#big loud glaring red alarms!!!

[gaylactic-fire]

Do you ever think a lot of the unjust BOTW Princess Zelda hatred seemed to die down after TOTK because her draconification was appropriate "punishment" / "redemption" for her traumatised teenage girl behaviour- [I am forcefully dragged off stage by mormons]

[apomaro-mellow]

Family Planning 1/?

Steddie; omegaverse; omega!steve x alpha!eddie

It's time for the ole flour baby project and who should Eddie get paired up with but none other than high school royalty Steve? They both need this grade to graduate but can they get through it without tearing the bag to shreds?

Read on AO3

Steve woke up to his alarm, rushing out of bed. His morning routine, however, was not rushed. The radio sounded as he stood in front of his bathroom mirror. Guitar riffs filled his head as he washed, brushed, and dried. He put on a red sweater, fall was finally kicking in and he felt it. With a quick goodbye to his parents, he got in his car and drove off to pick up his friends, Tommy and Carol.

Carol walked out of her front door. Tommy scaled down from Carol’s window. Steve only shook his head as they both got inside.

“How do your parents not know?”, Steve asked Carol.

“She knows how to keep things quiet”, Tommy winked at her from the front seat.

“Yeah, I just gag him every night. He loves it”, Carol pinched his cheek and withdrew her hand before he could swat it away.

They pulled up to the school as other students were arriving. There was still five minutes until homeroom which meant they had about twenty minutes before they had to get to class. So they took their positions, leaning against the car, talking about whatever drifted to their minds. 

“Davidson is already staring me down like he knows I’m gonna fail”, Tommy said.

“Maybe he wouldn’t glare so much if you didn’t put a thumbtack in his chair”, Carol pointed out.

“He shouldn’t be such a buzzkill, right Steve?”

“His punishment fits the crime”, Steve agreed. “Davidson can’t touch you anyways.”

Carol smirked. “Yeah, your solid D streak makes you untouchable.”

“Why’s this woman always gotta give me grief Steve? Why can’t we just ditch her?”

Steve rolled his eyes but was smiling. “You forget, Carol came first. If anyone’s getting ditched, it’s you.”

Before Tommy could retort, a van roared into the parking lot, chaotic music playing too loud to discern most of the melody. It stopped abruptly and the driver excited just as quickly, slamming the door.

“Desperate for attention, much?”, Carol remarked.

Eddie Munson. A guy with all the bad markings of an alpha: loud, brash, hard headed, and just a general nuisance. Not wanting to cross paths with him, Steve led the way inside. He went out of his way to avoid Eddie’s van but unfortunately, the rest of his weird club was at the door and suddenly, Eddie was there, shouting at the rest of the members, causing Steve to wince. And that little movement was all it took to get his attention.

“My apologies, your highness, for inconveniencing your ear drums”, he gave a deep bow. 

Steve rolled his eyes and went past. Steve had been one of the first of their senior class to present, doing so literally the first semester of freshman year. When he returned to school, smelling of cinnamon and vanilla, he had been dubbed ‘princess’ and the nickname stuck to senior year.

Living in a big house with parents who gave you everything you wanted didn’t help matters. Steve took it in stride. His classmates were willing to do a lot for their princess. Like Tommy shoving Eddie so they could get through the door.

“God, what a sleaze. What’re the chances of him actually graduating this year?”, Tommy wiped his arm like it was actually dirtied.

“As likely as you making it above a C average in Davidson’s”, Steve snarked.

—-----------------------

Eddie held the grin, even through the comment about his graduation status. Last year wasn’t it but second time was the charm, as they said. Still, it didn’t mean he was going to become a model student. Which was why he never went to homeroom. He skipped English on occasion too. But Home Economics, he usually tuned in to. There was a 50/50 chance they’d be cooking something and Eddie would get to poach tastes from his partner’s cooking.

He burst in just as Ms. Engels was in the process of getting the class to settle from their pre-lunch antsy-ness. He took his seat in the back, feet propped up on the back of the chair in front of him.

“Alright, children, listen! Today we are beginning a project that will take not just the rest of this semester, but also into the next”, Ms. Engels began, starting a wave of groans.

Steve was only half paying attention. Whatever project, he was sure he could lean on his partner to get it done. Home Ec was definitely still in the dark ages of family planning, putting most of the home-oriented things on the omega, but it was the 20th century. Omegas could go into the workplace, get high profile jobs, and didn’t need to just sit at home and pop out babies.

Then Ms. Engels put a sack of flour on her desk. With a little pink beanie on top. Steve’s stomach dropped.

“It’s time class, for the ‘family’ part of family planning.”

She went into detail about the assignment. That they would be paired appropriately according to their secondary gender and that they would need to keep a detailed log of when they fed the baby and changed it and who watched over it.

“Take note of how much formula and diapers cost. And the more in-depth you report, the greater chance of a high grade. As a couple, if you would like to give any updates during class, I would encourage it.”

Then she took out a list, announcing the couples and gesturing for one to come up and grab one of the many sacks of flour set in a box and to grab a beanie in either blue or pink. As she went down the list and choices got eliminated, Steve felt a sense of dread. The same feeling was coming over Eddie as he realized the same thing Steve did. 

This was one of the few periods he didn’t share with Tommy or Carol. Dammit, as incessant as Tommy might’ve been, him being a beta meant they could’ve been paired together. But that wasn’t the reality right now.

“Aaron Hall and Cathy Mansley. Steven Harrington and Edward Munson.”

Steve was frozen in place. There was no way. No way in hell that he had to pretend to be a parent with Munson of all people. Eddie was frozen too, but only for a second before he shot up and strutted up to the teacher’s desk. He hefted a bag of flour into his arms and stretched a hat across its head, a pink one.

“She’s got your eyes honey bun~”, Eddie winked at Steve, causing snickers and giggles.

Steve scoffed but ignored him otherwise as Ms. Engels directed them to fill out the first form she gave them about name, sex, date of birth, the weight of the baby, as well as the names of the sire and the dame. Eddie pulled his chair right up to Steve’s desk, determined not to be ignored.

“So what are we gonna name our precious gift from above?”

“You decide. I don’t really care”, Steve said, barely sparing him a glance.

Eddie gasped dramatically and covered the pretend ears of their offspring. “How can you say something so cruel? And after she came from your own loins.”

Steve cringed. “Don’t talk about my loins Munson.”

“Okay, fair. In all serious though, I need to get a good grade on this project”, Eddie said.

The bell rang, saving Steve from another second of this. “Sounds like you better buckle up, pops. Can’t be a good example if high school takes you three times.” 

Steve stayed long enough to watch the alpha’s face drop and then walked out of the room to his next class. Steve thought he’d made it clear that Eddie was on his own with this assignment. What was the point in playing pretend? Steve wasn’t having kids for a long time.

So he wasn’t impressed when Eddie stepped right up to his lunch table, that bag of flour under his arm like he was carrying books and not a child.

“I don’t think I was making myself clear back in Engel’s”, Eddie started.

“What’s he talking about?”, Tommy asked.

“Oh holy shit”, Carol’s face broke out in a smile so wide, “You’re doing that project with Eddie Munson?”

“You want the whole cafeteria to hear?”, Steve hissed. It went unbidden as Carol laughed and Tommy snickered. “I figured you could handle it. This isn’t your first time, right?”

Eddie set their unnamed flour pup onto the table. “Last year she did the nutrition diary, so I’m new to fatherhood. And you’re gonna need to shape up, mother dearest.”

“Ugh, don’t call me that”, Steve groaned.

“Father dearest, then?” There was a new wave of male omegas who preferred to be called dad over mom, and Eddie could respect that. 

“Gag me.”

“Tempting, but I think Engels will have a problem if only one parent reports. And I have no problem telling her I did the brunt of the work.”

Steve raised a brow. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning, Harrington.”

Tommy stood up then. “Back off trash!” 

He shoved Eddie and multiple things happened at once. Eddie tried to grab for the table or something and instead grabbed the flour. He fell backward into someone, making them dump their lunch on his head, and the bag of flour flew, landing heavily on Principal Woolsley in a spectacular explosion of white.

“MUNSON! MY OFFICE! NOW!”

If Steve thought he was off the hook, he was sorely mistaken. While Eddie was hauled off to the office, he was able to keep his head down for a while. But Eddie must’ve snitched because Ms. Van Dorf in the office called his name on the intercom to come to the principal’s office. 

Eddie was still sitting in one of the chairs, unidentifiable foodstuffs in his hair. Mr. Woolsley had gotten most of the flour off of himself, with only a light dusting on his shoulders. Ms. Engels was also present.

“I’ve been informed of the project your class is undergoing. Bags of flour don’t grow on trees”, Woolsley said, hands folded on his desk. 

“Hey, even I can afford a bag of flour”, Eddie said. “What’s the damage? A dollar?”

“That’s not the point, Mr. Munson. What happened in the lunch room was a flagrant display of irresponsibility”, Ms. Engels said.

“I’m not the one being irresponsible”, Eddie looked to Steve who was still standing by the door.

“You two are going to show Ms. Engels that you deserve another chance at this project”, Woolsley started. “You have until the end of the week to show her your dedication and earn another sack of flour.”

“How are we supposed to do that?”, Steve asked, arms crossed.

“Get creative. Oh and detention for you both today. They need help in the theatre department”, Woolsley said before dismissing them.

Eddie shoved past Steve to get to a bathroom and wash his hair. Steve spent the rest of the day talking off his friend’s ears about the whole ordeal and by the time detention came, he was ready to rip him apart and let them both flunk this class. But unfortunately, Steve needed this grade as much as Eddie. He was only taking senior year one time, thank you very much.

He walked into the storage room as directed by the head of the department and found Eddie already there, sorting fabrics. Steve was determined to ignore him, getting right to work rifling through a box of paints and tossing ones that were either empty or bone dry.

Eddie spoke up after a whopping five minutes of silence. “So, any ideas on how to earn the favor of our warden?”

“We were told to get creative. I figured that was more your speed”, Steve said.

Eddie grinned. “I’ve been known to dabble in the creative arts. But I admit, my mind is drawing a blank. How to appear as a responsible parent? To be quite honest, I don’t have a lot of experience with those.”

“What about your uncle?”, Steve asked.

“...How do you know my uncle?”

Steve looked up from his box. “It’s a small town, Munson.”

“Yeah, well, you got me there.” His Uncle Wayne was a pretty nice role model. Decent, hard working. If Eddie was half the caretaker he was, any future kid or bag of food would be in good hands. “What about you?”

“Me?”, Steve said before shrugging. “My parents are fine. Kinda assholes sometimes, but what parent isn’t?”

“Do they dote on you like the rest of the royal court?”

“The wha-stop, I’m not the princess everyone thinks I am.”

“You’re avoiding the question”, Eddie pointed out.

“I don’t know if doting is the word, but they’re parents. They give me what I want sometimes. And what I need.”

“Well, that’s what we have to prove if we want another chance”, Eddie sighed. “But how the hell are we supposed to be doting parents to a kid we don’t have?”

Steve shrugged when just a half second through the motion, he had an epiphany. “Wait! We don’t have a kid yet!”

“Uh, yeah, that’s what I just said. Keep up Harrington.”

“No, we don’t have a kid yet”, Steve repeated, getting to his feet and moving closer to Eddie like proximity would make him easier to understand. 

“I feel like I’m not high enough for this conversation we’re having.”

“What if-hear me out-what if we put on like we’re expecting parents?”, Steve suggested.

Eddie wasn’t sure where he was leaning on that idea, when he looked past Steve at something that had to have been put there by fate. A fake stomach for when someone had to act as a pregnant person during a school play. 

“Oh this is either gonna be really stupid or really funny.”

Steve followed his sight and blushed a little, then turned back to Eddie. “I don’t see why it can’t be both.”

Part 2

[trianna-phoenix]

(Bowuigi human au)

Luigi could tell he was being followed, walking down a dark and empty street, he knew it wasn’t just his paranoia

His heart is beating so fast, he barely works up the courage to look behind him, and that’s when he finally sees the man

Wearing a black hoodie and jeans, he was staring directly at Luigi with a mean glare. He didn’t even look away as Luigi made eye contact with him.

The man was only a few feet behind him, he started to speed up, getting closer to Luigi.

Luigi could feel alarms going off in his body, a cold sweat overcoming him as his fight or flight kicks in to full drive.

Luigi ran, he ran as fast as his legs could take him. To his horror he could hear the pounding footsteps of the man running after him.

His mind went blank as he ran forward, distantly he could see a open shop, seemed like a bar.

It was the only building that was open on this street.

Luigi ran as fast as he could towards it.

There was a group of people outside, some big guys Luigi would never dare to even look at. But Luigi wasn’t thinking.

The closest one to him was also the biggest, some guy in a leather jacket, adorned with metal spikes. His hair must’ve been dyed red because Luigi would never believe it was natural. He wasn’t exactly standing alone, there were people near him, but none of them seemed to be talking to or even at him.

Luigi took a chance.

He ran over, not full in his right mind as he took his hand and whispered as loud as he could

“I’m being followed”

Bowser never really liked these bars, his friends would drag him to them once every blue moon but they were always so boring.

There was only so much standing and drinking he could do before he lost his mind.

Now, as the night was coming to a close, he stood outside with a few of those exact friends, some where waiting for their Ubers and bowser wanted to make sure they got home safe, him being the least intoxicated

Well actually, bowser didn’t drink at all, some stupid medical condition he developed after a few crazy years in college.

He huffed, sipping at a glass of soda as he mindlessly listened to his drunk friends ramble.

Bowser didn’t hear him approach before he felt someone roughly grab his hand, they held on tightly and bowser could see how hard they were shaking. They looked terrified.

Bowser just stared at them as they worked up the courage to say something.

He spoke quietly, barely a whisper, but bowser still felt a chill down his spine when they said their grievances

“I’m being followed” they held his hand tightly as they glanced down the street.

Bowser could see him, the man.

He had stopped running, clearly breathing heavily as he just stood there, staring.

Bowser set his drink down on a near by ledge, before pulling the shaking man close to his chest.

He looked about five steps away from a panic attack, trembling with wide eyes.

“What’s your name?” He asked trying to figure out what he should do

“L-Luigi” he struggled to speak over how intensely he was shaking, bowser placed a hand on his shoulder

“Well Luigi, let me take you home” he looked away from the man, still standing halfway down the street to look at the man in his arms

He had dark brown hair, wore a green shirt and a cardigan.

Luigi glanced up towards him, and bowser nearly stopped breathing. His eyes, they were bright blue, they looked like jewels. He’d never seen anything like it.

They were gorgeous.

Bowser blinked as he watched Luigi’s lip twitch, he seemed about to cry. Bowser didn’t want that at all.

“Is that okay?” He followed, worried he had made himself seem dangerous.

But Luigi nodded his head, stepping closer to bowser as the man tilted his head. It was eerie, how he hadn’t tried to move closer to them, but didn’t leave.

Bowser lived close by, just a street over, which is mostly why he hadn’t gotten himself an Uber.

“My house isn’t far from here, do you mind if we go there?”

Luigi shook his head and bowser immediately started walking with Luigi right in front of him.

His friends were too drunk to even notice him leaving.

(Anyway I don’t feel like writing anymore of this but feel free to use it as a prompt as long at you credit me)

(And yes they get home safe then bowser walks Luigi to his own place the next morning we’re Luigi gives him his number)

[demonic0angel]

The “Imaginary” Friend one-shot is out! Read it here on AO3 or here!

CW: non-graphic violence, murder, arson, emotional manipulation, domestic abuse (from Willis Todd)

When Jason was little, he had a friend. It was only when he was able to understand words that he noticed that his "friend" wasn't very real.

"Mom, you don't see her?" Jason asked again in dismay. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that nobody could see his friend! Couldn't they all see her red hair, blue eyes, and nice smile?

His mom looked at him with an odd look. "No, sweetie. She's imaginary, of course I can't see her."

Jason stared at her, trying to detect the lie, but he couldn't see it. Biting his lip, he turned to Jazz, who stared at him with big eyes and a small frown, looking as worried as he felt.

Again, he repeated, "You really can't see her?"

"No, I can't."

He accepted the pat his mom gave him while he stared, disgruntled at Jazz.

She was totally real!

… right?

The door opened and his mom stood up quickly, pushing him away and striding to the kitchen to prepare a meal. Jason stiffened and skittered away to his room, where he silently shut the door. Already, he could hear the shouts coming from his dad as he yelled at his mom.

"You stupid, slow bitch! What the fuck did I say about making dinner, huh?!"

Jason trembled in place, his heart aching as he resisted the urge to go out and help his mom. The last time he had done that, he had been hit so hard that his head knocked against the walls and his mom's screams had alerted the neighbors to them. That incident had made his dad control himself for a few weeks, but the fear and anger in his mom's eyes made Jason regret it.

He had been scolded so much that time, so he didn't know what to do now.

He couldn't leave his room, so he could only sink to the floor and wave Jazz closer. Jazz sat next to him and said, "My parents weren't like this. They're neglectful."

"Neglectful?" He asked. "You remember them?"

She shook her head. "It was a long time ago. I just recall a few memories. I had a brother named Danny."

"A brother?" He asked to confirm, and she nodded again. Jason blinked and thought about it. "I think I'd like some brothers. We could play games together!"

"Nuh uh." Jazz shook her head. "Siblings are annoying. They cry all day when they're babies. And poop all the time." Like an afterthought, she added, "They're stinky."

Jason snickered. "Then maybe I can have a big brother instead!"

Jazz sneered. "Why not a big sister?"

"Ew, girls are weird."

Jazz gasped in offense and then said, "Fine then! I curse you to have two younger brothers! And they'll fight all the time!"

Jason gasped and blurted, "Wait! I'm sorry! I'll have two sisters then!"

He knew that she said strange things, so he wholeheartedly believed that she had cursed him.

Jazz gave a pretentious 'hmph' and then said, "Fine. Then I'll mend the curse. Two younger brothers, two sisters, and a big brother. Okay?"

He nodded, agreeing immediately before she changed her mind and gave him three younger brothers.

With a sudden sinking heart, he realized that it didn't really matter. His mom said she was fake after all. Her voice, her looks, her everything, it was only his imagination.

"What's the matter, Jay?"

Even her nickname for him was probably fake.

But whatever. Jason would enjoy this anyways.

He smiled at her and said, "Nothing."

Jazz stared at him for a few moments, before she turned away and then said, "I think you should kill your dad."

Jason nearly jumped out of his skin, standing up in alarm to look down at her. "W-What are you talking about?! Kill him?!"

There was a loud crash outside his door and Jason clapped his hands over his mouth, sliding back down to the floor. He gave Jazz a glare, who smiled apologetically. When there was only more murmuring outside, he turned to her and said, "Why would you say that?!"

Jazz shrugged. "I don't know. Don't you think about it sometimes?"

"No! Normal people don't kill!" Jason said sternly.

Jazz stared at him for a moment, before she went, "Hmm," and then turned away again. Jason stared at her, baffled and definitely horrified.

How could he kill someone? Didn't her parents teach her that things like that were bad?

Jason suddenly remembered her parents ignoring her and he swallowed back the scolding words. Still, he felt uncomfortable with the thoughts that Jazz had now given him, because he couldn't help but imagine pushing his father down the stairs and getting him out of their lives once and for all.

Jazz remained silent for the rest of the day.

And Jason thought about it all night long.

————

Only a few weeks later, as Jason watched his dad grab his mom by the hair and toss her into a wall, he made his choice. He waited until the next morning, when the sun was still dark out, to push his father down the stairs when he went out to empty his bladder.

He and Jazz watched his father's head crack open on the ground and shine with a dark liquid, only barely shining red in the rising light of the sun.

"Come back inside, Jason." Jazz said. "Someone will see."

He went inside mechanically, quickly slinking back to his room and nuzzling against his thin pillows as Jazz sat next to him.

"I'm proud of you," she said quietly, and for a moment, Jason feared the person he would become with her praise.

————

He had thought that with his father's death, things would become better.

It did not.

Somehow, his mother had become depressed and people started to collect themselves around her.

One man in particular was uncomfortably close with her, always getting into her space and ignoring her stammered protests. He also would viciously glare at Jason every time he came nearby to get between them, but since Jason knew that he was afraid to hurt him in front of his mom, Jason took advantage of that to be really obnoxious.

"You should kill him too, Jay." She whispered, a trace of ghostly fingers brushing across his shoulders.

Jason stared at his soapy hands, in the midst of washing dishes, and he mumbled, "You're not real."

Ever since he had killed his father, he had regretted it.

A human life was too easy to take and it scared him.

"Are you sure about that? You suspected it, haven't you? I've helped guide you for so many years, Jay. Since you were a baby. It's been so long— how come I haven't disappeared yet?"

"... maybe I've been crazy from birth."

"Do you really believe that?" She asked, and he resisted the urge to shake his head and say no.

He didn't believe that.

But who would believe him if he said that his imaginary friend wasn't so imaginary and was actually real? Who would believe him if he said that the reason why he killed was because of her? Who would believe him if he said that his actions were influenced by a person nobody else could see?

He couldn't even believe it himself.

"Do you think I'm a bad influence on you?" She asked and he nodded.

"You are." He said without malice.

She laughed a little. "I am a bad influence." She admitted. Her fingers brushed against his shoulders. A trail of goosebumps rose wherever she touched, but he couldn't even tell if she had actually tried touching him or if he was imagining it all and his body was reacting to his thoughts.

Arms curled around his neck. He could feel the faint coldness of her body, but he felt no touch.

Was she even real?

"Jay," she said softly, "are you angry at me?"

"No."

It was the truth.

"Then why aren't you looking at me?"

Immediately, he tensed. He couldn't, because looking at her seemed to confirm his thoughts that she wasn't real and he was simply hallucinating.

It was terrifying.

He was scared.

Something touched his cheek and Jason couldn't help but turn around to look at her, his eyes wide. "D-Did you just kiss me?"

Jazz smiled, a faint blush covering her cheeks. "Yeah."

Jason's face felt hot. He didn't know what to say. Did she like him in that way? They had grown up together and although Jason had always entertained thoughts of marrying her when he was little, he was older now. And she wasn't real. What the hell was he all worried for?

Jason blinked out of it.

"I..." he started, but Jazz's ghostly fingers brushed against his lips to make him stop speaking and he paused immediately.

"It's okay if you don't believe me or yourself. You're not crazy, Jason. I'm real. I'm real and I'm with you right now." She smiled sweetly, and Jason relaxed unwillingly, his heart and body trusting in her words completely, even while his mind denied it all.

"I... I—"

"Shhh..." she shushed him softly. "Trust me, Jason. When have I ever lead you astray? When have I ever done you wrong? When have I ever lied to you?"

... she had never.

Jason closed his eyes so he couldn't see her. The moment he did, he could almost feel how disappointed she was as she was immediately silent and still. He was conflicted. He knew that murder was wrong, but when Jazz spoke so sweetly to him, he was afraid of what could happen. He was afraid that he would never be the same again if he continued this pattern of killing at her command.

"... I see." She said. "If that's how you feel, then I guess I'll just leave."

Fear, worse than the one he had felt when he had first killed, immediately washed over him like cold ice water. His eyes snapped open and he called out, "Wait! Wait, I'm sorry."

She paused.

He had never seen her leave him before. From as far as he could remember, he had never been separated from her side. They had been together through all hardships. He had never experienced a life without her and he didn't want to experience one now.

He immediately apologized. "I'm sorry. I-I'll do what you say."

Jazz frowned lightly when she faced him. "I don't want to force you. If we cannot agree, then it is better that we just separate or we'll fight all of the time."

"No! Please don't leave me!" Jason began to cry. He hadn't cried since he was a baby, and he felt even more ashamed of it now. He furiously wiped away the tears as he stuttered, "I-I'm just scared. But I don't want you to leave me."

She was quiet for a moment, and then she said, "Alright. Then I'll forgive you. I don't want you to be sad, Jason. I want you to be happy. I was made for your happiness." With that, she smiled a little and reached out. Her hands went through his tears but the sentiment of the gesture still made him calm down.

He sniffed and then asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"Be yourself, Jason. And come when I call." She smiled and then sat next to him. For the next few hours, they sat there in silence, with no other words left to say.

————

The man had killed his mom when she had refused his proposals too many times. The townspeople did not punish him for it, and he hated them all the more.

Even when his father had been publicly abusing him, they had done nothing but give condolences to his mother. They hadn't even offered food or coins, only their empty words.

So with a cold fury, Jason had slaughtered the man who killed his mother with a butcher's knife and fed him to his own pigs.

"What happens when I kill people, Jazz?" He asked, as he cleaned up the mess he had made. Jazz looked proudly at him as she stood next to his side, a reassuring presence as always.

She smiled. "You make me stronger. And soon enough, I'll be able to meet you and we can be together forever."

Jason's breath caught in his chest. "Forever?"

"Forever," she said firmly, and Jason was filled with such a sharp sense of longing that it surprised even him.

"Okay," he said with a nod. "You and I will definitely meet!"

She chuckled and didn't say anything else.

————

Jason grew older.

He was past the age where he would cry if anybody left him, but he never lost that fear of losing Jazz.

He picked up a sack of flour and called out, "Where do you want this?"

"In the storage room! Fendrel will tell you where!" The baker's wife said.

Jason went into the storage room, where the baker's son sat on top of one of the flour sacks, fiddling with a puzzle toy.

"Hey, where do I put this?" Jason asked.

Fendrel sneered at him and said, "Stop kissing my parents' ass. You won't get more money that way."

"In what way were you kissing ass?" Jazz said and Jason had to hold back the urge to laugh.

It must've shown on his face because Fendrel's expression soured. 

"You're so goddamn annoying!" Fendrel spat. "You think that just because you're handsome and strong that you can do anything you want? Everyone knows that you're from a poor family and everyone knows that you're a disgusting orphan!" 

Jason raised an eyebrow. "And you can say all of that, while coming from a baker's family with both parents and still being worse than me?"

Fendrel gave a shout of rage and moved to lunge at him but Jazz gave a simple, "The baker's wife is coming," and Jason didn't dodge, letting Fendrel smack him.

The moment he staggered back, the door opened and the baker's wife saw what was happening.

"Fendrel! How dare you?!" She looked apologetically at Jason. "I'm sorry about him. Here, your pay." She handed him a few coins, more than his expected pay,  and then let him leave on his own with her fingers clasped around Fendril's ear as she dragged him about.

Fendrel yelped and pleaded and Jason watched with satisfaction before he left.

Jazz curled her arms around Jason, the light pressure of her weight a steady promise of what could happen if he continued to kill more people for her. She floated a little bit behind him, like how the stories would depict of ghosts.

In the past few years, she had grown beautiful and tall, even taller than him when she put her feet on the ground. Her red hair was long and straight, her eyes sparkled beautifully when she was happy, and her smile was one of the most radiant things he had ever seen.

Even her words were less childish, as if each kill that he gave her increased her knowledge. In a way, it was true. When he could afford to be distracted, she was always willing to offer random pieces of knowledge that he knew was useful to him. She had quickly become his mentor, friend, and most trusted confidant.

Seeing her grow alongside him, there but always out of reach, it caused the obsession inside of him to grow.

He lost the fear of what could happen as he grew older, losing his innocence with each new enemy he encountered when he was young, but he still refused to kill any of the innocent.

Because of that, he had only killed less than a dozen people in the past decade.

... still a lot, but not enough for Jazz to manifest herself.

But with each improvement of her form and her now being able to touch him, he was determined to find the right scumbag to sacrifice them to her.

Now...perhaps he found them.

"Should I...?" It was an unspoken question. Jazz rubbed her cold cheek against his neck and nodded.

"Yes. Take Fendrel for me, Jay. Create my body for yourself." She cooed.

Warmth oozed in Jason's stomach, curling up with satisfaction and pride.

"Got it, Princess," he muttered.

In a few days, he easily lured Fendrel to the cathedral on the edge of the town. It wasn’t difficult when Fendrel was easy to anger and Jason was quick on his feet and with his tongue. In a few moments, Fendrel was already chasing him with a mind consuming rage, thankfully with enough stupidity that he also called his buddies to follow so they could beat up Jason.

Along the way to the cathedral, Jazz whispered more secrets into his ear as they ran to the cathedral.

"The bookkeeper's wife is cheating on him with his brother."

"The youngest child of the seamstress died just a moment ago."

"The daughter of the miller is having a secret affair with the farmer's boy."

Jason just kept his breath in control and continued running.

When he arrived, he quickly ran inside the cathedral and turned around, where Fendrel stood at the door, panting and with a face full of rage.

"You're dead!" He snarled.

His friends caught up with them and they all entered through the door and went straight towards him. Jason stood in the middle of the cathedral, in front of the statue of the god of agriculture that the town usually worshipped.

Jason had been a little afraid of offending him when he had come in, but Jazz had already reassured him that he would face no consequences as long as he completed his mission to kill Fendrel and his goons. Two pairs of heavy gazes landed on him, one seemingly of great judgment while the other was gentle and loving.

The latter made him feel the most nervous.

Jason watched the boys in front of him try to intimidate him as they crossed over to him, before he looked up and tugged the rope that was attached to a large sack of flour that he had put on the ceilings. When he pulled the rope, the flour sack fell down with a heavy boom, putting flour everywhere.

The boys immediately began to cough, some having fallen down, and Jason took off running towards them, leaping upwards with a great jump and sailing over their heads before he ran to the door, threw it open, and then closed it. He locked it with the key he took from the local priest and then put a board over the lock, just to be sure.

The door was banged upon to no avail. They shouted and screamed and cursed, but Jason almost couldn’t hear them as blood rushed to his ears from the adrenaline.

Jason took a deep breath, looking into Jazz's calm eyes before he took a flint and steel out of his pocket.

He lit the cathedral on fire and took several steps back.

For a moment, the fire only calmly spread along the line of oil that Jason had put out early, before it went under the large door. He had planned everything so meticulously that it was almost ridiculous.

There was a moment of silence, and then the cathedral exploded.

Jason jumped and then smiled as the fire spread to the entire building and began to burn.

Several people had now been sacrificed for Jazz. It was a few more steps towards giving her a new body.

Soon, he would be able to meet her.

Suddenly, hands tugged him backwards into a soft chest.

A warm chest.

"Jazz?" He whispered. Could it be?

Was it actually enough?

"I'm here," Jazz said softly, laughing.

"You're here!" He beamed and turned around, eyes wide. Her cheeks were ruddy, her eyes glistening with the light of the fire, and her hair blew around her in waves from the heat and air.

She was so lovely that Jason didn't know if he was dreaming or not. Her hands were warm within his and his smile almost hurt with how much it stretched his face.

"You're really here!" He said again, unable to hold back his glee.

"Yes!" She said with another laugh. "I'm here." She brought one of his hands to her face and nuzzled his palm, her breath gusting over his fingers with warmth.

The glow of the raging fire behind them only made her look even more ethereal. She smiled and then said, "Thank you, Jason, for bringing me to this world."

She pulled him closer, and enchanted, he let himself be manipulated by her as she pulled his chin upwards.

"Let me reintroduce myself." She whispered with a smile. "I am Jazz, your own personal god of change and transformation. Jason Peter Todd, for your efforts in reviving me and bringing me into the mortal plane, I will make this world bow to your whims. Do you accept?"

He nodded dazedly and she pulled him by the head.

The fire burned behind them as she sealed their lips together with a promise.

With her here with him, they would never be apart again.

|||||||||||||||||||||||

Yes, later in the future, Jason will have two younger brothers who fight all the time, another younger brother, two sisters, and a big brother.

The reason why Jazz is a god of change and transformation is bc she changed and transformed Jason into who he was now, and Jason also changed and transformed her with each sacrifice.

On another note, the original idea of this fic was that Jazz was kind of like Jason’s subconscious that manifested into a girl that encouraged him to murder anyone and everyone that offended them. Some included Willis Todd, Felipe Garzonas, Sheila Haywood, etc. In the end, Jason becomes a gang leader of his own accord with his hallucination, Jazz, by his side. But that took too much brainpower from me so… this fic is more lighthearted than the others :)

Thank you to @meditating-cat for betaing!

[rexc0re]

I second guess the game I play, Did I make a mistake?

Summary: Rgbtrio but brothers!!! It’s November 4th. Ranboos birthday, and his exploring loving brothers Sneeg and Charlie have taken them to explore an abandoned mall. Sadly, our hero and his brothers don’t exactly get their happy ending.

A/N: There are so many goddamn words in this and i don’t know if they make sense my bad. Also do not expect grammatically correct writing. anyways reblogs and notes are appreciated!!! :3 ((please let me know if there are any warnings i should add))

Warnings: Angst, GORE ANALYSIS/descriptions of an injury that includes: blood, teeth, brain injury?, choking, and extreme heat?

“Anddd you’re sure this is perfectly legal.” “Nope! Absolutely not. This is perfectly illegal.” Ranboo sighed as Sneeg continued to press his hands against the locked door. “I think it’ll be fun! Maybe we’ll find a spooky demon oooo” Charlie, the middle child who is always enthusiastic, said whilst wiggling his eyebrows at his younger brother. Ranboo rolled his eyes and called out, “Do you got that door open yet?? It’s cold man and I wanna get home for cake.” A loud crash was heard and Charlie and Ranboo turned to see Sneeg holding a brick infront of the crushed door.

“Did you just…” “Don’t question my ways Ran. You gotta live a little you’re 19 now time is gonna start wasting you if you keep wasting it.” “Yeah yeah well if we set off an alarm and the police come or something im going to place the blame on both of you.” A loud and dramatic gasp came from Charlie beside him. “You’d never!!! You’ve got too much love in your big heart to leave behind your dear older brothers.” “Mhm mhm sure, c’mon let’s go explore your big mall.”

The mall was large, cold, and empty. Not the exciting abandoned mall Ranboo was expecting. “This is what you two dragged me here for?? There’s like…nothing here.” “Calm your horses Ran we’re not even past this main hall.” Sneeg replied, a little further up ahead than Charlie and Ranboo.

As they walked Ranboo couldn’t help but notice the random things that seemed…out of place. You’d think an abandoned mall littered with boxes and random fake looking prop toys would seem normal. But it didn’t.

“This place is really off, do either of you notice that?” “You’re paranoid Ran, you’re goody-two-shoes mentality is making you feel that way.” Charlie said with a smirk.

Walking deeper and deeper into the mall past various empty stores with names that seemed quite odd, Ranboo couldn’t help but notice the emptiness of the whole place. No left over advertisements, no painted walls, no colors. Just white. And various grays. Besides the food court. The food court was pretty cool.

“Well would you look at that, that sign says your name Charlie!” “Did you bring us here on RANBOOS birthday to show him a sign of MY name?? Wow Sneeg so disrespectful.” Charlie replied whilst holding Ranboo like he was comforting them. “No you dick head and you know that. We came here last week.” Charlie shrugged with a smirk and continued to walk.

“So…is there something specific you want to show me or are we just here to walk around?” Neither Charlie of Sneeg replied and all Ranboo could do was glare at them. Opening his mouth to speak again, the sentence he was about to say died in his mouth as he saw what was behind Charlie and Sneeg.

“Ohhh my god?” Brushing past them Ranboo walked towards the railing, his face in awe. There was a large, and looming sign in the middle of the mall. Ranboo recognized it from seeing it plastered on the walls. The logo. The logo that was spray painted on walls in sloppy red paint. The logo that was left on every window of every store.

They hadn’t pointed it out but he’d noticed it from the moment they stepped into mall. It was odd. Something about it lured him in, like it was controlling him or something.

“Soooo….pretty cool right? Me and Sneeg thought you’d like it since you’ve always liked the strange and unusual.” “C’mon Charlie look at him clearly he likes it.” Sneeg and Charlie watched their younger brother gaze around the mall with big dopey smiles on their faces.

“You know, I think you two really out did yourselves this year-“ Ranboo was cut off by a large crash followed by a low and…mechanical? roar. The three stared at each other in a sort of shock. Charlie was the first to break their silence, turning to Sneeg with an awkward chuckle “So uh. What the fuck was that Sneeg. We didn’t find anything that sounded or even looked like a fucking robot monster!!!”

“No need to yell in my ear Charlie. Relax relax it’s probably…just some other people who broke in.” “Okay cool. Sure yea okay. Can we go now though.” “Rans right let’s leave Sneeg cmon let’s go.” Charlie sped walked past the two, his head swiveling side to side. “Well he’s freaked huh? Cmon Ran let’s go.”

Ranboo took one last long glance at the large poster. Something about it told him that there wasn’t someone else who broke in and maybe there really was a monster out to get them. But nevermind that, this is just a mall. An empty, sad, mall. It can’t hurt him, or his brothers. They’re leaving.

—

“What do you think audience? Should we let him live in these shows for an eternity? Or end this one with a BANG!”

A bang…what did a ‘bang’ mean. He was tied to a wall. No way out. The horrors of the past two days still not over it seems. They were right there…at the exit. What happened? How did he get here at all in the first place. What is this place. Who brought him to this mall. They needed to get out. Now. And figure it out. Figure out who he was. Where he belonged. Because it certainly isn’t here.

“Please just let me go. I don’t wanna continue. So what happened to those people what…happened..”

“Do you remember, Ranboo?”

Oh.

He did remember.

Every last bit of it.

Everyone who he had met these past three days. He knew them. He knew those people. They were real and nice people. The only other people he had in this hell hole. Niki, Ethan, Austin, Vinny…oh.

Sneeg and Charlie.

The two he had known the longest. Charlie was the first person he met. Ranboo always had a feeling there was something special about Charlie. Sneeg too. But he never quite placed it. Until now.

It was all flooding back. Everything about his brothers. Sneeg and Charlie. His brothers. The people he grew up with. The memory of them smiling at him when they first entered the mall. They were so happy for him. It was his birthday, he was 19. They each still had so much left to live for. So much life they were supposed to experience together.

Those two meant so much to him, they practically raised him. Sneeg the eldest who was a pretty bad influence. Dragging his brothers to random old buildings he found, prank wars, and was a lil bit of a tease. And then Charlie. The balance between Sneegs chaotic and Ranboos more ‘stay-in-line’ personalities. The less of a bad influence. Charlie often endulged with Sneeg. But sometimes he took Ranboos side. He was the middle ground between his two brothers.

Oh…they truly meant the world to him. The sorrow and immediate shame came rushing towards Ranboo. His brothers were right there by his side the whole time. And he didn’t know. He did nothing to stop what happened to them.

They died.

Charlie was gone.

He saw it happen. And did nothing.

He wanted to hope Sneeg was alright.

But deep down in his heart he knew Sneeg was gone too.

The only family he ever had. They were gone. He saw it happen. And did nothing to stop it.

“…Someone will find you. Someone will get you for this.”

“Any last words Ranboo to swing the audience one way or another?”

“LET ME DIE. PLEASE. JUST LET ME DIE. I DONT WANNA KEEP DOING THIS. I DONT WANNA KEEP…DOING THIS. JUST LET ME DIE. PLEASE.”

“Just let me go…I can’t live with this. I saw, everything. I saw everything. Please let me go. Let me die.”

“Well it seems the audience has made their decision. The audience has voted for you to DIE!”

Ranboos breathe hitched. Die? He was going to die.

Thank god.

The box closed.

Heat.

All he could feel was heat. God it felt like he was roasting alive. He was choking on his own blood. His teeth felt like they weren’t there. Their vision was gone. Their body shaking uncontrollably. So. So. So. Much blood. They couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do anything but accept it.

I’m bleeding out.

I’m bleeding out.

I’m bleeding out.

It’s almost over.

The shock was too much. He passed out. The pain was terrible. The absolutely most excruciating thing he’s ever felt. But it was almost over. In his last moments of brain activity, all Ranboo could think about was Sneeg and Charlie.

Charlie died thinking he got out.

Sneeg probably didn’t know either Charlie or Ranboos fates as they didn’t know his.

In their last moments, they were separated. The three brothers who were always around each other.

A trio, in life.

But not in death.

The last coherent thought Ranboo had amongst all the pain he felt physically and mentally, was sorrowful. Simple. But, an apology.

I’m sorry I couldn’t get us out. I didn’t mean to leave you behind.

[moon-alight]

Imagine this,

Jo from &team got home from a tiring day with his s/o in the couch. When he went to eat his save [insert dessert] it was missing. He then tackle his s/o, tickle and attack with kisses till begging to stop. They have a fluffy kissing and the s/o promises to buy him the dessert back

like-AAAAAAA JUST THINKING OF JO BEING SO COMFORTABLE AND NOT SHY IS JUST- I cant rn- Id melt so muchhh

I -- OMG! I'm sorry for late response, secondly. . . I'm in love! <3

Masterlist

Biscuits and Tickles - &Team Jo

Synopsis: You ate Jo's very last biscuit. Luckily your boyfriend doesn't get mad easily but he does want to punish you, playfully.

Warnings: fluff, tickle-fight, pouty Jo, reader is a menace lol

Word Count: 614

It was a long day. Jo wanted nothing more than to go to the dorms and fall asleep just to never wake up. He even declined his member's invitation to go drink something together.

When he entered the dorms and heard tiktok music come from the living room, he was a bit alarmed before he remembered how he had given you a key just so you were able to enter the dorms as well.

Walking around the corner and into the doorway towards the living room, he saw that it was indeed you who was scrolling through your phone, chuckling at some tiktoks. You hadn't even noticed him yet.

Jo smiled to himself, oh how he loved you. A bit of his energy had returned just by your presence. He leant his body against the doorway and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"Hey." He said softly to which you looked up. Your eyes seemed to spark the moment you saw him which gave Jo almost a heart attack.

"Hai, sweetie!" You put your phone down and patted the spot next to you on the couch. Jo hesitated before realizing he had still one last biscuit in the fridge which he would like to eat first.

"I'll be right there." You nodded at him and watched him disappear. You looked back down at your phone, realizing your friend had send you another tiktok. You clicked on it before you heard a loud 'ya' come from the kitchen. "Y/N?!" You looked up again.

"Yes?" But you didn't receive an answer. Instead, loud and quick footsteps could be heard coming straight from the kitchen. You frowned until your big boyfriend jumped over the back of the couch and landed right next to you. "AAAH!"

His hands began to tickle you. Your phone slipped out of your own hands and onto the couch next to you. You tried to push your bigass boyfriend away but he was clearly stronger.

"Did you eat my last biscuit?!" He asked while continuing his attack on you. He would never admit it -- especially in that moment -- but your laughter was the most beautiful thing ever. (Even when you accidentally snorted)

"I didn't!" You tried to defend yourself but you were sure Jo knew better than that.

"Yes, you did! You liar!" He said, loudly. You almost couldn't breathe through your laughs. Your face was as red as a tomato but he did not stop. "First you eat my last biscuit and then you lie!"

"I'm sorry!" You yelled back, hoping he would stop or you might actually pass out. You couldn't believe this was the same shy boy you met seven months ago. As if he had read your mind, he stopped tickling you and sat back with a pout on his face. "I'm sorry."

"I saved that one specifically for when I was feeling down." He was so cute, playing pouty just to get you to feel bad. And it was working!

"I'm sorry, Jo." You responded as you cradled his face in your hands. "I didn't know. I will get you new ones, okay?" You saw his lips twitch upwards into a small smile.

"You better, I wasn't acting disappointed for nothing." You glared at him playfully to which he chuckled and pecked your lips. "I honestly do not really care about that biscuit, I'm glad you liked it."

"So, you made me feel bad for nothing?"

"Yes." Jo responded with a small nod. "Yes, I did." He pulled you closer to him and hugged you to which you groaned in annoyance. But how could you stay mad when you have such a cute boyfriend?

[gumnut-logic]

“I can’t believe he did that!”

John looked up as his littlest brother stormed into the lab. Alan was still in his uniform and obviously fuming.

“Did what?” Apparently, his calculations would have to wait. He straightened in his seat and turned to face his brother.

“You didn’t see it?”

“See what?” Sometimes it took time to get to the point.

“Virgil cleaning my face in front of thousands of people. With his own spit.”

“Oh, that.” John fought the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s just Virgil, you know that.” He turned back to his workstation. He really needed to get these calculations done and sent to Brains. “Oh, and it is more like millions rather than thousands. An enthusiastic Tracy follower clipped the shot and posted it to social media. It’s got raving reviews.” He pulled up the post and flung the hologram in his brother’s direction before focussing once again on that argumentative variable.

“What?!”

John vaguely registered Alan glaring at the hologram and its attached comments.

“Cute? Adorable? Baaaaby Tracy? What the hell?!”

John had to smirk. “Yeah, well, your fans do love you.”

“My fans? What fans?”

That brought John to a halt. He looked up at his brother. “Your fans. The Spacey Tracy Tribute Troop.”

“What?!”

John arched an eyebrow at the shock on his brother’s face. “You can’t possibly tell me you didn’t know.”

But Alan’s stunned expression blatantly said he didn’t. John rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Alan. You have a whole array of fans who love you. And that moment with Virgil is at the top of the charts.”

“But it is so stupid!”

“Why?”

“Because only mothers do that to their toddlers!” Alan’s face was a little red.

“Well, perhaps you will consider that next time you stuff a hot dog in your face before a big presentation. That glob of mustard was visible from space.”

“He could have just told me.”

Patience. “This is Virgil we are talking about. How long have you known him?”

Alan didn’t answer that, because it was obvious. Virgil and of course Scott would always be defacto parents to the rest of the brothers. Hell, John had been twelve when they lost their mother, but he still valued having two older brothers during that time. He had always valued having Scott and Virgil to turn to for support.

His little brother deflated and threw himself into a chair in picture of utter dejection. “It sucks.”

“Really?” John stared at Alan. “Look at the shot and you tell me exactly what you see.”

Stubborn blue eyes looked up and narrowed on the hologram as it replayed over and over again. “I look stupid.”

John sighed. “Read the comments. None of them say you look stupid.” He threw up a few of the better ones. “If anything they say you look loved.”

Alan stared at him.

-o-o-o-

Alan Tracy didn’t remember his mother. She died when he was still a baby. He had stories and photos, but all his life it had just been his older brothers. They were the ones who saw him off at school, they helped him with his homework, they were the ones he went to for help and advice. He still remembered the night he discovered who Santa Claus actually was.

It was their first Christmas on the Island and nine year old Alan had been worried the big red guy would have trouble finding him out in the middle of the Pacific. So, despite the reassurances from both Scott and Virgil, he had set his alarm to wake himself up in the middle of the night.

Two am and he stumbled down the interior stairs of the new building. He could still remember the smell of new paint and wood stain and the slickness of the polished floor under his socks.

At first he had thought the voice was that of his father, but he knew his Dad was in New York for a special meeting. Scott had been rather loud in his argument against the his absence, but their father had left anyway.

Scott had been far from happy and Alan had given him a wide berth for most of Christmas Eve. Virgil had gathered them all for an evening movie, but even that had not fully dulled Scott’s expression. Not that his brother said anything. He just emanated unhappiness from the corner of the new lounge.

As he neared the main living room, he realised it was Virgil talking.

“Dad wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t important.”

“What possibly could be more important than our family?” Scott’s voice had anger in it, but it wasn’t the angry of him yelling, it was more resigned and defeated.

“He’s doing this for Mom.” Virgil sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Paper rustled. “Hand me the ribbon.”

“Grandma is upset.”

“I know.”

“It isn’t right. This is our first Christmas here. He should be here.”

“Well, he isn’t, so we’ll make the best of it.”

“It isn’t fair to Alan.”

“He’s got us.”

“We’re not his parents.”

“May as well be.”

“Virgil.”

“You said it yourself. Dad’s not here. Mom’s gone. He’s got us. He’s got Grandma. Could be worse.” Another rustle and Alan moved closer to the edge and peered around the corner.

Virgil and Scott were surrounded by wrapping paper in the middle of the circular lounge. Several shapes sat wrapped to one side. On the other there was a pile of shopping bags. A rocket kit almost as tall as him sat in amongst them.

It was the rocket he had asked Santa for Christmas.

His brothers were wrapping presents. Virgil stood up and grabbed an armful of gifts and hauled them out of the sunken lounge and piled them up under the tree just beyond the piano.

What?

“What are you guys doing?” It burst out before he could think.

His brothers looked up, stunned expressions on their faces. “Alan?!”

“Virgil?” He eyed his eldest brother. “Scott?”

Virgil recovered first, Scott was still staring at Alan in shock.

“Hey, Allie, what are you doing up? Bad dream?” His brother put down the presents in his hands and walking around the lounge, headed in Alan’s direction.

“What are you doing?”

“Um...” Scott appeared stuck.

Virgil came up to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “We’re wrapping presents.” He squeezed a hug.

“But Santa...?”

Scott looked down at the wrapping paper in his hands. Virgil drew Alan close and walked him into the sunken lounge. He sat him down and took a seat beside him. “Well, I guess you’re old enough now.”

“Virgil.”

“Scott, he’s old enough.”

Alan frowned as his oldest brother’s shoulders slumped and his whole body sagged. He dropped the wrapping paper in his hands and sat down in defeat, running his hands through his hair. To be honest, that freaked Alan out more than anything. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Allie. Scott’s just had a bad day and he’s tired.”

“Then why isn’t he in bed? Why are you wrapping Christmas presents?” He felt he knew the answer, but it couldn’t be right, could it?

“We’re on Santa duty.” Virgil’s brown eyes were wide and honest and kind of caring.

“Santa duty? But where is Santa?”

Sad blue eyes looked up at him. “There is no Santa, Alan. We wrap the presents and put them under the tree for you.”

Alan stared him. “What?”

“There is a Santa.” Virgil was glaring at his eldest brother. “Just not the Santa you think you know.”

“What?”

“Every year we choose presents and under the guise of Santa, we gift them to those we love. You are now old enough to gift presents to those you love, too. You can be Santa.”

Alan stared at him. “But what about the North Pole and the reindeer and the red suit and...”

“A fairytale.”

“Scott.”

“C’mon, Virg, he’s found us out.”

“He’s found out the truth. That we as a family give each other gifts because we love each other. We don’t need to glam it up anymore.”

“You lied to me?”

Virgil’s eyes widened, but then he sighed. “A little.”

“Why?”

Scott stood up, walked around the centre table and sat on Alan’s other side. “Allie, it’s a coming of age thing.”

“Why?”

Virgil answered. “Because it is sometimes nice to believe there is a little magic in our lives.”

Alan remembered the disappointment he felt at that moment and perhaps the loss of innocence, but of that night, the one thing that still stuck in his mind was the sadness in his brothers’ eyes.

Sure, Virgil was cheerful and positive, and even if Scott had been a little tired and grumpy, he was there and an hour later after wrapping first Gordy’s present, then one for John, he had gone to bed with the new knowledge and a sense of responsibility.

The hugs hadn’t hurt either.

Christmas morning had a little less urgency to run down to the main room and Gordon had to be clapped around the ears by Grandma for teasing him about the whole thing, but it had just become another part of growing up.

That his mother and father had missed.

He didn’t hold it against them. Mom, he never knew, and Dad had to make the sacrifices so other families didn’t have suffer the loss of a parent like they had, but it really just was another example of his two eldest brothers being there for him.

Which really sunk in when he was officially orphaned two years later.

-o-o-o-

Alan continued to stare at John.

“Do you have a problem with being loved?”

“What? Nooo.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m eighteen! They treat me like I’m still a kid!”

“You are still a kid.”

“No, I’m not!”

John held back the instinctive rebuttal and bit the inside of his cheek. “Alan, look at it from Scott’s point of view. He has been your guardian for eight years. Technically he is almost old enough to be your father. It has been his responsibility to look after you for even longer than that. That isn’t something that just switches off.”

“I’m not talking about Scott. I’m talking about Virgil. He’s not my guardian, but he treats me like he is.”

John’s lips thinned. “Don’t you ever say something like that to his face. In fact, don’t bother saying it in front of me again either. We’ve all made sacrifices, Alan, but none more than Scott, and Virgil isn’t far behind. You’d be better to recognise that and be grateful for what you have.”

Alan grumbled. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. They’re great, it’s just...so frustrating.”

“Then perhaps it is your turn to show the patience that has been offered you all these years.”

-o-o-o-

In 2055 the world lost the brilliant entrepreneur, billionaire business man and founder of International Rescue, Jeff Tracy.

Eleven year old Alan Tracy lost his Dad.

He also lost a part of his biggest brother. Scott had been forced to sit idle in Thunderbird One while his father tackled the Hood. He hadn’t been able to do anything but watch the Zero-X explode in front of him.

The whole family had been shattered, but no more than its new head. Scott was driven wild, determined that their father was not dead. The world disagreed, the explosion had been too final, too definite, to be anything but fatal. But Scott refused to believe.

There were arguments. They tried to hide them from the youngest brothers, and yes, at sixteen Gordon was almost as under-aged as Alan. But the pair of them could hear Scott’s strident and commanding voice echo through the house, followed by Virgil’s bellowed contradiction.

The day Alan found Grandma crying in the kitchen was the last straw.

“Grandma?” Did his voice have to sound so small?

She startled and turned. Her eyes were red and wet and, oh god, there were tears on her cheeks. “Grandma? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Umm...I’m just not feeling right at the moment. I’ll be okay.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder, but the smile was so forced his heart broke.

“Is it because Scott and Virgil are fighting?”

She shook her head, but didn’t seem to be able to say anything.

“Is it because of Daddy?”

And there were tears running down her face and he found himself wrapped in her arms. To his shock, he found he was almost her height, her head resting easily on his shoulder. “It will be okay, Allie.” But her voice was sobbing.

Eventually, she straightened and her smile became brighter and she sent him on his way. Told him to go clean his room, in fact, but Alan had a better idea.

He found them facing off on either side his father’s desk. Holograms hovered over it and his two biggest brothers were glaring at each other through the flickering images.

“It is what Dad would do.”

“You are not Dad.”

“Somebody has to be.”

“Why?! Why Scott? Why can’t we be ourselves?”

“Because this is what Dad would have wanted us to do.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I do! I knew him better than you!”

Virgil took a step back, eyes widening.

Scott echoed his expression as if realising exactly what he had just said. “I didn’t mean that, Virgil. I’m sorry.”

Plaid clad shoulders straightened and squared. “Yes, you did. But regardless, International Rescue was his dream, not ours.”

“So you want to give it up? Just like that?”

“No! As I have said multiple times, we just need to do it differently! We’re down an operative. Gordon and Alan are not old enough to take their places on the team. Hell, they may not even want to! We can only do so much. Give John some time to find his feet, for goodness sake.”

“Time is something we do not have. People will die.”

“People will die anyway! I just want to make sure no Tracys are on that list!” Virgil was leaning over the desk, his big shoulders wound so tight, his shirt look fit to bust a seam.

Alan had intended to yell at them, maybe scream a little for what they had done to Grandma, but instead their words scared him and suddenly he had tears on his cheeks, just like Grandma.

“Allie?” Virgil caught sight of him and within a split second was kneeling on the hardwood in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

It took him a moment to find his voice but he found himself wrapped in soft plaid flannel anyway, big hands rubbing his back.

“You hurt Grandma.” It came out as a sob.

“What? What’s wrong with Grandma?” Scott was standing beside them, his stance immediately ready to go and fix whatever problem Alan was able to point him at.

Unfortunately he was part of the problem.

He pulled away from Virgil and turned on both of them. “You. Both of you. You made Grandma cry. All you do is yell and fight!”

Both brothers froze and his eleven year old heart beat an extra beat in just a tiny bit of triumph. Perhaps they would listen? “Since Daddy died, you’ve done nothing but fight. I hate it when you fight and so does Grandma. Gordon hates it too. He goes swimming to get away from it. I don’t even know where John is. Please stop.” His throat caught again and he almost strangled on a sob. “Please.”

To his horror he realised Virgil had tears in his eyes and that, of course, only set Alan off more. Once again he found himself wrapped in his big brother’s arms. Virgil’s chest rumbled with words, but Alan didn’t understand what he said.

When he surfaced, Scott was no longer in the room.

“Scott has gone to find Grandma, to make sure she is okay.” Virgil wasn’t letting him go and his big brother had red rimmed eyes. Virgil’s voice was little more than a rumble. “I’m sorry, Allie. We’ll try to do better.”

His brother held him for a long time. Eventually Scott and Grandma found their way into the comms room, John was called out of his hidey-hole and Gordon dragged out of the pool. There was much family talking, hugging, a little more crying, but ultimately they worked it out enough to keep going.

The arguments stopped.

Well, mostly. Virgil still brought them out on very special occasions. Usually when Scott was being a pig-headed moron which fortunately wasn’t very often.

Life went on as best it could.

But then Gordon had the hydrofoil accident.

-o-o-o-

There was silence in the lab after that. Alan wasn’t happy, it was obvious, but he didn’t say anything so John just let him stew a while. Let him take the next step in the conversation.

After all, these calculations weren’t going to calculate themselves.

He just made it into that comfortable zone where he knew exactly what he was doing and had to be done, the numbers flowing, the equations dancing to his tune, and...

“What was Mom like?”

John blinked. That came from left field. Numbers dissolved in his head. “What did you want to know?”

“You know, things.”

“Things? You’ve seen the videos.”

“Of course, I have.” Their father, Scott and the budding artist, Virgil, had made many home videos over the years. They still did, knowing exactly what could be taken away in a flash and without notice. So there was plenty of footage of their mother.

Virgil was the brother most often found delving into those files. John had done his fair share of watching late at night when the Earth so far below just didn’t give him what he needed. Eos knew those files well and often offered them without prompt when John was feeling down.

But Virgil was the one who had the most affinity for their mother. Not to devalue any brother’s grief, but as Virgil had been the closest to her, the most like her in both appearance and interests. Knowing her must have been like learning about himself, his art, his music and answering all those questions their father just couldn’t answer.

John had a few of those himself. He had no doubt Virgil had more.

“She was a lot like Virgil is today. If you’re asking if she would have wiped the mustard off your face, I can tell you right now, she did the exact same thing to me on multiple occasions.” It had been quite gross actually. Fortunately, he had learnt fast and removed the stimulus for such an action at an early age.

His musician brother had been fifteen to John’s twelve and Alan’s one year when they had lost their mother. Alan had no memory of her. Gordon at age six had been just old enough to know what he had lost but not really why. John swore that the close bond between Gordon and Virgil had been forged in those early years as their older brother had responded when Scott couldn’t, tied up with the ball of grief that was their father.

It had been a bad time, but they had struggled through it.

“She used to sing a lot. She and Virgil sang together every Christmas.” His brother hadn’t sung much since, the tradition lost to grief. “She was more open than Dad. Less of a stickler for rules, more willing to be flexible.” Their father was military and he fell back on discipline when at a loss.

Scott thrived under his father’s regime.

Virgil did not.

And his resemblance to his mother didn’t help in the slightest.

“Mom knew how to make Dad smile. She loved a good joke. Heh, I swear Gordon gets that from her. Once she put a jack-in-the-box in Scott’s lunch box. He nearly had a heart attack in the school cafeteria.”

“Why would she do that?” Alan frowned up at him.

“She believed in experience being the greatest teacher. She caught Scott boasting about his parents to another kid who was far less fortunate. About all their successes. She didn’t appreciate it and figured Scotty could come down a peg or two. She succeeded.”

“Wow. Scott did that?”

John snorted. “Scott was a kid as much as any of us once. He’d prefer you believed he sprouted fully formed, but no, he had to grow up and make the same stupid mistakes we did.” Half a smile. “He’s far from perfect, but he tries.”

“He certainly does.” Alan grinned a little fondly, but then his face fell and he sighed. “You’re right. I’m being an ass.”

An arched eyebrow. “I never said you were an ass.”

“No, but I am. You guys have been great. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Except maybe a little less saliva?”

“Eww, yeah, Virg had garlic bread for lunch.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

John couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing.

Alan stared at him a moment longer before his face cracked too.

“Gotta love him anyway, I guess.”

A snort. “Yeah, we do.”

-o-o-o-

Gordon’s career was a fast one. Straight out of high school and into the Olympics. By the time he was eighteen, he had a gold medal hanging on the wall and had started his career in WASP.

Alan missed his fishy brother, but he was ever so proud of him. There had been talk of him joining International Rescue and activating the final Thunderbird once his training and tenure was done. Alan had seen his brother hovering around the slick little yellow submarine and Scott had been heard to wish for the full complement of Thunderbirds to finally be deployed.

The fact John was flying the ‘bird Alan wanted to fly more than anything was beyond frustrating.

Virgil was helping Alan with his physics homework when the call came through.

A familiar face flickered up on the holoprojector at the end of the kitchen table. “Aunt Val. Hey, how are you?” Virgil offered her a smile as Alan surfaced from under the details of pressure, torque, momentum and velocity that were required to tackle the problem at hand.

“Good morning, Virgil. Is Scott available?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s out on a rescue. Can I help you?”

“Hey, Aunt Val.”

“Alan.” Her expression was grave and something in Alan’s gut twisted.

“What’s wrong?”

Beside him, Virgil sat up straighter. “What is it?”

The Colonel sighed. “I’m afraid I am the bearer of bad news. Your brother Gordon has been in an accident...”

And their world dissolved there and then.

Alan didn’t remember much of those early days. There had been frantic calls to brothers, John limping around because he had crashed to Earth too quickly for his own health. The fear in Scott’s eyes had been terrible.

The sight of his fish brother decked out in medical equipment.

The not knowing.

The terror.

Virgil holding him in the hospital corridor while Alan cried his eyes out all over his shirt.

Scott sitting at his brother’s bed, head bowed down to the sheets clinging to a limp hand.

John, vacant eyed, staring into nothing the night they thought they were finally going to lose Gordon.

Virgil crying in his grandmother’s arms.

Scott kicking a hole in Gordon’s door and making enough racket to wake up the dead.

Gordon answering the call and faintly scolding Scott to keep it down.

The hope that followed.

That first week, their lives froze. Everything stopped. School, IR, regular meals, everything. The outside world kept moving around them, ignoring their pain, but within their family everything stopped, narrowing only to the hospital and their desperately ill brother.

Once Gordon woke up. It started to move again.

Life slowly came back.

It became full of odd moments. Brothers in places he didn’t expect to find them. Gordon’s illness brought out aspects of Alan’s family he didn’t expect.

He had to say that the most unexpected was the day John walked into Gordon’s hospital room with his red hair spiked in all different directions. It was as if he had stuck his fingers in a power socket and sprayed gel into his hair at the same time.

Gordon had laughed himself silly and considering there had been tears half an hour prior, this was a major thing.

Apparently Gordon had dared him once to do it and John had saved it for a special occasion.

Alan made sure he took pictures for history’s sake.

Another day he found Virgil curled up asleep in the chair beside Gordon, his head on his brother’s pillow. The engineer was still in his uniform and covered in dirt. The hospital staff were going to have a fit.

Alan stopped in the doorway and Scott collided with his back with a “What?”

“Shhh...” And Gordon was holding up a very shaky and uncoordinated hand that clearly said ‘Leave him be.’

“What’s he doing here? He’s supposed to back at Tracy Island.” Scott’s voice was a worried whisper.

“B-bad rescue.” Gordon’s voice was as shaky as his hand. “Think he w-want to ch-check I’m ‘kay. Cos they weren’t.”

“Shit.” It was little more than expelled breath.

His big brother disappeared out into the hallway and a moment later they had the full story from John.

A boat. A teenage boy. And a flood. Virgil did his best, but there were limits.

They sat together until Virgil woke up, groggy and miserable. Scott took him out of the room and Alan was left alone with Gordon.

“I should been there.” His brother’s speech was patchy. The hydrofoil he had be travelling in had been at travelling at a ridiculous speed. When one of its foils collapsed, he was very lucky he wasn’t killed. There was a long, long road ahead.

“Wasn’t your fault, Gordon.”

“No, but should be there for him.”

As if that was the starting point. His brother picked himself off the ground and drove himself back to health. It took a lot of work and no small amount of pain, but a year later Gordon Tracy presented himself to the Commander of International Rescue ready for action.

It took another six months and Gordon’s birthday for his brother to be drunk enough to mention to Alan exactly what had happened that afternoon and what Virgil had said to him.

His fish brother held up his glass, grim and serious. “Our big bros are THE BEST.”

Alan smiled, hoping to god Gordon wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning. The fact Virgil had come off a hell of a rescue, exhausted and upset, and flown in to see Gordon just to sing him a lullaby was baffling. But it had apparently done something for Gordon and for that Alan would ever be grateful.

-o-o-o-

“So what happens when we find Dad?”

John started, suddenly thrown out of old memories. “Uh, whatever needs to happen?”

“Do you think he will be okay? It has been so long.”

Eight years alone in space. “I don’t know, Alan.”

“How did we not work this out earlier? That capsule was sitting down there all that time. Dad has been waiting so long. He’s missed so much.”

John closed his eyes and touched his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have the answers, Alan. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” His little brother swallowed. “It’s just that I can’t remember much about him anymore. He’s going to be a stranger.”

“He’s our father. We’ll make it work.” They had to make it work. The guilt was tearing Scott apart. Eight years. Eight long years just because they had missed one piece of the puzzle. Dad could have been home years ago.

The yelling had started again. Scott angry and hurt, Virgil battling to keep him on the straight and narrow and tackling his own guilt at the same time.

John felt the guilt, too. He had looked at everything after the incident. Everything. He had even combed space. Eos had been looking for their father from the day she joined him despite John’s heart telling him it was a lost cause, that Scott was wishing for the impossible, that it had been too long. She had been scanning for three years they still hadn’t found him. Until now, and from a clue that could have...should have been found so long ago.

“I wonder what he looks like.”

John closed his eyes.

“Johnny? You okay?”

“Don’t call me Johnny.”

He received a snort for that. “Yeah, well, I guess it will be good to save Dad and bring him home.”

A frown. “You guess?”

“Well, yeah, it will be great. But you are right.”

The frown deepened and he looked over at his little brother. “I right? With what? You’ve lost me.”

“Well, Scott and Virg are really the ones who’ve been there for me, you know?” Alan rubbed the back of his head. “So, like, they are the closest I have to parents. They were doing that gig even before Dad went missing.”

John stared.

His little brother didn’t notice. Instead he stood up. “Well, I guess I should get out of this uniform. Getting a little ripe, I think. Anyway, thanks for the chat, bro.”

And with that Alan bounced out of the lab as fast as he had bounced in.

John blinked and turned back to the calculations he had been trying to wrangle this entire time.

But the numbers ignored him.

Dad.

Scott.

Virgil.

If they found their father, things were going to change.

John frowned and rubbed his face.

Damn.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[liviavanrouge]

Fight pt 2 of Brokenheart

Livia: *Peeks out from behind Jack* This is Yolan's dream?

Jack: *Looks down at Livia, smiling slightly* You look cute peeking out like that

Livia; *Flinches, her face turning red* AH- w-well!! I-It's a habit!!

Sebek: *Glances at them then looks away* Where's Yolan?

Livia: Yolan~~! *Hurries away, her ears twitching*

Silver: Sis-

Livia: FOUND HIM~~~~

Silver: *Sighs, smiling* Liv...

~~~

Livia: *Waves to them smiling*

Yolan: *Silently reads a book, poisonous plants decorating his braid*

Silver: Yolan!!

Yolan: *Lowers his book, narrowing his eyes* What?

Livia: We came to getcha~~! *Flares her wings, hovering beside Yolan*

Livia: *Giggles* Even in a crisis I still got it~!

Yolan: Get me for what?

Livia: *Lands and folds her wings* Oh this WHOLE THING is just one big fake dream that Malleus made, everyone's fast asleep in their own separate dreams and we gotta go through and wake them up, well not quite literally but we gotta snap them out of their dream! You're next on our list, Yolan! *Takes a deep breath in and sighs, fanning herself* OH I need to take a breather, speaking so FAST!

Ruggie: *Chuckles quietly, smiling at Livia* ..it...feels refreshing to hear her ramble and not have to act tough..

Silver: It does..

Livia: Anyway, Yolan you gotta wake up!

Yolan: ....you sound ridiculous

Livia: *Huffs* I thought you'd be smarter than that, Bestie! *Grabs Yolan's arm* Come on! snap outta it-

Yolan: *Swings his fist, punching Livia right in the face* I'm not your Bestie!!

Jack: LIV!!

Sebek: *Stares with wide eyes, his eyes glowing* Liv...

Silver: *Looks at Sebek, his eyes widening* Ah...Divine Magic?

Yolan: *Lowers his book then perks up, his eyes wide as he blocked Sebek's attack*

Sebek: *Stares Yolan down, his eyes glowing bright yellow*

Sebek: *Grabs Yolan's sword, aiming for his head*

Yolan: *Ducks down, grabbing the males arm and slamming him back first into the ground*

Sebek: *Grabs Yolan's throat, slamming him down next to him*

Silver: *Gasps, covering his ears as a loud shrieking noise filled the air*

Livia: *Stares at them alarmed then perks up*

Burst(Sound Fairy): *Appears beside Livia, his eyes wide* Saintess Livia, you gotta stop him!!

Livia: Burst, what-

Burst: Your Divine Mana rubbed off on him, that's not Sebek, that's someone else!! That's a B rank Sound Fairy in him, you're not affected because you're the Saintess but everyone else is hearing a loud shrieking noise right now!

Livia: B rank?!

Burst: *Nods* His name is Boomburst and he can be a real bully sometimes!!

Livia: Alright, Burst, I need your help then

Sebek(???): *Blasts sound waves at Yolan's face, scowling when he missed*

Yolan: *Throws poisonous plants around his arm, protecting it from the incoming sword* What's your problem man!?

Sebek(???): *Lunges forward aiming for his head, his eyes turning gray*

Livia: *Throws her arms around Sebek* SEBEK!! STOP IT RIGHT NOW!!

Livia: *Looks up at him, Burst on her shoulder* It's fine!!

Sebek: *Moves back, leaning against her* ..Liv..?

Livia: *Sighs, hugging Sebek tight then glares at the figure retreating* AND WHERE ARE YOU GOING!??

Boomburst: *Flinches, his eyes wide as he froze* Oh...

Livia: I'll deal with you later! *Looks away, tightening her arms around Sebek*

Yolan: *Moves back, his ears flattened back*

Silver: Sebek!

Livia: *Slaps Silvers hands away, her eyes narrowed* NO!!

Silver: Liv, it's fine

Sebek: *Opens his eyes and sits up*

Livia: Sebek...

Sebek: *Looks at her then smiles slightly, taking her hand* I'm fine...

Livia: *Sighs, gripping Sebek's hand tight*

Yolan: You guys are crazy!!

Silver: *Looks over, his eyes narrowed*

Silver: Leave me to wake him up..

Yolan: *Glares at Silver, poisonous plants growing around him* Want to fight? Let's fight!

@queen-of-twisted

[chaitantei-ao3]

13

Dee smacks down her glass, “That creepy plumber was charging me a thousand dollars to unclog the drain. Can you believe that?” Dennis sees the red bowl in the line of utensils sitting below the leaky ceiling. Mac’s message flashes on his phone: just checking in, about 2 reach the video store 😊 I can’t wait 2 come back, missin u so much Bro

“Dee, so you said a sandwich and you let me borrow a car for a week?” Charlie’s voice echoes.

“A sandwich and nothing.” Dee says.

“C’mon. I’ll fix your pipes so good, Dee. You know Hwang never does our maintenance and our apartment is in top condition.”

“Right.” Dee whispers under her breath, “At least it’s not flooded.”

“Sandwich and borrow it for a day.” She says out loud. “Take it or leave it.”

“Three days!”

“One day.”

“Fine.”

“I still don’t think letting Charlie fix your sink is-” Dennis says, leaning back, cradling his head. “The best idea.”

“Huh. What do you know? Do you have any idea how hard it is to be a single woman cum house owner in these times?”

“Right.” Dennis says. “Speaking of which, Dee. Why do you think I’m so good with women?” His mind drifts to Mac’s rapturous face and he shakes his head.

“I don’t think you’re good at it. I think you’re horrible- wait how is this even related to what I’m talking about. My pipes are blocked, the water-”

Dee takes a big breath and glares at him.

“You’re not good with women, you leave them after screwing them. It’s the worst possible thing you can do.”

“In a man’s world Dee, this is what we call being good.”

“Why the hell are you annoying me with this?” her nostrils flare, “Why don’t you just talk to a man huh?” Dee dumps the apple in his lap.

“What if it’s about a man?” Dennis says.

Dee blinks, takes a step back and slowly sits on the couch. Transferring the cushion adjacent to her lap she digs her elbows on it, a hand parting her hair. “Wow, I don’t even know where to begin. Are you finally having a midlife crisis? About time, huh. Was getting late there.”

Dennis clicks his tongue and hears loud banging under the sink.

“So what’s this about?”

“I can’t make this more simple-”

“Look if it is about a man, don’t tell Mac.”

“…What’s this about Mac?”

Dee rolls her eyes, “Because he’s in love with you, obviously.” 

Dennis narrows his eyes then crosses his legs. “Obviously.” he says, then clears his throat.

“And that would just make-” Dee babbles as Dennis stares at the table.

Because he’s in love with you, obviously.

Dennis leans back on the couch, ignoring the strange bubbling sensation rising in his chest. “Well.” He clears his throat, “Coincidentally this happens to be about Mac. I’m sure you have noticed how lately his skull is getting thicker and thicker, practically impervious to reason.”

This time when the plaster rains down the sink, Dee doesn’t turn her head, “God not this again. I told you I’m not getting involved.” Dee throws the cushion at him. “Do not involve me in whatever this is.”

“Dee, do you have a flashlight? It’s hard to see here.” Charlie says, his voice muffled under the sink. “I think I’m lost? Like my hand is doing stuff that I cannot see and I don’t know what it’s up to.” Dennis hears a clanking sound.

“Shut up, Charlie! You-” She points at Dennis. “Look. If he said he doesn’t want you around like last time, you know he never means it. Now would you just go to him already?”

Dennis laughs, “Dee, let me make it clear. I know I’m the most important person in Mac’s life.”

Dee crosses her arms, “If that’s so then what is your goddamn problem. Don’t you see my hands are full.” Dennis hears Charlie mumble “Er that flashlight, Dee?”

“I’m busy, Charlie.” she shouts back.

“I’m having a situation here.” Charlie responds, his voice echoing through the gap.

“Oh Dee, Dee, Dee. How do I make you understand? Let me start from the beginning.” Dennis pinches his nose, shaking his head. To be surrounded with such an alarming level of low intelligence certainly takes its toll but how valorously he strives to go on.

“You know our mutual friend is well… deluded. He thinks his faith is on the same level as experimental science. It is completely illogical, crazy to say the least.”

Dennis has always had immense respect for knowledge that was based on experiments you could perform and see for yourself. He had been depending on it for years. After all, one didn’t have to go much further than his flawless system to get laid to see how it is built on its strong foundation.

The D.E.N.N.I.S system.

The alluring, mysterious ways of the opposite sex? Give him a break. Why, Dennis Reynolds had mastered the beguiling art of seduction, a mere semester in college. It took men their entire lives to figure it out. One only had to take a look at Frank spending outrageous amounts of money to get his sorry ass laid.

For someone like him, with an expert knowledge of women, it was easy to convert his dating experiences into a measurable science that never fails. What had Mac’s faith done for him?

“What are you talking about?”

Dennis pinches his nose, “If someone, looking like he’s right out of a spy thriller, mind you… gets him out of a bind. Does he thank the one who helped him like he should or does he bow down to his so called…faith.”

Dee scrunches her brows, kicking her feet up the table. “Jesus. Is this about what happened at the bar yesterday? When Charlie was throwing out the papers by accident -

Good, she’s finally connected the dots. He’d forgotten she was there to witness his miraculous save the other day.

“Sweet Dee, think of the years of friendship where I have been the most trustworthy and reliable person around Mac. As a superior member of this human race I have guaranteed him the pleasure of my company yet he goes around flaunting his illogical beliefs.” Dennis spits out the word, “He devalues the incredible fortune I’ve bestowed upon him by ignoring the one who’s given it to him.”

“……..A lot to unpack here.” Dee says. “You know my therapist would really like to have a look at you again.”

“None of you get it.” Dennis looks at the half peeled apple. Then again he didn’t expect her to. “None of you…ever will.” He didn’t expect to get anything coming here.

In the years he’d spent with her unneeded presence, Dee’s toneless quacking had more or less become white noise. A buzz in the background as he thinks. It’s the only reason he even wastes time in this place. Toying with his phone he pushes the record button. Hearing out his own voice of this encounter will help him figure out what to really do.

Dee opens her mouth, looks at him, presses her fingers on her mouth and sighs. “Mac’s always been like this and you never had a problem with it. In fact, I thought you liked him this way. Isn’t that why you’ve been his friend till now. What’s changed?”

Dennis thinks that statement is so lacking it doesn’t even deserve a response.

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

Read more

[crinkled-emotions]

Buck + 24 (from the 2021 list) Buddie❤️ if you'd like

heheheh of course!!

-

Before Covid broke out, a sneeze in a firehouse was... a non event. It might not have even been blessed if no one was really paying attention. It might have received an "ew, you just got snot all over me!" if they were in the engine, but other than that... no big deal.

Now, well...

-

"Say ah, Buck."

"Ah- hey! Hen, I'm fine, it was just a sneeze."

Buck pulled away when Hen came at him with a wooden tongue depressor, a grimace on her face. It reminded Buck of when he'd let her practice a couple of her med school practical exams on him. He'd been poked, prodded and she'd declared his veins a "dream" after the sixth time trying to pull blood from Eddie and Chim. Bobby had politely declined... the fear of needles lived on apparently.

Speaking of, the three stood ever so slightly behind Hen with a shared dubious look amongst them.

"Buck, that wasn't a sneeze," Chim said. Eddie nodded.

"I heard Mt Vesuvius produced less of a noise than that," he added. He and Chim shared a high five behind Bobby's back. Bobby sent Buck the Knowing Captain (tm) look, then glancing at Hen.

"Fever?"

"No, but his throat is a little red. Any exhaustion, nausea?"

"For a sneeze? C'mon, Hen, I'm good-"

The alarm blared into the firehouse, disrupting her next line of questioning. They all leapt into action; Hen and Chim hopped into the front of the ambulance whilst Bobby, Buck and Eddie climbed into the engine. Buck scooted over as Eddie began rifling around in his emergency pack under his seat, finally offering Buck a mask. Buck just glared at him.

"I'm fine."

"Humour us, Buck," Bobby requested firmly from the front seat. Buck did as told, but then knocked his knee against Eddie's.

"It's a sneeze."

"I swear I felt the walls shake a little. That was not a sneeze."

-

By the time they got back from that call Buck was, admittedly, feeling a little... run down. He may have promised Bobby no couple-y activities in the firehouse (including the engine this time, Buck!) but he figured it was fine to use Eddie's lap as a pillow. It wasn't like Eddie particularly minded; if anything he practically made room for Buck to do so on the couch.

"Oh, man, c'mon," Chim started up the light-hearted complaining as Buck's head touched down in its final destination, "what happened to no couple's shit in the firehouse?"

"May I remind you of you and Maddie getting together?" Hen asked, not even looking up from the report she was writing. Chim held up a finger.

"That's completely different-"

Buck tuned out their squabbling, half asleep already. Eddie's fingers were working through his curls, from roots to end followed by an affectionate brush over the back of his neck.

"You should go lie down," Eddie whispered softly. Buck waved him off.

"I am."

"On a real bed."

"You call the bunks a real bed?"

Buck opened an eye, slowly looking up at his boyfriend. Eddie snorted.

"Do you need anything?"

"Nope."

-

"Is he still out?"

Eddie glanced up from where he was flicking through social media on his phone, nodding at Bobby.

"Yeah."

Buck, indeed asleep against him, adjusted slightly and Eddie brushed a hand over his side to settle him. His snoring turned loud, nasally as he moved on to his back and Eddie grimaced.

"Guess it wasn't just a sneeze."

His hand went down, finding Buck's forehead to check for a fever.

"Damn, yeah, he's warm."

"I'll go call in a cover."

Bobby headed downstairs for his office and Eddie leaned down, brushing a kiss to Buck's forehead.

"Hey, Buck, c'mon. You need to go home."

"S'just a sneeze," Buck murmured. Eddie smiled.

"Sure."

-

[ravenclawshermione]

New Fic Posted!

Super excited to announce the first chapter for my new fic, You Know The Scars On My Soul - I'd Give You Every Fractured Future.

Phoebe Katsaros can see the multiverse, a so-called gift that's never led to anything good. Not until Jason.

Jason Todd isn't big on letting people in, especially not civilians. They just made it harder to do the job, to make the hard choices that needed to be made. But then he met Phoebe.

For as long as I could remember, I’d gotten flashes like this. Hints of the past, glimpses of the future, even flashes of the moment I was or should be in. I had learned the hard way that it wasn’t just my reality that I could see. As far as I could tell, I’d gotten flashes from at least a hundred different realities. And with most of them being so very close to what was real, it made the so-called gift essentially useless. It was nearly impossible to tell if the things I saw were from this reality. Which is why I usually tried my best to avoid them, or to ignore them when they came. 

I quickly scanned the books and the one poster I could see, comparing them to what I’d seen in the flash. There weren’t as many identifiers as I would have liked, but what there was all matched. As much as I usually ignored the flashes, the stakes here were just too high.

It would be pointless to try and tell people to evacuate, no one would listen. The dull red fire alarm caught my eye, the best option I had. I yanked it down, wincing as the air erupted into loud grating shrieks, then turned to make sure that people were actually reacting to it, only to see a wall.

A six-foot wall of muscle in a tight black shirt and brown leather jacket, gorgeous dark eyes glaring down at me, the strongest ‘fuck off’ vibes I’d ever encountered rolling off of him.

“Jesus, you couldn’t have picked a less obnoxious prank?”

akes place in the same reality as my Calla fics, but 100% you don't have to have read any of those to enjoy.

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Damage Control - 2x20 What Is And What Should Never Be

They drop the girl off at a hospital, Sam carrying her inside and claiming he found her in the street, an unconscious stranger. As soon as they rush her away for treatment, Sam sneaks back out, hoping the security cameras didn’t pick up his face. After all, they’re still technically on the lam with a rap sheet stretching back all the way to Kansas.

Which is why Dean is waiting in the Impala, ashen-faced and weak in the passenger seat, instead of getting treated in the ER himself. Sam knows he should get checked out. Dean does, too, although he keeps claiming that he’s fine. He’s not. Dark shadows ring his eyes, his lips have a bluish tint, and he lists in his seat like a drunk.

“She okay?” Dean asks faintly when Sam slides back behind the wheel. 

Sam eyes him with concern. “I’ve no idea. They wheeled her off and I got out of there. Didn’t want to wait for any red flags to pop up. She was still breathing, so I guess that’s a good sign?”

Dean nods weakly. “Good.” 

The brittle nature of his voice alarms Sam. “How’re you feeling?” he asks, nervously watching Dean’s chest rise and fall too shallowly, too quickly. 

Dean rolls his head to look at Sam from eerily bruised eyes. “I’m good.”

It’s such an outrageous lie, Sam should be laughing, but he’s too worried. Key in the ignition, but still not turning it, he weighs the risks they’re taking.

“I still think you should get checked out,” he muses out loud. “You’ve lost a lot of blood - maybe too much. You may need a transfusion. You’re risking organ damage, possibly even de-“

“I’ll be fine, Sammy!” Dean cuts in, fiercely now. “Some rest and food and I’m good to go. Don’t turn this into a friggin’ drama! I’ve lost blood before. I’m not gonna die on you. So shut up and let’s go! Or d’you wanna wait around for the cops to show up and drag us back in there for questioning?”

For all the force Dean put into that speech, it’s clearly drained him. Glaring at Sam, he has to catch his breath.

Sam lifts his hands. “I’m just saying that I’m not comfortable-”

“You’ll be even less comfortable when they haul our asses back to prison, Sam!” Dean shifts to sit straighter in his seat, to make himself look taller. “And this time, we won’t have Deacon to bust us out!”

It’s a sobering thought. Those few days in prison had scared the hell out of Sam. He’d felt like a caged animal, exhausted from being on constant alert, going crazy in his head, and watching Dean embrace life as an inmate with disconcerting ease hadn’t helped matters. No. They can’t get arrested again. They just can’t.

“Alright,” Sam relents. Then he lifts a warning finger. “But if I get the impression that you’re getting worse, I’m taking you to a hospital, no matter what. Understood?”

Dean heaves an annoyed sigh, but, reluctantly, he follows it with a small nod. 

“Good.” With his long arm, Sam reaches for the cold box tucked between the front and back seats and flips it open to dig out a water bottle from under their stash of beers. “Here.” He drops it into Dean’s lap. “Drink up! You need fluids.”

Obediently, Dean uncaps the bottle, and Sam doesn’t miss the tremor in his hand as he puts it to his lips. Sam’s still not feeling good about this, but the decision’s made. All he can do for now is keep a very close eye on his brother.

Aside from the physical effects of his encounter with the djinn, Sam wonders what the creature did to Dean’s head. They haven’t had a chance to talk about it yet, rushing the girl to the hospital, but from the haunted look in Dean’s eyes it’s obvious that whatever the djinn projected into Dean’s mind is still lingering. 

Sam starts the Impala and swiftly maneuvers the big car out of the parking lot. A few minutes later, with several blocks between them and the hospital, on the fastest route out of town, Sam decides to address the elephant in the room. It may also be a good way to keep Dean awake who, having emptied his water bottle, seems to become drowsy.

“Hey Dean,” Sam says, “you haven’t told me what the djinn showed you while you were out. What fantasy he locked you inside. What exactly did you see?”

His question is met with a weary side-eye. “Really?” Dean slurs his words, punch drunk with exhaustion. “You want to talk about this now?”

Sam shrugs. “I’m just wondering. You were really deep under when I found you. Like you didn’t want to come back up. Must’ve been a powerful wish the djinn granted you.”

“Jesus, Sam…” Dean complains. “I’m too fucking tired right now. Can’t we do this tomorrow?”

Judging by Dean’s defensive tone, Sam’s hit a nerve. Which makes him even more curious. As frightening as the djinn had been, his powers were fascinating, and Sam’s dying to learn more. “Oh, come on, Dean,” he keeps digging. “We still need to find a motel, and I have to keep you awake until then. You might as well tell me what happened. What was it like? Did it look real? Feel real? Were you aware you were in a dream?”

Next to him, Dean rolls tired eyes. “Good grief, you’re such a nerd!” Then he sighs. “You’re not gonna give up until I tell you, are you?” 

“Nope.” Sam smiles. Dean looks more alive now. That’s a good sign.

“Alright.” Dean huddles deeper into his jacket and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I was back home, in Lawrence.”

That’s a surprise. “As a kid?” 

“No. I was an adult. Me. Now. But not me.” Dean pauses, struggling to explain. “I wasn’t a hunter, Sam. I worked at a garage. I had a girlfriend. I was a civilian. And you were, too.”

“I was in your dream?” Sam is all ears.

“Yeah, you and Jessica. You were engaged, Sam.”

The Impala stutters as Sam’s foot briefly slips from the gas before he catches himself. Grief punches through him like it never went away, but he pulls himself together. He doesn’t want Dean to stop talking. 

His older brother is staring out the windshield, deathly pale in the passing street lights, as he continues. “Mom was there, too. She was alive, Sammy.”

Sam swallows. He should’ve seen something like this coming. For Dean, who had early childhood memories of their mother, she’d become something like an idolized figure. A perfect puzzle piece missing in his life since he’d been four, and a hole that could never be filled. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that the djinn conjured her up to keep Dean sedate and happy. 

How Sam would’ve liked to have been there, too, and see her. He only knew his mother from pictures and, because of the fire, there were only a handful. And from that brief, ghostly encounter in their rebuilt house in Kansas. Where Dean’s image of Mary Winchester was colored with grief, idealization and longing, Sam’s was made up of a vague, jealous ache and the impression that he was somehow incomplete.

“What about Dad? Was he there, too?” he asks, tentatively, afraid that Dean will clam up again if he pushes too hard.

“No.” Dean’s profile is bathed in red as they stop at a traffic light. He blinks, and his eyes are glittering. “He’d passed. It was a stroke. Must’ve been in his forties when it happened. There were pictures of him. He wasn’t a hunter, Sammy. He played softball.”

Incredulous, Sam frowns. “Softball? Our dad?!”

“Yeah.” 

Dean’s voice has taken on a soft, dreamy quality, and it’s not because he’s so tired and ill. From the few morsels he’s throwing him, Sam gathers that his brother’s biggest wish isn’t what he’d expected - some glorious hunt or an epic night with Cindy Crawford. It’s not even the yellow-eyed demon, dead at his feet, with a bullet from the Colt in his devilish brain. No. Apparently, Dean’s most coveted fantasy is a normal, domestic life with his family, void of monsters and violence.

So much for hunting things, saving people, the family business.

Huh.

Sam would like to hear more, but he catches Dean shuddering, and he really doesn’t like the near-translucent color of his brother’s face. He needs a warm bed and something to eat, and fast. Re-focusing on his driving, Sam quits his questioning and pushes the Impala a little harder. Clearly content that their conversation is over, Dean rests his head against the window, and in spite of Sam’s efforts to the contrary he has dozed off when Sam finally pulls up to a motel in the periphery of the next town. 

“Come on, Dean.” 

Sam gently shakes him awake. His brother’s eyes flutter open in confusion, and it takes him a moment to gather his bearings. 

“Where… where are we?” 

“Small town called Corching’s Bend. Doesn’t matter. Up with you! I’ve got our room keys.”

Dean blinks and scrubs a hand over his eyes. His disorientation is a clear sign how out of sorts he is, and Sam feels his brow crinkle in renewed worry. 

“Can you walk?” he asks, doubtful.

“What…? Yeah. Course I can.” 

Grunting, Dean heaves himself out of the passenger seat and stands on trembling legs. He seems to ponder taking a step, but instead he just stays there, precariously hanging on to the passenger door.

“Dizzy?” Sam asks, having been there.

“Uh-hu.”

“I gotcha.”

Sam steps in, slinging his brother’s arm across his shoulders and taking most of his weight. Dean’s lighter and leaner than he remembers. He must’ve lost several pounds in the last few weeks, and Sam feels bad for not noticing. 

Together, they make it to their room, and Sam dumps his brother on the nearest bed. He doesn’t need to tell Dean to lie down - he sinks back against the pillows breathing heavily, his forehead dotted with sweat. Against Dean’s protest, Sam grabs his wrist and checks his pulse. It’s racing. Once again, Sam wishes he could just take Dean back to the hospital, for a transfusion or at least IV fluids and monitoring. 

Reading Sam’s thoughts, Dean pulls his hand away. “‘m fine, Sam. Just need to rest.” He sits up to shrug out of his jacket and toe off his boots. And, very likely, to demonstrate to Sam that no trip back to the ER is required.

Sam’s not convinced, but standing here and worrying isn’t going to improve anything. Anxiously, he runs a hand through his hair, then puffs out a determined breath. “Alright. I’m gonna get our stuff from the car. And then I’m gonna get you something to eat. You stay put. Don’t move! I’ll be back in a sec.”

For once, Dean listens - more proof that he’s not doing well. At least he’s breathing easier when Sam returns with their overnight bags and two cans of Sprite from the soda machine out front. He pops one open and hands it to Dean. 

“Here. The sugar will do you good.”

Dean pulls a disgusted face, but he obediently takes a few sips. 

“Think you can handle a burger?” Sam asks him. “There’s a diner right next door.”

Dean nods, although without much enthusiasm. Even if he doesn’t have an appetite right now, Sam knows he needs the calories, and until he can get hold of some iron tablets for Dean, feeding him red meat is the best he can do for his anemia. As if on cue, Sam feels his own stomach contract with hunger. It’s been a long night, and, taking care of his brother, Sam’s completely disregarded his own needs.  

“Can I leave you alone for a minute?” 

“Where d’you think I’m gonna go? Pole dancing?” 

That tickles a smirk out of Sam. If Dean’s cracking jokes, things can’t be that bad. For good measure, Sam checks his pulse again. It’s come down a bit - at least enough to reassure Sam that his brother’s not going to go into cardiac arrest until he’s back. 

“Stay where you are,” Sam orders him, pointing down at the bed. “Don’t get up! I’ll be quick.”

He can feel Dean’s eye roll in his back as he hastens out the door.

XXX

As soon as the door to their motel room falls shut behind Sam, Dean sets the can of Sprite aside. He looks around the room, blinking and heaving a deep, stuttering breath. With Sam out of sight, his defenses crumble. Misery assails him, and not just the physical kind. He feels nauseous and lightheaded and so sad that it hurts in his throat. Hunching over, he hides his face in his hands.

Mom.

Jess. 

Carmen.

The djinn’s fantasy world is a bright, colorful memory burned into him. None of it was real. But it felt real. It still does. Dean’s very bones ache to go back, to leave all of this behind - the crappy motel room, the Damocles sword of the yellow-eyed demon hanging over them, his crushing responsibility for Sam. Even if it wasn’t perfect - he wants to go back and make it perfect: quit drinking, reconnect with Sam, start a family with Carmen, mow his mother’s lawn every stupid Saturday… and not care about all the people that need saving, about all the lost souls that, somehow, are his to save, his mission, his job, the fucking family business.

A sob slips past the lump in his throat, and Dean pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes to stop the tears from coming. His shoulders quake, his head hurts, and then his palms are wet. Angrily, he wipes at his cheeks. Dad would hate to see him like this - weak and bawling like a baby. He needs to get a grip. Needs to man up and get it together, because if Sam sees him like this, he’ll bundle him into the Impala and definitely take him to the nearest ER. 

But he is so, so sad, and he can’t help the tears and the snot and the childish little whimpers. 

What a wuss.

Dean gives in to it all, for a few self-indulgent minutes, before he pulls himself together. On shaky legs, he totters to the bathroom and washes his face. A ghost stares back at him from the mirror. The room spins and his legs almost give out on him when he wobbles back to the bed. Grabbing the remote, he turns the TV on, for distraction, for background noise, and to fool Sam that he’s been monitoring the local news channel when he returns. It’s still dark outside, and only the reading lights are on - with some luck, Sam won’t see Dean’s red eyes, or he’ll chalk them up to exhaustion. 

His mouth sticky and parched, Dean reaches for the Sprite and empties it in large gulps.

Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad?

His reproachful question, shouted into the night air, in front of his father’s grave, echoes in Dean’s head. That headstone - it never existed. They burned their dad’s body on a funeral pyre. And yet, Dean’s anger remains true. 

I’m so tired of being a hero.

A key rattles in the door, and then Sam is back. He brings the smell of rain and of food with him, two large brown bags in his arms, and Dean scrubs the crook of his elbow over his face before pasting a weary smile onto it. “Hey. That was fast.”

“Told ya.” Sam dumps the bags onto the rickety kitchen table and rummages around in them, pulling out cartons. “How’re you feeling?” He brings the food over to the bed.

“Hungry,” Dean lies.

“Good.” Sam’s inquisitive eyes scan Dean for signs of deterioration. Quickly, Dean casts his eyes down and stuffs a handful of fries into his mouth. A newscaster blather from the TV, and, distracted, Sam turns around to look at the screen. 

“Anything in the news?”

Dean unwraps his bacon cheeseburger and bites into it with pretend glee. “Nah. Not about us, at least. Or the girl.” He chews, and the food indeed makes him feel a little better. “Aren’t you eating?”

“Oh. Yes.” Sam perches at the foot of Dean’s bed and digs into his own meal - some chicken thing and salad. The kid’s ravenous, it turns out, and Dean has a bad conscience. If he hadn’t let himself get caught by the djinn, none of today’s drama would’ve happened. If Dad was alive, he would tear him a new one for his stupidity.

“I’m sorry,” he tells Sam, the burger settling warmly in his stomach. 

Sam looks up from his salad, face scrunched in confusion. “For what?”

“For today. I should’ve listened to you. I shouldn’t have gone looking for the djinn on my own. Almost got myself killed. That was stupid.”

Sam sighs when he answers, but his eyes hold nothing but warmth. “You saved a life, Dean. That wasn’t stupid.”

Leaning back against the pillows, Dean grimaces. He still feels lightheaded, and a dull ache has settled behind his eyes. The heavy food has warmed him up, but it’s also made him sleepy. “Yeah,” he says, rubbing his temples and yawning. “Still. Whatever.” 

“You should get some sleep.” Sam gets up and takes Dean’s leftovers out of his lap. 

That sounds like a good idea, indeed. Nodding in surrender, Dean scoots down until he’s flat on his back. His body feels heavy and insubstantial at the same time. For a moment, Dean wonders what he’ll dream when he sleeps. If his mother will make a reappearance, alive and well and tenderly stroking his face. Or Sam - lawyer Sam in his fine suit who refuses to be called ‘Sammy’ and thinks Dean is a loser with a drinking problem. Dean both hopes and dreads that the djinn’s fantasy world will haunt him, luring him back into a comatose sleep with images of a life that should never be.

Exhaustion, however, dilutes his thoughts, and his body craves oblivion so much that Dean barely registers Sam tugging the sheets over him. 

Sleep.

He drifts off, sadness and longing trailing in his wake.

The Damage Control Series - Masterlist

Read the whole series on AO3 here:

[phantomraeken]

Theo Raeken x Derek Hale

A / N : I'm probably gonna do a lot of stuff on them but someone ( @hemlocksandfoxgloves ) asked for this one in particular! I CRIED WHILE WRITING THIS I WON'T LIE

I also didn't get a chance to spell check but..

Nobody can hurt you now

★────────────★

Theo and Derek were left in the loft together over night. Theo's truck had broken down and it was pouring. Stiles didn't have the time to pick him up so Scott insisted Derek picked him up and took him to the heated loft.

Theo felt uneasy. His truck breaking down plus it raining seemed to just make him upset. He'd already been having a horrible week and he was just exhausted mentally and physically.

Derek walked him up the stairs, making sure to look back at him every once in a while. Once they got to the door Derek let out an annoyed growl, the alarm had been set off. The loud blairing nouse made Theo jump.

Derek opened the door and gave a light run to go turn it off before Theo walked through the threshold. The wave of warm air finally hit him and it calmed his nerves about the werewolf.

There was an awkward silence as Derek slid the loft door closed and Theo looked around. Derek sighed to himself, "This was so stupid." He mumbled to himself, forgetting the other person in the room could hear him.

Theo slipped his soaked converse off and set them by the door. He opened his mouth to speak but Derek took the words right out of his mouth.

"You can borrow some clothes if you need. I have extras." Derek mumbled, waving his hand at a dresser.

Theo nodded. "Thank you." His voice was flat. He couldn't look at Derek any longer. His cheeks heated up as he turned around to go through the dresser.

While Theo looked for some clothes Derek pulled some extra pillows and blankets down and tossed them onto the couch. Theo changed pretty quickly. Not wanting to make anything awkward. He watched as Derek set up the couch. "I'll sleep on the couch." Theo spoke quickly. It wasn't a question.

Derek's head shot up, he turned slightly. "No, I'll sleep on the couch." Derek responded almost immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"That wasn't a question." Theo retorted immediately.

"And that wasn't a suggestion." Derek glared at him. Theo opened his mouth to speak again but when he saw Derek's eyes light up ruby red he backed off.

Theo settled onto the bed. He fiddled with the strings to the black hoodie he had taken from Derek. The sleeves just came over his hands and the bottom reached his upper thigh. It wasn't huge on him but it definitely wasn't his size.

The two stayed silent for the rest of the night. Theo had curled up under the covers. He'd startes crying. It was kinda hard to tell what set him off but he just needed to cry.

He was overwhelmed. Derek woke up to the sound of almost silent sobs. At first he brushed it off but when he realized the small noise was followed by rugged breathing and a fast heart beat he got off the couch.

Derek stepped quickly across the hard concrete floor. The moment he could he touched Theo's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay." Derek reassured him best he could.

Theo flinched away from his touch. Thats when Derek's blood boiled. Not at Theo but for him.

He sat on the bed beside the shaking boy. He wasn't the best with reassuring people physically but he laid down behind him and rubbed small circles along Theo's tensed back.

Theo slowly loosened up and he slowly turned to look at Derek. There was a moment of debate for them both before Derek pulled him into a hug.

There was a few moments of silence as Derek took deep breaths, trying not make Theo's breath sync with his own. Derek adjusted the two.

Derek pulled Theo up more by his waist so he could tuck his head under Theo's chin. Derek had his arm's firmly around Theo. He felt he needed to protect the boy.

Theo couldn't help but laugh through the tears as Derek pushed his lips against Theo's chest. "The big bad werewolf has a soft spot for me, huh?" Theo teased, his voice still shaking softly.

Derek pulled away and looked up at Theo who in turn looked down at him.

"Shut up." Derek growled in a warning.

Theo smirked. He knew he coulf get what he wanted with just two words, "Make me."

Derek raised an eyebrow, challenging the younger chimera. There was a thick silence. Theo was smirking like an idiot while Derek just looked grumpy, as always.

Suddenly the tension turned into pure surprise.

Derek kissed Theo.

Theo didn't know how to react. He moved his hands to cup Derek's face as he melted into the kiss.

It was soft and innocent with the slight need from both boys.

[icrayon]

Red

TW: Verbal / Physical Abuse, Blood, Violence, Panic Attacks, Death

Summary: Follow a mother and her son as they go on, a seemingly ordinary day disrupted by tension and turmoil. With their trip to the park gradually reveals, the complexities of their family dynamics. When a violent confrontation suddenly unfolds, exposing the dark reality of their home life of a controlling husband. Yet, amongst the chaos, the mother's unwavering commitment to protecting her son shines through. Just how far will a mother's love go?

Note: Please read the warnings, since this will be going into the subjects as stated. If you are uncomfortable, I apologize you are free to skip. Also, I would like to give a big thank you, to the people who encouraged me to do this. I hope you enjoy the story.

A buzzing noise echoed around the room, as a pair of eyes glared at the numbers from the red alarm clock 7:00 am it read. Shutting off the alarm, the figure dragged themselves out of bed, tugging their red blanket over their shoulders. Heading towards the kitchen, they hid themselves behind the wall, of the entryway and heard the sounds of moving plates. Pulling over the blanket to conceal themselves, they peeked over faintly seeing, an outline of a person through their blanket. Jumping out of their hiding spot, with a loud thump the figure jolted at the loud noise. Slowly they turned their head, with one hand on the counter looking down at the source of the sound. The woman's eyes softened noticing what it was, striding forward she knelt to their level. Pulling the blanket back, revealing her son’s curly dark brown hair, his brown eyes peering up at her. “You scared me, I almost dropped your breakfast ” she chuckled, removing the red blanket and setting it aside.

She smiled with her red lipstick smudged across her lips, “ Now that my little Adam is out of hiding, why don't we eat pancakes''. After hearing his Mother's words, he bolted towards the table while his Mother trailed behind laughing. The boy struggled to get on the chair before he was gently lifted and placed on the seat. She then turned towards the counter, grabbing two plates and setting them down. She set a small glass of apple juice for him, then sat beside her son. Sipping coffee out of her cup, she glanced towards her son noticing he was pouring a large amount of syrup. Thinking quickly on her feet she plucked it out of her son’s hands, who looked at her with wide eyes. “Don't give me that look, you have enough on your plate now save your Mother some won't you ?” she grinned. With that said she placed the bottle next to her, finally eating their breakfast after Adam mumbled an apology under his breath.

Finishing their breakfast the Mother looked at her son, “ Why don't we go to the park ” Adam smiled and tightly hugged his Mother. Failing to notice her twitch in his hold, her smile faltering. Gently prying her son off and slightly massaging her arms, Adam looked at her confused when she spoke, “ I see you’re excited, why don't you get dressed while I get ready ”. He nodded, going to his room and getting dressed in his long-sleeved red shirt and black pants. Leaving his room he saw his Mother with her blue sweater along with her jeans. Her face was cleared from the smudged lipstick, and her curly brown hair rested on her shoulders. “Alright let’s go, we have to hurry if you want to play on your favorite swing ”, she said standing by the doorway. Adam ran towards the entryway, with his Mother opening the door, and led her son outside where he soon started to sprint towards the car. Looking behind him, he saw his Mother speedily walking in the same direction while looking at her watch. Which Adam took notice of, how frequent it was but brushed it aside.

Approaching closer, she goes to open the passenger side door. Leading Adam to his seat, and helping him with his seat belt. Afterwards, she entered the car herself and left the driveway. Adam looked out the window, seeing all the colors and shapes that were passing by just how fast they were going. While they were playing “I Spy” he saw the park come into view. Adam unbuckled his seat belt, once the car stopped he stepped out of the car and started to run towards the park, dragging his mother along with him. Reaching a familiar place, made Adam let go of his Mother’s hand. Turning his attention toward the swings, before choosing the one on the right side. He finally took a seat waiting patiently for his Mother, to push him as she walked behind him. “Tell me if you are going too high alright”, “Okay” he replied while tightly holding onto the bars of the swing. “You ready ?” with a firm nod, she began to push lightly on his back as he went higher and higher. Adam had a huge grin, yelling for her to go higher with his Mother acknowledging his excitement, and laughed while pushing him more. Hours have passed, with the two playing various games together.

Now it was noon when his mother called, to him since he was just a few feet away from where she was.  He ran over, finally reaching his Mother who sat on a bench she began to speak, “Mama has to make a phone call” his head tilted to the side “Why ?”. She sighed “You don't have to worry about that sweetheart, why don't we go to the drive-in diner after Mama’s done with her phone call, how about it ?”. He smiled waiting for his mother to get up, as the two left with Adam holding his Mother's hand. Walking towards the nearest phone booth, she crouched down to his level “Wait here okay, don't move until I'm done” with a nod he stood beside the booth. Hearing the glass door close, he looked around the block taking notice of people walking by doing their day-to-day.

A couple of minutes passed, turning his head to the sound of the door opening and saw his Mother. Who absentmindedly looked ahead of her, with a neutral expression on her face, taking her hand he gave it a gentle squeeze. She glanced down, at her son standing in place by the sidewalk. Adam tugged on her hand, breaking her out of her trance to which she gently squeezed back taking a deep sigh. Walking hand in hand, they reached the car, entered the vehicle, and drove towards the diner. Adam looked out the window, looking every once in a while toward his Mother who drove in silence. Soon arriving closer to the diner seeing its neon lights shining up ahead, pulling over at the establishment she stopped sitting back on her seat.

Gripping the steering wheel tighter and tighter, mumbling incoherent words under her breath, the ringing in her ear becoming more apparent. Adam looked concerned, trying to figure out how to help his Mother. Deciding to gently place his small hand, over her’s “Mama?” he called out to her softly. She flinched as her grip on the steering wheel loosened, and her hands gradually stopped shaking. Facing him fully she gently grabbed his smaller hand into hers, her gaze focused on her son. Adam felt shy under her gaze, turning to face the ground when she touched his cheek gently. “Mama’s okay sweetheart, have you decided on what to order ?” Adam nodded quietly. She finally let go, turning her attention away from him, when a waitress appeared asking them for their order. His Mother started to order, both their food. Soon the waitress left to start their order, the car fell silent and the Mother became aware of her son’s quiet demeanor.

Who was looking up at the sky at the various shapes the clouds took, she took it upon herself to accompany cloud-watching with him. Resting a gentle hand on his shoulder, “What do you see Adam ?” she asked softly. Adam peeked over and pointed at the fish-formed cloud, with a small smile on his face. His Mother giggled, spotting another cloud taking the shape, of a feather and pointing it to him. Both gazed at the sight, catching glimpses of oddly shaped clouds laughing together. The food soon arrived, and both started to eat. After finishing their food she glanced down, at her watch noticing it was already 3:30 pm. “Let's head home Adam you must be tired” with that said the two drove away, joking with one another. 

Arriving closer to their home Adam noticed his Father's car, in the driveway he moved closer to the corner of his seat. His Mother noticed and tried to console him, but he curled into himself trying to seem as small as possible. Once reaching a stop, the Mother heard her son’s cries. Unbuckling her seat belt, Adam heard this and pushed himself further away. Disheartened by his reaction she gave a soft sigh, “Adam” she asked quietly trying not to scare the boy. He shook his head, blocking out his Mother’s words till he felt a hand on his head. Flinching he spoke “Please Mama don’t take me there” his tone filled with fear. “Don’t worry Mama won’t let anything happen to you” she reassured him, Adam slowly started to relax wiping away the tears. “Promise ?” he said in a meek tone holding out his pinky, his Mother gave a small grin holding out her pinky and interlocking it with his “I promise”. Adam soon faced the car door and grabbed the door handle with clammy hands, turning once more towards his Mother as she held her door handle. Opening the doors together, she stepped out first. Walking around the car and seeing that Adam had not moved, she crouched down holding out her arms. Waiting for Adam, “I know you're scared, but I’ll be with you just like I promised” she spoke softly to him. 

Adam stayed quiet momentarily, staring down at his pants his fists clenching the material. Tightly as his fists started to shake from his harsh grip, slowly looked back up at his Mother with tears streaming down his face. He held out his arms, towards her who in turn looked at him in worried. Before gently taking him in her arms, she stood up with him and headed towards the door, where he shrunk in her arms. She sighed opening the door with Adam burying his face on her shoulder, hearing the soft tune of music from the record player and smelling the faint smell of cigarettes. Turning the corner and seeing a tall man, sitting on a chair with a newspaper in his hand. Feeling a presence he stopped folding the paper neatly, before placing it beside the stand.

Turning his sharp gaze towards her and then to his son his dark brown eyes narrowed. The Mother held Adam tightly, as she felt her husband's gaze on him when the husband took a deep inhale of his cigarette. Before exhaling “Where were you” he stated calmly. The Mother spoke “Just out on the town Joseph, nothing more” her husband raised a brow, combing back his black hair and sighing deeply. “Nothing more you say, perhaps you should enlighten me about your day” he stated putting out his cigarette from the ashtray beside him.  Soon glancing at his son, who tucked himself further into his Mother, “But besides that, we have other matters to discuss alone”. The Mother stiffened looking towards the ground gripping her son closer, before deciding to put him down. But the boy clung on tightly, not letting go no matter how many times his mother tried to reassure him “Do what she says boy”, the Father ordered firmly.  

Adam started to tear up, “Stop it you're scaring hi-” but the father cut the mother short. “If I want your input I will ask for it” his tone was sharp and unforgiving, and the Mother looked towards the fireplace not meeting his sharp gaze. Adam embraced her tightly, as she slowly gained the courage to look at her husband. “Let me take him to his room please,” she said softly. The Father huffed “He’s old enough to go on his own, now let go of her boy” he ordered stepping closer to the two. The Mother held her son tighter, shielding her son, “Please Joseph, I’ll just take him” she pleaded. “Very well make sure the boy is in his room until we are done” he sighed, she only nodded back as she quietly walked past him. Towards their son’s room, she was still feeling the lingering gaze of her husband even once they were out of sight.

Once reaching the door, she gently set him down she stayed crouched down patting her son’s head. “Adam listen to me, I want you to be strong for Mama okay ?” she said. He could only nod as he wiped away his tears, the Mother smiled “Good, now I want you to lock your door, and don't open it’’. “Okay” is all he could say, before being embraced by his mother “I promise you, I’ll get you out of here” she reassured him. She sent him off to his room when she heard a small click, of the lock and headed back towards the living room. She gave one last look at her son’s door, before continuing to walk to her destination. Adam stood in place, looking at the door before hearing his parents through the thin walls.

“Now tell me why, I got a phone call from your Boss that I had to leave my job ?” the father questioned. “People are leaving and we’re severely understaffed, and people are forced to work overtime, and if we don’t get enough sales. The building would be up for lease, by the end of two weeks”. The Mother answered, and the Father sighed in frustration “That still doesn't explain why you got fired. If you’re forced to work overtime, it wouldn't be a problem unless there’s something else you're not telling me ?” he interrogated. The Mother stayed quiet “Look at me,” he said firmly garnering no reply. “ LOOK. AT. ME !!! ”  he yelled harshly, his voice carried out throughout the home. “ Tell me the reason, don’t lie to me either,”  he demanded. “Please Joseph, you must understand there’s only so much I can do, there’s just too much on my plate right now” she reasoned. There was a brief pause “Get to the point” he said sternly “The hours are getting too overwhelming, it’s getting in the way of my son” she replied.

The Father huffed “ Think about this Joanna if you're not working, how can we support the boy”. She spoke again “I'll see what I can do Joseph, I can find another publishing job just give me some time please” she pleaded.  “How long will that be Joanna, you make it sound like it’s easy to find a job, but we both know that isn't the case. By the time you find a job we will be far behind on bills !” he shouted. “Don't yell Joseph, please be considerate if I took the hours it wouldn't change the outcome. But the time I would've spent with my son I can't take back, because of that job I don't even know my son!” she screamed as her voice cracked at the end. “Don’t raise your voice at me, that is still no excuse to do that you foolish woman” he countered. “No, Joseph you don’t understand how this affects our son. He’s only eight years old, eight years old Joseph we forget that he’s just a child. What kind of child is supposed to understand any of this ? ” she replied. Suddenly there was a loud strike followed by a yelp, then a loud thud, “Enough of this nonsense you’ve never been grateful for the things I’ve given you. Instead, you're always on my back about everything involving the boy. I'm sick of it” the Father said. 

The Mother’s words cut through the quiet room barely audible “Don’t talk about him like he’s not your child Joseph he’s your son”. The Father scoffed  “ My son ? Let me remind you, that you wanted this child. Yet, you persisted and now look at us, is this what you wanted ?”. Silence enveloped the home, “ Answer me, woman you wanted this didn't you, this family life, even the boy I have the shame of calling my son” he said in disdain. Soon there was a sickening crack that reverberated throughout the home, followed by screaming and a thud. It was becoming louder which was paired with a loud squelching noise. The sound continued for what seemed like hours, as Adam was hidden in his closet with the blanket over his head. It abruptly stopped, with the only sound being the soft record player playing the same note repeatedly. Adam suddenly jolted at the sound of slow methodical footsteps, reaching his bedroom door. His heart beating faster the closer it came, curling closer to the far corners of his closet. It soon stopped, and all was quiet when he heard light breathing from where he was. All of a sudden, there were slow rhythmic knocks one after another. Staying frozen in place, only moving an inch when he heard a barely audible voice call his name. Again the voice called to him, until he finally recognized his Mother's voice. Her tone was light and soft, beckoning him to open the door. Getting out of his closet with his blanket still over his head, he crept towards the door, creaking it open just a sliver.

Noticing under the low lighting, a pair of pants speckled with red he looked further up taking note that his Mother was covered in speckles of red. Her blue sweater now turned crimson, and her face disheveled. With her lipstick smudged across her lips, her wide eyes looked vacant as she stared down at her son. Going down to his level, she took a deep sigh then taking her hand she pulled away the covers. She was placing a gentle hand on his cheek, smudging something wet on his face. Caressing his face, she placed her forehead on his. With her eyes closed her posture relaxed. Adam scrunched up his nose at the harsh metallic smell, invading his nose not looking away from his Mother.

He stood still as his Mother’s hand started to tremble, “ See Adam Mama kept her promise, and I'll always keep it no matter what” she reassured him. But deep down she knew these words were for her reassurance, then glancing down at her form. Noticing she was covered in blood, various emotions washed over her at that moment. Slumping over, her mind was in disarray that her hands instinctively pushed back her hair tugging at it harshly. Mumbling to herself, she lowered her head even more only hearing her rapidly beating heart. Forgetting that she was in the presence of her son, who looked at his Mother concerned. Tugging at her hair more harshly, letting out choked sobs when she felt a hand being placed over her’s. She unclenches her hands and looks back up at her son wide-eyed.

Adam still with his hand on top of hers, gave it a gentle squeeze, lowering her hands from her hair. Tracing circles on the back of her hand, she gave back a gentle squeeze before placing her hand once more on his cheek. She let out a deep breath caressing his face, further smearing the blood on his cheek. Pulling him into an embrace, cradling his head leaving the blankets to fall to the floor. Silent tears began to fall from her face, embracing her son tighter. Pulling back from the embrace before catching sight of her son, covered in blood she then took a deep breath. “ Adam, why don’t you go wash up, while I go clean up okay? ” she asked gently. He nodded she smiled standing back up, she ruffled his hair turning to walk towards the door. Adam just watched as she left but she stopped, as she had the door open just a jar. Slowly turning to face him  “Don’t come out of your room until I’m done cleaning” she instructed. “I understand,” he said softly picking up his fallen blanket and observing the red color of the blanket. The same color his Mother was now wearing, before turning back to briefly catch a glimpse down the hallway of his room. Accompanied by the low lighting, he saw red smudges along the floor before the door was closed enveloping the room in silence.

[mizumiii]

A perfect plan - III

Part II - Table of contents

Balthazar x Fem!Tav

Good evening, here is the last part. There's 🌶️🌶️🌶️ in the middle but I was too lazy to break this part in two.

Tav's motivation increased as she found in Bal an unexpected partner, her days were spent looking forward to seeing him again and sharing his embrace in the intimacy of her bedroom. She never progressed as efficiently as now, even the shadows could not stop her. It was a bit strange because her situation had not changed, but to be able to forget it for a couple of hours was doing wonders on her mind. 

This evening Bal was waiting for Tav in the Last Light Inn. It was the first time she was not here before him since he would use his corpses to spy on her and know when she was back. They had informed him she was on her way, but the day had already ended for a couple of hours without her making an appearance. Because of this, he had to play his merchant act with others, which irritated him strongly. Those lovers of nature were so stupid it was nerve-wracking!  There was no point in him wasting his precious time here if he could not play with his little toy. She was the only thing of interest around here, and he could not wait for the day he would break her meticulously apart. It was now just a matter of days, weeks at most, so it made it even more infuriating not to be able to test and bend her more. 

He finally left the place, annoyed to have wasted his precious time. 

“You should have seen her when I smashed her with my halberd!” A giant tiefling boasted in a loud and proud voice just in front of him and the tavern.

“Sorry but I was a bit busy healing your ass without dying myself”, grumbled a half-elf.

“You both did a great job”, a big, muscular wood elf patted their heads. 

“I will never look at coins the same way now”, jocked another tiefling.

“Haha true”, laughed the first one before stopping in front of Bal. “Ooh, good evening little man.” 

She then turned towards Tav with a very implicit smirk as the paladin ignored her by walking past her to reach the merchant. 

“Good evening Bal”, she saluted him too.

He frowned, Karlach’s little spike could not mean less to him, but Tav’s aspect was unexpectedly fueling his annoyance: her armour had holes all over, some particularly alarming on her chest, but even if her skin was as clean as the day she was born, her red was paler than usual.

“We ran out of potion, and mana”, she shrugged as she noticed his glare, “at least we got more than enough gold to buy far better armour.”

“It seemed I took you for more clever than you truly are”, he snorted unhappily, “your boldness in front of danger only spells stupidity.”

A heavy silence fell on the five people reunited in front of the inn. 

“We’ll go first”, Halsin suddenly declared after exchanging glances with Karlach and Shadowheart. “We’ll see you tomorrow”.

And without waiting for an answer, they rushed to the camp, leaving Tav and Bal finally alone. The merchant still felt angry, it was as if all his efforts of the previous months had been for nothing as the woman he had thought being a threat could in fact be easily beaten thanks to her immaturity in front of danger. He opened his mouth to voice his mind but was interrupted by Tav suddenly slamming her hand on the door behind him. She had cornered him against him, using her body to block him.

“What do you think you are doing?” He scoffed to hide the sudden jolt that had struck him.

How could that toy pull such a reaction out of him when he should just have discarded it without hesitation?

“Bal…”, she leaned to his left ear, leaving her voice to sink deeper in his head, “the only thing that is keeping me together right now is to know that I can find you here when I come back. So if you really think those words just leave…”, her voice was soft like honey but her intonation left some daggers to be felt.

Then, Tav left her head resting on his shoulder, her nose tickling his neck. Her last words were craving new marks on his skin, invisible ones. She needed him ? That was marvellous, exactly what he needed, no, what he wanted. His toy was at his mercy… He grabbed her hair to pull her head back before kissing her. As if it was the signal she was waiting for, Tav’s hunger awakened. He fought for control over her mouth, imposing his tongue through her lips, preventing her from parting apart with his hand. He kept going at it until he heard her moan slightly. His awareness was jolted awake, no matter how much he wanted to hear her sing right now, there was no way he would share it with anyone else. So he finally let go of her, she looked at him with a smile, her lips shining with his saliva. She took his hand, as she used to and led him to her bedroom.

There, they got rid of his clothes first, before dealing with her armour. It was so damaged that they had to cut or force open some parts. Piece by piece, Bal witnessed all the bruises the healing had not dealt with, leaving Tav’s body like a strange canvas. 

“Such unnecessary heroism”, the merchant commented with a grimace.

“I needed to come back here quickly,” she playfully justified.

She squeezed her body against his, before kissing him with enthusiasm. Bal decided to press on all her dark spots with a hand while the other one was forcing her to keep kissing him. Tav winced out of surprise, the pain dissolving in the man's mouth.  Her reaction pleased him greatly as he went harder to make her desperately cling to his shoulders. Her legs could barely hold her as tears were building in the corner of her eyes.

“Hold on tightly my little toy”, he advised her while releasing her head before pushing her against a wall. 

With a surface on her back and Bal's head between her hands, Tav was able to stay standing on her two legs. The pain that had almost overtaken came back again, except this time her torturer used his second hand to play with her vagina. Her moan instantly went louder as his fingers played at the same time with her bruises and her clit. 

“Bal… it hurts”, Tav winced against his lips.

“You can only blame yourself for what you're enduring, Doll”, he wickedly claimed with a smile.

It was intoxicating to see Tav reduced to a plaything between his fingers, far more satisfying than anything he had ever experienced. As he scientist he had never been an adept of torture or free pain, everything he had ever done had a reason, an objective. But here, now, he only wanted to hear what kind of lecherous sounds she could make, to see her beg for him… For now, her cheeks were bright red, her mouth gasping for air and her eyes shining with tears, it was a marvellous sight. He could feel her legs shaking around his arm, her hands desperately holding onto him…

“You do not look in that much pain”, he sneered. “You're such a naughty Toy…”

Every time she looked close to her pick, her body tensing, her breath locked in her throat, he would squeeze her injury, earning a deep cry mixed with pain and pleasure. 

“Please Bal let me cum”, Tav ended up begging after another unfulfilled close-up of her climax. 

She was so desperate to get what she wanted! All pride or self-esteem were long forgotten as she felt that she was going to cum at any moment without any lovely stimulation. 

“What an exquisite plea, I could get used to hearing you beg me like this Doll”, Bal whispered in a low, hot voice as his own arousal was starting to take a toll on him, “go one then, beg, pray, implore me for your release…”

“Bal… Please, make me cum”, Tav supplicated, “please, please, I beg you…”

The man pushed his body against hers, his head in her neck to hear better her supplication, his left hand digging into the bruise on her right hips, his right hand playing skillfully with her clit. Her words instantly stopped to be coherent as she was trying to keep begging but now there was a mix of gratitude in it. Suddenly she clenched her hands, her body impaling itself on his hands, and a long, deep moan escaped from her mouth. 

They stayed like this for a moment, Bal basking in the delicious fragile state of Tav. She felt so feeble under his hands, he never wanted to let it go. But suddenly, a strong push shoved him on the bed. 

“You get back quickly on your feet hero”, he scoffed when admiring the paladin standing in front of the bed with eyes shining with excitement. 

He lay his back against the headboard, his cock standing proudly up, even throbbing out of anticipation.

“Do not underestimate me”, she shrugged, “I hope you're ready because you're not leaving here before I say it…”

Before he could answer anything to her, she climbed on him, impaling herself on his manhood before starting a hungry pace. Except this time he was ready, he grabbed her hair in one hand, her hip with the other and started to fuck her properly with large movement. 

“That's so good”, Tav babbled her hands scratching his belly to help her ride his crazy pace.

Bal grunted, as much as he wanted to pummelled bravely, the sensation was overwhelming him. He had underestimated his own arousal since just seeing his cock slide out and in her pretty cunt was enough to squeeze his inners. 

“You're such a treat”, he praised her, “look how you take so lovingly my dick, you love it right? You love how I fuck you!” Each sentence was punctuated by a rough stab. “Say it Doll!”

Tav was already sinking in a white world where only tampered sounds and lights tricking pleasure could reach her. As she was crushed by the sensations left at the hands of Bal, she answered without thinking, only desperate for him to keep going. 

“I like it Bal”, she blathered, her eyes half-closed, her pussy squeezing his shaft, “I like it, Bal…”

Stimulated by her confession, he let go of her hair to play once again with her clit. Her reaction was immediate, she gasped and grabbed his arm to the point of pain. Rather to displease him, it helped him in keeping his climax at bay long enough to make her cum on his fingers.

“I like it so much Bal”, she whispered as she rode her pleasure before slowly laying on his chest, “I like you.”

She then started to kiss him after biting his lips. This position allowed the man more freedom, so he did not hesitate. This time he grabbed her hips harshly to pound senselessly in her cunt. All thoughts had left his mind, as he focused only on his release. 

I like you.

He grunted loudly as the successive waves hit him. His hands stayed locked on Tav's hips, but she did not seem to mind since she simply let her head rest on his chest. 

I like you.

The sentence kept haunting his mind but the only thing Bal let himself think about what just happened was that his plan had finally succeeded. 

☠️

Tav put back her sword in its sheath. Around her, Halsin, Karlach and Shadowheart were doing the same, looting some coins on the way before looking at the skeletons waiting for them in front of the door. 

“Should we make a bet about who's behind?” Karlach offered. 

“I don't think it will be necessary”, Shadowheart replied with a smirk as the door was opened by the skeletons.

The group of four stumbled on the strangest sight. The temple of Shar had been odd but this was unexpected. The shelves were full of strange bocals, grotesque undead creatures, the altar covered with corpse remains, and overlooking all this a man with a bloody-scared grey face half-covered by a hood. 

“Finally we can meet without any artifices, hero of the light”, he boasted with a dramatic gesture of his hands. “I am Balthazar, chief advisor of General Thorm, and entrusted with a mission of utmost importance.”

His smile transpired of self-satisfaction, dripping confidence, shining with expectations. He dissected the raising of her eyebrows, the movement of her eyes checking his face, the tremor of her lips as she was about to speak. What will she say? Would it be anger, surprise, disgust? Everything he had done those last few months had been in preparation for this moment! He would use her disarray to take advantage, to reduce her as nothing more than a pawn in his skilful hand. His arms spread as to welcome her first words : 

“It’s good to see you again Bal”, she smiled.

“There’s no need for your bravado, hero”, he insisted in front of her lack of reaction. “Enlighten me, what does one feel when faced with a horrific truth?” 

His hands clenched in fists as he closed his arms. She could try as much as she wanted to mock him, but the reactions of her companions were giving it away. The disgust on Shadowheart’s face was the most obvious but Karlach and Halsin could not hide their surprise either.

“What do I feel?” Tav wondered out loud before passing a hand in her hair. “Shame I guess? For keeping the truth from you, to be honest, I never told you because it was not putting me in a flattering position…”

The paladin walked closer as Balthazar was scoffing from complacency from seeing her reduced to pouting nonsense. He stared at her as she stopped across the altar to close an eye and point the other with one finger.

“This little thing can see through all invisible, modified appearances. In other words: you can't hide me shit.”

Balthazar's smile froze unpleasantly in front of the underlying of her explanation.

“So about a bet?” Karlach broke the heavy silence that had been installed in the room. 

“I don't understand how we even ended up in that mess”, Shadowheart sighed disenchanted. 

“I'm certain they will sort this out”, Halsin assured kindly.

Tav turned her back to stare at her companions as she was trying to put holes through their skulls. Sometimes she was not sure if they were skilled warriors or just annoyed and annoying children with an unhealthy inclination for bet. 

“Maybe we should continue this discussion without the ki…”, she paused to look at the necromancer's minions. “Urrr… bystanders…”

The horrified and undignified gasps of her friends made her raise her eyebrows with amusement. The reaction on Balthazar's end was less light-hearted.

“I’m a necromancer, why would I give up on my advantage?” He sneered while crossing his fingers in front of him. 

"I’ll give up my sword if it can make it even”, she graciously offered before handing down her weapon to the biggest undead at her left. 

Halsin and Shadoweart tensed, clearly unhappy to see their friend unharmed in front of an obvious threat. But Karlach simply laughed it out while dragging the others outside the room with her. In front of this development, Balthazar's unhappiness did not disappear, but he finally and reluctantly waved to his undead who cleared out too. 

He stared at Tav, running his fingers on the altar as to find something to canalise his agitation. How could the situation have landed so far from his expectations? How could he have not noticed her skill? Or rather why had she played along if she already knew the truth? He liked to challenge his intellect, but here it was as if the mystery was not from the reasoning side.

“Alone at least”, Tav sighed.

Her shoulders dropped a bit, a thing he had noticed her to do when no longer people were looking up to her around. 

“You got what you wanted, now indulge me by revealing to me your true agenda”, he asked her unpleasantly.

He had never felt so tense for a long time. Usually, it would be easy: either he was dealing with slaves he could do whatever he wanted with, or he would simply annihilate anyone mad enough to try challenging him. Except here he could not tell in which category he was.

“I want to get rid of the thing in my head, but you already knew that”, she recalled while slowly walking around the altar. “Just as I told you, I already knew who you were. No, not exactly. I always knew what you looked like. I figured out who you really were not so long ago.” She stopped in front of him before gently taking off his shroud. “After the first time we spent our first night together…”

“I thought you were a paladin? Is it not against your vow to involve yourself with the enemy?” He scoffed with bitter irony.

“I'm an oathbreaker”, she shrugged despite the shadow in her eyes. “I care about only one thing: to stay with those who are important to me. The rest can burn for what I care…”

Balthazar felt her hand on his cheek, unable to even walk away, he let her reveal his face and even touch it. His breath shortened, as he wondered what trick she was using to keep him under her spell like this. 

“I am currently planning to end the world you know ?” He pointed out.

“Then I'm going to stop you”, Tav smiled. “What would be the point to end the world, you would no longer be able to challenge yourself.” 

“How presumptuous of you to think you would stop me!”

“I like you Bal”, Tav revealed without letting go of his face.

Strangely, he felt relieved. So it was not something spurred out in the heat of the moment. He stared as she leaned forward until their lips touched. The feeling was softer than ever before, it made him melt inside. Then Tav's blood mixed with his saliva. 

“That hurt”, Tav scoffed before taking a couple of steps back while wiping the red on her mouth. 

“I will never turn my back on General Thorm, I am his trusted advisor”, Balthazar proclaimed vigorously. “Your world will never accept me, as it did before. Your honey words are nothing but a pitiful temptation!”

He supported Tav's strange two-coloured eyes, ignoring the pounding in his chest as the precious liquid odour was making his head sing for more. Squeezing the dagger in his hand helped him strengthen his determination. There was no turning back no…

“I respect your will”, Tav finally smiled but this time there was something else in her face as she was forcing herself. “But can you tell me why you stabbed me where it did no damage except for the little blood? I'm sure an expert like you can easily find the perfect spot to kill someone or wound him to death, except you did not.” 

For a second there was only both of their loud breathing in the room.

“I’m going to die any day now, but I will not give away my life either. However, if I am to live, I will do it on my own accord. Come with me, I'll show you what's possible, we'll find a place where we can be ourselves.”

She walked back to him, ignoring the dagger still in his hand. Then she gently took his head between her hands. 

“Tell me you don't want it, tell me you don't like me and we should fight to death right now”, she offered him. 

Balthazar chuckled in front of her stupidity, as he was going to simply trust her and… All his bravado stayed stuck in his throat as he simply let her come closer to the point where their lips were almost kissing.

“I won't force you this time if you want to, come get it…”

He grunted, not amused by her audacity but still crossed the last millimetres to be able to finally feel her lips again. The taste of blood was still lingering except this time he did not have time to think about what to do as Tav promptly took the upper hand. She put her right hand behind his hand to deepen their kiss, while skillfully pushing him against the altar and her other hand went to grab his hand with the dagger as they intertwined their fingers against the handle. The necromancer grabbed a leather strip of her armour to prevent him from falling as they were forgetting any restraint. 

“Shall I take it as a surrender on your part?” Tav asked, her lips shining as she looked down at him.

“You shall do nothing of the sort, however, keep going on and I will see what can be done…”

“You silvered tongue”, she hummed before happily resuming her action.

☠️

“So a free shot for everyone?” Karlach offered her bottle to her companions and the skeletons as they had started a bonfire in front of the door.

The end 

[kaycapo]

sorry I wasn’t specific 😅 I meant for your au where TSC’s friends forgot who she was, TSC forgot who her friends were for the writing

oooh I understand. I finally finished the writing! 😆 but here's a quick explanation:

in my writing stories, the sticks are humanized, (They're still stick figures but they just look human, so their hair, eye colour, and clothes match their colour) and all their bedrooms, living room, kitchen ect ect are in stickfight.com through the double doors we see instead of the big minecraft building in avm.

that's all! onto the story :D (Hope you like it!!)

Second’s POV:

I slowly stir awake, letting out a yawn before sitting up. I scratch my back while grabbing my phone to check the time. 8:30 am.

Alan asked me to help him animate today. He should start in about an hour… So I’ll go get some breakfast before then.

I hop out of bed and get changed into fresh clothes. Opening my door, I start walking down the hallway.

Huh… I don’t remember there being so many doors. Eh I’m just sleepy. I only woke up like five minutes ago.

With another yawn, I’m about to enter the kitchen, but I pause when I see it.

Six sticks in the kitchen chatting away.

Who the fuck are they.

What are they doing here.

Why are they here

What is going on.

Abruptly, one of them turns to me, green coloured, before smiling. “Hey second!”

He knoWS MY NAME!? 

All the others turn to me, making me tense up. My heart is thumping hard. I step back, trying to make myself look threatening.

“Wh-Who are you all!?” I curse at myself for stuttering. They stare at me with confused looks.

“Is this one of your jokes again?” the dark red coloured one asks.

“Jokes..?” I repeat. “Why are you acting like you know me? Why are you in my home? Seriously, this is fucking weird!”

They all glance at one another. They don’t seem like they’re faking… Unless they’re really good actors..? Maybe I should get Alan. He’ll know what to do. Probably.

Just as I’m about to run off, a hand grabs my head making me gasp. The hand belongs to the blue one. “Did you bump your head?” 

I shove her away, leaving her shocked. “No I did not bump my head! And don’t touch me!!” the hurt look on her face makes me feel guilty, but I quickly shake it off.

Before anyone could say anything else, I run away. I hear a series of desperate voices from behind me as I leap out of stickfight.com.

Alan isn’t here yet… with an exasperated sigh, I head onto Google and type up an alarm. I turn it on and a loud sound is let out.

The sticks come into view, covering their ears.

“Argh- What are you doing!?” one of them yells but I only glare at them.

After a few moments, Alan approaches the computer, turning the alarm off. I hop down from the tab as he opens up adobe flash.

[What’s wrong sec?] he types out and I stare at him confused. Can't he see all the random sticks here?!

Uhm, them! An orange text appears above my head as I point at the sticks.

He doesn’t reply for a moment. Only looking between me and the strangers.

[What about them?]

What? What does he mean ‘What about them’!?

What about them!?? They’re strangers!! How are you so calm??!

[Strangers..? Sec are you okay? Did you bump your head?]

WHY DO PEOPLE KEEP ASKING IF I BUMPED MY HEAD!!? NO I DID NOT!

Suddenly, the red coloured one approaches me. “Second… calm down..”

I step back, clenching my fists, prepared to beat the living shit out of anyone who tries to hurt me. The rest of the strangers stand by the red one, with the yellow one speaking up now.

“Listen, we know you’re scared, but just try to calm down. Let’s sit down and talk, okay?”

I look at her for a couple seconds. She doesn’t seem to be deceiving me… none of them look bad, or that they want to hurt me. If they wanted to, they probably would’ve done it already.

I let out an aggravated sigh, unclenching my fists.

“Okay… let’s talk.”