#but this idea just struck me so forcefully

[dimsilver]

do y’all ever think about how badly hozier needs to read till we have faces

[dolicekiss]

Hi I'm not sure if you're taking requests (i don't know how the request work so sorry)

Could u write a one-shot, where Reader and Duncan have a mission and them go to the place but before do the work, they arrive at a hotel and them only rent a room with one bed (obviously) Duncan tells her that he'll take the bed and she'll sleep on the floor, then he go to take a shower and she doesn't care about his request and takes the bed, Duncan comes out and them start to fight because she didn't listen him, until she suggests that both take the bed (Duncan don't like the idea but don't decline and just does it) after a while she stars to tempt him at first he's angry bout all the situation, but the moment takes another path and u alr know (smut) if u r comfortable with ofc. (And sorry my english isn't great sorry for the type errors)

This is an idea of one chat with a bot of c.ia but the bots r not as good as a writer <3

♡: anon i know about this bot and i have done some freaky stuff w it 🤭 i love this request

Contumacious

PAIRING: Duncan Vizla x Bratty!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni), unprotected sex, age gap (reader is in her twenties), bratty reader, dominant duncan, tension, oral (male receiving), duncan calls reader ‘little girl’, overstimulation, choking, hair pulling, biting, slight blood, degrading, talkative duncan, slight (very minor) fluff at the end.

SYNOPSIS: On a mission, Duncan decides to stay at a hotel room for further planning and to rest. But when he orders you to take the floor and decides to stake his claim over the bed, things become heated between the two of you.

Duncan didn't expect to see a single bed in the room when he stormed in, along with you, who carried your own bag of basic necessities.

Frustration was as clear as water on his rough features when he realized he'd have to sacrifice a good night's sleep if he were to allow you slumber along him.

So he didn't sacrifice shit.

The man dropped his duffle bag over the bed, in a way branding it as his. “I get the bed, you get the floor.”

You couldn't even oppose because he'd already left for the bathroom, assuming to take a shower. Your lips formed a frown, brows furrowing. Just who did Duncan Vizla think he was? You both were equals on this mission, sent by Damucles to strike down a Mexican mob boss.

Duncan being older didn't mean he could do as he wished. You stood firm on give respect in order to receive it, age had nothing to do with it. You also placed your bag on the bed and slipped off your boots, sprawling across it.

If you had to take the bed forcefully, then so be it.

When Duncan was finished with his shower and came out, he was the least bit pleased with the sight afore him. You on your stomach, laying on the bed, feet up in the air and oscillating.

His bushy eyebrows scrunched in irritation. The man stormed towards you, standing right in front of you and you lifted your gaze up fron the pistol in your hands. Only to acknowledge him before going back to toying with the weapon in your hands.

That only worked to raise his anger more.

“I told you the bed is mine. Get your little ass off it.” You lifted your head, to face him and then slid off the bed. Now standing right in front of him — gaze unwavering and posture strong. Duncan knew you were one hell of a stubborn brat. He'd come across you before and he hated every bit of it.

You placed your hand on your hip.

A pose that struck him with a lash of irritation.

“It is a big bed and who are you to claim it first? Just because you're old, you think you can come in here and order me around?” Duncan’s eyes flared up. Nostrils expanding and the anger on his face was like embers swirling in lava.

He took a step forward. “Listen here, little girl. I might be old but you could never reach the amount of missions I have been successful at, nor do you know real struggle. Try sleeping in the Siberian Winds with no clothes, not a single thread to cover your damn body.”

You couldn't believe it.

He was rubbing his life experiences in your face as if he didn't himself chose to work for Damocles.

He became the black kaiser because he wanted to.

In the heat of the prickling anger, you also stepped forward. Your chest brushing against his. “You chose that for yourself but I won't let you choose the bed. Either we both sleep on it together or you take the fucking floor. There's no way in hell I'm sleeping on the floor.”

Duncan groaned.

He knew of the abundance stubbornness you possessed. There was no way you would back out, knowing that the way you got yourself snuck into his mission was by being completely adamant and demanding money if not allowed in.

But he too couldn't retreat, as his pride was on the line. “I could easily throw you on the floor, little girl.”

You snickered. “I'd like to see you try.”

Duncan stared at you. Drinking in your petite form and how small you were in comparison to him. Primal and dark was what stirred within the base of his abdomen when his mind finally grasped on how pathetic you were. Indeed you were a trained killer, amazing at martial arts too but Duncan knew against him you stood no chance.

Due to the diligence of your work and mission, Duncan never really focused on your features.

Your challenge nearly caused him to pick you up and toss you on the damn floor. Duncan raised his hand — fingers opening to wrap around your throat. The inside of his fingers brushed across your throat and you swallowed tightly, waiting for him to act out his aggression.

Duncan’s hand fell.

Your brow raised at his defeat. “Fine but you better keep at your side. If I see a damn leg or arm of yours on my side, you best believe I'm choppin’ it off.”

You dismissed him with your hand and Duncan’s hand formed into a fist. He really wanted to teach you a lesson. Hating how you paraded around Damocles like you were the only one, an egoistic but skilled assasian.

Just for the sake of the mission, Duncan let it go.

He settled on the bed on one side and watched you take out your own clothes from the duffle bag, making your way to the bathroom. In your hand were some panties and a loose, button up shirt. It was what you'd managed to pack in a hurry when you were told about your mission with Duncan.

Honestly, you sort of looked up to him.

No one was as heavily respected in Damocles as he was.

The Black Kaiser.

Aim perfect and sharp. He knew so many ways to discard the enemy and you'd only witnessed a few of them on this mission. It filled you with unbridled excitement when you'd finally landed yourself with him.

Your shower was relaxing. Warm water soothing all your strained muscles — the combat sure taking its toll on you. Slow hands caressing the skin, ridding of it any dirt that lingered. After done shampooing your hair and washing your body, you dried yourself and changed into your clothes.

The outfit was sultry to say the least but you knew Duncan was a man who would never find you attractive.

You knew of his irritation and annoyance aimed at you. It was honestly adorable at times how he got pissed, finding joy in pushing at his buttons.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, Duncan’s head snapped into your direction and his expression hardened. There you sauntered towards the bed with bare thighs and plush breasts peeking out from within the confines of your shirt.

He swallowed, his adjustment of himself not slipping past you.

You laid down on the bed and let out a sigh, finally finding peace. A good night’s rest was surely needed and this bed could provide it all. As you shifted to find a comfortable position, your shirt rose up in the friction exposing the black lining of your panties.

Duncan caught a glimpse of it.

His eyes darkening.

“Could've worn something warmer.” Duncan said, not looking at you. A scowl made its way across your face as you sat up, body strength on your palms. Leaning forward made your loose shirt fall by your sides, cleavage revealed.

“You got a problem with everything, old man.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Is that your only retort? Calling me old?” He snapped, staring at you. For a moment his gaze lingered to your lips and then back up to your face. Eyes filled to the brim with frustration and something – dark too. Lust or maybe anger.

“Are you not old? I bet you can't even get it up anymore.” You chuckled and that seemed to have crossed the line. Duncan reached for you, hand entangling in your hair. You felt him tug on the roots and pull you closer, face only a mere inches away from yours.

Your breath hitched.

Fighting him right now could get really dirty and you wanted to see how far Duncan was willing to go. His action only working to entice you. “You really should watch your damn mouth, little girl. I don't take nicely to such disrespect.”

You let out a chuckle. “Accept it. You cannot get it up, old man.”

Duncan’s fist tightened, nostrils flaring at your impolite words. You stared at him, your tongue slithering out like an enticing snake and running across the plump of your lips in an attempt to seduce him. “Or can you? I've heard older men fuck better. Is that true, Duncan?”

Duncan growled.

He tugged you down, to between his legs. Duncan nuzzled your face against the tent in his trousers. His bulge protruding as he shoved your face against it. “Does that look like I can't get it up, little girl?”

You shook your head slowly, hands hastily moving to pull down his trousers, paired with his briefs. His cock sprung out, nearly hitting you in the face and a soft gasp escaped your lips. It was big — fucking massive and you hadn't expected a man of Duncan's age to have such a big cock. Precum sheened over his tip.

It was thick and you knew the pain of the stretch inside you would be delicious. Veins ran from its base, disappearing underneath the pink tip. Your mouth watered at the sight, fingers gently wrapping around the girth.

A sweet hiss fell from Duncan’s lips.

You parted your lips and pushed out your tongue, running it in little licks over his tip, managing to taste his salty precum. Duncan’s breath grew heavier along each lick — chest moving in a slow rhythm.

His fingers still drowned in your hair. Duncan tugged harder, an indication for you to pick up. So you did, wrapping your lips around his tip and sucking it in, taking his fat cock all the way into your tight mouth until it had fully disappeared. You could feel it slip past the little uvula hanging in the air of your mouth, the warm flesh feeling like embers over your tongue.

“Jesus, you're pretty good at taking a cock.”

A giggle almost slipped — you attempted to breath through your nose and salvated around his throbbing dick. Your eyes met Duncan’s drowsy ones and as you whimpered, the vibrations from your throat shot straight through his abdomen.

His hands guided down your head furthermore, burying your nose into his neatly trimmed pubic hair.

Duncan pulled you up, only to slam his cock back inside your mouth. A repetitive action, his thighs shaking and flexing whenever the wetness and constriction of your throat welcomed him. Panting like a hungry beast, he fucked himself into your mouth.

Hips snapping up in desperate thrusts to gain his release.

“Good little girl. This is what your mouth is made for—what it's supposed to do.” He grunted when your struggles began in the form of small hands lightly punching at his thick thighs. “You're only a cocksucking little bitch.”

Tears stung your eyes from how horribly you gagged all over him. His tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat while moaning out loud. Divulging his pleasure to the people outside the hotel room.

Duncan loved the way you gagged around his cock. Tears sitting prettily in your beautiful eyes and he couldn't help but feel himself come near at the sight of you, this weak and pathetic underneath him. If he'd known sharing a bed would lead to this, the man would've given up in one single breath.

“Fuck—fuck. I'm close, I'm so fuckin’ close, my little girl. Keep suckin’ my cock like that, like the filthy bitch you are.” Duncan was vocal.

That was for sure and you enjoyed every bit of it.

After fucking your mouth for quite some time, Duncan finally shot loads of warm fluid down your throat. You struggled, kicking and thrashing everywhere but he didn't let go. He only continued to ride out his orgasm, feeling his own cock lubing up in the process of fucking his cum down your throat.

When he let you go, you promptly pulled back with a loud gasp. A sharp intake of oxygen. Cum and saliva dribbling in rivulets down your chin, tears wetting your cheeks. Duncan watched as your tits rose up and down, bouncing down slightly whenever you dragged in air.

Your eyes widened when you saw how Duncan’s soft cock suddenly became hard again, rising up. Curved and strong — tip caressing his abdomen. It was embarrassing for you because you'd called him out for not being able to get it up, here he was. In his late fifties, ready to fuck you dumb.

“Fuck you lookin’ at? Hop on.”

Your pussy throbbed. An insatiable ache that only his delicious cock could satisfy. You tossed one leg over his waist, while holding his cock with your hand. Aligning it at your hole, you finally sunk down on it. Duncan and you groaned in unison.

Feeling his cock enter you was such an indecipherable feeling. He filled you all the way, his tip reaching your womb almost. You placed both your palms over his chest, running your nails into the grey and black hair on his chest. Your lips parted, eyes rolled as you fully consumed him.

“Such a hungry fuckin’ pussy you've got. Taking me all the way in.” Duncan raised his hand and smacked your ass. “Cmon, move now.”

You obliged — beginning to grind your hips. In a slow back and forth rhythm. Duncan’s head was thrown back, pressed into the headboard while both his hands settled at your hips. Helping you grind down on his cock. You didn't even want to move, that's how much you fucking relished in him filling you up but then he lifted you, slamming you back down on his cock.

“Yeah, just like that.” He growled when you started to slide up and down. Hopping like a damn bunny in heat, feeling his veiny thick cock rub at your sensitive walls. Your whines were loud and prominent through the room as you held tightly onto his broad shoulders.

Lips agape and hair wet from the shower, it made you appear ten times prettier than you were. Duncan’s cock only hardened more, if possible inside you. The tremor in your whole frame was slowly becoming known to him and he scoffed, a breathty grunt leaving his lips. “Can't even fuck yourself on my cock and you have the audacity to speak to me with disrespect.”

“I'm sorry,” came a whimper from you. Nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, dragging them down into tiny slits.

Duncan helped you ride him, both his hands tugging at the flesh of your rear. He drove himself into you, in and out, in a fast rhythm. It was all too hot. Your body felt like it was boiling up and Duncan’s hands moved up to hold your breasts, thumbs flicking the nipples.

Dark brows furrowed and lips fallen apart, he let out aggressive grunts like some hounddog that couldn't have enough of you. “Pathetic whore. Jus’ a pathetic little whore who needed to be fucked. If—fuck,” he grunted, balls throbbing. “If you craved a cock this badly, you could've said so.”

Your eyes squeezed shut and walls gripped him like a vice. Duncan leaned forward and bit down on your shoulder, teeth digging into the skin hard enough to draw blood. He continued making you ride him, loving the way your tits bounced in his hands. A feeling driving him delirious.

The sound of skin against skin grew.

A languorous heat spread in your lower stomach. An indicator of your upcoming orgasm. Duncan’s hands kept playing with your soft mounds — his teeth littering bite marks at where your neck and shoulder became one and the way his hammered his cock inside your cunt was enough to push you over the edge.

Your arms flew to his shoulders, holding him tightly. “Duncan, ‘m gonna cum. ‘m so close, please.”

He looked up at you, loving the warmth you produced when you'd clung onto him like a koala to a tree. He pressed his lips over yours, something he himself was in shock at. His teeth tugged at your lower lip, sucking on it and as the kiss warmed, so did your cunt.

Duncan groaned as you slammed down on his cock repeatedly. A strong and soul chilling orgasm tearing through you. Eyes rolling back to your head and whimpers of sensitivity echoing in the room. He held you tightly as you came, enjoying how your little frame suffered from convulsions under his hold.

Duncan didn't give you a chance to even register your climax. He'd already began thrusting up your cunt, arms wrapped around your waist in a bone crushing hold. “Wait—wait! I still— oh my god.”

He didn't let you relax.

After all he too needed to cum.

Duncan could feel the throbbing sensation in his balls and the pulsating of his fat cock inside you. With a few, harsh strokes delivered inside your pussy, he released himself and your head buried in his neck from the feeling of being filled to the brim. His hot cum shot out, rope by rope, decorating the gummy walls of your pussy.

You could feel all of it.

Heightened sensitivity.

Your body went limp over his, leisurely dropping and Duncan held you. Both of you panted like wild animals who'd just got done finishing their preys. Your breathing was uneven and your throat was parched. Duncan heaved out, his low groans sending waves of sparks to your aching cunt again.

Thick fingers running up and down your bare back, with his other hand he caressed your hair. He wasn't rough when it came to sex but at times he felt like destroying your cunt whenever you'd speak to him in that stuck up, vicious little tone.

Duncan’s hand that played with your hair suddenly tightened, fingers pulling on the soft locks and you whimpered.

You were thrown off his lap on the bed. Appalled at his actions, you turned to look at him but Duncan only pressed your head further into the bed with his large hand. His other hand pulled your lower body, bending your knees.

“Wh-What are you doing?” You gasped out, the question coming out muffled.

Duncan let out a chuckle. “You thought we were done, hm? There ain't no way we're done with one round, little girl.”

You couldn't even resist as Duncan sunk his cock into you. Back arching and spine curving, a muffled whine of need and satisfaction echoing. He held you down as he thoroughly fucked you, his hips colliding with yours. Balls hitting the swollen stripe of your cunt.

“Look at you.” His bated breath increased your libido, as you were also speechless at his. Duncan was still ready to go on meanwhile you were struggling with staying still. Tired and drained from all his harsh strokes.

His grip on your hair tightened as he pulled you up to his chest, locking you firmly. Duncan pulled out then pushed right back into you, his tip reaching your womb. A small bulge forming on your stomach everytime he slammed back into you. Tears of overstimulation dropped like pearls on your face and Duncan moaned in your ear.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He praised.

Your walls clenched.

Duncan hissed and felt his strokes become steady, dragging across your spongy walls to feel them. Then he climaxed inside you, filling you up again once more. This time his cum dripped out of you, making a mess on his own cock and your thighs. Pussy glistening from the slick, cum and your own climax.

Duncan pulled out and pushed you back down on the bed.

He also collapsed next to you.

Chest rising up and down, breath a broken rhythm. You sniffled into the pillows, thighs shivering the overstimulation you'd suffered at the hands of Duncan. He wasn't as cruel as you'd depicted him to be. Duncan reached for you, pulling you closer to him and wrapping an arm around your waist.

His large arm covering the expanse of your chest.

“Sorry, little girl. You piss me off a lot.” He whispered and you flipped to face him, burying your face in his chest. “And I'll continue to piss you off.”

Despite the fact that he'd pretty much blown your back out twice, you still held on to your defiant traits. He let out a laugh, reaching over to grab a cigarette and light it up.

Dragging in a smoke, he brought the cigarette to your lips and your parted them, allowing him to settle it between them. You pursued his actions and released the smoke through your nostrils.

“That feels good.”

Duncan smiled. “Better than my cock?”

“Oh shut up.”

[bunnyinvanilla]

reader + price somehow run into her family/ parents? Maybe they come to the bar or something but it’s awkward because her dad’s wondering why his daughter is with someone his age. better yet he’s her SUGAR DADDY. ormaybe it’s for Christmas/ new years. idk.

let’s just say you’ve moved abroad, as an exchange student working part time at the local bar of your sugar daddy, military captain, boss, john price, and you’ve never, ever told a soul about your relationship. The chance of anyone finding out is highly impossible, but what if your parents decide to surprise you for Christmas day and visit you at the bar?

you’ve been excited about Christmas, practically pleading john to let you decor the bar with cute, christmasy decorations. He didn’t care that much, wasn’t necessarily happy about seeing glittery ribbons everywhere, but he couldn’t say no to you, his little girl.

“what about a little mistletoe, daddy? we could hang it on the front door, so when couples come here they can kiss,” you beamed at the idea, looking up at him with gleaming, happy eyes while holding a box full of Christmas ornaments.

his brow perks up, a half, lazy smirk making his mustache twitch “we’re not hanging a mistletoe in my bar, doll”

you pout, placing the box down on the counter “why not? they’re so cute, and they’re elegant, delicate, it’ll blend in with the walls colors.”

john smirks at your whiny tone, and with a swift motion, he slips his arm around your waist, pushing you closer to him. He wraps his arm tight around your lower back, pressing your body against his “don’t need the mistletoe to kiss my girl whenever I want, doll”

you bite your lip to hide a little giggle, but he hungrily captures it with his mouth, crashing his lips against yours. Your back arches, and he leans closer to you, mouth devouring yours like a Christmas dinner, tongue delving deep and forcefully.

then you hear it. That familiar voice, engraved in your memory for years, you’d recognize it everywhere. You freeze, body tensing completely, and your head shifts to the side, as if struck by a lighting.

your parents are here.

at the bar, in the city.

you quickly push yourself away from john, trying to regain some composure. Your cheeks are completely on fire, and you hide your hand behind your back to try and subtly tug down at the hem of your skirt.

“dad,” you say, your voice holding all the mixing emotions, surprise, stupor and disbelief upon seeing them for the first time after months. You wish you could hide under a table. “mom, what are you doing here?”

but your father’s eyes are stuck on john — they fleck around the evident signs of symmetry, the thin wrinkles behind his eyes, the blooming gray on his dark hair and beard, recognizing what he saw in the mirror everyday himself.

the realization that his daughter was kissing a man his age, that could be her own father, stuck on him like a shot of cold, freezing water. For what he knows, they could’ve been colleagues. Childhood friends, even.

“honey, we thought we’d surprise you for Christmas, see how you’ve been doing” your mom is the first to break the ice, but her own disbelief in evident in the way she lets her eyes wander between you and john, who’s still standing behind you, the perfect example of self composure, discipline, being unfazed.

“you’ve flown all the way to the city?” you ask, shame making your words heavy on your tongue. You love your parents, but coming without any forewarn has led to an unpleasant situation.

“wanted to see how it was doing at work, since it’s the holidays, and you live here all alone,” your dad speaks up, a voice that could cut through stone. John held his gaze confidently, knowing if there was a single man he had to at least pretend to show respect to, it was your father.

“but, you didn’t tell me” you mumble softly, and finally walk closer to them.

“it was a surprise” your mom says, pretending not to be affected by the sight of a man older than her, that had his arm wrapped around her young little daughter and was kissing her. She is, but she is good at hiding her emotions.

“w-well, I’m happy to see you, I was gonna call you on Christmas Day,” you shyly peek behind you, gesturing nervously towards John, your heart pounding in your chest. “this is my, uhm, my boss, john”

john strolls closer, walking past through and standing in front of your dad — he’s taller than your father, more muscular and broader, but the closeness in age is evident. John was probably even a bit older than your own father.

“Mr,” he acknowledges your dad, a short, military style greeting that doesn’t seem to please him. “it’s a pleasure”

you know him well enough to recognize that smug, cocky and arrogant tone behind his words, that half grin that hides behind his thick beard. No one could ever make john feel uncomfortable, not even seeing his unconventionally too young sugar baby’s father, with a look that threatens to kill him.

maybe they could become friends, and that way, you could officially be living the ‘dad’s friend’ trope with your sugar daddy. He’s ready to have the ‘your daughter calls me daddy too’ conversation, gosh, if he knew the things he’s done to you, how he’s been treating his little girl, how angrier would your dad look right now?

[reocidal]

STFU — K. KOZUME

cws; swearing, writing lowkey gives stephen king at one point because i read like four novels in a row while writing this, misunderstandings, gn!reader i think

wc; 1667

"kenma."

he groaned.

"kenma."

"mm." his eyes fluttered open, and he was met with the — extremely fetching — sight of you hovering over him. you looked beautiful, as usual, even though you'd just woken up, and he cracked a small, sleepy smile. okay, he'd seen you. time to go back to sleep. but as soon as he closed his eyes, you poked his cheek to wake him up again.

"y/n, what the hell..."

"you have to wake up, you have practice!"

"fuck practice," he whined, burying his face in his pillow. the awesomest. sleepover of his entire life could not be ending like this. he heard you giggling behind him and groaned again. "i just wanna sleep!" he stopped talking, preparing to doze off again.

"is it too late to join a different club?"

"no," you told him forcefully. "and you're my best friend, so i'd love to let you sleep, but i can't exactly tell kuroo or the coach that, can i?"

and you're my best friend and i'm in love with you, but i can't exactly tell you that either, so we don't always get what we want, do we? he thought drowsily. or he thought he did, anyways, because the next thing he heard was your gasp — maybe a bit too loud, but it was there all the same, and shit, he must've said it out loud.

"what was that?" you asked him, and for a second he panicked.

kenma had never really been a fan of volleyball. it's nothing he hated, but he was sure he'd be perfectly fine without it too. and it was tiring. but he had learnt one thing from it — or maybe he'd known it all along, and it just helped him improve — and that one thing just happened to be bluffing. so he rolled over to stare at you blankly. "huh? I didn't say anything."

"okay," you said, but you weren't really sure he was telling the truth. sometime after you walked him to practice, he started avoiding you, and then you had to accept that yeah, he'd lied.

how could he accidentally confess his love to someone while half asleep? kenma had no idea; furthermore, he was haunted by the fear of other people finding out what he'd kept carefully hidden for over half a decade. he remembered being twelve and kuroo grinning at him so all-knowingly at him. i know what you are, he'd said. not aloud, but kenma had heard it clear as day, just as he noticed how kuroo's canines were glinting unnaturally in the sunlight, and seconds before getting hit squarely in the face with a volleyball because he'd looked away to stare at you. it had totally been worth it, though, he decided, when you came over to his house with a bag of candy and some cold soda.

he was struck with the sudden realisation that he's holding the exact same soda — completely identical, down to the flavour and the size of the bottle — in one hand as his fingers slowly grew numb from the cold when he saw you again, talking to kuroo as the two of you approached him. he was acutely aware of the condensation dripping down his fingers when kuroo yelled out to him, and he waved at the two of nervously with his free hand, trying to gauge your reaction. you waved back, and he was filled with a swirl of emotions, including but definitely not limited to relief.

you didn't find it suspicious when kuroo "had to go" somewhere barely two minutes into your conversations, but kenma did. said suspicions were further confirmed when kuroo — after making sure your back was turned — grinned at him wolfishly and mouthed "good luck" to him as he left.

almost immediately after kuroo disappeared, the atmosphere shifted before either of you even said anything. there was reproach in your gaze as you stared at him silently

(why are you ignoring me?)

there was an unspoken apology in his.

(i'm sorry so sorry i fucked up i didn't mean to this is all my fault)

drip

the two of you stood in silence.

drip

another drop of condensation hit the ground.

you glanced at your watch for the third time.

"do i... do you want me to walk you home?" he asked.

say no, you told yourself. give him the same treatment he gave you.

"yes," you said aloud. "i'd like that."

you had never been able to say no to him, after all.

the walk back to your house was warm and sticky, a textbook summer day if there ever was one. kenma had been looking forward to his stupid drink, but your reddened cheeks and the way your hair clung to your sweaty forehead made him pity you enough to wrench the cap off and hold the bottle out to you. you drank gratefully, and it appeared that you'd cooled down a bit afterwards. alongside your body temperature, the simmering tension between the two of you also went down considerably.

"kenma, will you come in for a bit?" you asked at your door, fingers still wrapped around the neck of the half-empty soda bottle. you weren't sure why you asked, exactly, but you did want to talk things out — losing kenma like this wasn't something you wanted in any way, and you'd lose kuroo by proxy too, resulting in you having a total of zero best friends.

"sure," he replied. to anyone else, his voice would've sounded the same as usual — monotonous, a little bored — but you knew better. he was nervous. for a moment, that made you happy in a weird, twisted sort of way.

he sat cross-legged on your bedroom floor, eyes glued to the switch in his hands as he played. however, today his attention was on you, instead, mind subconsciously following you around your room. hearing you shuffle into the bathroom, he relaxed, but only a little. for some reason, he was sure that your silence was much more terrifying than whatever you were planning to say to him.

when you came out, you looked refreshed, calmer. you padded to your bed, now in your pjs and the terrible fluffy slippers that kenma always despised — until today. how could he ever have hated them, he wondered, when they were so indisputably you?

you forced him into the bathroom next (no sweaty people allowed in my room!) along with some of his clothes he'd left at yours before. it wasn't anything new. all three of you — you, kenma, kuroo — had each other's stuff scattered all around your rooms. the three of you had had a very equal relationship — or so you'd thought. until that fateful day almost a fortnight ago, when kenma had mumbled out an accidental love confession while trying to skip out on practice. surely it wasn't an actual confession, you thought. there was no way he could possibly like someone like you, right?

yeah. exactly. it was an accident, and he felt bad for leading you on so he avoided you. but how could he have known? there was no way that kuroo told him, was there? a new wave of panic washed over you, and you couldn't help but jump in surprise as kenma accidentally opened the bathroom door with an unnecessary amount of extra force and re-entered your room.

"kenma," you sighed with relief. "i got scared for a sec."

"who else would it be?" he asked, a small, slow smile creeping across his face.

"no— i don't know..." you trailed off. before you could say anything else, kenma decided to speak.

"i'm sorry," he said.

"whahuh?" the two words had caught you completely off guard. you hadn't been expecting him to say a specific thing, but you hadn't expected him to apologise either. he bristled uncomfortably under your surprised deer-in-headlights stare.

"i've been avoiding you," he tried next. it was true; you both knew it by now. how were you even supposed to respond? everything you thought of seemed wrong for the situation. instead, you decided to ask a question in return.

"why'd you say you were in love with me?"

kenma cringed at your question, as if it caused him to feel some sort of physical discomfort. "because? i am?"

it came out as more of a question than a statement, and only served to confuse you more. "what?"

and then the words finally registered into your brain, and your face creased into a little frown — an adorable one, too, kenma thought, but he had to remind himself to not get carried away right now. "no, that's impossible. who put you up to this, kuroo?"

a pained grimace crossed his face. "what? no. besides, kuro would never do that."

"then?" you demanded. no response. the two of you stayed silent, you sitting on your bed, and him at the other end of the room.

"um, i was twelve." kenma was the first to break the tensed silence, hating the sound of his own voice.

"when i first liked you, i guess," he added as an afterthought.

"no." you sat up straighter, eyes flicking to the calendar, where a date was circled in bright red marker. beside it, there was an extremely artistic rendition of what you could only guess to be a pudding, done by none other than kuroo. the marked date was kenma's eighteenth birthday. "that's—"

"a long time, i know," replied kenma resignedly. "kuro's told me enough, you don't have to make it worse."

"but i—"

"i know you don't reciprocate, and i'm not asking you to. all i want is for you to forget this ever—"

"kenma, shut the fuck up and let me speak!" you shrieked, tired of his delusional rambling. he flinched at the sound of your voice, but obeyed you all the same.

"i love you too, okay? so stop being stupid!"

kenma blinked in surprise. "huh?"

"didn't see that coming, did you?" you slid off your bed, grinning at him triumphantly.

i dont remember writing this or the process or anything at all. help :3 almost done with the screenshots for unreq lvrs org btw!!!!

[alphacentaurinebula]

I Forgive You: Queerness in Oppressive Systems

"How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

There are a million ways to read Aziraphale's and Crowley's relationship and choices and I love them all, but one that struck me forcefully was the idea of different reactions to being queer in an oppressive (religious) system.  The two of them are such different people (not people) from the start, and their different experiences of Heaven and Hell are entirely the consequences of their different personalities.

First let's look at Crowley. A happier angel you never did meet. His joy and absolute adorableness in Before the Beginning was one of the sweetest moment in the whole season for me, out of so many sweet moments. He is utterly himself, and can't imagine the idea that he should hide any part of his identity. He is odd, unusual, asks damn fool questions - and he can't see what's wrong with that. Just like a queer kid who grows up in a religious system and  behaves outside of gender norms before realising that was something they weren't supposed to do, he can't imagine getting into trouble for his difference. And just like too many queer kids who can't/don't hide their difference, he gets kicked out of his home and abandoned.

Now, Aziraphale. He is a lot closer to Angel Behaviour TM, but it's clear that's because he understands there IS an expected behaviour, there IS a way he's supposed to act and think. He falls for Crowley, and is made to think about the questions Crowley is asking in a way that steps outside Angel Behaviour TM. But he instinctively understands how dangerous that is. He tries to pass that knowledge onto Crowley, to protect him. As he smushes himself into the Angel box, he ties himself into knots ensuring that he fits perfectly into the system around him, which he has identified as Good and Right and therefore anything different about himself would be Bad and Wrong. Much like a queer person trying to exist under an oppressive religious system, he has repressed those parts of himself that don't fit, and tried to sand off the corners and fit himself into the prescribed shape. 

Carrying this analogy through time, the Crowley we meet in the present day has already been abandoned, which allows him to see the system that left him more clearly. But he has never understood Aziraphale's perspective, because he never tried to change who he was for any system - not Heaven and not Hell. Though he does now understand that he has to hide certain parts of himself to survive - thus his constant refrain of “I’m not kind”. Clearly a necessary concealment, given what happens at the end of the Edinburgh minisode.

Throughout most of the flashbacks and even most of season 1, Aziraphale is still trying to smush himself into the shape of an Angel TM, and is terrified of stepping outside of it. He does learn that he can push the borders, that he can maybe stick a toe out here and there, that he can even fully step outside it for a moment as long as he doesn’t get caught (ie Job). But what he never really learns or at least never really believes, despite a mountain of evidence, is that Heaven is not synonymous with Good and Right. 

We can see it with Job, where Aziraphale is jumping through a million mental hoops to pretend to himself he is still doing the will of God even though he has been expressly told and seen evidence that God’s actual will is something Aziraphale would consider ‘wrong’. In Edinburgh he drops a heck of a lot of "ineffable"s trying to convince himself and Crowley that the heavenly system as it exists is just and right. 

And throughout season 2 but especially at the end, he clearly still feels that some Angels might not be Right and Good, but Heaven is Right and Good, and if only the right Angel is in charge of it, it can return to its core essence.

He still believes that Heaven is inherently Good, and so he is still trying to fit himself into a system that would reject him if it really knew him.

And all that is where “I forgive you” comes from for me - or at least that is one of the interpretations that makes sense to me. That basically because he's still so determined to fit into that Angel Shape TM, still so determined to be what Heaven says is right, that he is forgiving Crowley for challenging that, for making him want something else for a moment, for making it harder for him to repress those parts of himself that are different and, in his/Heaven's view, wrong.

And that is why Season 3 must end with Aziraphale realising that Heaven is not Good TM and with the takedown of the Celestial system itself. Yes apparently I end all of my metas with this now.

[bree-peasant]

One for the Ages - a Kakashi x fem!Reader fic

Chapter 3/5

(Back to Chapter 1, Chapter 2) (Jump to Chapter 4)

Author's note: Oh the angst!!! I swear the next chapter will be sillier and lighter, but there's a little treat in this one too. For anyone new - this is a reader self-insert, slowburn fic, but the reader has a pre-established past, which reveals itself along with the story. Looking like there'll be 5 chapters in total, unless my hand slips haha

Word count: 3.1k

Summary (from part 1): A new shinobi joins the Konoha ranks and Kakashi finds himself inexplicably drawn to her.

Warnings: mentions of blood and suicide

Enjoy! ♡

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She woke up in a foreign bed, with all her strength drained. The afternoon light was coming through the window.

It took all the energy she could muster to pull herself off the mat. As the cloud over her mind began to lift, it was filled with images of what had happened. The mercenary ninjas, Kakashi - trapped and then... She threw her bruised hands over her eyes.

"No... what have I done?!" She wept almost silently, coming apart at the seams. She'd made a terrible mistake, she should've never gone back to this life. And now, it could all go awry. When she'd finally managed to pull herself together, there was a faint knock on the door.

"Come in." She struggled to keep her voice from shaking.

The door slid open to reveal a grave looking Kakashi at the entrance. He kept his gaze downward cast as he spoke.

"I heard noise and assumed you were awake. How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted..."

Kakashi walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. He stood by the window, barely facing her.

"What happened? Where are we?"

"We're in the Sand Village. You collapsed and I carried you the rest of the way. The mission is complete."

Y/N remained silent for a moment, trying to put her thoughts in order. Suddenly, she was struck by an awful awareness.

"Those men... their bodies... if anyone were to find them, they could...they could realise it was me!"

"I burned their bodies." Kakashi's voice was low and cold.

Despite the relief of that knowledge, she felt the tears well up in her eyes again. But no, she would not allow herself to crumble. She was stronger than that, and she only had one choice. To tell the truth.

"You can't even look at me anymore, Kakashi. Are you that repulsed by me?" She spoke again.

At her words, he turned around forcefully, his dark eye locking in with hers, he looked angry and tired.

"Don't you understand?! I feel betrayed! This whole time, I had no idea who you were!"

"Please, just let me explain. I will tell you everything, I swear."

Kakashi shook his head, but remained in place. Y/N took the opportunity to speak, before he could change his mind and storm off.

"My clan, we possess the kekkei genkai to bend our own blood. If mixed with others', we can take our foes down in an instant. In the olden times, we were revered and respected, keepers of the peace. But as the clan grew, so did their thrist for power and riches. People from my clan sold themselves to the highest bidder, they fought wars on the wrong side, committed assassinations, we became feared and loathed for our kekkei genkai. We were deemed...unnatural."

"And your clan was hunted and killed for it. I've heard the stories. But there wasn't supposed to be any survivors remaining."

"My father, the last living member, escaped our village and started a new life. He married my mother and had me. They brought me up in secret, and when my ability became too difficult to maintain, he trained me in secret. But he was found out..." Y/N paused, taking a deep breath. Kakashi had leaned his back to the wall, avoiding direct eye contact.

"Found out by whom?" He asked, not lifting his head.

Y/N pondered her response. It was difficult to say his name out loud. After a moment, her voice came out, quiet, broken.

"Orochimaru."

Kakashi's whole body sprung up at the mention of that name.

"At first, he approached my father with a proposition. To take me on as his pupil in exchange for great power. By this point, word had spread about his betrayal of the Leaf Village and his dark dealings. My father knew he wanted me as a potential vessel, so he could use my kekkei genkai for his own purposes, so he refused. This angered Orochimaru and he swore to obtain our power by force."

"But that's impossible!" He interrupted.

"You of all people should know that's not true, Kakashi of the sharingan."

He involuntarily touched his covered eye at her words. They had never spoken about his history with Obito, but the rumours never ceased to float around him.

"I was given this, I did not take it." His voice was full of sorrow at the memory.

"Yes, but if it can be given, it can also be taken brutally away. Orochimaru has found a way to do this at the brink of one's death, by sheer force."

Kakashi's head fell solemnly.

"He went after my father first, he was relentless and strong. So my father did the only thing he could, before Orochimaru got to him..." she pasued. "...he killed himself."

Her words caught in her throat, her hands were shaking. She hadn't spoken this out loud in so long. The burden of her past, which she had carried for years, alone, in hiding, it was too much to bare facing it again.

Kakashi had his own demons to face at those words. Flashbacks of his own father's fate haunted him every day; seeing his body, the realisation of what he had done. He understood the heavy weight of what she was telling him, like few others could.

He let her collect herself, his exterior softening somewhat. He'd heard stories of her clan throughout his life. Of their ruthlessness and obsession for power. Their fate wasn't just a cautionary tale, they were viewed as beasts among men, and loathed for it. It was difficult for Kakashi to bring that image together with the woman he had come to know and care for. Was it possible that the stories were false? But no, hadn't he seen something in her eyes back there with the black ninjas? A certain hunger, a deadly fire. Could she be trusted?

"How did you escape?" He asked, unable to make any decisions yet.

"I faked my own death." She exhaled, summoning her strength to continue. "My father had managed to buy me the time needed to prepare. I made it look like I had drowned. And then I ran."

"Why did you come to Konoha and join our ranks? Why did you not remain in hiding? Surely, you must've known that something like this could happen!"

"I hid, for a long time! And in that time I saw so much suffering and indifference, so much blood and hurt. I have these abilities, I was trained as a shinobi, and to let things happen, things that I could put a stop to... I couldn't do it anymore! So, I made a decision, hoping that Orochimaru would never believe that I could be so close, so out in the open, even if he ever began to suspect I was alive."

They both remained silent for a moment. Y/N's heart was pounding so loudly, she was sure he could hear it. She broke the silence first.

"That's it. That's my story. I am at your mercy now."

Kakashi didn't respond immediately, weighing his response carefully.

"Does the Hokage know?"

"He does."

At that, he made a move towards the door. He stopped at the entrance with his back still turned to her.

"Rest. We'll head back in the morning."

Y/N was left in the room, her fate still uncertain. Would Kakashi accept her past and keep her secret? Or would he expose her to the ANBU, demand the Hokage shun her from the village? Or worse, deliver her to the people that wanted to see her clan erased from existance.

When she woke up early next morning, she'd regained some of her strength back. But her mental state was still shaky. She packed what few possessions  she had and left the house.

Kakashi was waiting outside. They began their journey home in silence. Y/N would give anything to go back to their conversations from before. Despite her weighing concern, she couldn't help but feel some relief knowing that the truth was out in the open. Whatever happened next, at least she didn't have to hide from him anymore.

They walked this way for some time, keeping a calm pace. Now that the mission had been fulfilled, there was little danger threatening their return. When Kakashi finally spoke, his voice came out almost casual. There was just a slight hint of strain in it.

"I never said thank you for saving my life back there. It seems I owe you twice now." A faint smile lingered on his lips, hidden by his mask.

"Kakashi, you must know I would never do anything to harm a comrade. And I will always stand by your side." Her gaze intensely focused on him.

His silence hurt her more than she was ready to admit. Of course she knew things could never return to what they were, but she hoped he could accept her.

"I just need time, Y/N." He said, as if reading her mind.

It was a painfully slow journey, wrapped in a cumbersome silence. She forced herself to be patient and give Kakashi his space, only venturing to speak when required. They made camp during the night and she kept watch, although it wasn't necessary. She gazed at his sleeping figure and her heart broke at the thought that she might lose the little they had built so far. Now that everything was on the line, Y/N began to realise how attached she'd grown to the gray-haired ninja.

The next day they increased their speed, eager to get back to the village. In some ways, running through the trees, jumping and swinging from branches, brought relief to both of them, as it didn't allow for much conversation. They made good time this way, aiming to be back in Konoha during the night. Nearing the village, Kakashi made a sign to stop. He swung down from the trees, landing with a thud on the ground, Y/N following.

He stood facing her for a moment, hesitant.

"I will keep your secret. If the Hokage has deemed this plan acceptable, I won't be the one to challenge his decision."

"Thank you." She replied with sincerity.

Kakashi nodded, preparing to continue, but stopped at the sound of her voice.

"And us? Are we still friends?" There was so much hopefulness in her tone, which she didn't care to hide anymore.

"Yes. We're still friends." He said after a brief pause, but avoided looking at her.

Continuing on their path, Y/N was unconvinced.

Days passed and life seemed to return to normal. Y/N was back to training her team of genin, the memory of the unfortunate mission fading. The only thing that still weighed on her mind was her relationship with the copycat ninja. She was sure he was avoiding her, as she hadn't bumped into him since they had come back, only seeing him in the distance ocassionally. She dared not approach him directly, hoping that he'd eventually come round, if only she'd give him enough space. But it was becoming increasingly more difficult to do so.

When the chunin exams came around, Y/N confidently put forward all three members of team 8, although deep down she was concerned for them. She felt protective over those kids since the first day they trained together, and Iruka's speech hadn't helped to ease her anxiety. Hearing Kakashi's confident words, she was reminded of the way they used to speak; how they would argue on various topics and his ability to shift her opinion. All she wanted in that moment was to talk to him, to voice her concerns and have him soothe her.

After they had seen the Hokage, she waited for him outside and approached him for the first time since their mission together.

"Can we talk?"

"I've got some business to take care of." He replied, not unkindly.

Y/N was about to give up, regretting following her impulses, but he intervened.

"Tonight. I could swing by your place. That is, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Tonight then." They seperated, her heart both excited and terrified at the prospect.

After handing team 8 their sign up sheets and delivering the news of the exam to her eager students, she returned home. She made a point of tidying her place and making herself look somewhat presentable, without trying too hard. After all, this was just two friends chatting, which was perhaps the best case scenario she could hope for from tonight.

When she heard his knock, her heart skipped a beat. She was almost annoyed at herself for being so affected by him.

"Sorry for being so late, things took longer than expected." As always the mystery man. She knew better than to ask what his business had been.

"Would you like some tea?" She asked, closing the door behind him and leading him into the kitchen.

It was strange being back here for the first time, since she'd patched him up. Kakashi felt unsure of his legs, so he took a seat in one of the chairs.

"Perhaps something stronger, if you have it."

She smiled, turning away from him and pulling a bottle of sake from one of the cupboards. She produced two small cups and placed one of them in front of him, filling it up. He drank it in one big gulp, without looking up, putting it forward to be filled up again.

"Long day?" She asked, obliging him.

"Long life." He sighed.

"You've been avoiding me, Kakashi." She took a sip from her own cup, her eyes cast downwards. Her expression was calm, she'd given up on waiting around for him to make up his mind.

He stared at her with his one visible eye, pondering his response. With resignation, he decided to be truthful.

"You're right. I've been finding it difficult to face you since we returned from the Sand Village."

"But you agreed to come here tonight."

"The truth is, Y/N, I found myself missing this. I thought I could get over the feeling if I stayed away, but it has persisted. I've come to... value your company more than I expected." Kakashi searched her face for a reaction, but her features remained the same. Only her eyes lifted to look at his, a certain glint in them, or so he thought.

"Does this mean you can come to terms with who I am? The people I come from?"

"The more I know you, the more I want to try." Her hand was resting on the table by her cup and he wanted nothing more than to place his own on top of it. But something in him wouldn't allow his body to move.

"I'm so worried about the chunin exam. I don't want to see any of these kids get hurt." She sighed, glad to speak her thoughts out loud.

Kakashi leaned back into his chair, feeling the ease of being in her presence take over him like it used to.

"Hurt is part of this life they have chosen." He started. "I know what I said to Iruka, but truth be told, I worry too. Perhaps, we don't give them enought credit, they have proven to be more resilient than most."

The conversation went on like this for some time. They kept drinking sake until their cheeks warmed and their tongues loosened. Kakashi dared to ask more about her past, returning her honesty by answering her own questions in more detail than ever before. He told her about Obito and Rin, about his great shame and his many regrets. He surprised himself by talking so much about his own past. He was glad to be met with understanding, rather than the usual pity or shock that followed him around. All the cards were on the table and they were both revealing their broken and twisted lives to one another.

"I've never told anyone these things." He sighed, feeling lighter than he had in years.

"I'm glad you could tell me." Her hand moved to rest on top of his, the same thing he had wanted to do earlier. Her skin was warm, he could feel the calluses on her palm, a reminder of the difficult shinobi life they had both chosen. Was it possible that it didn't have to be so damn hard and lonely all the time?

For once, the usually careful in calculating his every move jōnin, stopped thinking and just let his body move for him. His other hand gently grabbed her forearm, pulling her into him. Met with no resistance, he closed his eyes, pulling his mask down and parting his lips to clash with hers. He embraced her, holding her ever so close, their bodies leaning into one another. She felt so soft and tender in his arms, for a second he forgot anything and everything that had happened before this moment.

When their lips finally parted, they remained close, starring into each other. Y/N's head was spinning, she felt his coal eye bore into her soul like the first time he had looked at her. She felt vulnerable, yet she wasn't afraid. Seeing his face fully exposed, he was more beautiful than she had imagined.

Suddenly, Kakashi's mind was flooded with a myriad of emotions. He pulled back sharply and stood up, leaving a distressed Y/N behind.

"Kakashi, what's wrong?" She spoke hurriedly.

"I can't do this." He refused to turn back and look at her.

"Do what? What do you mean?"

"Y/N, I can't be this person for you. You heard about my past. Half of me is already dead. I can offer you friendship, but nothing more." His head fell, his body felt like lead. He pulled his mask back on.

"Please tell me you understand." He pleaded, still not looking at her.

Y/N stood motionless. Her instinct was to argue, to be upset, to make him change his mind. But deep down she knew her efforts would be futile. Because she did understand, better than she cared to admit. After all, wasn't she herself only a ghost in this life. But with him, she had felt like she'd had a chance at happiness. Perhaps having his friendship would be enough. It sure was better than the agony of the last few weeks. She sighed.

"Friends then." Y/N replied, forcing a smile.

Kakashi finally dared to look at her, his gaze focusing on her reddened lips for a moment. He shook himself off and crinkled his eye in a small smile.

"I promise I won't avoid you again. We can try returning to normal."

Y/N nodded, although she knew things between them had changed forever.

@junksmah @duckingmetal <3

"I should go, let you get some rest. There are big days ahead of us. Goodnight, Y/N." With that, he was gone and they were both alone once more.

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Next chapter

[fandomworld9728]

Oops... (Angel Dust/Lucifer)

(Requested by @buuteer) (AppleDust hidden relationship getting found out) (Hope this is okay. I wasn't really sure how to go about it and ran with this idea when it popped into my head)

(Warning! This takes place during episode 6 of Hazbin Hotel! So not only spoilers but trigger warning for Val being his usual dickhead, possessive, violent self!) (Also, protective Lucifer and Alastor as a bonus!)

"You forget who you're talking to. I own you."

The pink chains connecting Angel to the Overlord were yanked, pulling him close to him. "Yeah. You do. In the studio, and you can do anything you want to me in there, just like our deal says. But out here? I get to do what I want. So once again. Fuck off-"

Before Angel could finish, the moth demon had back handed him, sending him and Niffty to the floor. Mouth now bleeding. It had felt good to finally stand up to the man even with the repercussions. He wasn't about to let the creep mess with his friends. Especially not after what had happened that day with Charlie.

"Enjoy the rest of your night, bitch, because I'm going to enjoy making you pay for it tomorrow."

A flash of light bright light mixed with an eerie green filled the place, a summoning circle now between Angel Dust and Valentino to keep them separated. "What the fuck is this?"

Hushed whispers came from the sinners arounds them as Lucifer stepped out of the circle and walked slowly towards the moth demon, Alastor, who had accidentally got caught up in this, stayed put scanning over the people of the hotel. More importantly, over the two souls that he owned.

"That is a good question. What is all this?"

"Oh. Fuck. No, wait. Luci don't."

"Luci? Angel sweetie, have you been fucking our dear King and keeping it from me?"

Fuck. "Val listen-"

"Wow. You're that possessive that you need to know all of his clients when you never bothered to ask in the first place? That's how it started out and now it's much more than that. I've tried to stay out of this because that's what Angel wanted. However, this is the second time you've struck him since we've been together."

To say that Lucifer was pissed was an understatement. The day that Angel came to him after a long day of work to relieve some stress and was sporting a black eye, he was ready to go and teach that Overlord how to properly treat the souls under his care. But he was asked to stay out of it. Was reassured that Angel wanted to get out of this and handle it on his own. Lucifer only backed off when he was promised that the next time something like that or worse happened that he had permission to break the guy's face in.

"Ugh, I'm getting an ache in my neck. You're too goddamn tall. How about you come down to my height?!"

Seeing this side of Lucifer did something to Angel. Small, beautiful, powerful, Lucifer. The King of Hell. Defending him like this. The spider demon couldn't help but feel so loved and cared for.

"Holy shit, Angie. You're datin' the King of Hell and didn't tell me?" Cherri asked, helping her best friend up.

"I'll uh... explain later. Oh shit. Where's Niff?"

"Our dear Niffty was involved in this?" And now Alastor was going to join in the beating. Angel wasn't going to complain. The guy had it coming for a long time.

~

Landing on her butt in the hotel's foyer after Adam forcefully sent them back through a portal, Charlie jumped up and ran over to the group sitting and tending to Angel. Her dad was wiping the blood from his lips to make it easier to heal while Alastor, surprisingly enough, was holding Niffty protectively.

"Dad! You've been dating Angel Dust?! Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't either of you tell me? When did it happen? For how long?" A long string of rushed out questions tumbled from her mouth before Vaggie lightly took her by the shoulders and made her sit down.

"Babe. Give them a chance to answer."

"Wait.... how did you find out? This came out while you were in Heaven."

"Oh. Well. We were watching you guys to prove to Sera and the court that redemption could be possible. Uh... Adam was not happy when he found out... but the rest of the court was pleasantly surprised at how you acted and handled the situation! So, Sera would love for you to join us for our rescheduled meeting."

"Of course she does."

"Hey. It's alright baby. I'll join ya if it'll make ya feel better." It felt good to have their relationship out and in the open now. He should have listened to Lucifer before about just being open about it since the beginning.

[risingsoleil]

wow i got inspired🫣 do an AU were Lin dies in Tenzin’s arms so he regrets everything her did to her he regrets her didn’t choose her he spent months trying to go back in time and finally he did it he went back in time and started fixing everything (but he didn’t know Lin remember their past life too)😫

So I wrote this in response to a reincarnation ask, but it's not fully written out. Tbh I don't know if I'll go through with it, but I'll share what I have 🫶🏻

Have another Lin dies scene 🥲

“Do not seek them out, Tenzin!” 

“They’re airbenders, Lin! I can’t turn my back on them!” 

Her eyes hardened. “They are criminals. Just because they’re airbenders now will not change.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“You’re walking into a cave that you might never leave! Stop trying to be a fucking savior!” 

“They can choose not to come with me! But I can’t just turn my back because of their past.” 

“You have enough airbenders for a nation! Who cares if you don't have 4 more?”  

Tenzin sighed, avoiding the piercing gaze that defied him. He walked away from her. “We can argue about this after.”

—-----------------

What started as a peaceful offer to join the Air Nation quickly became a battle of survival and distrust. He had been so focused on fighting the rest of the gang, but knew that Lin was holding her own with the other half of them. 

“Tenzin!” 

Something pressed against his back and forced him to the ground. When he turned, he saw Lin standing between him and a waterbender, eyes slightly widened. And ice blades pierced into her heart, abdomen, and torso, penetrating through the metal armor. 

Before either could react, the blades slid out of Lin forcefully and the perpetrators ran off. Lin coughed harshly from the sudden momentum, blood spilling over her lips. Her steps faltered and she fell weakly to her knees, one hand pressing into her heart. A flood of red endlessly cascaded over the pearly complexion and spilled onto the floor. 

Tenzin scrambled to his feet and he made his way over to Lin, cradling her in his arms. “Lin, stay with me.” He ripped his cloak and pressed it against her chest, the red of his cape darkening with crimson. “I’m going to get you to a healer. Just hold on.” 

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” 

“I’m so sorry, Lin. This is all my fault. I should have listened to you. You were right, this was a bad idea.” 

Her mouth moved, but her words drowned in pain and survival.  

“Save your breath, Lin.” 

“Please…” she rasped, scrunching her eyes tight, “put me down, Tenzin…” 

The nearest hospital was about an hour away. If he can just carry her on to Oogi, then they might be able to make it on time. Despite her command to release her, Tenzin only tightened his embrace and called for Oogi. Small groans of pain and uneven breathing stuttered near his ears, informing him that Lin was still fighting for her life. At least it was a sign she’s still alive right now.

A dagger of pain struck his heart when Lin cried out in agony as he managed to elevate them into Oogi’s saddle. Guiding Lin to sit sideways on his lap, Lin’s head tilted on his shoulder, Tenzin managed to hold the reins in one hand. He used his free hand to apply light pressure to her wound. His robes grows heavy with her life soaking into the fabric. The wind resisted against him and Oogi. It should have dried out his eyes, but Tenzin’s vision continued to switch between blurriness and clarity.  

Lin’s teeth chattered and her body shivered. “Save your tears for something worth crying over.” 

“Don’t say that,” Tenzin implored, another wave of tears filling his eyes. “We’re halfway there. Just hang on for a little longer.” 

Relief began to swell in his chest at the sight of the hospital looming in the horizon. They would make it, Lin would make it. Without thinking, he pressed a kiss to the top of Lin’s head. “We’re here, Lin,” he whispered. 

But as Oogi lowered himself at the entrance, Tenzin felt a sudden heaviness in his body. The winds were no longer stirring around them from their flight and all he heard was silence. “Lin…” He tilted her chin up and her eyes were closed, complexion slightly gray. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Lin. Lin!” 

Tenzin pressed two fingers over her pulse, searching for the slightest tremor. 

“Lin, please…” His lips trembled, hot tears warming cool skin. “Wake up.” 

A gentle shake. 

“Wake up, Lin. We’re at the hospital.” 

She’s going to wake up soon. He flew them as fast as he could to the hospital. Lin is just resting. 

She’s not dead.  

She’s not dead. 

She’s not dead. 

*****

Inspired by this prompt (I can't remember where I found it on Tumblr) - have them warn their friends that they’re not cut out for a dangerous mission, only for it to result in their death and their friends blame themselves

[thewriteone]

Precipice

a/n: Finally, the very first fanfic idea I had for The Lonely Shore (@thelonelyshore-if) is completed. My brainchild. Third to be posted but no less loved for it. Still calling it an AU because idk how some of this stuff will actually shake out in canon, and this way I can just have some fun with it.

Takes place some amount of time after Hell and High Water. Switching from third person in Willow's perspective to first person in my MC's perspective because I know exactly how this bitch thinks. MC is not named but is genderqueer (she/he/they pronouns) and Willow's nickname for her is Ducky. Guest starring Beck and Perri because I love them. <3

Wordcount: 1621

cw: swearing

----------------

You would think having a closet full of clothing means always having something to wear, and I suppose that is technically true. Yet having a wealth of options only makes it all the more difficult to reach a final decision. I at least manage to narrow it down to three options in less than an hour. The finalists, as it were.

The bedroom door swings open forcefully as I’m contemplating my choices. Willow has always been allergic to typical social conventions, and I never liked this particular habit of theirs.

“Ever heard of knocking?” I say without sparing them a glance. I don’t have to look at them to know they’re rolling their eyes in response. Very mature, very respectful. As usual. Willow flops down on the empty part of my bed as I eliminate one of my finalists. And then there were two.

“I’m bored,” they say, one arm draped over their eyes.

“Then go do something.”

“I am doing something. I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” They lift their arm to look me in the eye and grin. I narrow my eyes at them, an exasperated look that is made less effective by the upward curl at the edges of my mouth.

“So you’re treating me like some form of free entertainment?”

“You’d have to actually be entertaining for me to do that,” they respond, mischief dancing in their eyes. I consider swatting them with a pillow, but I settle for flipping them off instead.

“Oh, Willow, you’re such a comedian. Look at me, I’m simply dying from laughter over here.” I pick a winning outfit as Willow takes note of what I’m doing.

“I know,” they grin. “That’s why you’re so lucky to have me as a sibling. What are you getting all ready for, anyway? Planning to ditch me so soon?”

“Yep, I have plans today. Sorry baby sib, cool kids only.”

“Guess that means you won’t be going after all, then.” I’m helpless to stop the laughter that bubbles out of me at their response.

“Hey! I'll have you know that I'm very popular in this town.” The admonishment in my tone is tempered by my still-present smile.

“And you think that's a good thing?” Before I can formulate a response, Willow asks the question that’s been burning behind their eyes.

“So, what, you’re going on some kind of date or something?” They put an arm under their head, the perfect picture of nonchalance. I know better. I hesitate a moment before deciding to be honest. This isn’t our first date and it isn’t likely to be the last, not if I have any say in it, so Willow will find out eventually. Better they hear it from me.

“Yes, actually.” Willow sits bolt upright as though they’ve been struck.

“What?? With who??” they shout, equal parts hopeful and apprehensive. They knew who I had feelings for, and. Well. Only one of those options was acceptable, according to Willow. When I don’t answer immediately, they scramble off the bed to stand in front of me. “Don’t fucking tell me it’s Beck!”

“And Perri.” I respond, arms crossed. They turn away and groan, worst fears confirmed.

“You are somehow simultaneously the smartest and the dumbest person I know,” they spit out, their like of Perri never quite enough to eclipse their dislike of Beck. I frown as they turn back around to face me, irritation prickling in my chest.

“I’ll never understand why you don’t like Beck. You’re both so similar,” I respond. Willow splutters for a moment, the creases in their brow nearly spelling out the word “indignation.” I press forward before they can collect themself. “Besides, Little Sapling, you don’t get a say in who I choose to date. I like both of them, end of discussion.” While they’re trying to collect themself enough to respond, I manage to shoo them out so I can finally dress. The reprieve from their judgemental comments is merely a bonus.

When I walk out to wait in the living room, Willow is hot on my heels.

“I cannot believe you compared me to that arrogant little coward. We’re nothing alike. Nothing!”

“Riiight. You’re definitely not both reckless adrenaline seekers chasing after the next fun thing without any concern for the consequences. Totally not you at all.”

Their face sours bitterly. I’ve clearly delivered them the worst insult possible packaged in facts they can’t dispute, though that doesn’t keep them from trying. Half a dozen sentences start and fizzle back out.

"Beck lets her fear control her. I don't," they finally manage to say.

"Sometimes fear tells us when something is dangerous, when we're taking things too far. Listening to that can be a good thing!" Willow sneers. My own irritation from before bubbles back to the surface.

"Not when it keeps you trapped like a bird in a cage! Afraid to change, afraid to rock the boat, afraid to challenge the status quo!"

"Beck is trapped here because of the fog, like the rest of us."

"Sure, but she hasn't even bothered trying. She just lets the haunting spectre of her own fear ruin good things before they can even happen." Their eyes speak what their lips did not: She'll ruin this, too. Ruin you.

My irritation sparks into a flame. I tried not to mind their opinion before–Willow and I have always had different tastes–but now it is becoming unbearable. It’s not even the fact they don’t like Beck, it’s that they’re so hellbent on changing my mind. As though they need me to agree with them and stop hanging around her. But I’m an adult now. I am no longer bound by the childish whims of my younger sibling, nor the demands of my parents. I will not allow other people to dictate how I live my life. I take a few calming breaths before responding.

"Look, I know you care about me, and I appreciate that. However, who I choose to date has nothing to do with you. I've decided that Beck and Perri are worth taking a risk on, whatever that may mean for me in the future. You need to respect me and my choices instead of trying to change my mind."

“I do respect you! That’s why I’m trying so hard to get you to see reason–”

“I’m not the one who has trouble seeing reason!” I snap.

"But you do! You're letting your emotions cloud your judgement. Beck isn't a good influence, a good person. She's going to—"

An ill-timed knock interrupts their inane ranting. Well, ill-timed for them. I, on the other hand, welcome the sudden end to this pointless argument. I almost feel the heat of Willow’s searing glare on my back as I open the door to reveal Beck and Perri, both smiling as soon as they see me.

"Hey bud, you ready?" Beck asks. Perri clocks the tension immediately, posture stiffening and smile turning wooden as their eyes dart between Willow and I. Beck must notice the change in their demeanor, her eyes darting to her companion briefly as her smile flickers. Then, Beck’s gaze lands on Willow and her expression shifts. Her smile sharpens at the edges, almost taunting.

"Didn't realize you'd be home, Sapling. Trying to tag along?" Willow rolls their eyes.

"It's Willow to you," they respond, false smile plastered on their face. "And I wouldn't be caught dead spending time with you. Just what kind of dangerous stunt are you going to take my sibling on this time? Gonna go jump off a bridge or something?" Beck snorts.

"I considered it, but I know you wouldn't want me getting hurt. You're just...so caring." I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. I have had my absolute fill of bickering and arguments for the day.

"Alright, enough you two. Don't we have somewhere to be?" I direct my question to Beck. Perri sags with relief and manages a weak smile when I catch their eye and I briefly smile back. I turn to Willow and see their frown, knowing they have a retort on the tip of their tongue.

"We will finish this discussion later once we've both had time to calm down," I state firmly. Willow grimaces and then nods. The heaviness of everything both said and unsaid hangs between us. But it can wait. Three of us start to leave the apartment before we're interrupted.

“Wait!” Willow calls out. I turn to face them, curious about what they have to say. “I’m…sorry for yelling.” But not sorry for what they said. I frown, feeling the brief sting of frustration. Always so difficult. Whatever.

“I’m sorry for yelling, too.” We’ll address the rest later. They reach out for a hug, and the anxiety melts from their expression as I give it to them. They seem to melt too, clinging tightly. 

“C’mon, Ducky! We’ve got a lot of great stuff planned for today!” Beck calls out, reaching the end of her patience. Willow tenses at the interruption, likely irritated, before we pull apart.

"Beck! Give them a moment!" Perri admonishes, shooting me an apologetic look. I laugh softly.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” I say with an annoyance betrayed by the smile on my face. “See you later, Little Sapling.” I nudge Willow in the arm one last time before finally leaving with my dates.

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 13

I had to actually Do Things today so I wanted to write more but I got my idea down and that's what matters :D! These aren't characters I've established or anything, they've just got names because I needed them for the story!

Team as a Family

“Ah, I see! The fiendish pair finally show their faces together when I invite them over for a meeting.” A full, pearly smile swept open the door. “Welcome in, officially.”

The first man adjusted the camera strapped to his chest. His only protection in the lair of the enemy. Two security guards flanked them when they crossed the threshold and took each forcefully by the arms.

“Hey! We had a deal!” The second squirmed and tried to kick the legs out from under them.

“Relax.” A leather gloved hand on his shoulder allowing the other to loom over him. “We had an agreement about contraband. If this is to go on, I’ll be verifying your compliance.” 

They patted him down feeling first over his jacket, grabbing at the empty pockets, then under. An “excuse me” was murmured when feeling more intimate areas, and they finally struck gold at his back left pant pocket. A wallet, and a thick one at that.

“That’s my wallet,” he grumbled. 

“Yes, I do wonder what’s inside. I’ve yet to learn much about either of you.” They flipped it open and plucked out the driver’s license. “Peter Borowski, hm? Thirty-two years of age, a Capricorn… ah, your address. Now we’re even, don’t you think?”

“Give it back, Dorian.” Pulling the name as a power card didn’t mean much when his own had just been revealed.

“I think it’ll stay right here until we conclude tonight. Insurance for me.” They gestured to the camera. The proof that Dorian wouldn’t be able to steal it.

Peter’s legs were felt down as well as his shoes, including the strange bump under the zipper. They unsheathed a concealed knife and stood up, tutting.

“Naughty boy…” The blade pressed to his neck. “This your plan, sweetheart?” The other was struggling against the guard to point his camera their way.

“You’re under surveillance,” he growled. The knife was lifted and held up in surrender.

“No sense of humor in either of you. Calm down, enjoy yourselves!”

“Them first.” He inclined his head toward the guards.

“Touche.” They twirled the knife between their fingers and chucked it behind the pair, the blade lodging itself snugly into the wooden doorframe. Both flinched. “Finders keepers.”

Deeming their business finished with Peter, they approached his partner now. He stood fast against the invasion, but his trembling couldn’t be hidden from thorough hands. Dorian unzipped the pocket of his jacket and found his wallet, eyes lighting up in the same way they had before.

“It’s certainly an interesting tactic, bringing your identifying information right into my hands like- oh…” A look was shared, knowing exactly what they’d just discovered. Their eyes darted between the pair. “No wonder you never let me see you side by side.”

“Is it really such a big deal?” Peter scoffed. “I can’t see what you find so surprising.”

“Really now? What do you think, Gordon?” They twisted his ID card between their thumb and index finger. “Gordon Borowski?”

“You’d be surprised at the bond you can form when you investigate with your brother.” “I’ll say. Twin, even. Fraternal, assuming that black hair didn’t come from a box.” No resistance was an affirmative, they supposed. “Well, boys. Let’s not dilly dally any longer. Step into my office.”

[greetings-and-salutations]

“Slightly More Anonymous Than Usual Karate Kids Getting Wasted and Starting Fist Fights”

Robby Keene x Reader Part 4

Day 7 of the 13 Nights of Halloween Spooktacular!!!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

(Gif not mine)

Requested? No

Summary: (Y/n) really doesn’t want to go to the stupid Halloween Masquerade Ball. But, maybe Moon was right. Maybe she’d finally find her soulmate under the cheap streamers and disco lighting… (a cinderella retelling)

soulmate au: You find your soulmate when you touch for the first time and the date and time you met becomes engraved as a tattoo on your wrist.

Warnings: starred out swear words, violence? that’s it? 🤔😂

Pairing: Robby Keene x Fem!Reader

‘October 31st 11:58pm’

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

Robby. Robby Keene. Miyagi-Do’s Robby Keene. Hawk’s practical sworn enemy Robby Keene.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

(Y/n) didn’t know what to do. She was sure she looked like an idiot, just standing there staring at him. But what was she supposed to do? It wasn’t like she, or anyone else for that matter, had tons upon tons of experience in this specific department.

Robby Keene…

Could this night get any worse?

“Why don’t you come over here and say that to my face, you little b*tch!”

Right…

The sharp pull, which was slowly becoming more familiar to the girl, was what brought (Y/n) out of her thoughts. She was confused again about its origins, but only for a moment before realization struck her like Hawk’s fist slamming into the side of Demetri’s face, which she could practically feel from where she stood.

Robby was gone.

And that was the pull. It was Robby. Robby, and the soulmate bond. Because Robby Keene was her soulmate. (Y/n)’s heart fluttered all on its own at the thought, and, against her better judgment, she allowed herself a moment to appreciate it. Robby was her soulmate. (Y/n) had found her soulmate. And he was… well, (Y/n) didn’t really know. But the universe did. And that was good enough for her. Her Cobra Kai friends, however, might take more convincing…

But, of course, she didn’t need to deal with that right now. No, right now, (Y/n)’s brain had apparently made the executive decision that she needed to, instead, make a break for it. Not that it wasn’t warranted. The whole evening had been an emotional roller coaster. So, fleeing the scene seemed like a fairly acceptable thing to do. And she hoped Robby would see it that way. He seemed pretty preoccupied presently anyways…

“Moon!” (Y/n) ran through the crowd, pushing past shocked partygoers who were watching the madness going down on the dance floor, and mentally cursed at herself. Why had she thought hitching a ride was a good idea instead of making her own way to this thing, knowing full well she wouldn’t have wished to stay as long as her friends did anyways, even if she hadn’t run into such a crisis as she now knew as “Robby Keene.” She honestly just hoped at this point that the other girl would be too preoccupied trying to stop her boyfriend from causing an all out karate brawl in formal attire to think too much about whether or not she should hand over the keys. Because (Y/n) really needed to get out of there…

“(Y/n)! Where’d you go!?! We were worried you got caught up in…” She trailed off, gesturing towards the mess that (Y/n) could vaguely see a familiar jacket in the middle of. Her heart jumped against her will when she caught sight of the boy she was universally destined to be with, and for a moment she contemplated staying to see if he would be alright, but then all the problems that come along with him returned to the forefront of her mind and (Y/n) was forcefully reminded how much she needed to be gone when he finally did come looking for her.

“Moon, I have to get out of here! You have to help me!” (Y/n) knew how frantic she sounded and almost felt sorry for the concern she was probably filling her friend with, but she just didn’t have time to sit around and explain. The fight was still raging, of course, but who knows how much longer it could go on for. And she needed to make her escape while they were all distracted…

“What are you talking about? We’ve gotta stop them!” Moon started dragging (Y/n) along with her, destination clear but, even if it hadn’t been, the return of the pulling sensation (of which (Y/n) had just now decided to describe simply as “Robby”) would have given it away. And that was the opposite of what she wanted…

“No! Moon, please! You have to get me out of here! It’s an emergency!”

Now, Moon didn’t initially look like she believed her, which caused (Y/n)’s heart to drop into her stomach. She hadn’t had time to think of the possible outcome if Robby did catch up with her. What do I say? What do I do? It was almost impossible to imagine the interaction not going horribly wrong in some way, and that only pushed (Y/n) further towards the flight side of her “fight or flight instinct.”

But, thankfully after a moment, which felt painfully more like an hour to the attempted runaway, Moon finally sighed and pulled a set of keys out of her purse.

“They’re to Hawk’s truck.” She explained, holding them out to (Y/n), but quickly pulled them back to finish her thought before the other girl could grab them. “But, you better bring it back to the dojo tomorrow, got it?” (Y/n) nodded eagerly, not caring that that meant making a pit stop at the Cobra infested place the next morning. She’d worry about that later…

“Thanks Moon, you’re a life saver! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

And off (Y/n) ran with the keys, away from the quickly escalating situation behind her, and, of course, the potential boy of her dreams…

+ + +

Robby threw another punch into the fray, but his heart just wasn’t in it. He didn’t even get her name… God, why didn’t I get her name?

The mark on his wrist felt like it was burning but Robby knew that was all just in his head. But, then again, his head was swimming with so many thoughts that he couldn’t quite pinpoint which one precisely to mentally yell at to quiet down in order to stop the phantom pains.

Someone sending a sharp kick to his side brought Robby back to the situation at hand and he glared at the Cobra who he didn’t even recognize. He figured he must be one of Hawk’s though because he knew everyone in Miyagi-Do. Robby sent a kick back, using more force than necessary, though he wasn’t about to admit the reason behind it, figuring it would be childish to say he was mad that this whole endeavor had interrupted his conversation with the girl. His soulmate…

This was so stupid. He shouldn’t be here dealing with this sh*t. He should be with her, getting to know her, falling in love, all that mushy stuff. But no. Robby was more worried about this dumb karate war. What was wrong with him?

“Robby!? Where are you going!?”

But he ignored whoever it was, not even caring enough to look back as he shoved random Cobras out of his way, charging back towards where he’d last seen her. Because he needed to see her… His soulmate…

But the table was empty, and the girl? Nowhere to be found…

Robby’s heart clenched. Where did she go? He looked around frantically, the longer he came up empty handed the more worried he became, as his thoughts ran wild with what he was going to do now. He’d never met her without a mask on. He didn’t know her name, or literally anything about her. How was he going to find her?

And then, Robby caught sight of an all too familiar green dress, and almost sighed in relief. That is, until he realized it was running, so fast you’d think she was being chased, and so far in the opposite direction…

“No! Wait!”

In any other circumstance, Robby definitely would have caught her. While she was running incredibly fast for someone in a floor length poofy dress and heels, Robby’s own dress clothes were much more equipped for the exercise. But the crowd was so big and everyone was pushing him back towards the mess he was trying to get away from, and she just kept getting further and further away.

“Stop! Please!”

But by the time Robby had finally made it through, she was gone again, though this time leaving something behind…

He kneeled down with a frown, picking up the little keychain that seemed to have fallen away from the others in her haste to leave, hope growing in his chest at the thought that maybe this could be a clue to help him find her. But then his blood ran cold as Robby read the words printed across the leather…

COBRA KAI KARATE

Ah, sh*t…

TO BE CONTINUED

Tag lists are open!!!

Tags: @electriclcvewp @kaqua @lolawassad @imaslutforsstuff @nani-2305 @hawkinsavclub1983

[t00thpasteface]

How do you like the mash movie?

I saw the series first, my dad is a fan and we used to watch it together, and was surprised at its more serious tone. Frank Burns also struck me as also a pathetic idiot but in such a different way and also has these evil vibes. Because of you I discovered the books, got them, and im having even more shocks!

i fucking LOVED IT. i was absolutely HOWLING the entire time. my favorite bits were:

the opening where you see the dangling arms of the bodies in the choppers??? oh my god. i was like GASP. the insane blood and gore was awesome and really drove home how petty and wacky everyone's being

hawkeye's stupid tinted glasses and bucket hat <3 sooo 70s.

mulcahy getting immediately ignored the second he's introduced. mulcahy basically acting like a frightened mouse in every scene he has. he is so sad. he's really not cut out for this

frank being introduced as an aggressive bible thumper (very funny contrast to the likeable and shy priest) so him cheating on his wife with margaret, who is also married, is even funnier

radar(!!) being the one who puts the mic under frank and margaret's bed

mulcahy hearing them bang, leaning in bc he thinks it's a radio program he enjoys, and going D: when he Realizes

suicide is painless. holy shit. did you know a 14 y/o wrote the lyrics? his dad said "i needed the lyrics to be extremely stupid, and 14 year old boys are masters of stupidity." mom just learned that and has been telling all her 50-60 y/o friends. also both versions in the movie are sung beautifully (and thus hilariously)

the unbelievable fruitiness of hawkeye and trapper at all points but especially in the golf related scenes

trapper spawning the olives out of nowhere. player.placeatme olivejar 1

bring me the sultry bitch with the fire in her eyes! (dramatic zoom)

RADAR STEALING HENRY'S BLOOD??

hawkeye's entire interaction with painless just SCREAMING "chaotic bisexual who's been out the longest of anyone in the friendgroup and will forcefully yank you out of the closet the second you start questioning"

racists do not get dignified with a response. racists get shoved out of their chair

DON'T LET HIM KISS YOU HAWKEYE!

frank getting carted away in a straitjacket and never seen again

margaret hating the idea of football until the general wants it and suddenly she's a cheerleader with pigtails bc she's completely spineless. god she's so evil in this i LOVE horrible evil women. full agency at being the worst person ever <333 i support women's wrongs and i love watching chicks who are just slow-motion car crashes

"i was thinking we should have some plays, cause yknow, football teams always have plays" "actually i took the liberty of drawing about seven or eight plays for us to try ^_^" "great! ...what do these arrows mean?"

MASH EM! SMASH EM! KILL, KILL, KILL!

OH MY GOD THEY SHOT HIM!!!

hawkeye suddenly not wanting to leave once he's actually able to 🥺

end credits being read over the loudspeaker like the other movie night announcements. so. cute.

okay sorry. good movie. i had fun and cried laughing ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[muffy-official]

I haven't fully developed Gabbys parents and I feel ashamed aaa

Her mother is Joanna Kamiński, Henrys sweet Joanna

Her father is Henry Theodore Garland(fine with being called both names, he's used to that)

Haven't really thought of their full looks nor designs yet, might try to develop that

I had ideas for further lore:

I lowkey forget names I have written down tbh

But her dad mayhaps worked at a newspaper office for a while

Unhappy with the censoring that happened there

Eventually stumbling upon a cleaning lady who seemed to never want to speak, being Gabs future mother

From using gestures he tried to speak for her until her English got better, shielding her from possible discrimination and eventually it clicked between the two

Him perhaps even quitting his old job to pursue journalism as a job rather than a hobby, with her mom she maybe waited a bit or went for simple jobs when she felt the employers were somewhat immigrant friendly

Eventually deciding they wanted a child together

Being nervous, but loving first time parents, probably that's why Babri was so sour when seeing a 6yo Gabby run to her worrying sick father. She had what he never got.

Joanna was also aware of the dangers Henrys job might bring and Henry himself feels awful about said dangers that could happen when he isn't careful

Even if they were loving, they grew more protective over eachother and especially their child due to Henrys semi freelance journalism he's been conducting on Murkoff and hoping, praying even the mob family that did caught up a journalist was here in New Orleans undercover in 46 won't find his families location in Colorado. Unaware it's Murkoff that will take both him and Joanna forcefully from their home in 1950 while Gabby was away. Henry getting beaten unconscious by masked men in the process while Joanna was injected with a anesthetic as she was about to hit one of the many men with a bust she picked up from a little table. The house was left in a mess, somehow nobody caught wind of what happened or perhaps people were forced to look away who knows...

Henrys love language to Joanna was trying to find polish vinyls they could listen and dance to together. Even learning words, backing her up and always being there for her. He loves her dearly, he loves his child, she loves her child. Helping her around the house and with the baby as much as he could, comforting Joanna when news struck that part if not most of their family has been captured, killed or gotten in trouble in Poland. Just unfortunate that Murkoff took them. Even if they didn't, the alternative wouldn't be any better.. who knows what Salvatore Barbi would've done to or with Joanna and little Gabby if he did get his hands on Henry himself if he ever discovered their house in Colorado one way or another.

Henry also has a birthmark under his right eye, Joanna on the lower left corner of her mouth which Gabby ends up having both visible on her face

Henry also tried to avoid serving as much as he could. He couldn't handle thinking about how Joanna feels or leaving their not yet born daughter without a father

Henrys father, Albert hated that his son fell in love and slept with a Polish immigrant, being in that hateful mindset. He decided to just not allow his father to show up ever again, not even to Gabbys birthdays. The kid was only at his place a few times when her grandma Mary Ann was still alive, which she was a sweet woman, embarrassed of her husbands hateful views, but would feel guilty leaving his son behind like this.

Gabby as a child was a very alive and happy little girl, kinda reminding me of Bioshocks little sisters

Even though she still had to deal with mean things due to her hair colour and generally acting a bit different than other kids around her and be careful to not make it shown her mother's a immigrant

Listening to her dads rules to not trust most suited men upfront that may be trying talking to her etc

Her mother telling her to stay away from cops. There was one instance where a 3yo Gabby quietly wandered off from her mother, almost leaving the store as she saw something colourful outside that peaked the toddlers interest, her path getting blocked by a police officer who looked at the child and asked where her parents are, but before he could take further action her mother quickly picked her up seeing this, pointed at herself and left, leaving the man quite confused. Joanna doesn't like speaking in public due to her accent.

And what messes with her years since the disappearance her parents happened is that she eventually accepted they're probably dead, but something feels off about this. Something feels like they may be still here, but she doesn't know where or its just her still staying in denial, not wanting to believe if they're truly long gone.

Ngl I do hope this makes at least some sense and I also hope it's interesting and not bad to read

Update: tried to do a idea sketch for Joanna, not sure if this is the one

It's kinda hard to design parents that resemble their child enough

[wlw-stanbot]

Yelena opened her eyes as soon as footsteps entered the room again. The edges of her vision blurred with drugs and alcohol and pain, but Kate’s face clarified as it came closer. She focused in on the bright blue eyes framed by errant strands of curly black hair that fell forward as she leaned over. Her eyes flicked down just slightly to the lush pink lips that had been on hers just a few minutes ago and couldn’t help but smile with the memory of it.

Kate Bishop. Kate. Her little hawk. No. Stop it. You sound like a love struck fool from a stupid American movie.

Yelena wrenched her eyes away but Kate still stood there. With a quick side glance she realized that the hovering woman was trying to hand her something.

“Are you in too much pain to eat? You should try to anyway. You won’t heal without food.” Kate was holding a plate with wonderful smelling triangles on it and a steaming mug.

Pizza. Right. That’s where she went. Yelena started to realize her blood loss may have been worse than she anticipated. She avoided looking down at her abdomen, which was still wholly exposed except for the loose pile of gauze covering her wound, reaching for the plate and mug instead.

“Thank you, Kate. You’re sweet like…marshmallows,” Yelena looked into the mug of chocolate, expecting to see the usual topping she had just mentioned, but the fluffy little pillows were nowhere to be found. She frowned into the dark brown liquid.

Kate grimaced, “Yeah, sorry. I ate the rest of the bag a few hours ago. Well, technically it was the second bag. I finished the one we opened before you left a few days ago. They’re just so easy to eat, you know. Like little pillows of sweet and sticky - ”

Yelena watched Kate dive fully into one of her typical rambles, her mind and eyes drifting back to the mouth as it was talking. She grabbed a slice of pizza and shoved it into her mouth to stop herself from thinking about the ways she wanted to interrupt the rapidly moving lips.

Fuck…chew your damn pizza and don’t look up again.

“...you know what I mean?"

Yelena’s resolve faltered immediately. She looked into Kate’s expectant face, having no idea what words it had just been producing. She stared blankly, trying to remember…something about marshmallows?

“You aren’t listening,” Kate narrowed her eyes then just as quickly softened,” - sorry, of course…I’m rambling. You’re probably too tired to pay attention. It’s ok. I’ll uh, go, just let me know when you’re done and - “

Yelena felt herself sitting up slightly and speaking more forcefully than she truly had the energy for, “No, don’t go. Please.”

New chapter is up, a little fluffy, a lot of emotions.

[ozmatippetarius]

Class 3-Z Ginpachi-Sensei Lesson 2: Scaring People is Also a Technique (Part 1)

Years back I tried my hand at translating some of this novel. Since the adaptation is coming out soon, it reminded me of the project and I decided to pick it back up again. Since a translation of Lesson 1 already exists on the internet, I started with Lesson 2. This is a very amateurish fan translation, so keep that in mind! Please enjoy.

Part 2

What is important in life is life, and not the result of life.　（Goethe

I think so too. (Sakata Ginpachi)

No, please think for yourself sometimes. (Shimura Shinpachi)

Hyuu, the wind blew, shaking Shinpachi’s bangs.

10:00 p.m. He was in front of the main gate of Gintama High School.

It was scary, Shinpachi thought. The school at night was really scary...

No, whether it was a school, or a shinto shrine, or a temple, going anywhere at night would be scary. Although the phrase ‘School at Night’ was particularly creepy.

Really scary. Shinpachi didn’t have any thoughts besides that.

Shut away on the other side of the tightly closed iron gate, the unspeaking (obviously) school building sat. In the sky above the school building a huge full moon hung, or, should I say, the final boss was about to come out? It was an atmosphere like that.

Even so, Shinpachi hadn’t gone in.

Into the school at night.

To retrieve an item he’d left behind.

Scary. But he couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning. Couldn’t wait for the thing that he’d left inside his class desk. After returning home, and finishing his dinner and bath, he’d noticed it.

That was why he had come to retrieve it now.

Shinpachi placed his hands on the school gate firmly. The height of the school gate was just short of Shinpachi’s jaw. Climbing over it wouldn’t be easy, but it wasn’t impossible.

But the cold touch of the school gate, the sensation of the rough rust, and the sound of the metal creaking all shook Shinpachi’s resolve.

Well, Shimura Shinpachi, muster your courage!

So Shinpachi said to himself. He gripped the school gate hard with both hands, pulling his body up forcefully. In this way he got his right foot over the gate, and in that moment-

“What are you doing, punk!”

A sharp voice sounded behind him.

With a start, Shinpachi turned his head in that direction, and fell on his butt to the ground.

Ouch! Scary! Ouch-scary!

Panicking and in pain, Shinpachi got on all fours and raised his surprised face.

“What are you doing, aru? On the ground like that.”

Standing before him was class Z’s boisterous exchange student, Kagura-chan.

“Kagura-chan!” Shinpachi started to protest vehemently.

“What are you doing, you surprised me! Because of you my heart is beating like an alarm bell!”

“Trespassing is a criminal offense, aru.” Kagura-chan was remorseless.

“I wasn’t trespassing. I came to retrieve something I forgot.”

“Something you forgot?” Kagura-chan raised one eyebrow, and suddenly grabbed Shinpachi’s collar.

“Idiot! In life, sometimes by the time you realize you’ve forgotten something it’s too late!”

“What are you even talking about! I don’t get your vibe right now!” Shinpachi shook off Kagura’s arm.

“Or rather, why are you suddenly Kitakata Kenzou?”

And just as Shinpachi was getting into his tsukkomi role,

“I see, something you forgot.” Kagura-chan had already returned to his pace.

“If that’s the case then I’m the same, aru.”

“Huh, Kagura-chan too?” Shinpachi touched his glasses.

“That’s right, aru. I came to retrieve a lost item too, ne.”

“Is that so…”

Nodding his head, Shinpachi was struck with an idea.

The school at night was scary. But if they went together, the fear would be diminished, right? So, at once he said.

“Well then, Kagura-chan, let’s go get our lost things together. Look, since the school at night is frightening.”

Thereupon,

“No way, aru!” Kagura-chan said, grabbing his shoulder.

“You’re planning to take me to the field house at night and do something, aren’t you, aru?”

“Um, I, I didn’t say a single word about the field house, did I?”

“Men are all wearing wolf’s clothing, ne.”

“No, that is, I don’t need to be wearing that kind of thing.”

Oh, geez, Shinpachi thought to himself.

“We should go. You’re being too loud here; tomorrow at school there will be complaints.”

Yeah, yeah, I understand, aru, Kagura-chan said with a reluctant nod of agreement. 

And so together they pulled themselves over the gate.

“Heave-ho,” said Shinpachi.

“Set-go,” said Kagura-chan.

Then, at the moment when they both forcefully lifted their bodies.

“The school isn’t a love hotel, punk!”

It was the unexpected sharp voice, Part 2.

With a thud, Shinpachi and Kagura-chan both fell to the ground.

Again! Who was it! Shinpachi thought while lying on the ground on all fours. When he raised his head, there was - white-haired Sakata Ginpachi standing, with a cigarette in his mouth and a labcoat on even at that time.

With sleepy eyes, Ginpachi said,

“Hey, hey, Shinpachi. Are you having an illicit sexual relationship at school at night? Ozaki Yutaka is crying.”

“We weren’t doing something like that! Or rather, please don’t surprise me like that!”

The person beside Shinpachi protested,

“That’s right, aru! I think I’m having a heart attack, aru!” Kagura-chan also said.

But, ignoring their combined Sino-Japanese objection, Ginpachi asked,

“Or rather, what were you guys doing?”

“‘What,’ he asks. Kagura-chan and I came to get some things we forgot.”

“Things you forgot?” Ginpachi squinted.

“Well, if that’s the case, I guess I’m the same way.”

“Huh? Sensei too?”

Shinpachi asked, and Ginpachi replied, “That’s right,” listlessly.

“Yeah, the Jump I bought in the school store today, I left it in the staff room. Even though I returned looking forward to reading it, my plans all went awry.”

“Jump, was it…”

Although that seemed a very Ginpachi-like thing to forget, Shinpachi spoke up.

“But if that’s the case, it’s fine if you buy Jump at the convenience store. Why go through all this trouble…”

“You idiot,” said Ginpachi, breathing out smoke.

“Why would you buy two copies of the same Jump. Unless it has a Gintama cover, that is.”

“No, you’re a perfect narcissist, aren’t you.” Shinpachi gave a bitter smile.

“And?” said Ginpachi.

“What things did you guys come to get?”

“Um, I came for a CD,” Shinpachi answered.

“CD?”

“Yes. Today Otsuu-chan’s new album was released and I bought it from the school store, but I left it in my classroom desk.”

“Hmm.” Then with a small uninterested nod, “Then, you?” Ginpachi said, looking towards Kagura-chan.

“Sukonbu, aru!” Kagura-chan said cheerfully.

“Today during fifth period, I left my sukonbu behind in the art room. Moreover, it was unwrapped. Unless I retrieve it soon, tomorrow morning the art room will be filled with the smell of sukonbu.”

“Um, was that meant to be some new kind of terrorism,” Ginpachi interjected with a low voice.

“I mean, that kind of thing doesn’t even smell that strongly, does it.”

“Since I left behind seven pieces, the smell is intense, aru.”

“Yeah, we probably don’t need to discuss that any more,”

Ginpachi said, and then added, “Well, it’s fine, right.”

“So the three of us have matching faces. Together let's go on a lost article recovery tour.”

“No way, aru! What are two people planning to do bringing me to the science prep room at night, aru!”

Disregarding that Kagura-chan was grabbing onto her own shoulders, Shinpach and Ginpachi quickly held onto the school gate.

*

Well then, inside the school building at night.

Walking through a hallway devoid of life, Shinpachi, Kagura-chan, and Ginpachi were the Forgotten Item Recovery Trio.

The fluorescent lights in the corridor were out. The light source that illuminated their path was the moonlight shining in from the window.

Shinpachi and Kagura-chan’s slippers made a squish, squish sound, and behind them, Ginpachi’s cheap sandals made a slap, slap sound.

Three people were now walking towards the staff room. First they would recover Ginpachi’s Jump, then they would recover Shinpachi’s CD in Class 3-Z, and finally they would recover Kagura-chan’s sukonbu in the other building’s art room; that was the route that the three people had arranged.

“Even so it’s scary, to walk this way…”

As they walked through the dim corridor, Shinpachi timidly muttered.

Before long, the party was close to the staff room. Ten meters down the hallway, they could see a plate with “Staff Room” hanging from the wall.

Just as he saw the plate, Shinpachi suddenly remembered something.

A chill went through him, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Shinpachi, what’s wrong, aru?” Kagura-chan asked.

“Y- yeah,” Shinpachi gulped and said.

“No, I just recalled something unpleasant…”

“Something like shitting yourself on Parent Visitation Day during your first year?” said Kagura-chan.

“No, I don’t have that kind of past. Don’t make up things as you wish.”

After instructing the Chinese girl, Shinpachi continued.

“No, the thing I remembered was, you know… the ‘Seven Mysteries of Gintama High’ type of thing.”

“Seven mysteries?” Kagura-chan tilted her head.

*

Next ->

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 18: Third Megnitude

Sensation probably comes back to me faster than it feels like it does.

If it took longer than a moment or two, I imagine I’d be crushed.

The surface beneath me is hard, slick like varnished wood, curved, and tilted, and my ass is notably higher than my head.

The instant I have control over my muscles, I scramble to my feet, claws scuffing and sliding across what is actually varnished wood. And I blink my eyes and look around.

I appear to be on the starting ramp of a now barely functional roller derby rink, in a darkened arena lit only by the waning sunlight coming in through the high windows and skylights. And the ambient light coming in through the ragged hole in the wall I apparently just came through.

And through that hole, I see glimpses of Säure’s moving body as he lifts himself up from the ruins of his stadium.

And as he lowers his head to turn his eye toward my hole and look at me, I hear and see movement in the corners of the gym around me.

I dart my gaze here and there to take it all in.

Oh, shit. The derby team is here, in the arena with me!

Oh, fuck.

Oh, crap.

“Go,” I say, incapable of giving my voice any urgency, but making it as loud as I can. “Now.”

And then I cough up a little aerosolized flame to emphasize the urgency, and turn and run from the new entrance I made to the building myself.

I slam against the doors on the west side of the room, just before anybody else reaches them, banging them open and damaging the frame in the process.

I do my best to keep my rapidly moving tail away from any calves or thighs as I bolt through the door and scamper down the hallway past the lobby of the hockey rink on my right, and the concessions stalls to my left.

There’s a big set of three glass double doors at the other end, and I can hear skates and sneakers squeaking and rolling across the laminate flooring behind me.

The ground shakes with a muffled whump. And then again.

Then, just as I’m crashing through the front doors of the complex, the whole world shutters with a quick succession of four impacts.

And I stumble into the parking lot just in time to be struck with Säure’s cry of fury.

It’s like someone took the T-Rex roar from the first Jurassic Park movie and stretched out the waves into the infrasonic and ultrasonic ranges even for me, and then turned the volume up so high that people struck by the sound don’t so much hear it as they are pushed through a portion of spacetime forcefully by it.

My mind refuses to register the experience as anything intelligible as it’s happening, and it’s only afterward that I start to make sense of it.

I don’t have to turn my head far to look over the building at him and catch him snapping at something in the air to the left of his head. Something I can’t see.

“Go,” I say, my voice severely muffled to my own ears. “Go. Go. Go.”

It hardly need be uttered. The team is dispersing and scrambling for their cars. I hope the time it takes to get into them and get them started isn’t too long for their safety. Especially with me in their midst.

But Säure does look distracted.

He snaps at the air a few more times, blindly, unintelligibly.

So, I take the moment to turn and face him and stretch all my muscles.

The soot and ashes from Laserbreath’s attack over there have mostly been blown off my scales, but I’m still dusty and dirty looking. Smudged.

I am, incredibly, miraculously, unwounded. At least, nothing like the gash on my shoulder that’s mostly healed now. But I’ve been seriously banged up, and my whole body hurts in places and ways that worry me.

The more I work it, though, the more ready I feel to do something else.

Then I remember something I can do that I haven’t really played around with much, except on my own when I’m bored. I have no idea what good it will do here, but if Säure’s so harried and confused, maybe I can add to that.

I do a fair imitation of Joel’s yawp.

Then I bolt to my right, circling the building and headed in the direction of the nearby elementary school. There are probably kids in there, I know, but I’m not going to draw him there, this is just a quick feint.

Wait. Are there children in there? It’s Saturday.

Still. There might be.

Round the corner and mostly out of sight, I let loose with the loudest series of poinks I can manage.

Then, I turn and run along as close to the side of the building as I can, past the front doors again, and over to the North of it.

And there, I let out the most anguished dying man’s scream I can remember.

And I keep going.

We’re actually in Tannis’ territory, and she’s confused by the sudden close presence of three of her neighbors, so she shrieks like a singing banshee. Perfect.

And then I’m crashing through the wooded wetlands to the north of the Sportsplex, between it and the soccer and softball fields, and I’m whistling like Wentin as I go. That’s a really easy one to mimic, honestly. A spooky sin wave of a voice.

Briefly, I think I can hear Wentin croon in my ear, “Adorable.” 

But it’s not there. To get that close, it would have to enter the full vision of that eye, nevermind the peripheral. And there’s no such movement or presence when it happens.

This is a large wooded area that we didn’t draw Säure too, and I wonder briefly if the Poet is hiding in here. It’s her favorite kind of haunt, I’m told. But I don’t see her.

I hope that if Säure follows me to the northern fields, he doesn’t do too much damage on his way.

And then there are more poinks far behind me, faster and more poignant, strident, than I managed to make them, as Astraia joins in on the taunting.

And that triggers a series of call backs from the surrounding territories. A whole cacophony of dragons. And it sounds like they are closing in!

Holy shit, are they all fools like me?

Then, the weirdest thing happens.

I hear my own cry come from downtown, across the freeway and over building tops, from my own roof. Distant and taunting.

I did not coordinate with anybody to do that. I don’t particularly want that to happen. But I also don’t even know how it happens. Who is imitating me from my own roof?

I can only think of Chapman. I wouldn’t put it past hir to be able to craft a noise maker of any sort by scrawling a pattern all over the tar black roof in trans pride chalk.

Why, though? 

More confusion?

We don’t want to draw Säure into the populated areas of the city, I don’t think. Not that we aren’t already surrounded by inhabited buildings and homes right now. But not downtown!

It feels like when things started to derail, everyone lost cohesion, and they’re all now flailing about. Just like me. Communicating badly with dragon calls at best.

I really just wanted Säure confused enough to stall him from going after me and the Flounder Pounders. I am so hoping the derby team made it out of there.

I feel a few more thumps as Säure repositions himself on the ground and maybe starts pursuing what he thinks of as me.

A glance over my shoulder shows me his tail swinging high over the Sportsplex, as he’s turned around, and I stop to watch. I don’t exactly feel safe, but I’m clearly not being threatened at the moment.

I observe as he makes an attempt to jump and lift himself in the air, but his wings cannot find purchase and he slams back into the ground like a building falling to its hands and knees.

And then he rears up on his hind legs and roars again with that space folding auditory assault of his.

And I think clearly, for the first time today, this all might have been a huge mistake.

By provoking Säure, I’ve seriously endangered the city. And if we can’t subdue him before the National Guard is deployed, or something like that, it could be even more of a disaster than it already is.

I wonder why anybody went along with this plan of mine.

What am I doing?

Welp.

I’m going to do everything I can to bring him to me in an open field, then.

What we can do there, I have no idea.

I’d love to talk to him, but I only have a limited array of vocabulary for that. It’s grown over the past week, in preparation for this. But I also know my ability to talk under pressure is unreliable, too.

But, If I can get him over these wetlands to those fields, I at least know that we won’t be fighting too near any houses. And that feels critical to me.

On the other side of those fields is a light industrial area with businesses that should be closing up shop now, if they haven’t already done that three to four hours ago.

I can’t believe how long this fight has taken. But we’ve been flying all over the city before this, I guess.

Meh.

Time for me to see if I can figure out how to fight an offensively picturesque, spiky, mobile, infuriated hill.

I turn back and start bounding through the thin trees and brush toward the northern fields again.

As I near them, I catch glimpses of people standing near their cars, watching Säure’s antics behind me, over the treetops.

I start repeating my signature cry. Loud and insistant and over and over.

And the enormous monster must be reacting to me because, as I burst from the treeline, I see everyone in sight buckle at their knees and turn to run, looking over their shoulders up at the sky.

Yes, you fools, get the fuck out of here!

These look like the stragglers of a few games that must have been going on in these fields before this all started.

Boom!

Boom, boom, boom!

Säure is now actually following me.

Thump, bump, boom!

I can see his towering head looming higher and higher as he nears my location, while I’m galloping out to the middle of the fields.

When I get to my chosen spot, I hop and turn to face him, crouching on springy legs ready to lunge or bolt to either side, and call with my entire diaphragm, “Stop.”

It’s not a yell or a shout. There’s no emotion to it. But, like my morning song, it’s loud enough to be faintly heard two neighborhoods over.

I know he can’t not hear it.

And he does stop. He pulls back his head, tilting it down at me, and opening his mouth menacingly.

“Talk,” I call out.

He tilts his head to the side, mouth still cracked open. It looks way less quizzical that way. Though, still questioning. As if asking me if I’d like to step inside his maw.

“Fuck. Chapman,” I say at the same volume. “Fuck. Ptarmigan. Fuck. Artists. You. Me. Talk. Peace.”

That would probably go over badly with everyone who overheard, if key people didn’t know that this was actually part of my original plan.

Why not desperately stick to it, actually?

I’m losing.

He can actually get me if he chases me all day.

But, I’m seeing that he’s still hesitating to go full out. He doesn’t want to hurt his hoard, the city, more than he has to. The stadium must have been a calculated sacrifice, or a moment of pure passion. But he pulled himself up short of the Sportsplex, even if he was being distracted by something else.

And while he’s been walking after me, now, he was mincing, picking his foot placement carefully.

So, while I could dodge into the rest of the city to avoid him, and leave him the choice of following me and possibly killing people, or letting me get away – and I’ve shown I’m willing and capable of doing that, actually, as much as I don’t want to – the fact that I’m stopping and offering him a chance to negotiate might actually be enticing.

I wonder if he can talk in full dracoform.

I’m not sure why he wouldn’t be able to.

“Meghan,” he says, voice thundering across the county.

Yeah. This actually feels embarrassing and tense. I’m putting myself on the very public spot by doing this.

“Truce,” I reply. Another new word of mine, just for this use.

“No. You. Give. Up.”

“No. Truce,” I insist.

“You. No. Bargain,” he responds, loud enough for the Sheriff to hear, it seems like.

“No,” I tell him. “I. Threat. I. Go. You. Fight. Fairport.”

He jerks his chin up, mouth open and says, “Ridiculous!”

In response, keeping my eyes on his head, I feint to the side, toward downtown. Then I bark, “Okay.” 

I keep my body tense and leaning that direction, to make it clear what I intend to do if he pushes the matter.

“Stop,” he says.

“No,” I reply. “You. Truce.”

This is the point at which the cartoon villain would call my bluff and pounce on me, forcing me to dash into the city and risk him following me to the injury and deaths of hundreds to thousands of people.

All the other dragons have fallen silent to our conversation. At least that part of the plan is working now. But it’s kind of creepy. As if we’re the only two dragons in town, now.

I can watch him considering the situation I’ve pulled him into, weighing all the risks to himself. And he’s been presented with a few that neither he nor I fully understand.

I still haven’t felt Ptarmigan do anything, but Chapman and the Poet have been laying enchantments on Säure that were not fully explained to me, out of a need for expedient secrecy. Similar to why I’ve been lying in my blog. And something is also keeping him from flying, it seems.

I still don’t think he’s quite grasped that he’s the villain in this story, though. But, then, that is a bit subjective to who the audience is, I guess.

This is scary.

Everything is telling me he’s going to pounce, or attack in some way.

He’s so powerful, there’s no particular reason for him not to. Not in the short run, at least. And while the long run is the crux of it, the longer he pauses to consider, the more time my Artist friends have to craft another snare for him, or pull the snares tight that already surround him. And he’s got to be thinking about that.

But, you know? All the cartoon villains in the world were written by humans, with human sensibilities and motives.

This is a dragon.

And though I’m less than a rival, I’m vermin to him, I’m right in the middle of both his hoard and his food supply. And I’m apparently really annoying to him. I’ve got his attention.

I don't know. I have been projecting a lot of thoughts into his head that might not be there. Maybe he's just visualizing all the ways he can swallow me, or he knows things I don't.

I wait, poised to gallop and fly away at an instant twitch on his part. And as much as I really don’t want to see anybody die or lose their house today, I am damn well prepared to run into the city. Now that I’m against this wall, I want to survive.

“Okay,” he says. Then, after a meaningful pause, he says, “Talk.”

I. Do. Not. Relax.

I’m trying to think of a word I know that I can remember that has enough meaning for a negotiation. And I feel like my mind is slowly going blank as I try to search it.

This is the worst time for losing what little speech I have! But it’s happening.

“Talk,” I manage to repeat, feeling really lame about it.

He jerks his head. With his mouth open, I’m sure it looks like a silent mirthful laugh to a human, but to me it’s pure threat. And my muscles twitch.

“Talk,” I say again.

“Yes,” he replies. “Talk. You. Talk.”

Damn him. He’s gotta see I don’t have my purse. My tablet is gone. He’s mocking me. He’s putting me on the back foot by insisting I do something I can’t do very well at all.

Though, I was the one who insisted on talking instead of fighting.

I wonder if I can speak as much with body language as anything. If we could both take human disguise and get to the library somehow, we could use the computers there to actually talk to each other. 

I still don’t know exactly what I want to talk to him about, but having him concede to do that with me would be far better than dancing through Fairport trying to fight each other.

Especially if we can do it in human disguise, because then he’ll be stuck for a while, and then we can actually do something about it.

I’m thinking, maybe, since he was the one who just destroyed several wetlands and the city stadium, we let the police arrest him. As much as I hate to lean on that corrupt institution, it would be a wonderful irony.

He’ll probably just get a slap on the wrist, but it’ll be a start.

I jerk my head sideways toward downtown, and manage to say, “Go. Talk.”

Let’s see if he can figure that out.

He looks the direction I indicated.

Then he closes his mouth and tilts his head to look at me with his right eye, and says, “Top of Tower.”

Ah, his restaurant of choice. His turf.

If he can provide phones, or tablets, or something to talk with, I’ll take it.

“You’re paying,” he says.

That’s a whole phrase he taught himself.

I cannot afford that restaurant. But, this does give me the opportunity to stiff him in return for him stiffing me, if I play my cards right. So, I’m going to agree to it.

The trick now is trying to figure out how we’re going to get there from here.

Maybe I just have to agree and then wait to see what he does.

Can I remember the word I need? I can.

“Okay,” I say.

“I. Drive,” he says. And then he lifts his head and makes a weird warbling noise with his syrinx. It’s kind of like a klaxon but also some kind of bird song. There's a whistling to it, with a rhythm of ultrabass infrasonic rumbling. It might be just a little too complex for me to imitate, but I definitely can't match the volume.

It echos off the surrounding landscape like a fog horn.

And then, when he’s done he looks at me again, and says, “Wait.”

“Truce,” I repeat, hammering down on my key concern.

“Truce,” he says.

And then I remember one of the phrases I'd worked on the last few nights, and it’s perfect.

“Shake on it,” I say. And then, I awkwardly stand on my hind legs and hold out my right claw, expectantly.

There's no way he can shake my claw while he's that big. Even if he did some silly gesture like present me with a single tree sized talon, he'd too easily crush me with a twitch. And there’s no way I'll stay where I am to let him do that.

He studies me carefully.

I wish I could guess what he’s thinking.

I suppose I need to show him a gesture of trust. Not that that's at all a reasonable expectation in this situation. But I don’t think reason or fairness factor into anything Säure does.

OK.

I want to sell this to him. He's gotta be feeling uncertain and vulnerable with all the weird bullshit we've been trying to pull on him. And he has some kind of curse the Poet just put on him.

But if he called for a ride and we are going to the Top of the Tower, he’s going to commit to taking human form.

He blinks and changes the angle of his head, still studying me.

There must be a reason he’s not insisting we fly to his home in our dracoforms.

Maybe he guesses I'll never agree to it. So a semineutral human establishment is in order. A place I'd agree to go to.

He must really want to work with me.

Or, to turn the trap I've laid back on me, and to attack me when I've let my guard down.

I know how quickly I can change my shape.

It's not quite fast enough to dodge a UV laser, if I'm in human disguise. He could burn me then. But, my human skin doesn't feel like it's my insides or anything vulnerable like that. When I'm in that shape, I can still feel my scales covering me.

It's really an unknown risk. But at least I'll see him opening his jaws first.

But, if he pounces instead, I'm sure I can revert and dodge in time. When it comes to that kind of interaction, I have yet to find a dragon besides Anurak that can touch me. Not even Wentin can.

I decide to do it.

I sigh with a big breath, and fold myself up into my faerie princess outfit, then give him a closed lip smile and hold out my right hand again.

Säure rears back in a movement that looks like my doom, closing his eyes.

But then he opens them again and takes four tree crushing steps through the woods between us and dives down into his businessman disguise only a few yards ahead of me.

Straightening his tie and then stretching his arms as he looks down at them, he begins to walk forward toward me.

His face is so good at portraying smugness with hardly a muscle twitch. His straight backed walk makes him look like he's buoyed physically by his own confidence.

“Shake on it,” he says in a human volume, reaching out with his own right hand just as I hear a helicopter approaching in the distance.

I can't believe how much the sound of that kind of contraption puts me on edge.

It's a very silly idea to ride a helicopter from here to downtown, where there’s no-where to land it. Unless maybe this one is going to deliver a car. It could actually airlift a car here, if it's a big enough chopper.

Well, I think that’s what he did with his song, call that chopper.

Maybe it's the trap.

And I feel the back of my neck tensing as our hands near each other under the increasing sound of air being smacked by rotor blades.

Then movement catches my eye, as it does. 

It's right behind Säure’s head from my point of view, so he doesn't seem to see the shift in my gaze. Or, maybe neither of us can really react in time.

Because time itself seems to dilate.

As our hands go from six inches away from each other, to within an inch, between thumps of the distant helicopter blades, I watch as Wentin blooms from the darkness between trees in the twilight, and lopes as if in slow motion across the field to rear up above and behind Säure.

And just as Säure reacts to the look on my face, wide pupils almost in perfect circles, mouth opening, Wentins jaws snap shut over his top half.

Limbs jerking, failing to transform, Säure is lifted up into the air, and swallowed like a seagull with a freshly broken neck.

It takes Wentin only three jerks of its head to imbibe Säure.

And then the billionaire is gone.

—

I don't really know how long I've been staring at Wentin as the helicopter continues to close the distance. But the vehicle is probably very nearly here.

And in that time, the nightmare doesn't explode with a suddenly expanding kaiju bursting from its stomach.

I'm not just bewildered, I'm in shock.

Wentin winks.

And I'm still in my princess disguise.

“My dear Queen Meghan,” Wentin eventually says, just barely audible over the helicopter. “It has been my honor to serve you, but really, next time, you will have to finish your meal yourself.”

And then it turns and leaves.