except he wasn't.

He wasn't those things.

Deep down, he knew he wasn't and his friends knew it too.

They'd forgiven him but he'd taken a while to forgive himself and feel like himself again after the whole demo tape saga. After the idea of a record deal was just dust in the wind, just like his dad, and Paige...

How many times had he apologized to Gareth and Jeff? Or Ronnie and Doug? How many things had he done to make it better? To show them that he meant it when he said that he was gonna be different.

Things were different.

Their friendships were repaired and new friendships were forged. Everything felt a little less dire now that he'd seen his life crumble before his eyes...and then repair itself through hard work and effort.

Things weren't just different, though; they were actually better. There was hope and determination; they could get places, they could make a name for themselves, if only they worked hard enough. No man left behind, no more dickery.

Well, maybe a little bit when he wrote it into a Hellfire campaign.

Sometimes he felt it creeping inside of him though.

It was never obvious until it was too late.

Until he was demanding absolute perfection from his bandmates, because he knew they could do better.

Like he did tonight.

They had their Halloween set at the Hideout to a surprisingly larger crowd than they were used to. Nothing awe-inspiring, just a handful of costumed couples pre-gaming before a party and some younger office schlubs looking to take advantage of Bev's $5 buckets.

But they'd been getting more applause than they were used to, and they all wanted to chase that high.

Especially Eddie.

They'd been doing alright, really getting into their groove. It really felt like that shitty makeshift stage was in some amphitheater for thousands because of that little crowd cheering for a bunch of metalheads dressed as vampires.

Then they got to a last minute addition to their set, one that they hadn't been able to really nail during practice on Saturday because of their Halloween pranking escapade.

In hindsight, Eddie should've have ever let that wrath get the better of him, but he was just so damn done with being treated like shit.

He should've known that, somehow somewhere, it would come back and bite them in the asses.

It started off without a hitch, they were in the groove...and then Dave fumbled the bass.

Actually, he didn't just fumble it; he wrecked their whole cadence and threw them all off.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized nervously as the song came to a halt. "Sorry you guys. Let's start again. I'll get it right this time."

Eddie, thrown out of the headspace he got into when he performed, floundered as he tried to respond. And the audience snickered at their flubs. Which embarrassed him, and made him upset.

Which made him spiral.

They're laughing, they're laughing at us.

This whole week has been shit so far; at least this set should've been perfect. If we can't even recover from one little missed note, how do we ever expect our music to get us anywhere?

How are we gonna get out of Hawkins? How am I ever gonna get out of this shithole?

They're laughing at us, they're laughing at me.

"No," he commanded and then straightened his shoulders, ready to play again. "Let's just move onto the next song. We've practiced it more."

"No, Ed," Dave insisted and did his own self-adjustment. He stretched his neck and wiggled his fingers. "I've got it this time."

Eddie's short fuse, unfortunately, burned out in record time; he turned on Dave and got right in his face.

"And I said no," he said through gritted teeth. "We move on. We're never gonna make it one day if we're not perfect. You need to be perfect Dave."

"I'm sorry, Ed."

Sorry wasn't good enough. How many times had he said sorry and it still didn't make things better. How many times had his father said sorry and he still was the words

"Or you need to get lost."

The words were out of Eddie's mouth before he even realized.

And then all he tasted was the bitterness of regret.

For a second, he begged any deity or demon that might be listening that it wouldn't blow up in his face. He hoped that it would just motivate Dave instead of hurt him, but he should've known that it was too late. And that no one was listening to his pleas.

There wasn't a god or fate or devil controlling his actions; he only had himself to blame.

As he watched Dave's eyes darted back and forth between his, and he witnessed the tears built up in them...he knew he'd fucked up.

"Fuck you Eddie," Dave spat at him, voice broken and barely audible, and then he turned and stormed off stage and out the back door of the Hideout

Jeff and Gareth's protests and accusations at Eddie fell on deaf ears though.

He knew he needed to go after Dave and apologize; he knew he had to make it better. Instead he just stood there and replayed it all in his head.

Fuck you Eddie. Fuck you Eddie. Fuck you Eddie.

Until it wasn't said in Dave's voice. It was his own.

Edward J. Munson was a greedy piece of shit.

He knew that he was; you couldn't convince him otherwise.

He was too harsh. Too volatile.

And because of that, he hurt his friends.

But, as he ran after Dave so he could apologize, he knew he needed to make it better.

He was the only one who could.

[swashbucklery]

Out of curiosity why do you ship sabine and shin ?

Okay anon so I am trying to figure out how to approach this ask because I know that this fandom has a real problem with bad-faith actors looking to troll Wolfwren shippers and I do not have the patience to deal with that, but also I do want to talk about them because they're lovely.

So. If you are asking because you're a troll, the answer is that I'm a big mean lesbian who likes ruining Star Wars and gets off on making innocent fanboys cry, #sorrynotsorry, it's part of my Terrible Queer Ruining Agenda and I am going to be doing it every second Tuesday until society as you know it has crumbled into gay dust.

If you're not a troll: because they hit this very particular combination of Trope Buttons that makes me ever so happy, anon!

Because it's about - like, there are ships that I love because they are a type of loving partnership that entrances me, where I see myself or see the type of love that speaks to my soul and want to enjoy the process of rolling around in it like a cat in nip. Then there are ships that I love because I'm attached to a particular character where like - this blorbo deserves the world and that includes a healing love, a warm love, a love that cultivates a space for them to rest after the harsh world around them has bruised them ever so.

THEN there are ships where - the dynamic fascinates me and I want to dig deeper into it. Where it's not about cultivating love as much as it is taking what's on screen to its gayest and most extreme possible endpoint, and that's where Sabine/Shin really gets me.

It's about the deep obsession of nemeses and the way that can feel inherently queer. It's about the ways that they are both mirrors and opposites. The way that Sabine carries so much anger and self-loathing and shame and guilt in her little heart and constantly pretends that she doesn't. The way that limits her throughout the series is riveting to me.

It's the idea of Shin, who in may ways is a more successful Jedi but in other ways is a sad, lonely little weirdo who has no community except for this weird old man and pretends that she's fine with it but can't be.

The way that they are both successes and failures in ways that mirror each other, the way that they orbit each other as nemeses and fight constantly but in their darkest moments have a weird little glimmer of - not love, but the beginnings of compassion.

And I have seen lots of writers and artists who look at that glimmer and see it as the beginning of a 200k slowburn story where they bicker and argue and slowly tenderize each other into being people who can be vulnerable, who learn to soften their prickly edges to fit around each other. And that's wonderful, and that's a beautiful way to ship Sabine & Shin.

For me, it's more about digging into that weird, fucked up little place of what if they didn't. What if they stayed fucked up and didn't soften but those orbits got closer and closer together. What if it wasn't toweringly romantic what if the orbit was the path of a comet colliding with a moon. What if that was somehow what each of them needed even though they both hated needing it. What does it feel like to confront the fact that sometimes our desires and what we want our desires to be don't align? What would it be like to envelop that in the complex ten-dimensional web of denial that both of them embody; desiring but pretending not to desire, indulging but pretending not to indulge. How far could that go before it hit a crisis point? What would that crisis point be?

There are so many stories there and that's fascinating and a thing that I find fun to explore in fiction, anon. If that's not for you, that's totally alright but there might be other dimensions that I described above where they ping with your interests more.

Or, they might just not be for you, and that's also okay.

[cherryjuicegf]

"What's that thing you keep saying to Yarpen everytime you meet?"

Jaskier's face, buried into the crook of her neck, surfaces for a moment to look at her questioningly. Yennefer does not grant him a glance back. Only, her hand continues to stroke at his hair absentmindedly as she stares out the window, at the setting autumn sun.

He knows at once, of course. There are few things that torture him in his life, but few as they are, they leave little room for mercy.

He sighs. "Well," he mutters, somehow unwillingly, "it happens to be my full name."

Yennefer's eyebrows raise in amusement, the corners of her lips slightly twitching. He thinks of kissing them, the way he has done and will do, soon, but perhaps not now, for he has settled warmly in her arms and the curious scrunch of her nose is far too endearing from down here.

"Hm. You're a funny little thing..." Her fingers scratch playfully at his head and he feels himself blushing. Then, finally, she looks at him. Daring. "I want to hear it."

His heart drops to his stomach, just a little, and he suspects she feels its absence under her hand because she keeps on staring, waiting. Her eyes glint with unspoken thirst, gentle like that of a little kid discovering a shell buried underground.

A shell, maybe, of an old self. One that he shies away from now, before her. He shakes his head.

"Ah, it's not important." What's gotten into her now to unearth this, of all things? "It's ugly anyway."

Yennefer rolls her eyes, fond, insistent.

"Come, now," she prompts and her voice is oh, so soft that his heart almost crumbles back to its place, just to feel the sound vibrate on her skin. A cunning smile. "Do I not have the right to know my husband's name? I may even use it."

At once, he laughs. Silent, surrenderring, certain there is no escape and it's so unfair and so, so sweet, the way she forces his own hand to dig inside his chest.

His face returns to its hiding place into her neck.

"Julian," he says, a bitter taste. "Julian Alfred Pankratz."

She hums, satisfied. Now that she's seen it, the relic, she averts her eyes.

"Why use it, then?"

Jaskier muffles a chuckle against her skin, trapped. He considers not answering. But it's not like she will not know anyway. And maybe he has been alone in knowing for too long.

The images of another life flash before his eyes and he winces in distress.

"Perhaps," he swallows, shrugs, "it sounds more imposing." Fraudulent attention, false power, enough to feign importance. Reeking more than royal. He smiles. "At least, I thought so when they called me that. A bit scarier."

He thinks, the name of a flower is not always heavy enough to rock the ears, and this is why he chose it for himself. Only, perhaps other ears are more welcoming to what is heavy to the tongue.

Then, again, it didn't make much of a difference, did it?

Yennefer sighs, brows slightly furrowed as though pensive, working it in her mind. It's almost a relief, the lack of impression it's left on her.

"Julian..." she whispers after a while, not so much calling him by his name as feeling it on her tongue, letting it flood her mouth. His whole body shivers in her arms. Soft, light, like a feather's caress, she feels it, dusts it like she would a rare finding settled between her hands. She squints her eyes, picks apart every sound. "Julian, Julian..."

A lump is suddenly choking his throat, and he can't help but smile, let out a breath that has been weighting on his chest.

"Strange," he breathes, laughs. "It sounds beautiful when you say it. It sounds..."

"Important?" Yennefer smiles faintly and meets his gaze. He smiles back, grateful. Nods. "That's good," she shakes her head, lowers her look just a bit as a thought clouds her eyes. "It's good... to hear your name uttered like it's something precious."

Jaskier parts his lips to say something but forgets it at once. He stays there, still, staring at her face and the way the evening paints her eyes in a deep haze, and makes her look even softer than he could ever have imagined her. Glowing, like a gleaming stone. That's what it is, then.

He grins and sits up to look at her properly, to take her in.

"That's right, Yennefer of Vengerberg," he whispers, slow like a prayer, tender like a poem, and brushes her hair back, finds her eyes.

Then, he holds her face gently in his hands, and she leans into the touch to lay her own name between them in return. And he kisses, at last, the smiling corners of her lips.

"Something precious indeed."

[fairyhaos]

i just reread your synaesthesia (is that the right spelling 💀) for cheol and it just gave me super old, super gentleman vampire cheol vibes and i can't stop thinking about it 😩

(+yoon jeonghan, a menace, even more so as a vamp)

👀 so.... 95 line as vampires?

[95 line ver] [96 line ver] [97 line ver] [maknaez ver]

seungcheol

has definitely been around for several centuries at least. no one knows how old he is, only that he's, like, really old. honestly is probably a pureblood vampire, having been born as one to an incredibly powerful and formidable family. has been actively fighting against old vampire traditions about superiority complexes and the disgusting, bloodthirsty expectations ingrained into generations. very civilised, but also incredibly intimidating. likes to show off to newborn vampires and leave them terrified for their lives. has somehow mastered the art of looking sexy while draining a human being of their life

jeonghan

the most ethereal looking vampire ever. carries around a parasol with him on really sunny days, because yeah the myths about vampires crumbling to dust in the sun might not be true but he has delicate skin okay and he burns more easily than the other vampires </3 tells every vampire he meets that he has a body count of over a thousand. no one knows which kind of body count he means and he smiles so deviously that no one is brave enough to ask. when he's in bat form he can often be found sleeping in the awnings of some abandoned cathedral , but if he's not then he's definitely terrorising people, squawking and generally causing chaos

joshua

has the most mesmerising eyes. even when not in full feral bat mode his eyes are an interesting maroon, not quite normal brown and not quite vampire red and it makes people stare. the prettiest smile, would look so fairy-like and innocent if he didn't have the sharpest fangs known to vampire-kind. no one knows if he was a turned vampire or a pureblood vampire, and he smiles sweetly and tells them to shut the fuck up whenever anyone asks. but in general he's very gentlemanly, very kind, and has definitely brought suffering onto himself before by guiding old ladies to the church when they get lost.

should i do the rest of the member lines too? what do we think?

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @butiluvu @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt