#burnt a damn hole in my pocket

[freyjas-musings]

Wonder if I should be claiming these as incidentals for being stuck in the airport for too long 😅... But it really brought me a lot of joy shopping books physically , I mostly order books online like most of us I guess .... there is something satisfying about going through physical books and buying them 🤗

'The Curse of Saints' is the one that I am most excited about

[lulublack90]

Prompt 24 - Intent

@jegulus-microfic August 24, Word count 920

Previous part First Wolfstar part

Regulus flew into James’s arms when they met again. 

“We got it!” He whispered excitedly after they'd slipped out of the Manor, unseen. 

“Well done, love. Let’s get out of here,” James nodded to the others and they all disapparated. 

They hadn’t gone back to their camp. The plan was to go somewhere else first and destroy the Horcrux. They were somewhere in the Brecon Beacons. The wind howled around the wild mountain range. Their robes whipped around their legs and threatened to be torn off completely. 

“We need somewhere more covered!” Sirius called out, his voice stolen by the wind. 

“Come with me!” Remus yelled, holding out his hands to them. They all grabbed on. Regulus felt the familiar squeezing sensation as Remus apparated them again. 

The wind stopped, and they were inside a wooden shed. 

“Where are we?” Marcus asked, picking up a dusty watering can. 

“My da’s old potting shed.” Remus shrugged. “It’s out of the wind at least. Regulus moved to the sturdy-looking bench and moved aside the collection of spider web-coated seed trays and mini-plant pots before taking the notebook out of his pocket. 

For the first time, he looked at it properly. It was definitely muggle in origin. It had a date printed on the front, 1943. So it was a diary, he thought. He opened it hoping to find some hidden secrets. It was blank. The only writing was the slightly smudged name on the first page. T. M. Riddle. Well, at least they had the right item. 

“Damn, that thing smells awful,” Marcus complained, holding his nostrils closed with his thumb and forefinger. Regulus ignored him and put the diary on the workbench. He took the box containing the basilisk fang out as well and carefully extracted it. 

He held it up gingerly to his brother. 

“Do you want to do the honours? You were the one to get it after all,” 

“Narcissa literally threw it at me. I wouldn’t exactly say I got it,” Sirius barked out a laugh, but carefully took the fang. He held it above the diary. He was about to plunge it into the diary when a shimmering form began to break free of the pages. 

“Quick, just do it!” Regulus urged Sirius on. “Before whatever that is can fully form. Sirius stabbed down with intent. He stabbed the fang so hard it went straight through the diary and stuck in the wood beneath. 

A loud scream escaped from within the pages as waves of ink flooded out of the diary, coating Sirius from his arms down and covering the dusty floor. Then everything was still and the destroyed Horcrux lay there, just a diary again, albeit a diary with a large steaming hole through the middle of it. 

It took Sirius a second to wrench the fang from the wood, but once he had, he returned it to its box and handed it back to Regulus. 

“Shit, Moony, the fangs burnt through the potting table. How pissed is your dad going to be when he sees it?” Sirius grimaced after he’d vanished all the spilt ink from himself and the shed. 

“Not much,” Remus replied sadly. “He doesn’t use it any more, not since Mum died,” Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus and whispered what sounded like sweet words in his ear, but Regulus couldn’t make them out. 

“Okay, let’s go home,” Sirius said as he pulled away from Remus, but didn’t let go of his hand. James grabbed Regulus’s hand and Marcus rolled his eyes. 

“Because you can’t apparate without holding hands. Bleh!” He fake gagged and dissapparated. 

“Poor Marcus, he needs to get laid,” Sirius snickered, before bringing Remus’s hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles and apparating away. 

“Just us, love,” James said, crowding Regulus against the neglected shed’s wall. Regulus surged forward and attached himself to James’s face. It was over. They’d found and destroyed another Horcrux.

“Can we go back to Potter Manor?” He asked, between gasping breaths. James groaned into his mouth. 

“Oi! Who’s in there?!” A voice shouted from outside the shed. 

“Shit, Lyall!” James cursed. He wrapped his arms around Regulus more securely and apparated them to Potter Manor. He pulled out his mirror and called into it. “Hey, Padfoot,” James waited for a moment, and then Sirius’s voice came through. 

“Why are you calling me on the mirror? Where have you gone? Have you gone back to Potter Manor?!”

“Er, yeah, change of plans. We need to check the library again. See you in the morning, yeah. Oh, and can you tell Remus that Lyall came out and yelled at us? He didn’t see who was in the shed, but he might have gone in by now. Love ya,” He blew a huge kiss at the mirror and snapped it shut.

“He’s going to kill you for that, you know,” Regulus couldn’t hide the grin spreading across his face. 

“Nah, he loves me too much. He might take a page out of your book though and hex my bollocks off the next time he sees me,” He grimaced. 

“I’d like to see him try,” Regulus narrowed his eyes dangerously. James chuckled, and they walked into Potter Manor, greeted by an irate Flitsy, who had not been expecting them and had nothing ready. It took James a good twenty minutes to calm her down and promise that it wasn't a problem. Regulus headed upstairs. He needed a shower after everything they’d been through the last few hours. 

Next part

[brenayla]

I really enjoyed your Midnight piece! Can I request more of Julie’s perspective, especially as mulder and Scully’s relationship evolves into romantic, a baby, etc.? Idk how far you’d be willing to follow them, but I really enjoyed it and would definitely tune in to see this perspective all the way thru post-revival even

hi! thanks for tuning in. sorry this took a bit.

---

Little Amber Lynn’s mama will only speak to Mulder.

In the second floor bedroom, Julie watches him take her statement from a distance, hyper-aware that Scully is lurking somewhere beneath their feet.

To say that he inspires trust would not be completely accurate. He wraps a silk hand around your neck, looks at you with his black hole eyes, and compels information from the back of your throat.

They inspire admiration, even from those that try to cover it up with silly nicknames.

They inspire a dread like anaphylaxis settling in.

Even Skinner seems to feel it today, having apparently done something to piss off Scully. As everyone mills around outside the house, preparing to head out, she snaps with staticky irritability.

Now, Julie is no gossip but she finds herself eavesdropping on them, pretending to review her notes as she waits for her carpool. She has always held a curiosity for Skinner.

“Did you get the keys?” Scully asks.

“Yes.” Skinner offers her two sets, each dangling with the evergreen motel tag that’s looped onto Julie's own room keys.

In Julie’s peripheral vision, Scully stares down their boss and swipes one set of keys from his hand. She turns and crisply walks to her car in a swarm of black ice shards, dripping liquid mercury.

That is one mystery solved; a drop in the ocean.

Quietly, Skinner slips the leftover set into his pocket.

Mulder turns up in the Oregonian woods, smack dab in the middle of a crater that didn’t used to be there. At least that’s what Skinner tells Julie when he calls.

It all sounds like something that is not her problem but she’s smarter than to word it like that. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she tries instead, “but has a crime been committed?”

“It’s violent, Agent,” he snaps. “Get your ass on a plane.”

Julie does.

With white gloved fingers, she collects the burnt tatters of Mulder’s old clothes into evidence bags. When she goes to see him in the hospital, he is bright and freezer cold. There is not a scratch on his incandescent skin.

She is here, too. Suited up, thousand-watt Scully. She runs her crystalline talons through Mulder’s hair under the guise of checking for injuries and Julie has to turn away for air.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Julie asks him, Scully looming in the doorway and picking at Julie’s training to scan for an alternative exit.

“You mean before I woke up in the woods in my birthday suit?” Mulder asks.

“Yes,” Julie says, her hindbrain blaring at her to turn around, there’s something behind you. “Before that.”

“Aside from the ship and damn near getting abducted, not much. Skinner can confirm that, he was there.”

Julie relents and glances to the doorway, but it’s just Scully. Arms crossed, masked up.

“Scully,” Mulder says, and she reluctantly steps out into the hallway, halving the clamor of Julie’s fight-or-flight.

It has been years since she interacted with one of them without the other; she’d almost forgotten that they are more palatable alone.

“Sorry about that.” Mulder gives a playful smile, showing off iridescent teeth. For a flash, his fangs drip with ripe cherry blood. Julie blinks. “She’s a little on edge,” he explains.

She wants to lean in; she wants to run away.

“Agent Mulder. How did that crater get there?”

Mulder lies to her. “I don’t know.”

It’s been an exhausting fall and Julie has already attended far too many of these obligatory charity events. American flag pins abound; teary late night talk show hosts. There is a curdling thirst for vengeance in Congress and a frenetic unease in the public.

She and Kramer camp out near the snack table, gorging themselves on free candy to make up for skipping lunch.

“Am I going to Hell if I say I’m getting tired of these?” Kramer asks, setting his carefully folded KitKat wrapper down. It springs back into its old form.

“If you do, I’ll be down there with you.” She watches him reach for a Snickers.

He continues quietly, tearing off a neat slice of flag-colored foil. “I just– There’s only so many times I can listen to these speakers. I get that it’s…”

Over his shoulder, she spots Skinner and – yes, it is him; they are easier to tell apart once they start speaking – Mulder in a black dress shirt, a baby strapped to his chest.

“…but it’s fucking depressing, and–”

“Hey,” Julie whispers. “Your favorite former coworker is here.”

Mouth sticky with caramel and nougat, Kramer asks, “Huh?”

She tilts her head towards Mulder; she cannot look at him for too long, having gone soft from lack of exposure to them. He’s giving her blue and purple echoes, like she’s been staring at the sun.

“Oh yeah, I saw Scully earlier with the…,” Kramer says, gesturing to his torso where a BabyBjorn would sit.

Ah but are you sure it was Scully?

Quickly moving on, Kramer says, “I didn’t think he was so progressive.”

“What did you think then? Scully, barefoot and pregnant?”

He nods thoughtfully, conceding. “I guess you got a point there.”

Julie digs into the sweets bowl until she finds a rare leftover KitKat. “Did you see their kid?”

“Yeah,” Kramer says, popping the rest of his Snickers into his mouth. “Little boy.”

She holds back her real question. They still dance around this, like verbalizing it would make it Real.

But did you see his face?

[imyourbratzdoll]

Jane smith with a hansen reader Both rivals to lovers y/n has a harley quin like playfulness with a vicious side like her brother lloyd and shes with jane pleaseee

hey baby! honestly, I loved writing this hehe.

summary - you and jane smith are rivals when it comes to your job, but that doesn't stop you from flirting with her.

warning - death, killing.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

“BOOM! BAM!” You giggle as you blow up another building before running toward it, wanting to ensure all your targets are dead. You skip around, giggling as you check the burnt-dead bodies, poking them with your gun or toe. “Hmm, boringggg.” You look around, squinting as you catch a glint of something in the distance. You wave, smiling brightly. “Hiya, Jane!” You can just picture her grumpy look, knowing she’d be annoyed with you beating her to the targets. You skip around for a while, pocketing some jewels you find before exiting the building. 

You smile as your met with your brother Lloyd, standing outside of his car with his arms crossed. You spread your arms. “Big brother! Whatcha doing here?!” You scowl as Jane steps out of nowhere and looks between the two. You scrunch your nose up, waving your finger between them. “You two aren’t? Ya knowing?” 

Jane huffs, crossing her arms while Lloyd just shakes his head, trying to hide the smile only you can bring out of him. He goes to open his mouth to speak when you are all cut off by a scream, your head turns, and a man is running toward you. The man looks ready to attack, and before anyone can react, you aim your gun and fire, shooting a hole in the middle of his forehead, pouting when he drops dead. “Damn, that was fast. Kinda boringggg.” 

“Y/n, stop using my line!” You stick your tongue out before skipping over to the car. You scan Jane, twirling your hair with your finger, giving her a seductive smile. Lloyd rolls his eyes and gets into the car, not bothering to wait for you. 

“So… You come here often?” She glares in return, not finding you amusing. Jane purses her plump lips, causing your eyes to fall on them. 

“You stole my kill.” 

“Pfft. I did not. I am just a better assassin than you.” Jane scoffs, about to get in your face, when Lloyd rolls the window down.

“Jesus Christ, can you two stop measuring your imaginary dicks and get in the damn car?!” You give a cheeky grin before poking your tongue out and hopping in beside your brother. Your eyes scan Jane’s body as she sits in the car, licking your lips as your eyes connect with hers, ignoring how Lloyd groans. “Why did I come to pick you up?” He facepalms.

“Cause you love me! And I would’ve blown up your house if you didn’t. But I don’t know why you picked Maleficent over here up.” Jane scowls at you before turning her head to look out the window. You continue to stare at her, wondering how someone so beautiful could exist and knowing you never stand a chance with someone like her. The ride back home is silent, and you begin to get lost in your thoughts. You hated this part. You are always playful, crazy or vicious on the outside, but inside, your mind gets to you. You get lost, and you begin to think and thinking, for you never went well. You’ll admit you have a tiny crush on the woman across from you, but she didn’t like you. You annoyed her. 

“We’re here.” Lloyd gets out of the car, not wanting to be trapped with you two any longer. The sexual tension made him feel sick, don’t get him wrong. Lloyd was a sexual guy, and usually, the thought of two women going at it would get him off. But his own sister? With her enemy? Definitely not.

You sit awkwardly in the car, not making any movement to leave. “So… How’s your husband? Jerry?” You stare at her with wide eyes, not caring if it made her uncomfortable but also applauding her for not making it obvious if she was. 

“John and I don’t know. We’re no longer together.” You nod, surprised. You smirk before giggling to yourself, shaking your head. “What? What is so funny?” 

“Well, that means you are available.” You smirk and wiggle your brows. Jane scoffs and rolls her eyes, and begins to exit the car. You pout, getting your answer. 

She pokes her head back in, looking at you. “Are you coming or what? If you want to date me, you must impress me with dinner first.” You giggle and excitedly exit the car, grasping her hand as you head toward the house. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[gorey-maiden]

A soldiers daughter | 141 x fem teen reader (platonic!) pt 1

Summary: your father works in the military with the 141 group, your dad is kidnapped on a mission by the enemy so they can get information, he won’t talk so they take you from your home as leverage, things take a turn for the worse.

Warnings: general violence, cussing, mentions of SA but nothing happens, angst and blood.

Readers dads pov:

I was walking quietly around a warehouse looking for the guy I had just let get away while being distracted, hearing the crunch of gravel under my boots I look up at the railing not seeing anything ‘damn it I thought I had him’ I curse myself for being so careless and letting my target get away, suddenly a shot rang out and I felt a burning sensation in my shoulder, I raise my gun where the bullet came from seeing my target come out from behind an old burnt car “listen man you shoot me and my men will shoot you, just put down the gun and we can do this the easy way alright” the man with blood gleaming from his chest says already wounded “like hell I will I already searched the place it’s just you and me” I say not being intimidated “think again stontzak” I hear a gruff voice with a thick accent say from behind me then a click of a gun cocking ‘fuck’ I winch wishing I had backup just as I finished that thought a voice comes over my radio “come in hawk, everything alright ther’ mate?” I hear soaps voice ring out “say everything is fine” the man from behind me says I can feel the cold metal of his weapon press against the back of my head, I slowly raise my hand to my radio “yeah everything is fine just doin’ a once over around the Perimeter, over” I let out a breath hoping he doesn’t suspect anything “alright stay safe call out if yer’ need backup, over” as he finishes I’m hit over the head with something and then everything goes black.

(Stontzak means “shitbag” in dutch)

Readers pov:

I was in my bedroom sitting at my desk doing some homework, I had just gotten back from the grocery store a few hours ago, the sun had already set and I was slightly hungry, I left my room going downstairs and into the kitchen, I rummaged through the cabinets until I found a box of Mac & cheese ‘this will do’ I think as I get out a pot from one the lower cabinets, just as I sat down the pot onto the stove i her the door bell ring, I look at the clock 9:08 It reads “it’s to late for anyone to be out right now…” I said to myself as I walk to the window that is close to the door, I push back the curtains and look through the blinds carefully I see no one, I sit there for a second to see any signs of movement, once I deem it safe I go to the door picking my pocket knife my dad had given me before he left, I flip open the blade and look through the peep hole once more before unlocking the door and opening it, nothing is there I lean out slightly. Nothing. Again. I sigh ‘maybe I’m just going insane’ I go to close the door just as I’m about to lock it a pair of arms come around me I scream in fear and start to toss and pull my way out of my attackers grip, I remember the blade I had in my hand and drive it into the man’s leg deeply I hear him yell “damn bitch!” as he lets go I run up the stairs as the man grabs my ankle from the bottom step making me lose my balance and tumble down the stairs I hit my head pretty hard on the way down so everything was blurry for a moment when my vision cleared the man came into my line of view I finally got a look at his face it was slightly scarred with stubble he had dark hair the look like it hadn’t been washed in weeks, before I could get up he sat his boot on my chest “your a fighter arnt you just like your old man” he lears at me as he pulls a cloth from his pocket “my da-“ I wanted to get more info but he pushed the cloth into my face I smelt a strong scent and then blacked out.

I wake up my head pounding the fluorescent lights not helping at all beaming off the off white walls try to move my arms but can’t I look down and see my hands are tied behind my back, my heart speeds up as I hear the blood in my ears pumping, I shift in the cold metal chair as I start to sweat, I look around the room for anything that could help me get out of here but there was only a metal table on the cracked tiles of the room I was stuck in, I feel myself about to cry “what did I do?” I ask myself my thoughts running Miles a minute, soon the icon door makes a loud sound and opens three men walk through one is the guy who had taken me another was a guard based on his gear and the final man was who I guessed was the ring leader “ hello miss l/n I hear you where a bit rough with my soldier here, hope you won’t put up to much of a fight with me” the guard sets down another metal folding chair and the man sits in it looking directly in my eyes “ i didn’t do anything and I’m not apart of whatever my dad is doing so let me go” I say sternly not want to seem like easy prey “oh we know don’t worry about that, we just need you for a bit of negotiating per say” he smirks giving me the chills, I roll my eyes “now until your father tells us what we need your going to be the ransom every day he doesn’t give us what we want we’re gonna set up a little camera and show him how much of in upper hand we have, you understand” he finishes I feel nauseous at the thought of what these men might do to a sixteen year old girl, the thought creeps up my spine and latches into my brain making my head pound worse with anxiety “fuck you” I say nothing will get me out of this so all I can do is try to fight “of course” the man sigh’s getting up and walking to the door the man makes a hand signal to the guard, the man walks towards I lear at the guy staring daggers into his he swings at me landing a punch in my cheek bone I feel my face burn as I taste blood the other man comes next to the other one and snaps a photo i grimaced at the bright light once more they both leave the room and close the door locking it.

It’s been a few days now or what I can tell since this room doesn’t have any windows nor a clock I just guess by the times they brought the bits of food by it consisted of water hard bread and cold grits probably left over from the food the others ate, my body was sore, bruised and bloody my dark hair probably a mess from it being grabbed so many times the door opens and another guard comes in with there usual assortment of knifes, camera and other lovely things I’ve gotten used to, after the first few days I haven’t heard anything about my dad “what happened with my dad” I ask knowing I probably won’t get anything information “he’s dead” the guard say’s simply, my heart drops “dead” I say it not even being a question but me trying to wrap my brain around the idea of my own father who alway called me babydoll and would give me the biggest bear hugs when he got back from his deployment being dead, anger starts to bubble inside of me the only person left in my life is dead. The guard comes up into the front of me and lifts my chin, I bite his hand and kick him in the stomach with my sneaker as hard as I can I scream as tears fall down my face the guard gripping his stomach stumbles out of the room after I clam down all I feel is sorrow, I cry for a few minutes suddenly I hear a siren sound and the lights in my room turn red over the speakers I hear a automated voice say “attention the base has been breached please report to your stations” i stare down at the cracks of the tiled floor once more, just then the door swings open I lift my head to see two men come into the room “hey there lass yer’ hawks kid right we’re here to get you out” he gives me a soft smile the other man adorning a skull mask stood next to the door giving me a slight nod, my hands are freed I rub my wrists feeling the marks and wounds the handcuffs had left the guy who help me out of the cuffs helps me out of my chair putting his arm around my shoulder trying to keep me up right my legs feeling week from being restrained in one place for so long, soonthe two men get me to their vehicle helping me in the Scottish man buckled me in “don’t want ya’ fallin out now do we” he chuckles “by the way I’m soap and this is my buddy ghost we worked with your dad” he nods at the man named ghost I nod staring at my hands trying not to cry I front of a bunch of military guys a few minutes later I hear a few new voices I look up, I see two other men walk up “sir did you find em?” Soap asks a man wear an ugly fishing hat “No soldier i didn’t..” the man looks at me with sorrow in his eyes as he nods to me, I new he was gone and there was no way of getting him back if he didn’t go into this damn league of work he would still be here but I can’t do anything about it now I feel hot tears fall down my face as I hold back a sob I hold my head in my hands I feel a hand on my back trying to soothe me, finally I collect myself wiping my tears the other man in a baseball hat hands me a tissue I thank him quietly “I’m so sorry about all of this kiddo” the man in the fishing hat says as he leans against the door of the car I nod knowing they did what they could “listen Bonnie, we’re gonna take you back to our base and get you fix up and get you some rest alright” soap say I nod once more giving a small “okay” they soon pack up and take off i fall asleep my head leaning on soap which It seemed he didn’t mind, I slip into dark bliss trying to rest up being absolutely exhausted.

(Bonnie means “lovely” or “sweet” in Scottish slang)

[charlesnoentertainmentcheese]

casually leaking top secret files: elliots quote book. our little poet.

“my faggot bench!”

“magnussy”

“blast off! 😄 Its party time!!!😃🎉”

“theres not bugs in my bagel i swear”

“im allergic to josh hutcherson”

“I am a minimim”

“Oh worm i accidentally spelled banana”

“ive run off to play musical chairs”

“FUCK NO NO NO NOT MY SCARY SOAGETI PHAZE”

“Also the djungelskog is immune to fire I decided”

“I dont get it”

“Oh. Oh i see.”

“The camera be darriens”

“Hehehehehehheheh”

“hold my hand NOW!!!!”

“I smell potato. Im gonna die”

“Horray”

“NEW STATEMENT. ......of Jonathan sims...... Regarding a spooky book”

“Sonbign”

“wait wjos mr blinkkin”

“TUMMY HUT”

“STOP”

“WUAT

“STOP ADDING THINGS”

“GRRRR”

“ABAHABABAHABABHHABBAHABBAB”

“.....boob.............”

“Shit”

“Fuck”

“Damn”

“C O C K”

“I bite all of my friends [and you]”

“[Runs away] OW MY KNEES”

"i have a corrupt government plan"

“what if he had big naturals but it was just his eyebrows”

“earful? what about buttcheek full?”

“THE 😭😭😭MAGNUS😭😭😭 ARCHIVES😭😭😭”

“for someone who hates being mean to people-you talk a lot of buttcheek.”

“can i just have a peice of cheese? hooray!!”

“i have acquired cheese”

“giggling”

“*dabs*”

“its boobs** carter.”

“Because theyre fucking stupid, elliot.”

“Respond to me you buttcheek”

“you say thats the fattest thing youve ever heard—- have you heard yourself?”

“NOT YEAG”

“wait you need to add the-hold on i have to find it”

“im not gay”

“but men though”

“finish the story first awnwgh”

“WHO SAID THAT”

“I'M NOT A hOmOsExUaL”

“god FORBID”

“i hate gay people so much. i hope they all burn for their sins ooooh my name is elliot and im oh so hateful and i avtuslly said thtid. this isnt other elliot typing this up in hopes he will be cancelled, this is me, Josh Hutcherson saying i hate gay people.”

“Thats upsetting.”

“Rhe beabtles”

“KILL YOURSELF”

“sonbign”

“No bazinga”

“No, bazinga”

“No? bazinga”

“No! Bazinga?”

“no not lmoa”

“Good lord.”

“SOBBIGN”

“do i need to doxx this guys entire friend group.”

“I mean i said fuck it we ball but still”

“Nothing i thought we were just sharing what we were eating and what we were thinking abt”

“I know what im gonna wear… MY KNEE BRACES”

“Also im going to murder the guy that asked you to prom”

“hey dipper, if your show gonna make big money i can show you how to do tax fraud. wink wink.”

“it doesnt matter how it started it matters how its going”

“Mitchell…… ‘who is Migchel’ ‘mitchell…’ Cultist ‘woah’ *ex cultist ‘whyd he stop ☹️’ He got burnt at the stake 🤪 ‘HWTAP’ elliot sometimes i wish i understood the out of pocket shit you say’ :3”

“my plaSTIC NOOOOO”

“Will wood😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭”

“You die”

“OH MY FUCK MY QUEEADESA”

“DONT DROP HIM”

“HE WOULD PROBABLY DROP YOU TOO IF HE HAD LONGER ARMS”

“what if i slide into your bounce house”

“Autismo…Dont you mean… AWESOMEO”

“Wee woo”

“Movie tim…”

“THIS IS NO LAUGHI G BATTER”

“i am going to drink airport water real quick”

“i’m italian and german, im on the wrong side of ww2”

“im gonna bite someone do dododododo”

“mmm… medical help..”

“No like velcro”

“Is there a larry the cucumber in my bag right now, elliot.”

“MARTIN. STOP trying to TOUCH the PLASTIC EXPLOSIVE. just PUT YOUR HANDS in YOUR POCKETS or SOMETHING-“

Its crude oil! “Called it”

“if theres a will — WILL WOOD!”

“larold”

“stop rizzing up larry the cucumber.”

“This is…. larry the cucumber..”

“chiropracting…. OOOOW”

“i’m magnussing!”

“amongd us… what if amongst us?”

“i switch them out every other day” (referring to his collection of knees)

“dareiwn”

“FUCK ITS TOO LONG”

“😭🤣😭😭😭🧅😭so tried”

“His teerth aer nit skft😭😭😭😭😭”

“GOODFNINGET ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️”

“HOW DO YOU SAY MISSIPIPI”

“I’m serving cunt and ceaseless watcher”

“oh its my cult!”

“i was met with- BOOM TITTIES!!!”

“its a cult ritual ☝️”

“They crabs FUCK dude”

“Sigh. Faggot.”

“I love hole(s)”

“MISTER WHAT.”

“i wanna punt that kid into the sun. i want to make field goals with him, nevermind, i want to use him as the ball.”

“actually my mommy loves me very much”

“Booyah.”

“I love it when Mitski plays without my consent”

“Gerlad!!”

“Jaws the shart”

“THE REASON I KEEP GOING OFF SPEAKER IS BECAUSE I AM NOT SPEAKING I AN SCREAMING”

“I just perpetually hit the reblog button” (stuttering and on the verge of tears)

“They looked at tma and thought not gay enough”

“he suffers from white.”

“I didn't know your dog could bake”

“im not crying i swear i just have really wet autism eyes”

“What if. I forgot”

“Back in my day we didn't have no anti depressants. We just killed ourselves.”

“MAYcy”

“AAHHHH I KNOW THAT BALD HEAD ANYWHERE”

“THERE ARE COMMUNISTS IN MY FUNHOUSE”

“this is disgusting and i am going to be smearing it on my face”

“thats not charlie thats jesus hate to break it to you”

“im not crying okay? im batman.”

“THATS NOT ME ITS SHAKESPEARE, MODERN DAY SHAKESPEARE: HIS NAME IS WILL WOOD.”

“You look balder than usual.”

“asmr youre being eaten alive”

“THERES A TRAIN GOING ON BY MY HOUSE IM FUCKING TWEAKING I LOVE TRAINS SO MUCH”

“autism be damnked my boy can cook a bbq”

“autism win💀💀👻”

“Jonathermostat”

“let me give andrew the biggest, wettest, autism eyes ever.”

“hey bucko- hey FUCKo”

“yeah. take that POOKIE.”

“i do what i want BIETCH”

“am i so white that white face paint makes no difference “

“GOD. who needs that much food at once!! Slow down!!”

“The trout population will be affected.”

“i need a little baby rat— actually youre my little baby rat”

“balls blast? ohhh”

“the number of miles is i dont care—oh fuck”

“hashtag my tummy really hurts”

“*whispered after a long moment of silence* you should go on township…”

“would you like me to be your waiter.”

“thats a real knee-slapper— OW MY KNEES”

“balls”

hehehehehehehe hi its me elliot

JUDAS NOW

“I dont freeze Im too hot😎😎😎”

“i’d prefer not to have titties, thanks.”

you’ve been exposed @possiblyhenry

[flowers-of-io]

#7

Things you said where the water was loud | Read on Ao3

Once Taox’s ships leave through the wormhole in desperate pursuit of Auryx’s frigate, there isn’t much left of the Osmium Court. A few fires still hold up, weak flames licking the walls of tall, hollowed-out buildings, but most have already been extinguished by rainfall, leaving behind only billows of smoke, rank and choking in the damp air. Hardly a soul can be seen sneaking through the streets—whoever remained stays tucked under the roof of their still-standing house or is camping in the palace's great hall, trembling shapes huddling close and looking up to the ceiling, as if they could see the moons despite the several layers of stone and metal.

The courtiers are mostly dead or gone, but there is still a small gathering in the ruined throne room, lingering between the tactical map and a column all smouldered and cracked from a blast of strange green fire. They, too, huddle close; the diplomatic distance bridged in the face of death, hands curl around hands and heads lean on trembling shoulders. Royal-blue robes, dirty and in tatters, flutter in the draught whistling through bullet holes peppering the walls.

The rumbling of the approaching wave can be heard from the harbour now.

“Do you think the Monoliths are still standing?” The High Admiral asks, his arm arched around the Minister of Seaware who shakes and sniffles.

The Court Deputy Engineer eyes the tactical map—a burnt piece of parchment, now, granite pawns all tipped and strewn across the floor. “Star-Surgery is first,” she says, “and their engines will combust should water get into them. I haven’t heard any explosions yet.”

“You expect to hear anything over this damned squall?” The Sejm’s Highmost Speaker sneers at her from under a half-tipped pillar. She is still holding her buława, squeezing it like a lifeline against her bandaged chest.

The Second Crown Judge wedges a claw between two halves of a clam he found washed in by the tide, takes a bite, and offers the rest to the Deputy Engineer.

“It’s not that far,” he reminds, leaving it unspoken that the troubled sea could have very well pushed the Star-Surgery hundreds of danas away.

“What difference does it make if we hear it or not?” the Highmost Speaker grumbles, “It’s not like we can do anything about it either way.”

“Well, I myself prefer to know what’s coming my way before it does.”

The Minister of Seaware breaks into another wave of ragged sobs.

“I don’t want to die!” Her voice echoes in the chamber, earning her a number glances of glances from those huddled under other walls, some frightened and some expressing only weary annoyance.

“Hush,” the Second Crown Judge fishes out another clam from the deep pockets of his robe and pushes it into her hands, “have a snack.”

“I don’t want a snack! I w-want to go home!”

“Great Leviathan in the deep, is the last thing I’ll ever hear really gonna be your wailing?” Someone from a distant corner calls. The Minister only starts crying louder.

“If the wind hasn’t picked up, we could approximate the distance,” the High Admiral says over her sobs, “after the explosion, I mean.”

“Suit yourself. It could’ve very well gone off hours ago and we didn’t hear it.” The Highmost Speaker huffs, and reaches to pry the clam from the Minister’s claws without much resistance. “Give me that, if you’re not eating it. I’m hungry.”

[justabigoldnerd]

Oooooh I LOVE cryptids lemme just drop this bit of Original Fiction ✨️

•••

The weather that night wasn't particularly cool or wet, but a thick fog crept its whispering way around the old growth trees in my forest. A low whistle in the distance reminded me that, technically, it wasn't my forest, but I was the one to watch over it, to watch over them, so I believed I had a fair claim to the moss and rotting logs.

I adjusted my bag, heavy with trinkets and food, and lifted my lantern higher. Rustling in the brush surrounded me, following my every footstep, but I had stopped being afraid of the sounds of the woods a long time ago. Abruptly, a familiar shimmer of blue sparked to life in front of me. I narrowed my eyes and turned around, crouching. Had I crossed the threshold already?

A line of small mushrooms, their caps almost ghostly white under the moon, created a natural barrier along the blocked off path. Oh. I guess I had. 

“Hey, guys,” I whispered, turning back to the wisps and fishing in the front pocket of my bag to retrieve a sachet full of loose agate beads from a visitor's broken “chakra” bracelet. Just off the path was a cracked porcelain dish painted with intricate blue designs. I opened the sachet and poured the crystal spheres into the dish, the tinkling sound ringing out in the silence of the realm.

Pleased with my offering, the wisps blazed a brilliant trail ahead, vanishing as I reached each one. They led me to a large, flat rock that shone with fresh blood, half-burnt candles circling the skull of a bird.

“Damn teenagers,” I muttered, packing the candles into my bag. The skull, I scooped into my hands and placed gently at the base of a tree. It's limbs shivered in a way I'd come to know as meaning thankful.

Raising my voice slightly, I called out, “Alright, emergency meeting, guys. I've got offerings for all of you. I'm not putting my bag on the rock, some kids sacrificed a chicken, I think.”

Leaves swirled in a gale of wind around me, and a voice that sounded like rolling thunder coming from the depths of the earth responded, “It was a squirrel.”

“Lot o’ blood for a squirrel, Sesquac,” I laughed dryly, finding the ziploc baggie of freshly made deer jerky and emptying its contents onto the slab.

A massive, fur covered hand reached out and gathered the strips, then he reasoned, “It was a large squirrel.”

The whistle sounded again, but closer now, and two reflective eyes shone from the shadows. “I'm not whistling back, Keme.”

Words like the hiss of the leaves around me came from the creature, but they were in a language I still didn't understand. Thankfully, Sesquac translated, “He says ‘It was worth a shot’.”

“Very funny. Here, come get your appendix,” I plopped the human organ onto the rock and a hand that was little more than skin stretched taut over bone shot out to take it.

The not-deer got its turkey neck, the hellhound fetched his Beggin’ strip like a good boy, and various fae accepted lost-and-found baubles that hadn't been claimed by park visitors. A quiet settled over the forest again, and I sighed.

“Where's–”

“Here,” shrieked a voice that sounded like an owl whose call was lost to a howling wind. An amorphous shape like a void with two pinpricks of red for eyes drifted down from the tree tops on silent wings. He alighted onto the slab, antena twitching in interest. His massive, light-consuming wings stayed stretched out, making me feel like I was staring directly into a black hole. The mothman spoke in sounds that could be generously called words, but more accurately described as the scratching of a record, “What have you brought for me?”

My bag now ten times lighter, I retrieved the last item– a moon lamp. It was a perfect replica of the natural satellite, with every crater and mountain accurately represented. The mothman gave a skeptical clicking sound, his eyes flashing brightly like the brake lights of a faraway car. I presented the lamp with a flourish, flicking on the switch on the bottom as I did.

A screeching gasp that sounded like a dying elk pierced my ears, and the mothman's wings fluttered with excitement. He carefully took the glowing moon with three-fingered hands, the light around it seeming to be swallowed up by his form.

“What is the emergency, human?” Sesquac reminded them of the reason for the meeting, and the mothman skittered down off of the slab to play with his new light.

“There was a body found not far from here,” at the lack of surprise from the entities, I continued, “A human killed her. A young girl. Seven or eight. The police haven't been able to find anything and they think whoever did it is still out here.”

“It killed a child?” Sesquac growled.

“Yes. You all know these woods. You know where he could be. This kid….,” I had to clear my throat to keep the shaking out of my voice, “She was a camper of mine, last summer. I know this is a lot to ask….but could you help me find the bastard that did this?”

Keme whistled sharply and mumbled something, to which Sesquac responded, “No, we shan't eat him. As much pleasure as I am sure that would give us all, this human needs to be punished by human customs.” The giant ape-like creature stepped into the clearing, revealing himself fully. “We will help you. Expect him to be delivered to you with a shattered mind.”

“Thank you, guys,” the hellhound– Sweetie, I called him– licked my hand in a comforting gesture. I scratched between his fluffy black ears and his flaming eyes somehow communicated a fond determination. “Meeting adjourned. Oh, and if the system fails, if human customs aren't satisfactory….Keme can eat him.”

An eerie, too-excited laughter followed me back out of the woods, guided by will-o-the-wisps that strayed just a little further than they usually did. I smiled sadly to myself. Justice would be served one way or another. I could be satisfied with that, at least.

You’re a park ranger of a very dense forest and you take care of everything, including the supernatural cryptids. One day, a murder happens in your forest and the culprit evades the authorities. You then politely ask the cryptids for their aid in the culprit’s capture. They agree.

[eijis-wifey]

He’s grinning like a damn fool as he sips on his drink. What? He checks your hip right back with a chuckle. I couldn’t wait any longer. He’s got the cheekiest look on his face when he picks up your left hand and runs his thumb over the gorgeous rock. This damn thing was burning a hole in my pocket!

-❤️🪨

Considering you’ve had it for less than 8 hours. I’d say it burnt a whole right through. I tug at his sleeve so I can give his cheek a quick kiss. ‘M glad you didn’t wait. Would’ve been bugging me just as bad knowing you had it.

I turn back to our two friends, standing with their arms around each other. Thank you both again for your help, this wouldn’t have been as perfect if it wasn’t for you two.

[stormikitty]

A conversation from the Batpham discord:

this au’s been done before but… danny phantom au where halfas have to die somehow to transform

they regrow a new human body so there’s just danny corpses everywhere

Bonus: dc crossover where people keep finding Danny Fenton dead when he’s obviously still alive

Just leave the corpse there. It's better not to ask

Sam and Tucker have to help him dig a hole

Lol freeze the bodies n dump them in the ocean when in gotham. They start fishing up his bodies and at first mr.freeze to blame but then it appears to be same kid.

Bruce thinking its clones of robin. Lol mixing twin au into this

the bats run into this kid that looks nearly identical to Robin dragging a corpse that also looks nearly identical to Robin through the streets

does Danny just…generate new clothes for his bodies?

I imagine he does but if has anything in his pockets he has to fish it out of his corpse’s pockets

Danny actively robbing his own corpses because he left his keys on one of them

I find it more funny if he has to strip his corpse clothes n all. So he has to becareful not to die too bloody

Danny, out of options and cornered by the bats who spotted him dragging his nearly-naked corpse through Gotham: well there’s only one way I’m getting out of this snaps own neck and turns into phantom, who flies away invisibly

The bats keep running into Robin clones who keep casually killing themselves and it’s a whole conspiracy, because they’re all wearing the same slightly blood-splattered outfit and clothes keep going missing off the corpses, plus the whole casual death thing

If he forgets something on him does he have to go grave robbing for it

Amg imagine danny drops his wallet is how they find out danny's identity like in a hurry to grab clothes n flee

Its not a liscense or anything but a gift card to nasty burger with his name on it

Danny’s wallet contains that nasty burger gift card, three dollars and four cents, a bunch of bandaids hurriedly shoved in and a monopoly get out of jail free card he uses exclusively on walker

Walker hates that card b/c somehow it's binding

Ghost zone dollar mixed in

Danny's like "aw man I forgot my wallet ... Wait I forgot my wallet"

Danny gets found by the bats them tossing back his wallet

the bats just going “damn, you live like this?” and putting a couple hundred in his wallet

Danny like "wait? Where's my get out of jail free card?!"

Jason begrudgingly handing back the card after everyone looks at him

They add money too it XD

Danny: you don’t understand I need my get out of jail free card to get out of jail

Walker is slowly approaching from the distance

"when did a wimp like you start going to jail?"

"Well, you see, it all started when I was 14..."

walker “FINALLY MY OPPORTUNITY”

Becomes a jailbreak

The leaving behind corpse au but Danny just dump them down the sewer and Killer Croc has to contact Batman bc he's very concern abt the littering of human bodies

At first it's like Oh hey free food

But then the Free Food just piling up

One after another

And it's all the same damn corpse everytime

"This is no longer favourite food."

"Batman, there's the same goddamn corpse piling up in my sewers. It's concerning."

Killer Croc goes around asking other rogues if they have been dumping the body

He has to give some to Ivy for her plant

free food that already tastes like weird burnt meat.

Bruce starts the Danny Fenton Memorial Graveyard

where all the graves are just Danny

(It all becomes Danno on the 3rd of April. Everyone is afraid.)

Danny dumps them down that one hole one time, and when he gets back the body disappear, so he just keep doing it

he can't even tell who it is, the face matches a "Daniel Fenton" but the kid is very much alive (supposedly) so batman looks into his medical records, finds a weird electrical accident that looks weird, and stakes out his day to day life for a few weeks but the only thing that's evident is that this kids sense of schedule is sporadic and he'd be batman's hardest follow if danny were losing him on purpose but clearly he isn't.

....what would happen if Ra's got his hands on a Danny corpse

He probably wouldn't find anything that'd interest him

Cause ya know, it's just a corpse

If he finds several of them tho

Killer Croc: I do not control the speed at which the body got dump into my sewer

Batman thinks someone took his DNA for cloning experimentation at some point and that's why.

-

Except the DNA from the bodies doesn't show any signs of cloning, and in fact, present themselves as the origianl, all of them, they're all identical and the original body.

Batman's gonna eat his cape this case makes no fucking sense

what if he brought danny-body to life only for it to be like:

- body is unstable and unresponsive and melts into goo resembling the Lazarus pit

or

- turns the body into a controllable mindless undead zombie

or

- danny get's double vision like he's using a poorly constructed duplicate or something

Danny zombies....

Ra's: observe my new indestructible undead hoard

Phantom, standing next to the league: bro what the fuck???

Phantom, in ghost speak: "I did not give you permission to do that."

Phantom, in ghost speak: b̶r̷o̵ ̷w̷h̸a̶t̵ ̶t̸h̴e̶ ̸f̸u̷c̴l̷?̶?̵?̴

The Danno Undead Army just takes one look at Phantom and start angrily walking towards him

screaming undead noises

and he's like

"I'm sorry I didn't give you guys proper burial I didn't have time!"

Nono, Phantom counteracts with the original Danno. He is superior. Now he controls the Danno army.

Phantom: sorry but uhh No, i'll be confiscating those, they're part of my domain

Ra's: what? but I made them undead

Phantom: they were already undead before you messed with them.

Ra's: ... what do you mean they were already undead? they were just dead!

Phantom: nah, see, they were the dead remains of what was already undead. they're the dead-undead.

Ra's: ... and you know their origin?

---(all eyes turn to danny)---

Phantom: ..... yeah, and i've been trying to fix it but other ghosts in gotham kept inturrupting me from doing that.

Batman: why do they all match a "Daniel Fenton"?

Phantom: don't worry about that

Batman: If you want, I could give them a proper burial ground.

Phantom: I would like that very much...

all the dannos approve

"Welcome to the Danny Fenton Memorial Graveyard, solely for all your Danno needs."

--- the Phandom post april 3rd; aka the "alright gang, that's a wrap" project.

Sometimes, space and time warps around there, but, you know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"Disclaimer: This Graveyard has no affiliations to the Fenton parents,"

god if ectoplasm has anti-bacteria properties and instead of decomposing he just shrink like a mummy

literal walking stick

The graveyard could expand for Dani bodies if she does the same thing here

Vlad's is not allowed ever

Vlad gets no such niceties

he has a whole castle and is rich

he could do that himself

danny finds a secret hallway with two rolls of coffin, all of them have Vlad in it

they're in the vampire position

Count Vladcula

the movie

This is all copied and pasted from a conversation on the crack channel of the Batpham discord.

Here's some doodles by @crispywonderlandwombat

[wh0rephobic]

Hi! Xx

So like imagine William afton being your teacher for one of your classes and you notice he keeps looking at you during class with this look so you confront him about it and well ifykyk

(idk if this made sense lol)

- 💫 anon

if you’re given an opportunity, damn right will you take it. so, you approach his desk once the room is clear.

“mr. afton? …why were you looking at me like that?”

your voice is quiet, afraid to have taken the wrong message. but you couldn’t have! with his dark glare, tongue darting out to graze across his thin lips, curled into a smirk right before he takes his bottom lip between his teeth to chew on it… you remember it like it’s burnt into your brain.

he puts his pen down, furrowing his brow when he looks up at you from his desk chair. “like what?”

oh, no.

you bite your tongue, averting your eyes as you blush.

“l-like…” you stammer. “um,”

the silence swallows you whole, right before mr. afton breaks it. “like i wanted to wreck you? …to bend you over my desk here and pound my dick into you while you call out my name?”

again, you’re absolutely frozen stiff. he’s right, that’s what you meant, but his words are so bold! mr. afton is such a handsome man, always so polite and put-together, thick accent rolling off his tongue… no wonder he has no shame in saying things like this, he knows he’s hot. but still, you just stand still. unsure of what to say, do… anything! but that’s okay, he finds your shyness attractive. he wants to take every pinch of innocence left in your bones for his own dirty mind.

yes sir, please ruin me.

“yes…” you mutter.

mr. afton hides a chuckle beneath his breath, pushing away from the desk. he motions you towards him.

“dear, why don’t you come over here?”

you obey his wishes quietly, making your way around his desk and standing in front of his chair, clutching your books to your chest. he pulls his chair back in, closing you in between his desk and him.

“hm,” he hums, ghosting his hands over your thighs. “you look just ravishing in this skirt here, don’t you know that?”

“ravishing?” you echo.

a spark twitches your core. oh, his words are starting to get to you…

“why, yes.” he responds. “i love watching you walk around my class like this, skirt so short i can practically see your panties when you walk… and the way these stockings hug your thighs… oh, you really are a tease; aren’t you?”

he pulls at the material of your thigh-highs, letting the material snap against your skin and make you jump.

“so jumpy, little bunny.” he whispers. “relax…”

you let his hands trail up to your hips, gripping them tightly in his large, strong palms before he pushes you back onto the desk, letting you sit right at eye-level with your crotch, panties only hidden by the one layer of fabric that is your skirt. you know where this is going, obviously. you may be shy and timid, especially towards his boldness but you’re a college student, you’re not dumb. you let your thighs relax, parting slightly on his desk for him as he rolls his chair back in. your feet catch on the arms of his chair, lifting your knees up to expose yourself to him. you turn your eyes down with a flush, you’re literally showing your professor your clothed pussy.

“oh, would you look at that?” he mumbles nonchalantly, tilting his head as he experimentally brings his fingertips to the wet spot on your underwear.

your hole twitches on his contact as he rubs his fingers around and mr. afton relishes in the feeling of you being so turned on. he holds the hem of your underwear between his fingers, looking up at you for approval.

“may i?” he asks.

you gulp, looking over your shoulder to check that the door is shut before turning back to him and nodding. if you have an opportunity, you’ll take it.

“use your words, princess.” he insists.

“y-yes…” you spit out. “please, sir.”

william sighs, pleased with you as he turns his attention back to the neediness between your legs. he pulls your panties down your legs and stuffs them in his pocket, slow and carefully as if he’ll tear the lace if he’s not careful enough. you watch him with glossy eyes, planting your palms down on the desk behind you and leaning back, pushing your hips forward towards him. mr. afton pushes your skirt up your thighs, putting you entirely on display for him as he ghosts his calloused fingertips up and down the soft of your skin, just taking in the sight of your wet and swollen cunt before he leans in.

you let him lick a stripe up from your leaking hole to your twitching clit. a gasp escapes you as he takes in your flavor, gripping your nervous thighs as he pushes in further, taking in lick after lick, petting your pussy with the buds of his tongue before he closes his lips around your pearl and sucks on your sweet cunt.

“o-oh-!” you gasp, legs parting on their own as your body begs him for more.

and he can hear you loud and clear, flicking his tongue back and forth over your clit while he sucks. wetness leaks out of your hole as you relax into William right as he stops, moving down to slurp up every last bit and not letting any of your juices go to waste as he connects his mouth to your hole. william is basically making out with your pussy by now as he pushes his tongue through your tight muscle to explore you. you bring one hand forward to cup his jaw, running your thumb back and forth along his scruff. william hums at your contact, eyebrows furrowing as he reaches his tongue in deeper. the vibrations make you gasp.

“th-that feels.. g-good,” you shudder with pleasure and william only moans deeper into your cunt. “awh!”

he finds your g-spot with ease and points his tongue against it, flicking it weak inside of you and making you begin to shake. with every lick and suck he manages to draw your orgasm closer and closer to the brink, pulling on the sensitive nerves of your soft spots like strings. you lose your shame as you pull on his locks and squeeze his tongue with your throbbing cunt.

“oh please, please more mr. afton!” you rock your hips into his mouth. “please give me more! i’m—ah! ‘m so close!”

the feeling of his slippery muscle moving along your walls floods your abdomen with warmth. his mouth is making the most lewd sounds as he slurps up your wetness, and yours even worse as you let moans spill from your open mouth. oh, you’re so glad class is out.

suddenly, mr. afton’s tongue abandons your g-spot and exposes your swollen hole to the cold air of his classroom as he moves up to flick the tip of his tongue on your clit. fast, he moves so fast that you can’t keep up with him—or his pressure. you result to panting above him as you watch his focused expression ruin you with just his mouth.

the pressure builds as he opens his eyes to look up at you. he admires your red face, glossy and desperate eyes staring back at him in a trance as his tongue doesn’t falter for a second. your abs begin to twitch involuntary, signaling your incoming orgasm.

“ahh, yes..! oh, r-right there, right there! i’m—oh!”

you ooze out over his desk while you cum. hands tangled, pulling at mr. afton’s hair as he moves back down, placing his tongue inside of you so you have something to clamp down on as you fall apart. he loves this part, feeling the way he’s manipulating your poor little body into a world of pleasure with just a few maneuvers… you announce your completion with a sigh and then whine when he pulls his tongue out.

“wonderful, doll. just perfect.” he comments, “you did amazing. tasted it, too.”

“thank you…” you whimper as he pulls a few tissues from a tissue box to wipe you clean.

when he’s done, he discards of the tissues and fixes his pants (wrinkled from his aching hard-on) before pulling your skirt back down over your thighs.

“b-but what about you?” you inquire.

“oh nonsense, there will be time for me another day. let’s get you home.”

mr. afton was nice enough to drive you home to your townhouse apartment, ensuring that you got inside safely. you never did get your underwear back, and god knows you fell asleep that night with your knuckles deep inside of your cunt thinking of him. one thing’s for sure is that you will never not wear a skirt to mr. afton’s class again.

[clonememesfrikyeah]

A list of things arc trooper Fives has said:

“That wasn’t very wrangler jeans of you.”

“The spaghetti hole man is out to get me!”

“Omg we forgot to draw the pentagram!”

“…Peter… the horse is here.” (talking about dogma)

“Where were you during the Albicurky milk River murder hornet incident of 1922?”

“This is the official church of the Tatooine-Umbara highway system.”

“You’ll never guess where I hid the LSD.”

“This is bull, there is no Avatar 2.”

“Is that a shrimp in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

“Why the fuck is there dried mack and cheese under my pillow?”

“Dish water is a delicacy around here.”

“Your so ugly that when you were little the trainers would have to tie raw pork chops around your neck to get Mird to play with you.”

“Awh shit that owl type character is back.”

“That guy looks suspiciously suspicious.”

“I vote we go back to prohibition.”

“FREDRICK! TAKE THIS CRATE AND SHOVE IT.”

“You know those fingers we borrowed from the cadavers down stairs? Yeah the morge called they need them back for dinner.”

“Oh blow it out your ass!”

“Did I ever tell y’all about that one time I took a whole lot of that there methnathetamibe and woke up in the porcupine navy? Mmhm true story.”

“We could the best we did, sir”

“Easy, free Wendy’s.”

“Everybody jazzercise with me now.”

“I’m allowed one inappropriate comment a day, it’s in my contract.”

“You had one job and all you had to do was just eat the pizza with your 64 teeth.”

“Avocados six fir a dollar.”

“Get out of the way geaser Mc.Fart Arse!”

“Well roll me over, put me on the top shelf, throw me overboard, slap me on the back side, fuck me sideways, dip me in shit and call me late for lunch; I’ll be damned.”

“The lanyard of shame has you now.”

“JUST!!! So you know.”

“🎵Llllllllllllllegoooo laaaaaand!🎵”

“Your Hotdog DeeDa, your tweety bird, your stump face, and your just flat out frighteningly ugly.”

“BARBY Q THAT ELLI PHANT, BARBECUE IT!!!”

“$350 to see a wise man?”

“Oh yeah look at that burnt ass bread, smell that Smokey aroma, this in my finest work right here.”

“BOOM, floor cupcake.”

“Don’t worry, I hung the bananas for their crimes in the freezer.”

“Oh yeah! It’s dogs out Monday, everybody let them dogs out, lemme see those socks!”

“Redrum, redrum, redrum.”

“Rectum? I damn near killed him!”

“That’s because of the milk…. This one’s on me boys. I didn’t listen to the webkins milk cat.”

“This is why your hair stopped growing, it’s cause your a MMmmEan ass hOrSe.”

“A slimy, desperate, inbred mutt is what you are sir!”

“Smoking is bad for your lettuce, you maple syrup whore ass desert cactus.”

“And, GOOD DAY… to you too sir.”

“Tater chippies, almost as good as, well… I can’t say because there are shinies here.”

[ladykissingfish]

Night. Blackest part of the night, moon down, sun unrisen. Where’s my light? Must have fallen asleep before I could turn it on. Can’t stand the dark anymore because things exist in the dark that can’t stay in the light. Memories dreams details minutes minutes minutes. So many minutes.

3:13am.

47 minutes left until 4. 60 minutes until 5, 60 more minutes until 6, 30 minutes until 6:30 which, according to the weather, is when the sun will rise.

But who would actually know when the sun rises? Who took the time to stare at the ink of the sky and wait until a ball of fire came pushing through? Who had that kind of time?

Time, time, time.

3 weeks, 2 days, 4 hours, 32 minutes. Seconds? I don’t know. I can’t see it mattering.

It doesn’t matter but everything matters.

Reach for my glass of water and my hand brushes against the red ceramic vase filled with daffodils.

Fakes, of course.

Because the fakes last forever.

Such an obsession with things that last forever.

Beauty, and art.

But again, it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter but everything matters.

I tried not to cry. I really did. I thought to say my words calmly, gently, peaceably. A proper goodbye, a stiff upper lip, say goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

I meant not to cry but the tears came anyway, spilling onto his cold skin. So cold, so stiff. But my hot tears may have scalded him regardless. Should have closed the casket. His displeasure at my emotion was evident, even in death.

Found a piece of fire on one of my shirts yesterday. The red caught the sunlight and burnt a hole in my arm. Red string of fate, my teenage self would say. Soulmate. Bound together. Foolish, is what he’d say. Foolish but he’d still kiss me long enough to leave me breathless and it wouldn’t have felt foolish at all.

None of those books tell you how to feel when you find a piece of the lost unexpectedly. A hair today, but what tomorrow?

None of them tell you what to think, what sound to make, when you open your pocket and a note falls out from five years ago, horrible handwriting inviting you for coffee after class. If I go into my wallet and grab a couple of dollars and walk to that old cafe, will you be there? Waiting as if nothing had happened, as if you’d never gone away?

Surely you wouldn’t let me wait?

Sound travels at 332 meters per second. That’s about a fifth of a mile. If you were 200 miles away, I could cry out for you and you’d hear my voice in maybe 20 or so minutes. But how far away are you now? What distance lies between us, and how long must I shout before you could hear me?

And would you answer back?

What could you say?

It’s past the time for Sorry and I Love You isn’t natural, it never was for us.

But you could explain to me your final moments.

You could tell me the last thing you thought of.

I’m not a narcissist, I wouldn’t expect you to say it was me. One of your puppets, most likely. How you forgot to sand an arm, or how you just knew that the eyes you chose for another didn’t match the skin tone well enough to be believable.

You never cared to ask me what I thought, not really, but that’s okay. I’ll tell you anyway. My first thought and my last thought are the same:

How could you leave me like this?

How could you damn me to this endless night, this sea of black and mourning and minutes, so many minutes, of waking up and feeling the cold space where you’re supposed to be but you’re not?

How?

4:07am.

53 minutes until 5, 60 more minutes until 6, half an hour until the ball of fire pushes its way through the ebony and I go out and smile and drink coffee and tell everyone that I’m fine, just tired.

4:08, 4:09, 4:10.

Damn you, Sasori.

-Deidara, after the death of Sasori

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part One

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker (platonic), background MCU characters

Warnings: [chapter] language; [series] language, smut, violence

Summary: The only people who knew she was actually a Stark were her dad, her step-mom Pepper, and her “uncles” Happy and Rhodey. A promotion within Stark Industries takes her from an already-sought after position in the Weapons Anaylsis Unit straight to the Avengers as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist... which means her dad is her new boss. There’s only one rule at work: no fraternizing with coworkers. There’s one more rule at home: no dating any Avengers. So what is she supposed to do when a grumpy super soldier becomes not-so-grumpy around her? At 25, do her dad’s rules still apply? Or is her entire livelihood at risk?

Author’s Note: I’ve written a decent portion of this but know I won’t keep writing it or post it unless I hold myself accountable and get it out there in the first place 🙈 I haven’t written much for Marvel yet but I’ve read plenty and have written for other fandoms in the past (not to mention the writing degree on my wall lol). I’ll try to post every 2-3 days to keep this moving! And if you like it and want to, buy me a coffee!

No one knew Tony Stark had a daughter. No one but Tony Stark and his daughter. Well, and her step-mom Pepper. And her godfather Rhodey. And her uncle-not-uncle Happy. But no one in their everyday lives knew. She was given her mother’s maiden name and kept a secret, even when she turned 17 and moved to a small apartment near NYU’s campus (with Happy stationed right next door, of course) to start life as a truly normal adult, or as close to normal as an undercover Stark could be. When she graduated with her PhDs in robotics and electrical engineering at 25 — proving brains really do run in the family — she moved into her own apartment in Manhattan, funded by her father under the pseudonym “Michael Myers.” Subtlety was never his strong suit.

Fortunately for you, growing up without the Stark name let you live a relatively normal life. It also allowed you to apply for a position within Stark Industries without being ushered past any red tape because of who your father is. Outside of the financial advantage you had, you worked for your spot in a STEM career. You suffered through every man in your field belittling your work despite knowing less than you. You dealt with the constant interruptions and “well, actually” because of your gender. You powered through late nights and early mornings when your mind was flowing too smoothly to quit.

The last thing you wanted to do was have all that work disregarded because you shared a name with genius billionaire playboy philanthropist Tony Stark. So you filled out the application, sent in your resume and cover letter, and attached three letters of recommendation from your professors. You went through hours of interviews, background checks (conveniently redacting your father’s name), and polygraph tests until that offer letter showed up in your email. You even had to sign the Non-Disclosure Agreements that would bar you from discussing *anything* work-related with anyone outside of your department.

You spent your first year in the weapons analysis department, evaluating alien weaponry and determining how it worked and how to disable it. You had your fair share of mishaps, of course. Holes blasted into walls, fried robot dummies, even burnt animal carcasses. By the end of your first year, your supervisor sent a commendation and proposal for you for an undisclosed promotion. After Pepper Potts “thoroughly examined your resume, cover letter, and accomplishments during your tenure with Stark Industries,” as the letter read, you were awarded a position working on the Avengers’ weapons as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist. You’d never see a fight in-person, but you were assigned to work on advancements and post-battle repairs for everyone, from the Winter Soldier’s arm to the Falcon’s wings to Vision’s... everything. The only heroes you wouldn’t work on were Iron Man and War Machine (those were your dad’s territory) and Spider-Man.

On your first day in your new position, the one and only Pepper Potts showed you to your new lab on the 47th floor. It took all your willpower to look your step-mother in the eye and say, “Wow, Miss Potts. This is amazing. It’s such an honor to meet you,” with a straight face to convince any passerby that you had no outside affiliation with her. Even if her eyes stayed steady on you, you could see her mentally rolling them.

Once you were alone behind the doors of the elevator, conversation changed course.

“You’re going to be sharing a lab with someone else,” Pepper said.

“Sweet. As long as they’re competent, that’s fine by me,” you shrugged. Part of earning your degrees was learning to share a workspace with others, even those who bumbled and fumbled with no idea what they were doing. You’d had more hair singed by nearby explosions than you’d like to admit.

“He’s still in college so he’s not here as often as the others. Most of his work will be on Spider-Man’s gadgets and suit, but you can use him for any help you need.”

Walking past the familiar faces of Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho in their respective labs, Pepper ushered you into your lab, where you were met by your father and put on the same excited facade you did with Pepper.

“Oh my god, you’re Tony Stark! This is incredible! It’s such an honor to meet you, sir!”

He shook his head at you and reluctantly accepted your outstretched hand. Oh, the jokes you’d be making at family dinners.

“Yeah, anyway, this is your new lab, Miss [Y/L/N]. Make yourself at home. This lab rat over here is mister Parker. If you have any questions, he can at least bullshit an answer for you.”

The young man on the other side of the lab perked up at the sound of his name. He tugged the goggles off his face and set down his soldering rod to rush over to you.

“Hi. Hi, I’m Peter,” he said, reaching his hand out to you.

“I’m [Y/N]. It’s nice to meet you, lab partner.”

He looked to be a bit younger than you and at least relatively smart, if the MIT sweatshirt peeking out from under his lab coat said anything. If your dad gave him an internship like this, you knew you shouldn’t question it. He had to be a genius.

The kid just smiled at you, continuing to shake your hand past what most would deem socially acceptable.

“Okay, enough of that,” Tony said, pushing on your joined hands to separate you two. “Mister Parker might be in and out of the lab from time to time. He joins the Avengers on the occasional recon mission for immediate repairs but since he’s on break from classes, you’ll see him more often than not. Play nice.”

When he noticed you surreptitiously looking Peter up and down, he added, “Remember, no fraternizing with coworkers.” He pointed a finger directly at you before he spun and pointed to your fellow lab mate, realizing he should warn Peter too to save face.

“All the blueprints you need for the Tin Man’s arm are in the system. We’ll have you start on that and see what you can do about minimizing the sound that thing makes. Any other questions, give Pep a call.”

“Thank you, mister Stark. I really do appreciate everything,” you said genuinely.

“Yeah, well… don’t let me down,” he replied, patting you on the shoulder on his way out. Pepper followed close behind, leaving you alone with Peter Parker.

“So Peter,” you started, sliding onto the lab chair next to where he remained standing, “tell me about yourself.”

“Uh… what do you want to know?” he asked as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

“How old are you?” you asked immediately.

“I’m 21.”

Only four years younger than you. So you’d probably get along just fine.

“I assume you’re at MIT?” He nodded. “What are you studying?”

“Biomolecular and mechanical engineering.” He said it so casually, you’d think he was talking about the last song he heard on the radio.

“Damn,” you responded, eyes wide. “I thought robotics and electrical engineering was wild but fuck, that sounds like hell.”

He laughed and nodded, letting a bit of the tension in his shoulders fall. “Yeah, it’s not easy. But it’s worth it.”

He shot you a small smile before gesturing back at his project. “I should probably get back to work and let you get started.”

For the rest of the day, you familiarized yourself with the Winter Soldier’s arm to figure out how to… turn the volume down? You assumed it was the gears inside causing the noise, but part of you wanted to outfit an audio jack and speaker just to fuck with your dad.

You and Peter worked in relative silence, aside from the playlist he had quietly playing through the lab sound system. When lunch rolled around, however, you finally spoke up.

“Hey Peter,” you called, his eyes flicking from the chemical beakers in front of him up to you. “First of all, what are you doing?”

“Um, it’s Spider-Man’s web fluid. Just trying to find more durable combinations.”

“Interesting.” As much as you wanted to touch the stringy substance, you knew better than to fiddle with someone else’s lab work. “Okay so second thing, in my last position, I’d just order food and have it brought to my floor but now that I’m on an exclusive floor, what do you do for lunch?”

“Oh, there are a couple security guys who have clearance to come into this floor. They just can’t get into any rooms so you’d have to meet them at the elevator. But I usually find something in the kitchen down the hall.”

“Oh, sweet. Thanks!” you said as you made your way out the door. Before you could fully exit, you turned back to see if Peter wanted you to grab anything. Once he promised he’d take his own break ‘once I get this one thing figured out,’ you continued to make your way to the kitchen.

As you drew closer to the doorway, you could hear three voices speaking over each other. They didn’t sound angry, but they were definitely arguing. You opened the door anyway and almost immediately froze in your tracks. The Falcon stood with one hand on his own head and one on the Winter Soldier’s head while Captain America rolled his eyes before those same eyes landed on you, along with the rest of the room.

“Perfect,” Sam started. “Hey new girl, between the three of us,” he said, pointing to himself, the Soldier, and the Captain, “who has the best hair?”

“First of all, my name is [Y/N]. Second,” you continued, making your way past them to the fridge you hoped your dad kept stocked with goodies, “that’s an unfair question.”

You grabbed a soda and popped it open before turning back to the three men. “Your hair suits each of you. Cap wouldn’t look good with Winter Soldier hair and Falcon wouldn’t look good with Cap’s hair.” You took a few steps closer, leaning against the island counter between you and eyeing each of them. Your eyes settled on the Winter Soldier, unashamedly flitting across his face and admiring the sharpness of his features. “You,” pointing at him, “could probably pull off either of their looks, though.”

Bucky smirked at you, but his rosy cheeks gave away a hint of embarrassment at your compliment. Steve and Sam, on the other hand, weren’t taking it quite as gracefully.

“What?!” Sam shouted. “Okay, now I know you’re lying. I could pull off Cap’s hair for sure.”

“You know, I think shaggy hair would really suit me,” Cap said, only half sarcastically.

You giggled to yourself as the three of them started talking over each other again, all dead set on their own hair being the best of them and positive they could pull off the others’ looks. While they bickered, you searched the pantry until you found a snack to at least get you through the remainder of the day.

“Alright boys, it’s been fun but I have work to do,” you said as you walked past them again. “Actually, wait. Bucky — can I call you Bucky?” He nodded even though you continued anyway. “If you could stop by lab six today, I’d love to check out your arm in person. The digital renderings aren’t quite the same.”

“Uh, okay. Sure. I’ll find you,” he said quietly.

“Sweet, thanks!” And with that, you skedaddled back to your lab.

[moon-beam95]

After Class, You're Mine.

Fandom: Fate: Winx Saga

Pairing: Saul Silva/Reader

Rating: Explicit

After the freshmen specialists began to disperse his eyes were drawn to a young woman with a sultry pout on her lips.

'Well my classes are finished, ' she trailed off, stepping closer peering up through her lashes at the headmaster, 'and I've never shied away from hard work.'

A groan slipped pasted his lips, before stepping back and rubbing a hand across his stubble.

Unwittingly his actions drew her gaze and she wet her lips, eyes clouding as she remembered exactly how it felt between her thighs the last time they met.

A huff of laughter saw her gaze up at him in faux innocence as he crossed his arms, making the muscles bulge ever so slightly and an eyebrow raised. He jerked his head silently telling her to follow. They walked in relative silence to his office. He pushed open the door, gesturing for her to enter and locked the door behind her.

Neither could say who moved first just that they were suddenly pressed against each other kissing fervently. He walked her backwards to his desk, silently thanking that he'd bothered to tidy it, lifting her up and setting her down.

'here's me thinking you'd forgotten about me'

He scoffed, arms caging her in, 'as if I could, the freshmen just need a lot more work than usual. Soft lads the lotta them.'

He leaned forwards capturing your lips, flicking his tongue at the seam demanding entrance. You made breathy moans as you lost yourself in his kiss. Slowly he pulled back, eyes staring intensely into yours.

'Don't think for one second you haven't plagued my mind Fairy. Alls I can think of is how much I want to kiss you'

He presses a brief kiss back on yours lips before ghosting his lips down your neck, pausing ever so often to pepper kisses on the exposed collarbone. Meanwhile his strong, calloused hands trail up your sides sending shivers down your spine.

'To touch you'

He lowers himself into his chair and presses a kiss to your ankle before steadily moving up nipping and sucking.

'To taste you. To claim you again, and again, and again til the only thought running through your head is of me.'

He nuzzles your thigh and you hiss as the stubble pricks your tender skin.

He runs his fingers over her underwear letting out an audible groan of appreciation at how wet she is before hooking his fingers round the sides and drawing down her legs to which he pocketed them for later.

He descends upon her like a starving man, he never could get enough of her. And she was right it had been too long since he could sate himself between her thighs. He missed it all, her taste, her scent, how she weaves her fingers into his hair urging him closer. How she begs and pleads for more, til she freezes, back arched her greedy hole trying to suck him deep as she all but rides his face.

He pulls back, face shining, filled with a mixture of pride and awe at both how she looks and the fact that it was he who made her so. Any other time he'd gladly let her reciprocate but damn if all he didn't want was to bury himself inside her. So he did.

He hurriedly fishes his cock out of his pants not bothering to undress, just grabs himself in one hand, braces himself on the table with the other and slides home, both letting out deep groans.

He wasn't going to last too long, he thought, as he buries his face in her neck, biting lightly at her pulse wanting to mark her for all to see. A whimper breaks him out of his thoughts.

'P.. Please, Saul, please.' she begs hands clutching at his back needing more, needing less, just plain needing.

He pauses his thrusting, smirking as she whimpers once more. 'Please, what?' silence reigns, just breathy moans as she attempts to find some friction. 'Come on baby girl, use your words.'

She huffs sulking, before abandoning all pretense and pleads, 'Please. Please fuck me.'

'There's a good girl'

He fucks into her harder, faster than before, reveling in the feeling of her heat surrounding him, the feel of her. They move in tandem, a dance of which they had done many times.

Somewhere along the line she had lost all coherent thought and seemed only to remember how to beg and moan.

He brings a hand to her face, pressing two fingers to her lips and telling her to suck. She parts her lips, tongue darting out to lap and the digits before curing around them drawing them into her hot cavern.

He moans, he knows exactly what that talented mouth can do.

'Fuck, ' he breaths, 'such a good girl.'

In response she sucks at his fingers more, aiming to get them as wet as possible. He pulls the back, leaving her pouting before snaking said hand between them to encircle her clit. He determinedly rubbed her clit, moving in rapid circles to bring her to the brink. He feels it before all else, her cunt trying to milk him dry, before she positively wails and falls, boneless onto his desk. He fucks into her, snarling as he clamps onto her neck, once, twice before spilling inside of her. He carrys on pumping into her wanting to fuck her full.

She smiles at him with glassy, unseeing eyes before reaching a hand out to stroke his face.

He pulls out slowly, watching as cum began to trickle out of her swollen cunt.

She sits up wobbly, and with a wry grin says 'When you said claim I didn't think you would be quite so literal.'

But he doesn't hear, instead he surveys his handiwork, from her swollen lips to her marked up necked, down to her hard nipples and her utterly wrecked cunt his cock twitches in interest. Clearly he wasn't tired.

She smirks lightly before pushing herself to stand up and then pushes him into his chair. This time is different, it's not a hurried ferocious thing but one of deep hard thrusts and slow grinding.

He let's out an ouf she straddles his lap.

She tenderly caresses his face, her magic instinctively reacts to her desires, and vines slowly reach out curling around his legs and up to his wrists binding him to his chair.

She steadies herself with a hand on his shoulder before raising herself up til just the tip is still inside her before sinking down. Head thrown back, moaning as she's filled, the position grants a deeper penetration. She grinds on his lap, taking what she needs, her movements are slow and steady, just wanting to feel him. Their climax builds just as slow but creeps upon them and they both shudder to a stop. She let's out a little giggle before pecking him on the lips. She opens her mouth to say-

-Ben bursts through the door, in his usual hurried manner, shouting about a burnt one only to freeze at the picture before him.

He stammers out an apology slapping a hand over his eyes.

Saul growls at the interruption, not embarrassed at all. You though, your flushed and quickly stand before scrambling for your clothes.

'Er, arnt you forgetting something' Saul draws.

You turn confused before you realise you've left him tied up. You squeak out an apology, while your eyes glow and the vines recede. He tuck himself in and heads to his weapons locker.

He straps two swords to his back, checks his knife holsters, telling Ben to 'relax, its hardly the worse position you've found us in.'

Ben groans in reply 'Please don't remind me,' as he peeks hesitantly through his finger before giving a sigh of relief.

Saul slides his final weapon into place before cupping your face and dropping a brief kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter close at the fleeting contact.

'Go,' you whisper. 'I'll help ready the med bay.'

'Be safe,' you shout after them both, a heavy feeling settling in your stomach as you watch them race out to the barrier edge.

[kaesaaurelia]

you are here

For @whumptober day 15: Emotional Damage, using the prompt "lies."

Continued from day 6, wherein Hell sent Aziraphale a ransom video of Crowley, captured and beaten up, and day 10, where Crowley endured searing torments and discovered that truly, Hell is other people.

When the demons came back around to dip them in lava again, Crowley, having learned his lesson now, permitted the damned souls to be encased in lava over time, until they were weirdly cocoon-shaped geodes of entitlement, and they were unhooked carefully from the candle-dipper and carried somewhere else. By this time he was very badly burnt and just wanted to hole up somewhere and shed all his skin as soon as possible. He tried to slip away while the supervisor was looking the other way, but the weird pink tentacles sprouting from her nose swerved in his direction as soon as he tried to get past her, and she dug her claws into his shoulder to stop him. "Where d'you think you're going?" she asked.

"I've, er, got an appointment," Crowley invented.

"Blessed right, you do. They told me to keep you here 'til they came and took you to it."

Crowley tsked loudly, trying not to be annoyed that the demon's claws had pierced both his jacket and his shoulder. "Well, all right, if you like, but don't be surprised if Someone's very upset with you," he said, going for ominous and managing slightly bratty.

The demon looked deeply unimpressed. "Did you really think that'd work? Come on, you saw the kind of humans we work with here, did you think I'd say 'Oh yes, of course, sir, whatever you say, I must have been mistaken, sir, I'm so sorry'?"

Crowley had to admit she had a good point. "Right, okay, yeah, but look --"

"No," she said.

"Look, could I just --"

"No," she said again.

"I'll wait here," Crowley promised, "I just want to let someone know I'm going to be late. To my appointment. Could I... is there a payphone or something?"

She considered this for a moment. "You did defend us out there. You also made our job harder."

"But I did defend you, yes!" said Crowley, seizing on this one thing.

After another long pause to consider this, she finally drew a black rectangle out of her pocket. "One of the humans gave me this to hold while we dunked them. I can't fucking use it, I can't see, but it's electric," she said, tapping it with one of her nose tentacles. "I assume it's one of those awful newfangled things they have now."

Then she held it out to him. It was a phone.

"There are mobiles in Hell?" Crowley asked. He'd assumed from all the interruption of all his radio and television programs that such things were beyond Hell's comprehension.

"Apparently they make the younger humans anxious, and the older ones get angry about them," she said, "so we import them specially. I ate one once by accident," she added, making a face. "Very crunchy, not a lot of flavor. So I don't really want it."

"What do I have to do for it?" Crowley asked.

"Just don't give it back to that bitch, I'd love to hear what she has to say when I tell her I lost her stupid thing," said the demon. "And don't say I did you any favors."

Crowley almost thanked her as he took the mobile from her, but thought better of it at the last moment. "I won't," he said.

--

Aziraphale had spent several hours sneaking through the bureaucratic offices of Hell already, trying to find Crowley without anybody finding him, and he'd had no luck at all. He found himself blankly staring at a wall full of memos and notices, wondering where to go next, when one of the notices caught his eye.

ANGEL, it started.

He supposed at first that it was a very poorly-designed wanted poster for himself, but to his astonishment it was not.

ANGEL - BEING TAKEN ON GRAND TOUR OF TORMENT. HEADED TO CENTRAL DIS TO BE GNAWED BY SOMETHING? FOR A WHILE, WILL PROBABLY TAKE 2-3 DAYS. HOPE YOU HAVE A MOBILE.

He folded the notice and put it in his pocket. He was going to have to get to Dis.

Dis proved more difficult than he'd expected, however. He had trouble at the ferry, because of course Aziraphale had what he thought was the requisite two coins, but the fare had gone up a lot, and so, having missed his first chance, he had to wait for an hour and a half for the next one, only that one didn't come, and it was the last ferry of the day. Aziraphale ended up waiting, frantic with worry for Crowley, in a nasty-smelling station where all the chairs had mysterious liquid pooled in them, for twelve hours before he was finally able to cross the Acheron to get to the outskirts of Dis.

By which point Crowley's location had changed again.

HAVE BEEN GNAWED. SORRY FOR TOPICS, MISSING 3 FUNHOUSE. OMW TO BE ENCRUSTED, said the absolutely baffling notice that was plastered to an electric pole in Dis.

A nearby billboard was a little more helpful. FIGURE! ENSTOATED!, it shouted, next to a photograph of a smiling demon in a suit and tie. (It was not Crowley. Aziraphale had to assume the demon was the Infernal equivalent of a personal injury lawyer, since the telephone number at the bottom, helpfully transcribed in both letters and numbers, was +666 3472 677678, which translated to the extremely clunky +666 DISC ORPOR8.)

Aziraphale didn't know what was missing three figures, nor whether being Encrusted or Enstoated was worse, but the especially frustrating part was that there was no hint as to where Crowley was.

Another notice, this one the caption for a poster depicting a lost bat, clarified things very slightly. FINGERS. MISSING 3. SORRY. DUCKING AUTOCORRECT.

The description of the lost bat was briefly an actual description of a lost bat, but Aziraphale blinked, and it suddenly resolved into I'm in the 9th Circle. Don't come here.

Aziraphale did not take the poster; whoever had put it up would still be missing their bat, and resolved to find his way to the Ninth Circle if it killed him.

He puzzled out the universe's least helpful map -- "YOU ARE HERE" was the title, and there was no indication as to where he actually was -- and then waited three hours for a bus that was supposed to be coming in 15 minutes. Eventually he decided to walk to the train station he needed to get to. There were no sidewalks, he was nearly run over several times, and it began to rain a searingly hot green liquid that ate pits in the sidewalk and ruined his umbrella and coat.

Aziraphale was utterly exhausted by the time he got to the train station. It was -- because of course it was, this was Hell! -- it was not underground, or at ground level, or even elevated one or two storeys up. Oh no, it was attached to the ceiling of the cavern.

Aziraphale sighed and brought his wings out, or tried to, but pain shot through him like electricity, and he realized he'd missed the ABSOLUTELY NO FLYING notice on the sign pointing upwards to the station.

As Aziraphale climbed the rickety, ancient staircase, he could see the way the track plunged down into a great gaping hole in the ground a bit further on, and was relieved that it probably did go to the Ninth Circle, if it ran at all, which he doubted.

But when he was, oh, perhaps five or six stories from the station, there was a great rumbling noise that rattled the staircase and made it shake so hard Aziraphale nearly fell off. He began taking the stairs two at a time. He made it to the platform just in time to watch the train roar off into the abyss.

The electronic sign at the station suggested that the next train would be along in twenty minutes. Aziraphale knew this was a lie. Wishing he could miracle away the stitch in his side, he sat down on the one single bench at the station, which had armrests built into it just wide enough that Aziraphale fit, but they dug into his legs painfully. He wondered if Crowley would've been able to sit here comfortably, or whether the armrests would have adjusted to make him uncomfortable too.

Aziraphale had the brief and uncharitable thought that Crowley had probably suggested they do this, since it struck him as a very human thing to consider, and then he considered what Crowley was going through, the enstoating, or ensconcing, or encrusting, or whatever he had tried to type, with three missing fingers, and he felt ill.

As he waited, the station went from empty to crowded, and by the time the train came, about an hour later, he and the other commuters had to sardine themselves into it. All the damned human souls seemed to have mobiles, but none of them had headphones, and so the train was a cacophony of music, repetitive videos, and distasteful political rants playing tinnily on tiny speakers, with the sound of screaming infants piped in over the tannoy for realism.

That was all right, though, because it all sort of blended into a disagreeable white noise. Aziraphale closed his eyes and tried to relax as the train pitched down into the lowest circles of Hell, and no matter how badly the cars jostled, nobody fell over, because they were far too tightly packed.

In fact, something about the familiarity of the whole thing and the heat of the poorly-ventilated train car must have got to Aziraphale, because the next thing he knew, his cheek was resting on a frigid and slightly sticky floor. It was pitch black, and the train was rattling around him.

Aziraphale hauled himself his feet and walked face-first into a pole before grabbing onto it to stay upright. He looked around. There was a dim light at one end of the car, and he made his way carefully towards it, thinking perhaps in the next car there was light.

But as he approached, a terrifying visage came out of the darkness, with staring white eyes and knife-sharp teeth; the little point of light was suspended from an antenna sprouting out of its forehead as a lure for the unwary. Aziraphale recoiled.

"Oh, there you are," said the anglerfish demon, sounding pleasantly surprised.

"What have you done to the lights? Where are we going?" Aziraphale demanded.

"Oh, that just happens on this train, especially in the Ninth Circle," said the demon pleasantly. "You fell asleep. They were going to kick you off at the end of the line, but I figured you probably meant to get off earlier than that."

"But I was going there!" said Aziraphale, frantically. "Stop the train! Or, or -- when's the next stop?"

The demon sighed heavily, and though his countenance still looked vicious, Aziraphale realized that might have been more because of the teeth than because he was particularly aggressive. "Look, even I don't come down here if I can help it, and I'm a Duke of Hell," said the demon. "Also, if they found out I'd allowed an angel to get all the way down here without ripping his throat out, they'd look at my records. Things would be called into question. I may have been fudging certain quotas over the years, here and there, because frankly it's very hard to get to Earth what with all my duties in Hell. I'm sure you understand; I remember Heaven well enough."

Aziraphale didn't trust this demon, but he was almost friendly, and Aziraphale was so tired. His whole body ached in various ways he could usually escape on Earth. "I'm trying to find a friend," he admitted.

"In the Ninth Circle?" The demon drew closer. "Oh! You're Crowley's angel, aren't you?"

Aziraphale stepped back hurriedly. "What? No! I don't know who that is," he said, unconvincingly.

"Relax, I'm not here to snitch on you. Like I said. People will ask inconvenient questions. Anyway, I used to be his supervisor, back before he got to be such a big shot with all that apple stuff. I'm still in contact with a few people we worked with, here and there," he added, cheerfully.

"Ah," said Aziraphale. "But I thought Lucifer..."

"Oh no, Lucifer was the big boss. I was the little boss," said the demon.

"Ah. And you were... friendly?" Aziraphale knew that Crowley had done good work during Creation, doing... things with stars.

"Oh, no, he was an exhausting little shit," said the demon, "but he was talented. And honestly? I like Earth. I only get to go every now and then but it's nice up there. Quieter. I have a friend up there who keeps trying to talk me into moving up there to teach physics -- she's an angel, she's my assigned rival for some reason, but I don't really think of her like that, we're just friends. Anyway, the only reason I don't take her up on that, honestly, is I have a bunch of Erics to look after, and I don't need grad students on top of the Erics. But Earth seems nice, you know? And I didn't want to lose another war. And I didn't really like our odds. So you go on and enjoy your lack of apocalypse."

"Yes, thank you," said Aziraphale, impatiently. "I'm glad you appreciate, er, the great service Crowley and I did, but he's in the Ninth Circle. I'm trying to retrieve him."

The demon shook his head, his little lure-light bobbing back and forth. "You're not getting him from there. Not and getting out alive. Didn't they kidnap him to trap you?"

"Well... yes, but I've been getting these, these text messages from him --"

"If he told you to come find him in the Ninth Circle, he's not worth saving," said the demon.

"Oh, no," said Aziraphale. "Actually, he told me not to come, he's very considerate, he's really a dear, but how could I just leave him --"

He stopped.

The demon looked at him expectantly.

"How could I just leave him?" Aziraphale repeated to himself. "And why would he have told me that, if he really didn't want me to come find him?"

"Do you think," said the demon, "that every message you get is guaranteed to come from Crowley?"

"Ah." It had had a suspicious lack of typos, especially for having been typed with three fingers missing. "It was a trap, wasn't it?"

"Definitely a trap," said the demon.

As they spoke, the lights in the train had gradually come back on, and scenery began flashing by -- Hell scenery, but still, scenery. Aziraphale watched two nude ice-skaters flee down a frozen river from a phalanx of crocodiles, then saw an unlucky third ice-skater further down the river being devoured by several of them. "Do you think he actually was in the Ninth Circle?"

"Maybe," said the demon. "Do you know what was supposed to be happening to him?"

"Something about encrustment? Or possibly enstoatment?"

"Oh!" said the demon, brightly. "Yeah, that's pretty bad. But it's not Ninth Circle bad. It's like, Eight and a Halfth Circle, at worst. Although they're actually thinking about drilling down further to make room for all the weird new sins humans are inventing, which is kind of exciting."

"Ah," said Aziraphale. He did not much care about that.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of static from the tannoy, cutting into the screaming infant soundtrack. "The Next Stop Is..." said the announcer, fuzzily, and then came Crowley's voice. "Aziraphale! Can't talk much, look, please hurry, they're taking me to the Lethe, I don't know what's going to happen if they do that. Fuck, I hope you're getting these." There was a long, staticky pause before he added, "I love you."

Then the screaming baby sounds began again, as if they had never stopped.

Aziraphale stared at the demon, Crowley's supposed former supervisor. "Did you hear that?"

"I mean, kind of? But I can never figure out what stop that's supposed to be. I think we're coming up on Dat, or maybe Dose," said the demon. "It'll be a while 'til we get back into the actual city of Dis."

Either he was lying, or he hadn't heard it. Aziraphale chose to take a leap of faith. "If I had to get to the Lethe, very quickly, and as safely as possible, how would I go about doing that?"

The demon's white eyes widened. "Ah. Another message?"

"Yes. You don't think it's --"

"I have no idea whether it's real," said the demon. "But if you want to get to Lethe... either you're looking at a six-hour bus trip with three transfers, or you're going to have to get someone to drive you. Traffic will be terrible this time of day, but --"

"Do you know anyone who could take me?" Aziraphale asked.

The demon made a pained face. "Well, not me, I'm not a bad enough driver to get a license." He seemed to take pity on Aziraphale, though. "All right, okay, look, it's a pretty long shot, but... I might know someone who can help you out, if the stories I've heard about you are true."

"The stories? What stories?" Aziraphale asked.

"But I guess you'll have to find out. And no promises." He began checking his pockets, and fished out a pen. "Do you have any paper?"

"Yes!" said Aziraphale, gratefully presenting him with the notice he'd taken days ago from across the Acheron.

"Okay, great. Also, sorry, my pen's out of ink because I think most of them just come like that in Hell, so you're going to have to be able to read the indentations." With some difficulty, the demon chiseled instructions into the paper, and hurried Aziraphale off at the next stop. As the train pulled out of the station, Aziraphale frowned down at the paper, puzzling out the directions and the address. He started off, still daring to hope he was going the right way.

[to be continued on day 16]