#canned peaches gone bad are the REAL horror

[robotsinerewhon]

I find it disturbingly funny how many horror / post-apocalyptic stories (Magnus, Archive81, The Road, FROM) use the canned peach trope. I mean, have you ever been in the close vicinity of canned peaches gone bad? Because I'd rather face the hoard of eldritch fear-avatars and otherworldly singing leviathans than to see or smell that monstrosity again.

How to recognize you're in a horror story:

Check the vicinity for cans of peaches. If you find one, run

[philtstone]

for the writing meme - Juliet and Lassiter, platonic? :)

this pov is so wildly outside my comfort zone that im in the stratosphere rn and as such i have no idea how i feel about this. that said: tag for 4x09, aka shawn spencers horrible no good very bad day, ft. a scene i am convinced must have happened.

As if the rest of today hasn’t been horrifying enough, when Lassiter gets back to the empty hospital waiting room with the requested 9-p.m.-hail-mary-verge-of-collapse coffee and truly-unwieldy large-sized woman’s purse in his hands, O’Hara is blubbering.

Despite his partner’s bubbly exterior and inexplicable desire to speak with awful regularity about his feelings, she has, since first meeting, more than impressed him with her steel stomach, unflappable cool, and general fortitude in the face of evil, gore, and worldly destruction. Coming head on against the lowest scum of humanity’s underbelly has yet to have cracked her almost belligerent, cotton-candy-wrapped, peach-scented determination to take their job seriously, and it isn’t until right now, right at this exact miserable unfortunate second, that Lassiter realizes: 

Beyond a few stoic cases of Misty Eye and, admittedly, more than a few instances of dreamy girlish exuberance, he has never actually seen Juliet O'Hara cry.

As in, the Real McCoy. Unfiltered feminine waterworks. Mascara smeared down her face, perfect updo unraveling, exhausted, snotty, blubbery sobbing into her dainty little manicured hands.  

Oh, God. Oh, Jesus. Oh, Mary and Joseph and Christmas and Justice and everything in between.

Lassiter freezes with the coffee and the purse precariously in arm, his exhausted body wedged within the half-open door, and stares at her. 

She stares back, equally frozen. Her watery miserable bloodshot eyes, already in the realm of grotesquely-Disney-princess-flavored large, grow unbearably larger until they achieve the size of small and glassy bluebell colored dinner plates. 

“Oh! C-Carlton,” she squeaks.

Then sniffles.

Her chin is wobbling.

Horror he did not know he was capable of feeling clouds his general consciousness. Panic, borne of a fight-or-flight instinct ingrained into the hard edged fiber of his belligerent being since aged twenty, wells up rapidly within his chest.

Even when confined to an ICU bed with a bullet hole in his goddamn shoulder, Shawn Spencer is still capable of causing him problems. One of these days, Lassiter's going to lock the little twerp up in that smelly corner alcove underneath Dobson’s desk for a full forty-eight hours – maybe more! – just to teach him a lesson.

Except O’Hara would probably disapprove.

Which is exactly the fucking problem, isn’t it.

“O – O’Hara,” he manages to croak, before squeezing with an ungaining shimmy through the rest of the way into the room. He makes it two awkward steps forward before a slow and sad zzziiip sounds out and O'Hara's too-full purse and the tray of coffees in his hands flop forward and overbalance. Fumbling, he tries to fit all the indiscernibly woman-ish bits and pieces of her handbag back together into some semblance of organization so she doesn't think he's gone through her things while also balancing the coffees in his other hand. A tube of lipstick clatters to the floor while a disastrous bundle of frilly pink yarn tangles itself around his arm. He can hear the faint sound of a nurse paging someone over the hospital speaker system and the white lights of the waiting room grate against his eyeballs.

Who carries their knitting in their purse to a car chase?

… O’Hara, he supposes. O’Hara does that. He already knew this about her.

"Goddam -- goddammit."

“... Carlton?” she says again, querulously, in the smallest, most pathetic tone of voice he has ever heard emit from her smiley pink mouth. She looks flustered, almost afraid, like he wasn’t supposed to see her like this.

He probably wasn't. She'd forgotten her bag in the back of Guster's stupid little car, she said not ten minutes ago, and could he please go grab it when he went to get the coffee? She'd stay behind and get started on their ass-load of paperwork. That was the deal! The straightforward, simple deal. Basic series of steps. He'd had to go get the keys from Gus, who'd finally convinced the doctors to let them into the surgery room. Abigail sat beside him, pale and shaken but pleasant. Shawn was sleeping but fine. The purse was half-spilled against the backseat but there. The day was over but not really, because Lassiter had been waiting, hands itching with a vicious twitchiness he hasn’t felt in a long time, to get the hell out of Santa Barbara General so he could head to the station – a place of blessed and reliable familiarity – and book their miserable scum sucking lowlife rat bastard shit stick of a perp away for life. 

Lot of buts today, he thinks. It's a generally unhelpful thought.

“You – coffee – I – here –” He clears his throat, gives up, and lets the twirling trail of little crocheted flowers dangle sadly from his arm. Then he frowns, and straightens up. “O’Hara,” he says, loudly and a little too firmly.

She looks anguished. It’s terrible. 

“I d-didn’t mean – I w-was only just – I’m like, really tired? And sometimes when you’re tired, y-you just n-need to – to cry a little bit, but that’s not –! There’s nothing wron – it’s fine, I am – J-just because he said – and I can't even go in the - it’s not even th-that – n-none of this means – it’s just been a v-very – day, and –”

Somehow the panicked and incoherent babbling is worse.

“Jesus,” is all he can offer, still holding the purse out like a fool.

She squeezes her eyes shut, as if trying to block some horrible and mortifying memory out, and buries her face in her hands again, giving up on her explanation. Her cheeks are red, with embarrassment and probably exhaustion. Lassiter is exhausted, and he’d definitely feel embarrassed if he was her. His stomach churns with discomfort. As he lamely uses the yarn to blot at the dribble of coffee that’s transferred onto his rumpled tie, he notices that his shirt is stained. Dirt and gravel and just one smear of blood, right over his stomach, where Shawn’s hand fumbled as Lassiter and Henry helped him get upright and against the car's vaguely cushioned backseat while they waited for the paramedics. 

He’s not stupid, or blind, no matter what the rest of the world likes to presume sometimes. He knows that whatever juvenile attachment O’Hara has to the Great And Irritating Thorn In His Side goes beyond the platonic and has elbowed itself into something greater than the immature and saccharine attraction that was regularly horrifying and – only sometimes – mildly amusing. Spencer is an idiot; O’Hara is not. 

Doesn’t make any of today feel different, though. 

He feels his shoulders sag. He feels the adrenaline drain out of him. He feels a surge of strange, complicated protectiveness trip over its metaphorical feet and land face-first in the back part of his throat, angry somehow, on her behalf – it’s difficult to explain precisely why – and then, through some cosmic magic that Shawn would probably claim he can commune with and Carlton absolutely does not believe in, his mouth opens of its own accord and her name comes out a second time, with more gentleness than he knew himself genuinely capable of:

“Juliet,” he says. 

Still awkward, and stilted, but maybe three percent less of a disaster. He watches his partner’s – his friend’s – mouth snap shut in surprise. He watches her sniff, and look at him a little desperately, a little lost, like even she’s not sure what to do with whatever horrible and unavoidable human indignity just accosted them. 

Lassiter swallows painfully and casts around for something else to say.

“You – you want a ride home?” he finally lands on.

Thank God: she nods. Exhaling loudly, he holds his arm out and the door open while Juliet scrambles to her feet in those confounding heels and accepts her bulky purse and his poorly-delivered grace with simple, slowly-settling determination. Or maybe it’s just plain relief.

He can work with that, he thinks, before absently raising one of the coffee cups to his mouth and immediately choking on the awful bitter sludge that is her black, one Stevia order.

“Oh, Carlton, this is undrinkable,” he hears her croak beside him, in between his own disgusted spluttering. He wonders miserably if Karen’s already worked her way through the interrogation he was so looking forward to conducting. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack twenty years premature …”

One of these days, he thinks again, wondering how many Tylenols it’ll take to kick the day’s headache. 

Spencer, chained to that desk armpit.

Forty-eight whole hours.

It’s a blissful fantasy that wouldn’t be possible if the man wasn’t going to be perfectly, one hundred percent alright, but that’s neither here nor there, just now; he said he would get his partner home.

The rest, he'll just have to figure out later.

[lotus02lavish]

some angst of breakup Headcanons with SWK, MK and Mayor from LMK? GN Reader btw. i just need some angst.

[Pain shall be fed into the beating heart] 💥

【If we ever broke up, I'd be sad. 💔】

{Sun Wukong, Mk, and Mayor breakup with GN! Reader}

➳ Lego Monkie kid (LMK) // Headcanons // Seperated // Angst! ✍🏻

──･ ｡ﾟ☆*. .* ☆ﾟ.──･☆ﾟ.──･｡ﾟ☆ *. .* ──

"You can love them, forgive them, want good things for them ... but still move on without them." - Mandy Hale.

Sun Wukong

The realization about a mortal human being and the immortal monkey king put into a loving relationship would not work.

Sun Wukong could give you his peaches of immortality to accompany him until the end of time. Except the horror that if you live forever, everyone and everything around you will move on. Somethings will die and forgotten without you. No peaches for you, hun.

Sun Wukong does not allowed to let anyone notice you as his lover, he just want to protect you from anyone that cause harm. Which makes you believe he is embarrassed to have you.

Sun Wukong is lacking the ability to explain of how he truly feeling towards you. From time to time again to have communication problems and abuse that cannot be solved.

In Sun Wukong's opinion, love is just another useless emotion to express that lead to heartbreak and disappointment. He is not ready to handle any of those qualities.

In conclusion, Sun Wukong is unexpectedly certain to break up with you, just to save you from himself. He is arrogant and a trickster is known to everyone who has heard of or had the chance to meet the legendary Monkey King.

"Eternal life can bring eternal suffering, I don't want you to feel the same way as me."

The fact that Sun Wukong has said his goodbyes to you and gone from your sight, the good thing is glad to know that you have great life and bright future ahead from destiny than his. The bad thing is, he will miss you deeply more than you ever know.

────･ ｡ﾟ☆*. .* ☆ﾟ.──･☆ﾟ.──･｡ﾟ☆ *. .* ──

"Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." - Marilyn Monroe.

MK

At first, Mk does not understand why you would choose someone like him to be your boyfriend, and he felt that not asking about it was better. He always thinking that he does not deserve your love.

Mk ponders about you cherish them because they are a powerful hero, and everything else within them has no importance. That is why the noodle boy worried that one day they would accidentally use their unnatural monkey magic skills to hurting you, and afraid they might fail to save you from danger.

Mk is often excusing himself with his training, delivering noodles, saving the world/universe, and joining his friends to avoid you.

Mk repeatedly forgets the important events, such as your birthday, the dating anniversary day, the national holidays, and meeting with your friends or family. Heis busy to handle with the fate of being heroic rest on his shoulders, and gaining more trauma through the rest of his journey.

One time, Mk send one of their clone to accompany you in the entire day. Later, the copy of them bluntly told you that they (Original self) actually felt forced in love and does not feel the same way as you anymore.

You have grown tired of him and finally choose to breakup for the best, which Mk had expected and planned this all along.

"I'm very sorry! You deserve someone else better than me."

Though still feeling awkward, you and Mk agree to became friends once again. Furthermore, both of you always ignoring the questions of "That's your ex?"

──･ ｡ﾟ☆*. .* ☆ﾟ.──･☆ﾟ.──･｡ﾟ☆ *. .* ──

"Sometimes the only way to let go is to love someone enough to want the best for him or her, even if that means not being together." - Anonymous

The Mayor

After years of dating, there is nothing special happening between the two of you. No happiness and no pleasure, just empty.

Oh, how unfortunate you do not know so much about him, even his real name is remain unknown. The Mayor is most likely to kept horrifying secrets and plans to himself from you.

Sadly, whenever the Mayor is near you, he did not have a smile on his face. Only emotionless can be seen in your eyes. Revealing his true colors.

The Mayor would rather focus on granting his Lady's requests than to spend all of his time with you.

It is a ridiculous suspicion that the Mayor is cheating on you simply because he worships The Lady Bone Demon as his only goddess until the bitter end.

At long last, you decided to breakup with the cold-hearted and odd man, his response is none other than a giggle and does not mind.

"You see, dear?" Mayor spoke up as he turn around, "letting someone go is actually easier than we thought."

At that exact moment, the Mayor show his silly toothy smile to you for one last time before he disappeared. Leaving you heartbroken and wish him for the best to accomplish his duty.

──･ ｡ﾟ☆*. .* ☆ﾟ.──･☆ﾟ.──･｡ﾟ☆ *. .* ──

True Colors - SLAVES

"Wait, did you ever take a moment just to think

About anyone, anyone other than yourself?!

Give me back the love I wasted now

Cold, one day it's gonna hit you, you're alone

I won't be there, won't be there

It's cruel to turn around

Give me back the love I wasted now."

[wh0re4harrington]

I’m Serious / Robin Buckley x Henderson!Reader

Summary- basically bsf to lovers, but it’s all fluff.

Warnings- none it’s all fluff oh and fem!reader duh cause it’s robin

Word count- 4.1k

A/N- I’m probably gonna right a pt 2 to this that will be smutty hehe, also please let me know if y’all like this, i tried to write the characters the most accurate as i could but i’m totally open to advice lol <3

“Ahoy” You said as you walked through the door of the family video, smiling at Steve as he rolled his eyes at you.

“Never gonna let me live it down huh?” He said

“Not a chance Harrington”

You, Steve, and Robin had all worked at Scoops Ahoy together last year before everything went to shit, and all three of you had ended up tied together in some russian base underneath the starcourt mall. It was a terrible situation but it made for a great bonding experience. You were just thankful yall got out of there before you got drugged like the other two.

You and Steve had become friends because of your little brother, Dustin, who somehow became attached to Steve's hip during the group's first round with the Mind Flayer. It didn’t bother you that he was always around because you knew Dustin needed him, Steve could give him advice that you couldn’t.

Besides it gave Steve someone to hangout with when you and Robin wanted to have girl time. After saving the world together you and Robin had become basically inseparable. She was your best friend, and probably the funniest person you’ve ever met. She complimented you very well, because she never shut up, and you loved to listen. It didn’t matter if she was ranting about some new avant guard french movie she saw, or the music she was working on for band, you were always happy to listen, and chime in whenever she ran out of breath.

“Here to pick out you and Robin’s movie for tonight?” Steve asked as you reached the counter, leaning on it with your elbows.

“Yup, I think I want some time of romantic drama today, figured it would be better than last week when we watched Nightmare on Elm Street” You chuckled.

“No I’m serious Y/N, what if it’s real?! I mean if the upside down is real how can you be so sure that some man won’t creep into my dreams and murder me right here in your bed???” Robin said frantically “ I mean seriously we fought a giant monster made out of human flesh and rats with a girl who can move things with her mind! Her mind Y/N! Anything is possible!” She paused for a breath.

“I'm sure he isn’t real Robin, we can sleep” You had said trying to convince her

“I’m going to make a cup of coffee” She said before quickly getting up. “Being murdered in my sleep is my second biggest fear you know! Right behind rabies!” She had shouted while jogging down the hall.

“Yeah, that is the last time we watch a horror movie” You said.

“Hey I told you when you rented it, that it was a bad idea” Steve said while rewinding the tape on some random movie. “You just don’t listen”

“I listen” You protested leaving the counter and walking towards the drama section “Just not to someone who uses Farrah Fawcett hair spray” You laughed running your fingers along the VHS tapes that started with the letter A.

“I swear to god I’m gonna kill your brother, Henderson” Steve said “I said that in confidence” He mumbled upset.

You disagreed though, it wasn’t a bad idea.

You breathed in through your nose, the smell of peaches and warm vanilla filled your nose. You had always loved the way Robin’s shampoo and perfume mixed to cause this intoxicating aroma. After a few hours of claiming she was gonna get murdered in her sleep Robin had finally gone to bed, her arm was strewn across your body and you were facing each other. You examined your messy hair, tousled from sleep, and all her little freckles, the way she rose and fell with breath. You felt a butterfly in stomach as she unconsciously pulled you towards her. And thats when you snapped out of it. ‘Oh my god’ You had thought. ‘I can’t think about her like that, she is a girl and not just any girl, my best friend.’ You panicked and scooted away, rolling over. ‘And I like guys right? Right?’

You had stayed up the rest of the night, mulling over in your head what it meant, the butterflies. You thought back to all the times you had hangout with Robin, and the way she made you feel. ‘Shit.’ You thought. ‘I like Robin’

You didn’t see anything that peaked your interest in the A section, you moved onto the Bs. “hmmm” You hummed while you read the titles until one caught your “The Bostonians” You mumbled as you grabbed it and walked towards the counters.

“Harrington, will you pull up Robins rental history, I don’t wanna spend money on a movie she has already seen”

“Alrighty, uh what movie is it?” He asked while staring at the computer screen.

“The Bostonians,” You said.

“Nope, you’re good” He said and you slide the VHS over the counter towards him.

“Okay cool” You smiled.

“Oh my Mom watched this the other day, apparently there are lesbians in the movie, so Robin sh-” Steve cut himself off. You raised an eyebrow at him, suddenly nervous that maybe Robin would think it was weird that you had picked out that movie, and maybe she would catch on to the fact that you might be lesbian.

Steve must’ve seen the panic on your face because he quickly began talking again “I mean uh, Robin will love it the cinematography is right up her alley, lots of artsy shots and symbolism or whatever” He said handing you back the movie as you passed him some cash. You were nervous now, well more than you already were before finding out that you were bringing a lesbian movie to your best friends house who you might have feelings for.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, looking at you concerned.

“I- uh um yeah” You fake laughed “ Why would I be nervous? It’s just lesbians? Why would that bother me? Is there something wrong with a girl having feelings for another girl Steve?” You word vomited out.

“I-I, no no there isn’t anything wrong with- I love lesbians” Steve said flustered, you looked at him weirdly “ I mean- No not like in a pervy way- I just mean that they are cool. Like nothing wrong with it. I support them or- I'm an ally…I think thats the word for it” He said.

“Oh…cool…good” You smiled at him, turning to leave.

“I didn’t say you were nervous by the way!” He said looking at you questioningly. You froze, turning back around.

“You didn’t? Oh silly me” You laughed nervously

“Are you? Are you nervous to hangout with Robin?” He asked still confused

“Whaaat? No? Pfft” You huff trying to play it cool like Steve wasn’t about to piece everything together.

“Uh Yes you are!” He said triumphantly “But why would you be- Unless…” It looked like a lightbulb went off in his head “OH MY GOD” He squealed “You have a cr-”

You cut him off by running up and slamming your hand over his mouth.

“Harrington!” You whisper yelled “Shut the fuck up right now, before someone walks in, or Keith hears” You said, his eyes where wide as you removed your hand.

“I didn’t know you where gay!” He whispered “Why didn’t I know this, we have been friends for so long!”

“Well I didn’t know till like a week ago so” You huffed

“That explains why you never tried to flirt with me” He laughed

“Yup okay I'm leaving now Steve” You rolled your eyes before turning to leave,for real this time.

“I won’t say anything!” He said “But you should tell her! Trust me!” He said before the door closed behind you. What did he mean by that, ‘Trust me?’.

One Year Earlier

Robins POV

“Have you…ever been in love?” I questioned Steve, while sitting on the bathroom floor after just puking my guts out cause I was drugged by Russians in a base underneath the mall.

“Yup, Nancy Wheeler, first semester senior year” He says through the stall, before doing a fake gunshot sound.

“Oh my god” I rolled my eyes at him “She is such a priss” I said thinking about Nancy Wheeler, chief editor of the school paper, valedictorian of my grade, I think she is dating Jonathan Byers

Steve paused “Hm. Turns out, not really”

I scoffed at him “Are you still in love with Nancy?” I prodded

He paused for a moment “No.” He said finally

“Why not?”

Another pause.

“I guess because I found someone who is a little bit better for me.” He pauses again.

I think in my head, I think about Y/N.

“Its crazy” He continued “Ever since Dustin got home he’s been saying You gotta find your Suzie, You gotta find your Suzie” He said

Suddenly I was confused, I’m sure he is talking about Y/N which hurts but who was Suzie?

“Wait who’s Suzie” I ask

“It’s some girl from camp” He breathed from the other stall “ I guess his girlfriend? To be honest with you I’m not even 100 percent sure she's even real” He chuckled

I nodded my head, less confused now.

“But thats not- thats not really the point” He paused “That doesn’t matter, the point is, this girl, you know, the one the one that I like” He pauses. My heart clenches, if it’s Y/N I’ll just have to suck it up, they are my friends first, and there is no way someone wouldn’t like Steve back, he is Steve Harrington for crying out loud.

“It’s somebody that I didn’t even talk to in school.” He pauses, and now I’m confused again because I remember watching Steve and Y/N have conversations in Mrs. Clicks class. “And I don’t even know why” He continued “ Maybe cause Tommy H. would’ve made fun of me or I wouldn’t be prom king” He paused

“It’s stupid” He huffed “I mean Dustins right, it’s all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because when I think about it, I should’ve been hanging out with this girl the whole time. Cause first of all she’s hilarious. She’s so funny. I feel like, this summer, I have laughed harder than I have laughed in a really long time…And she’s smart, way smarter than me.”

That’s when things start to click for me and my heart hurts. Steve is opening up to me about this, and I can’t even reciprocate it.

He continues “You know, she can crack, like, top secret russian codes, and…You know? She is honestly unlike anyone I have ever met before.” He finished

My heart breaks as I lower my head between my knees. ‘Fuck’ I think. I bring my hands up and run them through my hair.

“Robin?” He asks softly before taping on the stall wall in between us. “Robin, Did you just OD in there?” He asked, concerned.

“No” I say, letting out a sigh. “I…am still alive” I breathe. And sigh again knowing that I was going to have to decide whether I was about to come out to the first time, to none other the Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington or lie to him by making up some other reason. But the worst part of it was that either way I was going to be hurting him, someone who despite all the odds, is one of my best friends. I lean back against the wall propping my leg up against the stall. Thats when I hear the squeak of Steve’s shoe as he slides under, into my stall.

“That floor is disgusting” I say looking at him, his face was all busted up and swollen.

“Yeah, well I already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt, so..” He jokes dryly and I chuckle a little.

“What do you think?” He asks.

“About?” I respond trying to play dumb.

“This girl.”

“She sounds awesome” I say still avoiding

“She is awesome.” He nods his head “ And what about the guy?”  He asked

“I think he is on drugs, and he’s not thinking straight” I responded hoping he was just high and babbling, but knowing that wasn’t the case.

“Really? Cause I think he is thinking a lot more clearly than usual” He responds looking me in the eyes.

“He’s not.” I say harshly before continuing “Look, he doesn’t even know this girl.” I continued, the look in his eyes wasn't upset, or angry, but instead it was full of care, and that is when I decided. “And if he did know her, like-like really know her, I don’t think he would even want to be her friend.” The words hurt as I said them, the fear creeping into my voice.

“No, that’s not true” Steve said “No way is that true” He leaned forward.

“Listen to me Steve,” I said nervously. I am really about to do this. “It’s shocked me to my core, but I like you” I pause “I really like you, but I’m not like your other friends, and I’m not like Nancy Wheeler.” I say hoping that's enough.

“Robin, that’s exactly why I like you.” He said clearly not getting it.

“Do you remember what I said about Mrs. Click’s class? About me being jealous and, like, obsessed?” I asked

He nods, “Yeah”

“It isn’t because I had a crush on you.” I take a deep breathe in preparation “It’s because she wouldn’t stop staring at you.” I said

Steve being visibly confused, “Mrs. Click?” He asked puzzled and I laughed.

“Y/N” I answered “I wanted her to look at me. But” I breathe “She couldn’t pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair.” I say glancing up at his hair somehow still perfect atop his head. “And I didn’t understand, because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor. And you asked dumb questions. And you were a douchebag.” I pause as he stared back at me

“And-And you didn’t even like her and I would go home and just scream into my pillow.And then this summer, I see it again, the way she laughs more when you’re around, and getting to know her, the music she likes, her laugh, I- I just” I said stopping before the lump in my throat got to big. He looked at my confused

“But…Y/N’s a girl…” He said looking at me still not getting it.

“Steve” I whisper, begging him to figure it out.

“Yeah?” He said, and I could see it click in his brain. “Oh.” He said softly

“Oh” I nodded my head.

“Holy shit”

“Yeah” I looked up “Holy shit” I can’t believe I actually just came out to Steve. We sat in silence for a few moments, the air felt heavy “Steve, did you OD over there?” I asked.

“No, I just, uh just thinking” He said looking at his hands

“Okay” I said quietly, nervous.

“I mean yeah Y/N, you know she’s cute and all, but I mean she’s a total nerd” He said smiling at me. And suddenly the air felt lighter

Present

It had been a few hours since you had that odd interaction/accidental coming out with Steve and you were now nervously waiting outside of Robin's house for her so you could drive to your house to watch the movie, since your parents weren’t home.

You couldn’t stop replaying that last thing Steve had said over in your head. Why would he want you to tell her? Did he want you to risk ruining your friendship? Or did he know something you didn’t? These questions had been plaguing your mind all day to the point that you had even asked Dustin where Eddie lived and gone to buy some pre-rolls. You had smoked before, the occasional joint shared between you and Steve wasn’t unusual, and sometimes Robin had joined in on the fun. Your plan was to bring it up casually before the movie started, to try and use it to calm your nerves.

Finally Robin comes out of the house, and makes her way to your passenger seat.

“Hey Henderson” She smiled, chewing on some gum. Suddenly you didn’t feel so nervous, it was just Robin, she was your best friend.

“Hi” You chuckled as she put her seat belt on, you watched, making sure it buckled before you backed out. “Is that a new ring?” You asked, noticing one with a black jewel.

“Yeah, you like it?” She asked, wiggling her finger in front of your face. “Isn't it cool? I thought it would make me look all mysterious, you know? Cause it's black” She said, pulling hand back to look at it herself. You chuckled, and seemingly from nowhere gained the confidence to test the waters

“I like it, it’s hot” You said trying to sound nonchalant, you could see Robin freeze, blushing. “And mysterious” You added looking over at her smiling.

“Thanks-uh thank you” She smiled, blush still lingering on her cheeks, which to you was a good sign “So uh, what movie did you pick?” She said after clearing her throat.

“The Bostonians”

“Is that the one where the girl is in love with the other girl?” Robin asked, playing with her rings.

“Yeah. You know you can just say lesbians?” You raised an eyebrows.

“Oh yeah I know.” She said, “I just- I uh didn’t think you would like uh- those kinds of movies” She said sounding almost nervous, which in turn made you nervous because what if she was uncomfortable and maybe this was a bad idea.

“Oh uh…do you want to grab a different one? If I speed we can make it before Family Video closes” You said nervously, checking the time on your watch

“No!” She said quickly “I-I want to watch it”

“Okay, uh me too” You cleared your throat “I- uh I went by Eddies earlier”

“Munson?” She asked, raising an eyebrow, while bringing her hand up to bite her nails.

“Yeah, he plays DnD with Dustin” You said “He also happens to sell these babies”

You reach over and open the glove box, where 2 perfectly rolled joints sit.

Robin grabs one and rolls it between her fingers “Oh so it’s that kind of movie night?” She laughs and you nod “In that case we should stop and get snack, cause last time we smoked with Steve he only had barbecue chips, and you know I’m a salt and vinegar person so I was like starving and I can not do that again”

“Your wish is my command”

You pull into the first gas station you see for snacks.

“All right princess, let’s go” You say getting out of the car. Robin rolls her eyes at the pet name, walking into the gas station.

“Hmmm well we definitely need peanut M&Ms because they are simply the best candy, crunchy and sweet and not messy. But then we need something sour to cut the sweetness, so nerds ropes cause again they are crunchy” Robin says as she walks down the candy aisle. “But we can’t just have candy, and I don’t like the way popcorn butter makes my mouth feel so I’m thinking…Bugles?” She turns  

“Whatever you want” You smile, grabbing the M&Ms and Nerds Ropes

“Well you're no help” She huffed before grabbing a bag, she made her way over to the drink cooler and grabbed a mountain dew and a doctor pepper.

“Aw, you knew what I wanted” You say, hip bumping her.

“Well yeah, you get the same thing everytime” She chuckled “Besides I think I know everything about you”

“Not everything” You say, bumping your eyebrows and walking towards the counter.

“What? What do you mean? I-I how? We have played 20 questions at least once a week for the past year! There aren’t any questions left!”

The snacks were laid out on your living room floor in front of the mess of blankets and pillows you and Robin had thrown on the floor until you thought it was comfortable enough.

“Dammit” You mumbled with the joint between your lips. The lighter was being a bitch and not working.

“Here let me” Robin said, scooting closer and grabbing the lighter from your hands. Her fingers were soft, and her rings were cold, you could feel her touch linger there even after she grabbed the lighter. She leaned in, her face much closer to yours. You examined her face as she brought the lighter up to the end of joint, lighting it on her first try. Her face lingered there, in the closeness, for a moment. Something about what just happened seemed oddly intimate for such a mundane thing.

“Uh- wow you made it seem easy” You say before taking a drag. You hold in the smoke for a few moments.

“I have the magic touch” She chuckled. You blew out a soft cloud of smoke before laying back onto the pillows. Robin followed suit, layin down as you passed her the joint. You watched as she took the joint between her lips. She looked so perfect in that moment, hair strewn out, her ringing fingers holding a joint, laying next to you, that familiar peach and vanilla smell now laced with weed.

“Pretty” You whispered, not sure she could even hear you. She didn’t respond but you knew she heard because of the soft rose color that spread across her cheeks as she let out the smoke.

“Jeez Henderson, making me blush today huh?” She tried to play it cool, offering back the joint.

“Just being honest Buckley” You said, before taking another long drag.

“Oh shut it” She said shoving your arm

“What? I said you’re pretty? I’m not lying” You said releasing your hit.

“Come on, you have to say that” Robin argued

“Robin seriously?” You raised an eyebrow, turning onto your side, leaning on your elbow. “You’re like a total smoke show” You said.

“Y/N stop” She said covering her face “For real.”

“No Robin, I’m serious you are hot, like have you looked in a mirror?”

“Y/N” She said softly, suddenly the mood in the room shifted. “Please, stop”

You stared at her, she seemed sad, which confused you cause you were trying to give her a compliment. Maybe she thought you were joking.

“Rob, are you okay?” You asked, reaching towards her but she rolled away from your touch. “Come on Robin, talk to me” Still no response, which caused your heart to feel like it was being squeezed “I- I’m sorry, I don’t whats wrong, but I’m really sorry”

“You didn’t do anything wrong” She said, finally rolling back towards you.

“Well then why are you upset?” You asked. “I was being serious Rob”

“That’s just it Y/N, I know you were being serious, it's just-...I- it’s just nothing. It's nothing.” she said, sitting up. “Lets just watch  the movie” She said as she got up to go press play.

“No” You said sitting up, you were upset that she wasn’t telling you why she was sad “It’s not nothing. You’re upset, I want to know what is wrong Robin. This isn’t like you, you’re my best friend and I-”

She cut you off “Thats it Y/N, I’m your best friend, but I don’t want to be your best friend” She said turning back towards you. Your heart sank as the words fell from her mouth. You could feel the immediate lump forming in your throat, maybe you had been too forward with the hints. Maybe she thought you were some sort of freak lesbian, and wanted nothing to do with you. “I want to be everything to you Y/N. Because that is what you are to me, I want to be able to hug you, touch you, and say everything I have been wanting to say for so long. My world has revolved around you since Mrs. Clicks class sophomore year, and after last summer you have made my life so much better. Everytime I’m around you it’s like the world stops spinning and all the noise in my head goes away. I’m sorry I was upset but it's so hard to hear you say that about me when I know you don’t mean it the way I want you to mean it. I want you to call me pretty the way a boy calls a girl pretty and I'm sorry if I am totally ruining everything right now but-”

“Robin.” You cut her off. Your heart was beating out of your chest with pure unfiltered happiness. You stood to walk over to her

“Yeah?” She choked out nervously

“Stop talking” You said before cupping her face and kissing her.

The kiss was full of emotion and passion, it was like you both had been waiting your whole lives for this moment and honestly you were. After a few moments you pulled away from each other, resting your forehead on hers.

“Woah” She said, looking at you shocked.

“I told you I was being serious” You giggled.

[emeren]

sweet dreams- eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x reader 

word count: 870 (v short) 

content warnings: SLIGHT MANGA CHAPTER 138 SPOILERS, other than that there’s none :)

notes: hey so i’ve been crying nonstop abt chapter 138, literally my heart is  broken. i decided to write out this little angsty/fluff one shot to make myself feel better but i just ended up hurting more 😃 i hope you guys enjoy <3 

SUMMARY: reader has a painful dream and eren comforts them.

to the boy who sought freedom, goodbye.

your eyelids are a heavy beast to tame; weighed down by the drowsiness of slumber. it’s as though they refuse to open, wanting to trap you in the horrifying dream world your brain has orchestrated. and somehow, it felt as though it’d been real life itself. 

you jerk forward with a start, not quite sure where you are. all you can remember is the dead look in his grey eyes; the acceptance in his stare. it’s haunting and terrifying and consumes your emotions. your eyes are open, but everything is fuzzy. eren’s gone?

“bad dream?” a voice asks, clouded with an intangible concern. your breathing is shallow and deep as you turn around. 

he is lit beautifully; warm afternoon glow illuminating his face. his dark brows are pulled down in worry, a book folded in his left hand. something about the scene is dreamlike itself; he leans against a tree as a soft breeze blows through his shoulder length hair. 

you don’t recognize him at first. his face isn’t sunken with the death of thousands, nor are his eyes soulless and accepting. his skin is tanned and healthy, free of scars. his look of worry deepens. “why are you crying?” 

you bring a hand to your face, heart impossibly heavy. your cheeks are wet with tears, a testament to the horrors you’ve just endured. you feel a waft of confusion as you look back to the boy. he’s leaning forward, bringing his hand up to wipe the tears from your face.

“eren,” you breathe, confirmation and reassurance as his rough thumb swipes at the skin. there’s a small smile on his angelic features. seeing him is like a gift from heaven. 

your heart still hangs heavy for this boy; for the pain and suffering he endured in another life. his large hand engulfs your face as you begin to sob. is this real?

“hey, shhh, shhh,” he comforts, pulling you to his broad chest. you grasp at his shirt, desperately wishing for the feeling to be gone. “it’s okay, it’s okay. what was the dream about?” 

you open your mouth to reply, but the events are escaping through your brain; determined to be a torment for you and you alone. “i... i don’t remember.” 

eren chuckles softly, rubbing your back gently. he smells like sunscreen and peaches. you can no longer remember the horrible events from your dream, but the feeling lingers. eren guides your head into his lap, reassuringly scratching at your scalp. 

“whatever it was, it’s over now,” he hums. you hold your hands to your chest, gazing up at him as he smiles down at you. peaceful and warm, nearly enough to drive the pain away.

“it was horrible,” you choke, trying to grasp the last details as they threaten to leave the crevasses of your mind. eren nods in encouragement, focused intently on you. “you were- you- everyone was dying.” 

“hey, it’s okay. i’m as alive as ever,” he grins, a sight to charm even the most depressed of people. “we’re all okay.” 

distantly you hear laughter; it’s hypnotic and melodious, a charming sound. you sit up, your eyes settling on a group of people. they’re running around, chasing each other with what appears to be water balloons. 

you watch them for a moment; blissfully enjoying the summer warmth and freshness. connie has a water gun, chasing sasha as she ducks behind jean. armin dodges a sneak attack by a smiling mikasa. they laugh and squeal as though there isn’t a care in the world. 

“see?” eren intertwines his fingers with yours. you feel your lips tug upwards at the sight of your friends. “we came here for a picnic and you got tired. decided to take a nap in my lap while i read.” 

you look back at him, tears prickling at your eyes. he’s surprised by your expression, but you can’t contain the feeling of relief that’s washing over your body, stretching to every tip of your fingers. “i’m so glad.” 

you close your eyes and relish the feeling. it smells like freshly mowed grass; you can hear the buzzing of a bee and the giggles of your friends. and eren is there, rubbing circles into the back of your hand. maybe everything is okay. 

as you settle back into his lap, the pain in your heart begins to dissipate. everyone you love and care for so deeply is here and healthy, acting as normal teenagers should. eren leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“eren?” you ask as he pulls back. his eyes are on his friends in the distance, a look of adoration on his features. he hums in acknowledgement, still watching them. 

“yes, pretty?” you smile at the nickname. 

he looks back down to you, teal eyes glinting in the light. the way his soft hair sways gently in the wind soothing you even further. 

“will you read to me?” you continue. the question causes eren’s face to soften. he nods tentatively, pulling the book up. you watch as the green leaves rustle. 

“the choice for mankind lies between freedom and happiness, and for the great bulk of mankind, happiness is better....”

<3 <3 <3

[marvelmusing]

Making Time

Mobius M Mobius x Reader

Part 4

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

You’re stood waiting beside Mobius’s locker when you hear him and Loki approaching.

“Good enough for a face to face with the Time-Keepers?” Loki asks him.

“I didn’t say that.” Mobius replies with a chuckle. “One step at a time.” Loki nods,

“One step at a time, right.” Mobius pulls out a pair of knives, handing them to Loki who looks ecstatic.

“Just in case.” The moment Loki gets his hand on them, they’re pulled away from him.

“Absolutely not.” B-15 says, putting them away in her own locker. You can’t help but laugh, a sympathetic look on your face for Loki. “Gather round for a briefing.” She calls out. As you, Mobius, Loki, and the hunter task force gather by the Timedoors, B-15 begins the briefing. “Roxxcart is a vast superstore common to the era. It consists of a series of sprawling sections, including a large warehouse. This warehouse is being used by civilians as a shelter tryin' to ride out the storm. Remember, this is a class ten apocalypse. While the Variant shouldn't know we're coming, he could be hiding anywhere and should be considered hostile. So stay alert. Every time there is an attack, the Variant steals a reset charge. He's planning something. We just don't know what. So keep an eye out for the missing charges, and if you see a Loki, prune it.” You don’t like her word choice there, and you glance at Loki.

“The bad Loki, preferably.” He adds, and you smirk.

Taking a deep breath, you follow Mobius through the Timedoor in front of you. The rain is relentless, though you didn’t expect any less for such a horrendous disaster. You pull your raincoat tighter around you. Mobius keeps an arm around you, as you sway precariously with the violent winds.

“Anything?” He shouts to B-15. She shakes her head,

“Nothing. Move out!” She calls out, and you follow the task force as they make their way to the entrance to the store. The automatic doors open, and you quickly pull your hood down. You shake a little, trying to remove some of the water from your coat.

“So this is 2050.” You say, observing the inside of the superstore. “You know I’d be 54 now?” You tell Mobius, as you look out into the storm. You wonder where you are now. Where the right version of you is, who didn’t accidentally create a nexus event. Mobius looks down at you with a gentle expression on his face.

“Wow. You know I thought I saw a few grey hairs the other day-“ he starts, leaning to examine your head. You swat his hand away playfully, and he chuckles at you, glad to see you smile. B-15 clears her throat from nearby. You and Mobius turn to face her quickly.

“Take both teams and sweep the storm shelter.” She orders one of the hunters. “Loki and I are gonna check out the Green House. We'll meet-“

“No.” Mobius interrupts.

“No?”

“[Y/N] you go with B-15.” You look at him with wide eyes. “Loki stays with me.”

“How do we know he’s not going to run off with the Variant at the first chance he gets?” She argues.

“He's under my supervision.”

“This is my field op, Mobius. If he's not a threat, then it won’t be a problem-“

“Of course he's a threat. Remember the Time Theater?”

“Mobius...”

“I want him with me.”

“What if I run off?” You say suddenly. They both stop arguing to look at you. Mobius frowns,

“What?”

“If Loki ran off he’d be both in the future and on the wrong planet. This is both my timeline and my home. If anyone’s going to run off it’s me.”

“You’re not from Alabama.” Mobius states.

“I could get on a plane.” You argue.

“During a hurricane?” Loki steps between the two of you.

“Mobius, it's fine. It's fine. You can trust me. I understand I have to earn that, so I will.”

“Why is it the people you can't trust are always saying trust me?” Mobius says. “Okay, try to hang on to your Time Collar this time.” You and Mobius begin to walk in one direction, with B-15 and Loki walking the opposite way. The two of you follow one of the hunters until something attracts your attention. You pick it up and your face breaks into a wide smile. “[Y/N]?” Mobius calls out, concerned that you’ve trailed behind. He looks down at what you have in your hands. A Zoomer the Robot Dog. He sighs, “Is now the time for shopping?” You frown lightly at him.

“My sister had one of these.” You say, trying to sound nonchalant but you can’t help the feeling from creeping into your voice. He smiles softly,

“What did she name him?”

“Zoomer.” He nods, laughing quietly,

“Original.” You laugh too.

“Hey, it’s a cute name.”

“I guess.” He pauses for a moment, before adding gently, “You do remember we’re on a mission right?” You nod.

“Yeah, of course.” You set the box back down on the shelf. “Let’s go.” The two of you soon catch up with the hunters. You enter the storage warehouse, where there’s a huge number of civilians crammed inside, hoping to brave out the storm. Hunter D-90 pushes through the crowd,

“Check the bags for the reset charges. Could be any one of them.” A man approaches Mobius, asking him,

“You guys FEMA? National Guard? Well, hey, if you got a copter or other transport, now is the time to use it. We got women and kids, and that weather ain't playin.”

“No, I'm sorry. We don't.”

“Well, how the heck did you get here?” Mobius ignores him, moving towards D-90 who’s aggressively seizing people’s bags and rummaging through them.

“What are you doing? Hey! These people are scared.”

“They're about to die. They should be scared.” He replies, far too calmly. Mobius returns his state.

“Okay. Not of us. Take it easy-” One of the hunters returns, looking anxious as he calls out for Mobius,

“Sir!”

“What is it?” You and Mobius follow the hunter as he leads you to a security office. Once inside you see C-20, the hunter who’d been taken by the Loki, tied up on the floor. She’s muttering to herself, a far away look in her eyes as she repeats over and over,

“It’s real, it’s real, it’s real. It was real. It was real.” Mobius crouches down in front of her, and you sit by her side.

“What's real? What's-“ Mobius starts.

“She’s off the dial.” D-90 mutters. You shoot him a frustrated look.

“Look at me.” Mobius says to her. Her eyes meet his and she says,

“I wanna go home.”

“We’ll get you home, I promise.” You tell her. Mobius nods, turning to one of the hunters,

“Call the TVA, let the infirmary know-“

“No, no, no, I gave it away. I gave it away.”

“What did you give away?”

“The Time-Keepers. Where they are. I gave it away how to find them.” Mobius reaches forward, holding her arm gently. You begin to untie the bindings around her ankles. Once you get her free, you and Mobius head out to look for B-15 and Loki.

“Is it standard TVA knowledge to just know where the Time-Keepers are?” You ask Mobius as you make your way back through the store. “Would a Variant be able to kill the Time-Keepers? Why would a Loki even want to go after the Time-Keepers?”

“Look I don’t know okay!” Mobius sighs, he begins to walk faster in agitation. You nod, clearly your questions aren’t helping.

“Sorry. Let’s just find Loki.” As you’re passing through an aisle B-15 calls out,

“Mobius!”

“Where’s Loki?” You ask her.

“I lost him.”

“What happened?” She shrugs, seemingly lost for words.

“Looks like your favourite Loki betrayed you.” D-90 reamarks. You roll your eyes at your least favourite TVA worker.

“Just move!” Mobius orders as the four of you begin to run through the store. Your group doesn’t make it far before the lights go out. You stop running as you’re plunged into darkness. Then the amber glow of reset charges surround you, a chorus of chirps ringing in your ears as they change to purple. You’re preparing to get disintegrated, until the charges slowly begin to disappear, dropping down through tiny Timedoors. “Where are they going?” you hear Mobius ask. Your TemPad pings and you quickly pull it out of your pocket. With shaking hands you bring up the timeline, watching in horror as an increasing number of branches appear.

“I’ve found them.” Mobius steps towards you and you hand him the TemPad. You both share a terrified look.

“Where’s Loki?” He asks, and your group sets off running again. You look through aisle after aisle, the red lights glowing down on you. Then you spot him.

“Loki!” You call out. Mobius is beside you as you both run towards Loki. Loki stands beside a Timedoor, looking back at you. He seems to hesitate, as he hovers by the door.

“Loki! Loki, wait! Wait! Loki, wait! No! Wait, Loki!” Mobius yells as you race to him. Then Loki passes through the door. As you and Mobius reach for him, the door closes. The group stops, and you turn away in annoyance. You were so close. “Damn it!” Mobius cries out. You turn back to face him. Well that could have gone a lot better.

Tagslist: @n0obmaster69 @mackycat11 @wibblywobblyjeremybearimy @boriqs @aloisia @fandom-lover-4 @lam-ila @momos-peaches @gracey07 @morganwilliams @greeneyedblondie44

If you’d like to be tagged, just ask!!

[arashikitten]

What the Shadows Bring to Light

   Wukong liked to think he had a sixth sense when it came to certain things. In a way, he sort of did, what with the golden eyes and demon sensing capabilities. But he also liked to think that he had a sort of foresight, an ability to know if something was wrong regardless of whether or not he was there if or when something bad happened.

   It was something that had grown even stronger as he started to train Qi Xiaotian, which he attributed to the kid’s almost uncanny ability to stumble upon powerful demons, most of whom hadn’t been seen in well over 300 years. Seriously, the kid’s ability to get into trouble would have almost been something to be respected, if not for the fact that he made it very difficult for Wukong not to leap into battle to help whenever Xiaotian got even a little hurt. Xiaotian needed to learn how to do all of this himself: eventually, he’d need to grow out of the Monkey King’s shadow.

   Which was why he’d been attempting to ignore the overwhelming feeling of wrongness that had been slowly creeping up in the past three months. It had started when his friend, the daughter of one of the dragon families, had called Xiaotian in a panic during his training. Something about a giant monster destroying the city, they needed the kid’s help to stop it, the usual. No reason to be worried.

   But then Wukong got a glimpse of the creature from the kids phone, and suddenly there was a swirl of familiarity mixed with deep seated unease. He knew, knew, that he had seen that creature somewhere before, but every time he tried to remember just who or what it was,he came up blank.

So, he’d let the kid go and fight. An uncharacteristic sense of worry settled in his gut, as if trying to warn him that something, something was wrong. Wukong, for the first time in almost twenty years, was unable to go to sleep that night. Worry and anxiety were a crushing weight on him, his mind wandering down dark paths as he attempted to lull himself to sleep.

This led to him being rather… irritable the next day, snapping at Xiaotian in his sleep deprived state. The look the kid had given him, frustrated and confused and hurt, caused a tidal wave of guilt to crash over him, and he had cringed slightly before offering the kid a bag of peach chips as an attempt at an apology. He’d taken them, and hurt and frustration were replaced with concern that just made Wukong feel even shittier.

At least the kid had been ok.

This tension, this oppressive anxiety, continued for three months, fluctuating in severity. Sometimes, it was barely noticeable, nothing more than a small buzz in the back of his head. Other times, it was thick and heavy, covering him like a weighted blanket, stifling the air from his lungs and making his ears ring. There was an ever present danger, lurking beneath the calm veneer of his training with Xiaotian, and it scared the hell out of Wukong. Something, someone, was after his successor, and Wukong had a feeling that whatever it was, it would be much more powerful than the Demon Bull Fam.

And then, last night, something changed. He’d been jolted out of a restless sort of sleep in a panic, terror and worry and dread suffocating him in the beginning of a panic attack as visions of Xiaotian laying bloodied and burned on the ground flooded his brain, shoving out any thoughts of calm or peace that tried to tell him that his kid was safe, that wasn’t- isn’t real, his kid was alive-

Macaque. Wukong’s blood froze. No. No no no nononono. Macaque was dead. He’d been dead for years, gone like dust in the wind. He’d been there, he’d been the one to do it. He’d seen the light vanish from Macaque’s eyes, heard his final breath.

Macaque was dead.

But even through those self-assurances, even as he replayed the memory on loop in his head, he knew. He knew Macaque was alive and well, that he was still out there, that his kid was in danger-

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the creeping dread lifted. Fear, terror, concern, they all flooded him like a village before a demon, leaving him tired and drained and confused as hell. The dread-feeling, the ever-present anxiety that Wukong had begun to just accept as a part of his life now, just disappeared, poof! Even the low humming, the slight buzzing in the back of his head, was gone, and for the first time in three months, Wukong’s head was quiet.

Wukong sat back on his little cloud, head in his hands as he sighed. He was being ridiculous. Macaque was absolutely, 100% dead. He’d been there, he’d seen it with his own two eyes: Macaque was dead. Gone. Absent from the world of the living. He couldn’t hurt Xiaotian.

His kid was safe.

——————— ——————— ——————— ———————

   The next morning, the kid had shown up to Flower Fruit mountain at exactly 12:30. He seemed happy, bouncing around the cave with his usual boundless energy. There were no injuries that he could see, aside from a small bruise on the kid’s forehead that he got from running into a tree on his way here. The kid was happy and appeared to be fairly relaxed, no hidden worry or fear in his eyes to suggest that anything bad had happened.

   In fact…

   Wukong surreptitiously activated his demon sight. Xiaotian’s aura, which always glowed the same golden color as his own, was way brighter than Wukong could ever remember seeing it. Even when the kid had first lifted the staff, when his aura had first flared out like a small supernova, it hadn’t been as strong as it was now.

   Just what had happened?

   “Hey, Xiaotian. Did anything… particularly strange happen last night? Anything that you can remember?” The kid stopped what he was doing and looked up at Wukong curiously.

   “I… I don’t think so? Why?” Concern overtook curiosity, and Xiaotian blurted out “Did something bad happen? Did someone from the court of Heaven send you a message?! DID-“

   Wukong shoved a peach chip at the kid’s face, effectively shutting him up. Wukong let out a heavy sigh.

   “No, kiddo, it’s nothing like that. It’s just….” Wukong fell silent. That nagging worry, the concern and protectiveness surged back, like the waves at high tide. He didn’t want his so- his successor to freak out, as the young human was prone to doing.

   Wukong closed his eyes and let out a small sigh. He’d have to tell Xiaotian eventually. Better to rip the bandaid off now.

   “You know how I have the ability to see demons? Even when… even when they’re in disguise?” Xiaotian nodded, of course. He was still a massive fan boy, after all.

   “Well… that ability, it’s not just limited to seeing demons in disguise. I can also sense them from miles away, regardless of whether or not they’re in sight. Kind of like- like a um, a spider-sense, if you will.” Xiaotian nodded along, looking fascinated, as Wukong continued.

   “Basically, depending on how close the demon is, how powerful it is, and how malicious it is, I’ll get this sort of… buzzing in the back of my head, or my ears will start to ring. Usually, most demons are barely strong enough to set it off, and even if they are able to, usually they’re too far away for me to notice.” He looked down at Xiaotian and braced himself. This was going to be difficult.

   “The past three months… it’s been going off constantly. And it was… It was loud, way louder than just about any other demon I’ve faced. It… it was strong enough to trigger that little warning in my brain, from… from all the way in the city, I think. For something to trigger it that much, from that far away…” Wukong trailed off at the dawning look of horror on Xiaotian’s face. Shit. Shit. This was not going as planned.

   Xiaotian looked up at him, eyes wide and shining with clear concern and apprehension, and Wukong knew he needed to say something before the kid worked himself into a full-on panic. Now.

   “But then, something… changed, last night. Do you remember, earlier, when I said that one of the things that determines how strong the… the “sense” is, is how malicious the demon or whatever triggering it is? Well… last- last night, the activity, or intent, or, or whatever, it peaked for a bit, before just… vanishing. Completely. I’ve never felt anything like it before, and I was wondering, if you… if you knew anything about it? About why… about what was triggering that demon sense?” But the kid was already shaking his head, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face as he did so. Damn.

   “I don’t think so… I mean, the only demons that have attacked the city in the last three months were some small fry and the Demon Bull fam, and even they’ve been pretty quiet…” Xiaotian trailed off slightly, and worry stewed in Wukong’s gut. Even an hour later, as he waved the kid off, it lingered in the dark corners of his mind, like a poison. Something bad was going to happen, he could feel it.

   And Wukong had a bad feeling that it would have something to do with the vision of Macaque he’d had last night. He could only hope that Xiaotian would stay out of it.

————— ————— ————— ————— —————

   Stupid. He’d been so, so stupid. He’d known, known that something bad was going to happen, and he’d been right in all the wrong ways.

   Wukong had never wanted to be so wrong before. Not like now.

   It had been about three hours after the kid had left Flower Fruit when he’d felt it- that punch to the gut, heart being crushed, no air in his lungs feeling that sent him to his knees, gasping for air that just wouldn’t come as panic drenched him in a massive tidal wave. He’d known, with absolute certainty, that something had happened to Xiaotian, that his kid, his son, was badly hurt, that he needed to be there, he needed to help-

   Wukong couldn’t remember ever flying that fast before. He’d zipped down Flower Fruit Mountain like lightning, rushing over the city to where he knew Xiaotian’s apartment was. He needed to make sure his kid was okay, he needed to protect his boy-

   The scent of blood, warm and metallic and nauseating, overwhelmed him as it was accompanied by smoke and burned flesh. Wukong felt his stomach turn as he leapt off his cloud, ducking into a nearby alley to empty his sensitive stomach. Good Gods, what had happened? What had happened to his successor? His scent was woven in to the blood and burned flesh scent, ripe with terror and pain and oh, Gods, his kid was hurt-

   Wukong rushed out of the alley to see the apartment, and immediately a new, fresh wave of horror overwhelmed him. The front wall of the place had been blasted to smithereens, the rubble littering the sidewalk around him. There were cracks in the pavement beneath his feet, interspersed with dark scorch marks and, to Wukong’s mounting horror, small bloodstains. Small fires still burned all over, stinking of smoke and burning plastic. The human fire department was there, along with police and an ambulance-

   Wukong’s breath hitched. Xiaotian. Xiaotian was in that ambulance, he was sure of it.

   He needed to get in that ambulance. Now. He needed to see, needed to assess how bad the damage was, needed to make sure his boy was alive-

   Wukong rushed back into the alleyway, quietly transforming into a small butterfly, before making his way over to the vehicle. One of the windows, up at the front, was still opened slightly. Good. Wukong slipped in to the driver’s side, and landed on the back of the driver’s chair for a moment. There were two doors leading to the back, both of which were shut. Luckily for Wukong, there were two small, square windows that he could just barely see through.

   What he saw made him sick.

   His apprentice, his successor, his kid, was laying on a stretcher, bandages covering his head, arms, and chest. His jacket and headband had been removed, as had most of his t-shirt, throwing the small parts that hadn’t been bandages yet into stark relief. There were some parts of the skin that were blackened, blood still seeping through the cracked and burned skin. The skin that wasn’t burned, bandaged, or bloodied, was pale and wane, sickly looking, like that of a corpse. Xiaotian’s dark brown hair was a mess, covered still in dust and debris and sticky with blood. An oxygen mask covered the boy’s mouth and nose, and Wukong couldn’t stand to look anymore.

   He flew off of the driver’s chair to land quietly on the floor, curled up slightly in the back corner as he tried to just… process what he’d seen.

   The world had been muted, blurred to him. Darkness creeped at the edges of his vision, everything becoming an indistinct blob of color and shadow. The ringing in his ears reached a new pitch, interspersed with a low, hollow thumping sound that he would later realize was his own beating heart. He heard the sounds of the ambulance starting up as though he were underwater, muted and drowned out by that ever present ringing-thumping in his ears that only seemed to grow louder as he saw, over and over again, visions of Xiaotian happy smile turning into a broken look of terror as fires consumed him, leaving nothing but a burnt husk comprised of only ashes and bones….

   Wukong jolted forward as the ambulance came to a stop. When had they started moving? When had they arrived at the hospital? Wukong couldn’t remember.

   He heard the sounds of the stretcher being moved, heard the sound of wheels on pavement as he flew from his little spot on the floor to the still-open doors of the vehicle, fluttering around as doctors and nurses swarmed his kid. They, along with Wukong, rushed into the hospital, pulling him towards the emergency care center.

   Wukong started lagging behind them. He was too small, his wings wouldn’t beat fast enough, and the Emergency Care doors slammed shut before he could reach them, echoing with all the grim finality of an executioner’s blade.

   Wukong stared unblinkingly at the doors. He felt numb, muddied and blurred and overwhelmed in a way that left him fluttering slowly to the clean, cold white tiles of the hospital floor. Too much. It was all too much. His kid was hurt. His kid was in critical condition. His kid was in pain. He’d seen his kid, just a few hours earlier, healthy and happy and alive on Flower Fruit Mountain, safe and sound and there-

   And now he was hurt. Now he needed an oxygen mask just to breath. Now, he was burnt and bruised and broken, his only kid, his child-

   Wukong’s breath hitched. He was no longer in the hospital. He was no longer transformed. He was in an alleyway right next to the hospital. The sky had grown darker, swirling with pinks and reds and oranges as stars slowly began to make themselves known. Tears were streaming down his face, warm and wet, leaving damp trails in their wake. He was crouching over, hands covering his mouth as quiet sobs shook him to his core. He could see each little crack in the pavement, each small blade of grass that was struggling to come up through the concrete and reach for the sun.

   He hadn’t remembered leaving. He hadn’t remembered transforming back. He hadn’t remembered much of anything, really.

   It scared him, not knowing what had happened.

   It scared him, the possibility of finding out what had happened.

   His kid. His boy. His son. Wukong had known, for a bit know, that he cared about Xiaotian as more than his successor. But this…. Gods, he didn’t even know how to begin to process this.

   Guilt came rushing in. He’d known. He’d known that something bad was going to happen, he’d felt in his very bones that his son was in danger, and he’d foolishly let him go with false comforts that the kid could handle himself, that Xiaotian was strong, that his friends would help him.

   He remembered, now, sealing away Xiaotian invulnerability. What the hell had he been thinking, doing that? Why had he ever, ever thought that was even remotely a good idea?

   And now, Xiaotian was paying dearly for it.

   Whispers began playing in his head, a polyvocal taunt that attacked from all sides. Your fault, they whispered. It’s all your fault. You could’ve been there, you could’ve gone with. You knew something was wrong, yet you waved him away to his doom.

   And just how many times has he had to fight alone? The voices taunted him, as fresh guilt rained down upon him. How many times did he leave training with you to fight some demon on his own? How many times did you let him go? How many times did he get injured because of your negligence?

   Wukong couldn’t breathe under the weight of the voices. He couldn’t hear anything else, he couldn’t see through his tears the setting sun. Your fault, your fault, your fault-

   “WHY??!!” The voice, that all too familiar voice, cut through the whispers like a knife. Wukong felt his blood run cold.

   Macaque.

   Macaque was here. Alive and well.

   Macaque, a dangerous, very much not-dead creature, was near Xiaotian. Xiaotian, who was put into the hospital. Xiaotian, who had severe burns all over his body. Xiaotian, who was either in critical condition or a coma, and as such unable to fight back should Macaque decide to kill him.

   Hell no.

   Wukong stood up. He felt cold, empty. Anger flowed like the stream of a winter river, sharpening his vision to a pin-prick sort of clarity. He saw, clearly, each blade of grass, each window of every building, each little dust particle in the air.

   His ears were deaf to everything but the sound of rushing water (or was it his own blood that he heard?), the silence settling over him like a blanket. He heard nothing, not even that dull ringing that had tormented him through the day. The rushing water, the dull beat of a war drum (or was that his own heart?) stayed, however, a symphony of soon to be bloodshed as Wukong slowly floated up from the sidewalk.

   His golden eyes were empty of everything but cold, clear rage as they landed on the dark form of the Six-eared Macaque, who was on his hands and knees, trembling. Good. That would make the next part all the easier.

   Wukong raised his fist, ready to send Macaque flying. He would not fail Xiaotian again. He would end this, this string of failures, starting here and now with this final blow-

   Only for Macaque to raise his head to the heavens, face twisted in fear and regret and agony and loss, and scream, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TAKE ME INSTEAD??!!? WHY?? Why did- didn’t you…. why didn’t you t-take me in… why didn’t you take me instead? Why……”

   Wukong stepped back in shock as Macaque shook with sobs, his paws clenched against the concrete of the rooftop. Rage was undercut by confusion, then suspicion? Just what was Macaque playing at? Just what was Macaque, who was a certified lone-wolf, who despised any form of bond with another being, doing having a mental breakdown on top of a hospital?

   “Why did…. why did Xiaotian have to be the one to suffer because of my mistakes?” He heard Macaque whisper, and Wukong felt the world disappear out from under him.

[rosy-cheekx]

"Don’t do that. don’t shut me out” and / or “We can talk through the door” - from the trauma sentence starters :)

Okay so this started as a one-off but, as usual, it spiraled outwards! The actual line will be in the next chapter. (That’s right, this bitch has two chapters! AND A PERSPECTIVE SHIFT)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28201191/chapters/69105681

-

It had been hard for Martin to adjust, after the Lonely, after the months of spiraling into the quiet, cold dark, imprisoned in an ever-expanding labyrinth of his own isolation. A therapist he had years ago told him it takes three weeks to manifest a habit, and in the months without his mum, without Jon, Sasha, Tim, god without even Elias to irritate his last fraying nerve, he had time to form hundreds of new habits, his habits of loneliness.

When Peter had given him Elias’ old office, under the guise of space, focus, and mental health (Martin could spit at that looking back, the cruel irony), the room had been rearranged. The desk, which had previously sat in the center of the room, with two slightly uncomfortable chairs positioned in front of it, chairs Martin had been eager to burn in celebration of his new space, had been rearranged. The room was starkly empty, the chairs removed on his behalf, and the desk had been moved to the side of the room, out of view of the door and in fact behind the hinges, so the door swung open in front of his desk, blocking anyone who may sneak a peek in his office a view of him at work. After a while, it was natural to be in the corner of a room closest to the hinges; where the coatrack or a rubbish bin would typically be, there instead was Martin Blackwood, comfortable, solitary. Alone.

The habits expanded outside of the office. Soon enough he was shopping at markets in the quietest hours: during the airings of football matches, at the early-morning markets, at two in the morning because he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t get warm under his duvet. His warm conversations with cashiers and barkers turned to solemn nods and gruff thank-yous, the refreshing smiles they associated with the sweater-clad figure reduced to slow blinks and nods of acknowledgement, and then not even that. They didn’t even wonder what had happened to that nice auburn-haired man who worked “down the street at the old spooky building, did-you-hear-about-those-worms?” Even takeout was too much to bear. The nights where leaving his flat was unconscionable, his delivery requests would always add, “leave outside the flat, tip is under the doormat.”

His neighbors didn’t remember him after a while. Mabel, the kind woman who lived across from him, introduced herself to him, asked when he moved in. Eventually she stopped noticing this new auburn man she hadn’t seen before. Hadn’t seen at all, actually. No one lived across the hall from her, not in her memory. And she had an excellent memory, didn’t-you-know? It was all those crosswords.

Martin started locking his doors. That had been after Jon had returned. He knew that distinctly. Most of these habits loomed over his life slowly, like an ever-expanding fog, until he didn’t realize where they had begun, but the doors? That was a choice.

He wasn’t one for locks overall; his childhood home had forbidden them, save for the exterior doors. It hadn’t bothered him back then, though, and as he grew up and out of the shadow of his mother it never occurred to him that he could just shut people out like that. So easy, so simple, but so unnecessary for so long. Martin was the one breaking down those barriers, especially at the Institute. Getting Sasha to talk about her anger when they first moved into the Archives, her quiet confession that she had wanted that job for so long, had been told by Gertrude she was a promising candidate. That had been fixed with a cup of tea and the promise that he would support her if she wanted to quit, but that it seemed like Tim needed her, Jon too. Getting Tim to open up about Danny, his sorrow that had been simmering so long under the surface, a grief Martin didn’t quite know how to fathom. But he tried, with comforting touches and warm voice, trying to ease Tim back from the precipice over which he had been hovering. Not enough. Never enough. Even Jon had begun to be kinder to him, after Prentiss, after Martin had proven he wasn’t a waste of space in the Archives, begun to be honest and open about his take on the weird things they experienced here. He had even texted him rather frequently, towards the end, updating him on his trip to America and of the occasional sights that caught his eye (‘In Pittsburgh they put chips on sandwiches and salads, Martin, look at this! Image_0102 attached’ Even in text, his grammar was impeccable.) But after Jon recovered from his coma, lapse with death, whatever it had been, Martin had been too far gone. He couldn’t risk Jon bursting in, bothering him, worrying and fussing. So he’d called in a locksmith to install the simple bolt, enough to stop a distracted, harried Archivist (who had never quite learned it was polite to knock) from bursting into his office at all hours.

But after all that, after the Lonely and Peter Lukas and “look at me and tell me what you see,” it was hard to break the achingly comfortable habits. For the first few days in Scotland, Martin didn’t really remember what had happened. While out of the domain itself, he was still trapped in its cloying embrace, and everything felt too real, too looming, too much; it had been easy to slip into silence for hours in Daisy’s safehouse. Too easy to pull the fog around him and watch himself sit, drawn up behind the door, as he watched and listened and waited for Jon to forget about him. It had never happened though. No matter how many hiding places he found, cold and dark and solitary, Jon always found him, blanket and tea in tow (always a little too sweet for Martin’s liking), and his scalding embrace was enough to drag him back to reality, shivering and sweating, whispering apologies.

-

They needed supplies. Daisy had left behind plenty of MREs in her pantry, stuff they could theoretically rely on, but it was all very basic nutritionary needs and both Martin and Jon were vegetarians, (more or less, Martin had stopped eating red meat as a teenager and Jon entirely after working in the Archives) and the dehydrated pasta alfredo was gone, seemingly the only vegetarian item in Daisy’s stock. Martin hadn’t even tried to touch the canned fruit, the orange-yellow of the peaches haunting him.

Martin suspected it was also a desperate attempt for the pair to practice feeling normal again. To be just two friends? Companions? Coworkers? Boyfriends? people stocking up their fridge and going on with a normal, non-horror filled life. A secluded, bare safehouse was certainly not helping them adjust any quicker, though neither man had dared leave quite yet, be it the risk of losing what little security they had accrued here or the inability to leave the other alone quite yet.

“Is-Do you know if it’s busy today?” Martin had asked, trying desperately to shape his voice into calm curiosity.

Jon considered the question for a minute, expression soft, and dear lord Martin wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the way Jon’s shadows seemed to darken and solidify when he Learned, his whole form shifting in and out of focus imperceptibly like the background was blending into him and not the other way round, the way Martin was accustomed.

“Mm, not bad. No one interesting. A couple families shopping for the week, twelve customers, four employees, total-oh, fourteen, mum and son just walked in…” Martin’s eyebrow was raised. “Ah,” Jon cleared his throat. “Sorry. Fourteen people. If that’s too many, I can go by myself, you know. I’m not going to force you.”

“N-no, no. I should go. Exposure therapy, right?”

Jon had smiled warmly and tentatively rested a hand on Martin’s shoulder, before sliding the hand, scarred and calloused, to squeeze Martin’s own cold one.

-

The grocery was small, a locally run place playing tinny jazz through the speakers. As Martin stepped through the doors with Jon, he was struck by how warm it was in the store. He could feel the prickle of anxiety burning under his skin, bringing a flush to his cheeks. He could hear the whine of the electric lights piercing his skull and settling behind his eyes. He gripped the trolley’s handle tight, firmly keeping his eyes forward. He was fine, he could do this.

Martin was not fine. They had worked their way through the aisles quickly, Jon using his Knowledge to figure out where every item they needed had been located. Martin was on autopilot, quietly steering the cart and flinching when anyone came to close to him. The heat of life was radiating off everyone in the store, even Jon, and it was scalding, blinding, debilitating. He hadn’t noticed Jon asking him a question until, Jon carefully, gingerly, brought his hand to hover near Martin’s cheek, not touching, just waiting for a response.

“Martin?” he heard distantly, calling him back to reality, where fog didn’t drift over the aisles and the soft rush of waves didn’t echo in his ears.

“-mm?” The hand was gone, his skin tingled with the rush of cold returning to his face. He wished it would come back, to hold his face and promise it would be alright.

“I was wondering what tea you wanted to buy? I’m no expert and I know you have your preferences. I miss-” Jon cleared his throat. “I’ve missed your tea in the Archives. All the staff drank coffee after you left. Disgusting.”

Tea. This was something Martin could do. He took a step away from the trolley, his life raft, and studied the aisles, trying to will his mind to focus.

Tea, tea, tea. Rooibos and chamomile for sleepless nights. Herbal for variety. Jon likes caffeinated teas. Maybe some chai? That’ll be good when it gets really cold…god how long will we be here? Through winter? Forever? He could stay here forever if it meant Jon was there too.

He grabbed a couple of boxes of familiar brands, throwing them in the trolley, as well as whatever felt familiar, what he’d usually pick up.  

“I thought you didn’t like oolong.”

Martin frowned, glancing down at the box in his hand. “I don’t. Uh, force of habit I guess.” He set the box back quickly, as if it was burning his hand. “M’mum liked it so I would pick it up for her. Guess its been a while…” he trailed off, uncertain of what he was about to say. He’s bought tea since she died, hasn’t he?

He thinks back, through all his months in Elias’s office and at home.

Oh. Guess not.

Had he really not drunk tea at all? God, he had really changed more than he thought under the influence of Peter. Tea had been such a staple of his life, his personality, he was the one dragging Jon and Sasha and Tim to teahouses for his birthday and insisting he make a cuppa for everyone on the days that felt too dark. The last time he could remember holding a warm cup of tea in his hands was when he was sitting at Jon’s bedside in the hospital, reading him Keats in the desperate hope he would hate it so much he would wake up, even if just to scold his assistant.

Martin knew serving The Lonely had changed him. But here, in the aisle of a Scottish grocery, he was realizing how entirely debased he had become. Was he even Martin Blackwood anymore?

Martin blinked to see the grocery around him cloaked in fog. No, that wasn’t right. He was cloaked in fog. The world was a pale blue-grayscale, slightly translucent. He hadn’t been here in a while but the cool balm over his anxiety settled like cool cloth and he felt distantly quiet. Calm.  He left the store in a haze and began the slow trudge up to the safehouse. Jon wasn’t here in this place, which was probably for the best. Martin couldn’t hurt him here, couldn’t burden him with whatever pesky emotions he had felt in the grocery, whatever they had been. They were a distant memory now, oolong and guilt.

-

By the time Martin had hiked up the hill to the safehouse, he felt safe enough to leave the Lonely, and felt the cool numbness drift off him like steam as the world sharpened around him. With the world came the sharp sting of his realization came with it; the understanding that he wasn’t the same person he had been when he had said goodbye to Tim, Melanie, and Jon, and certainly not the same person he had been when he had backed through the doors to the Institute and let that dog in, what felt like decades ago now.

Martin Blackwood let the door swing shut behind him as he made his way inside, hearing the rumble of Jon’s car rolling up the gravel driveway. He moved quickly through the house, looking desperately for a place to escape as he heard the faint call of his name outside. He couldn’t-he just couldn’t talk to Jon right now; he didn’t know how to explain how betrayed he felt and by on fault but his own. The closest room was the bathroom, dark and clean, and pressed back against the door as he clicked the door shut, turning the latch on the door.

Click.

The bolt slid into the mechanism of the door frame, and that sound was what sent Martin spiraling.

he was alone he was alone he was alone.

[chyrstis]

FC5 GFH Tag!

@sharky-broshaw​ and @shellibisshe​​ were lovely enough to tag me to see what my Dep would say as a formal FC5 Gun For Hire, and after spending most of the day thinking this over instead of writing, I think I’ve mostly nailed her down! ;)

Deputy Hana Vao

With Fangs for Hire

Boomer: “Whoa there, buddy! Aren’t you a sweetheart? God, I...I really wish Rae-Rae were here to say hi to you too, and see how good of a boy you’re being.”

Peaches: “I’m a cat person. I’m not a hundred percent sure it extends to being a big cat person, but I’m willing to try.” / *in a ridiculous voice while sneaking through the brush* “Who’s an adorable murder machine, yes, you are!”

Cheeseburger: “Whoever decided it’d be entirely possible and plausible for me to spend my free time hanging out with a bear, I’d like to give the biggest high-five to, because this? This is really fucking awesome.” / “I’ve always wondered if I’d have the chance to meet a local celebrity, and now I’ve met two! What are the odds of that?”

With other Guns for Hire

Sharky

*after inviting him* “Oh, now it’s a party.”

“So, apparently karaoke night at the Spread Eagle used to be a thing. You’ve been holding out on me! *both start trading stories about signature songs they used to pick, until they both settle on one and start singing along to it* *some of it’s good, most of it isn’t*

*after a fight* “That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Do it again.” / “Hey, Shark? How about you dial it back a little next time? It kind of got a little too close for comfort there.”

“You know what they say about any big bads, right?” *along with Sharky* “If it bleeds, we can kill it! *laughs* God, you’re the best.”

Grace

“Hey, Grace? I know you mentioned last time that I really need to work on the whole sneaking, and being quiet, and-” “Not throwing a block of C4 at every problem you see?” “...Shit. I knew I might’ve forgotten something. Let me get back to you on that.”

“Grace? If I offered you twenty dollars to shoot [a hat off of a scarecrow, a can off of a fence, the helmet off of a Peggie, etc]. Would you do it?” *Grace asks if she’s that willing to go broke* “Maybe. I still think that would be pretty cool to see.”

Hurk

*calls Hana Ms. V* “Hurk! I thought we agreed not to go with that one!” *he throws out a slew of nicknames each one more absurd than the last* “...Um, okay. Maybe that one’s not so bad after all.”

“Hey, I have to ask. What’s with the chimps?”

*calls Hana Depu-Vee and pretends to relay a top-secret message* Hurk, hon. We’re face to face. I’m looking right at you. We don’t need codenames right now.

Adelaide

“I...that’s definitely a description I never thought I’d ever hear. Or visualize.”

“Okay, so I’m only going to say this once, but...” *speaks at a mile a minute* “Fuck John, Marry Faith, and Kill Jacob, and there’s nothing left for Joseph, so just fuck him in general. Done and done.”

Nick

“I swear to God, if you ever ask me to fly Carmina again I’m going to crash her. Not on purpose, I’m just that damn bad at it, so please. I beg of you, don’t.”

“How’s Kim doing? If you two need anything at all, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

Jess

“Jesus, you’re a hell of a shot. Shooting an apple off of someone’s head would probably be nothing, huh?” *Jess asks if she’s volunteering* “It’s not that you aren’t a badass, because you totally are, but you know how some ideas look fun at first pass, but are probably a disaster in the making? That? That would be one of them.”

In Combat

Seeing an enemy: “You got eyes on them?”

Sneaking:*snaps a twig* “Shit! ...Um, shit. Sorry.”

Killing an enemy: "Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!” / *if you score the hit* “Holy shit, that was a shot!”

Reviving: “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” / “Hold on! Can’t have you dying on me now.”

Hurt: “Ow, motherfucker!” / “Jesus, walk it off. Just walk it off.” / *flamethrower, or Sharky* Shit! Nearly singed my hair...

Downed: “Really, really pissed that they made me bleed my own blood here.” / “Keep moving! Don’t worry about me! *pained sound* “Fuck!”

Driving

If asked to drive: “You sure? Well, buckle up and hold on tight. I promise I’ll try and be gentle.” / “God, this is really making me miss my bike.”

Reckless driving: “Jesus, now I know how Grace feels.” / “And here I thought you’d leave the stunt driving to old Clutch. I’m game if you are.”

Changing radio stations: *starts singing along if Barracuda’s playing* / *’if Oh John’ starts playing* “...Fucking asshole.” *sings an off-key, ‘bold and brave’ before making a sound of disgust*

Idle

“Hey, hon. How’re you holding up? Better than me, I hope, because I could really go for a cigarette. Might have to bum one off of Sharky the next time I see him.”

“You know, I’m not from around here. I’m from Detroit. Moved around a lot when I was young, so I don’t remember it well to begin with, but my mom took a lot of photos of it. Kept them all in a photo album for me to look at when I was older, and always told me we’d head back there someday to check them out again ourselves. ....Well, I’m about 95 percent certain that when the cult burned my apartment down, it might’ve taken that album with it. Pictures of those places. Of her. All of it up in smoke, just like that. So, here’s hoping there’ll be a Detroit left after all of this, depending on whether or not Joseph’s talking shit, or actually right. Because I’d really like to have a second chance to see all of that. And have a chance to honor her too.”

“I’m a city girl, so the silence out here is...it’s a little overwhelming. But I’d gladly take it over the sound of gunfire. This place is beautiful, and the kind of peaceful you don't really appreciate until it’s gone.”

Hard to believe I wouldn’t have ended up here at all if the Sheriff hadn’t taken a chance on me. He’ll say differently, but there’s a reason why Staci called me-calls me Rook, and why Joey always took the time to answer every single silly question I had. I didn’t have a whole lot of experience before heading here, and...they made it all worth the risk on my end too. Made me feel welcome when anyone else would’ve just shown me the door, and I’ll do damn near anything to get them back.

Location-Specific:

By any body of water: *voice pitched higher than normal* “Hey, you’re not-that’s looking pretty deep. Think I’ll um, hang close to the shore just in case.” *wanders around it, but never enters it*

At the Spread Eagle: *hanging close to either Mary May by the bar* *Mary May jokes about Hana spending more time talking to her than drinking* “Hey, I’m sparing you both the bad dancing and the bad flirting! Trust me, you don’t want to see either.” / *if by the jukebox in the back, can be found swaying to whatever’s playing*

After liberating the Radio Towers: “I really need to talk to Wheaty about getting Queen on the radio here, because we’re suffering from a real lack of that. Tell me you wouldn’t be ready and willing to kick all kinds of ass after listening to them for a bit.” / *near a Wolf Beacon while it’s blaring* “Jesus, Jacob really took a page out of every horror movie here, didn’t he? Note to self, stay far, far away from these at night.”

In the Henbane: “You want to trust your eyes. You also want to trust your ears, and every last bit of sense you’ve got, but here? You can't. And that honestly scares the shit out of me.” / “You see Faith too, don’t you? Right at the corner of your vision before you blink and she’s gone? Word of advice? Don’t approach her or talk to her. You’ll like what she has to say at first, but...not so much the wolverine taking a piece out of you afterwards.”

At Seed Ranch by the Boat Launch: *if present when Sharky drops the dingus line, she starts giggling until she snorts*

In Holland Valley: “Can you do me a favor? If you ever decide to do a little redecorating - like, say, make modifications to a giant, white three-letter sign up in the mountains - take me with you. Because pissing John off’s really what keeps me going, and lighting that ‘Yes’ sign up would be a thing of beauty.” / *later when John calls post-destruction she mouths, ‘Oh shit’ while 100% making this face:

Tagging: @amistrio @ma-sulevin @shallow-gravy​ @foofygoldfish @guileandgall​ @ofravensandgenesis​ @fadedjacket​ @seedlingsinner @teamhawkeye​ @redroci​ @risenlucifer​ @tomexraider​ @finefeatheredgamer​ @narcis-the-monk​ @scarlettkat86 @hawkfurze @raisinghellinotherworlds @fromathelastoveritaserum @shelliechen and anyone else that’s interested! I’d love to see your GFHs, so totally tag me if you do!

[rhinkthreeways]

Peach (angsty)

Just in case someone scrolls past this at work, I put everything under a cut...

I tried to keep the angst as the driving force but there’s smuttiness and fluff too.

Rhett Gets A Taste Of Link’s Sweet Peach!! XXX - HOT STEAMY AMATEUR SEX INTERNETAINERS EXPOSED

Link stared at the laptop screen. He blinked a few times, eventually screwing his eyes tightly closed, hoping that he was dreaming. But when he opened his eyes the title of the post remained the same, the capitalized letters mocking him with their ridiculousness.

“Rhett,” Link croaked. He’d meant to call out to him. Rhett was working in the loft, the quiet tap-tap of his typing had been the calming soundtrack of Link’s morning. All that calm was gone now, replaced by ever-increasing panic.

“Rhett,” Link tried again but only managed to make himself choke on the attempt. His gaze moved from the shocking headline to the video below it. There was no question that it was them, that it was their video. On the still image, Link was on his hands and knees on the bed and Rhett was behind him, spreading apart his ass cheeks. Rhett was topless, his back muscles tense and beautiful, his shoulders broad and familiar. He still had jeans on. Link’s head hung loosely between his arms—he knew he’d been quietly begging for Rhett to make him wet, to taste him—and his back was arched in invitation. 

Link’s chest tightened and his head swam. Horror and arousal warred in his mind.

“Rhett!” Finally, his garbled yell reached the man working above him. Rhett’s head popped over the railing.

“What?” He looked worried.

Link motioned towards the screen. “They have— The thing we— I—” Link stammered and his hands flailed in frustration. Rhett’s head disappeared and Link heard the low thumps of his descending feet. He appeared behind Link to peer at the screen.

“What the fuck?” Rhett’s voice was low and full of disgust.

Link’s stomach churned and a tiny part of him was afraid that Rhett would be mad at him. It had been him after all, who’d wanted to film the video, who’d begged and whined weeks before Rhett gave in.

“How the fuck did someone get that?” Rhett growled.

“I don’t know,” Link whispered, even though Rhett was clearly not expecting an answer. Rhett’s hand was gripping Link’s shoulder. The hold was tight, but not painfully so. Link wanted to squirm under his touch. He wanted to yell and cry and rage. He wanted Rhett to move that hand and bend him over the desk and fuck him right here in the office until neither of them remembered their names, let alone the video that was about to ruin their lives.

“Can we get that down? We need to call Stevie.”

“No!” Link cried, twisting away from Rhett’s touch to get up. 

“We can’t— She can’t see that!” Link was pacing, hand in his hair, eyes looking blindly at the floor as he imagined their employees seeing the video. Their parents. Their— No!

“Rhett. Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god. What are we gonna do? What— How— Oh, god,” Link murmured over and over again, tugging at his hair and breathing shallow, fast breaths. He was starting to feel dizzy. 

Rhett’s phone rang. Link’s phone started ringing right after and emails started to ding into his mail folder. 

This was real. It was out. There was no stopping this. When something was on the Internet, it was never gone. They were exposed—in more ways than one. 

Link had thought about this day. Of course, he had. They’d known that at some point, someone would find out that the friendship had turned into something more. Something better. Something that made Link’s insides warm and his mouth water and his heart beat faster. Something that made him regret the years spent together but apart. But he’d always thought it would happen at least somewhat on their terms. They’d come out slowly, without much fanfare. It would be organic and easy and… And definitely not this. Not Rhett rimming and fucking him captured on video for all the world to see. 

A pang of jealousy coursed through him. Rhett was his. That tall, perfect body. Those soft, wild curls and that cute, small butt and that thick, gorgeous cock. They were all his and only his. Only he should be able to enjoy them. 

“Link,” Rhett’s low voice penetrated Link’s panicked haze. Link stopped pacing when a broad chest filled his vision. Link clung to him. It was a reflex, something his body naturally did when Rhett was that close. Rhett’s arms wrapped around him and squeezed.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Rhett murmured into Link’s ear. Link let out a desperate, wet chuckle. He hadn’t realized he’d started crying. Rhett moved them to the couch and sat down, pulling Link onto his lap.

“Everyone can see us,” Link said softly, swallowing down sobs. Rhett’s fingers were in Link’s hair, petting him, soothing the burn of embarrassment and regret.

“Well, yes. The invasion of privacy is… not ideal. But it’s not that bad, baby. You look gorgeous. So fucking sexy. Everyone’s gonna be so jealous that I get to do those things to you. That I get to feel you and taste you and be inside you when you fall apart.” 

Link buried his face into the crook of Rhett’s neck and tried not to smile. The blush on his cheeks was as fierce as the love he felt for the man who was holding him. “No. Everyone’s gonna be jealous that I get to have you. That I get to be the one you touch and take care of. That I get to be the one who gets to take that deliciously thick cock you hide in those ridiculously long-legged pants.” Link’s smiling lips were on Rhett’s skin, pressing small kisses onto it as he spoke. The heaviness in his chest was easing.

“I love you,” Rhett whispered. “And it’s time for the whole world to know it.” A heated kiss silenced Link’s response.

The door of the office banged open and Link whipped his head around to see who was interrupting their moment. Stevie stood at the door and smirked.

“Oh, I see how it is. Here I was, all worried about you guys and rushing here to strategize. But you two are already gearing up for part two, the electric boogaloo.”

They looked at each other, smiled softly, gave her the finger, and then ignored her in favor of more kisses. 

The strategy could wait. The world could wait. They simply couldn’t.

[greenornaments]

58. “I’ve been in love with you my entire life. Ever since the day I first met you.” :D

Oooh, thank you so much for this prompt! This takes place post-Ch. 2, they’ve defeated Pennywise and Eddie didn’t die or even get attacked. Enjoy! ^_^

———————————

Richie can’t stop himself from thinking about it; the crippling terror he’d experienced under the clown’s hypnotic spell as he helplessly watched Eddie get impaled above him, unable to do anything but watch, scream, and listen to the deafening cries inside his own head of NO, NO, GOD NO, NOT EDDIE, TAKE ME INSTEAD, PLEASE….

It’s not real. None of it was real. He knows this from the moment he awakens from the Deadlights, dazed and disoriented as Eddie looks down at him and exclaims that he’s done it, he’s killed It, and Richie gets that surge of energy and strength he’s always heard about mothers getting when their child is in danger. It’s enough to propel him to grab onto Eddie and roll both of them out of the way just in time to miss the clown’s vengeful claws. The six of them make it out, fleeing from the house of horrors one after the other, grabbing onto each other in relief and shock as they watch Neibolt crumble into the ground and become nothing more than a bad memory.

And he can’t stop thinking about it. While they walk the quiet streets of Derry in the early dawn. When they reach the quarry, which is now sporting a large sign warning against the diving they’d engaged in so many times as children without a second thought. When they blatantly ignore the sign and dive in anyway, with Eddie grabbing onto his hand before they take the plunge. While they’re swimming around in the opaque water and Eddie is playfully splashing some of it in his direction, the smile on his face more beautiful than all the stars in the sky combined. Especially then.

What would I have done? He thinks to himself as he laughs and splashes him back. If the clown had gotten him and he was gone, what the fuck would I have done?

He’s still thinking about it later that night, as he’s standing in the shower of his rented room at the Derry Townhouse, letting the hot water run over his body and cleanse him once and for all of the scourge of Pennywise and all the misery It had wrought over him and his friends for their entire lives. He’s letting his mind wander, turning over long buried memories that have been barreling at him full force ever since he stepped foot inside Jade of the Orient and saw Eddie for the first time in twenty-seven years, but which he hasn’t allowed himself to fully process until now. Now that he has nothing else to do but think.

He thinks about that summer, of quarries and clubhouses and lazy afternoons spent in a hammock; he thinks about movies and videogames and ice cream; of days spent riding bikes through the streets of town and of hot, still nights reading comics together on Eddie’s bed while trying not to wake up Mrs. Kaspbrak.

He thinks back further, to school trips to the apple orchard, where he and Eddie would pool their pocket money together to share a turnover that Richie would always make sure to take the smaller half of. He thinks of chilly winters; of snowy days spent building snowmen in Richie’s front yard before going inside for piping hot mugs of hot chocolate.

And he thinks back even further still, to the first day of kindergarten, when he was a tiny, nervous ball of anxiety who started crying the minute his mother left, until a brown haired boy with wide eyes as dark as his hair came up to him, smiled, and offered him some dried peaches from a small bag he took from the black fanny pack around his waist.

Fuck, he thinks, the long forgotten truth hitting him as his mind lingers on the R+E he’d carved into the kissing bridge on that long ago summer day. You’ve gotten yourself into a fucking emotional mess now, Rich. You dumb fucking asshole. You shouldn’t have come back here. None of you should have. Forgetting was better, it was always fucking better.

He heaves a sigh and turns the water off, shivering as he steps out of the shower and towels himself off. He’s just finishing putting on fresh clothes when he hears a knock on his door. It’s probably Mike wanting us all to go to brunch or some shit.

He crosses the room and opens the door. It’s not Mike.

“Can I come in?” Eddie asks, even as he’s squeezing past Richie and entering the room anyway.

“Well, since you so politely asked for my permission,” Richie quips, watching Eddie sit on the edge of his bed. He’s also changed his clothes; he’s wearing plaid pajama pants and a plain black sweatshirt that says Tri-State Insurance across the front. It’s a very basic outfit that shouldn’t be and truly isn’t anything special, yet somehow on Eddie it manages to make Richie’s heart thump ever so slightly harder.

Get a fucking grip on yourself.

“To what do I owe this most honorable visit?” Richie asks as he leans against the wall and tries to look like he hasn’t just spent the past half hour reliving every single moment of pining he’s repressed for years.

Eddie looks suddenly uncomfortable, like he’s unsure now of why he’s there. “I… I wanted to talk to you. If you have a minute.”

“Just a minute, I have a hot date with your mom I’m gonna be late for.”

“You do realize my mom is dead, right, asshole?”

Richie swallows down the next joke he was about to make. He actually hadn’t remembered that in all the chaos. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his eyes meeting Eddie’s for the first time since the other man burst into his room. Eddie gazes back at him for the briefest of moments before he closes his eyes and sighs.

“Just… look, this isn’t gonna be easy for me to say,” he begins, opening his eyes back up and focusing them on a vague spot on the wall somewhere to the left of Richie. “But it’s going to bug the shit out of me until I say it, so I’m just going to bite the bullet and fucking go for it, and you don’t even have to respond, I just want to get it off my chest.”

Richie’s stomach drops, and he starts to wonder if he’s done something to piss Eddie off since they’ve reunited. Like, unintentionally. The basis of their entire friendship has always been him playfully trying to get Eddie mad, but Eddie has never really been angry at him. He doesn’t think they’ve ever even had a real fight. But there’s always that seed of doubt, and Richie quickly goes back over every interaction they’ve had in the past couple of days. Did he get mad about me making fun of his job? Maybe I made too many mom jokes, I honestly forgot she’s dead. Ok, maybe I shouldn’t have made those comments about his wife, but come on, he told me himself that their marriage is on the rocks and he’s been emotionally divorced for a long time, so how mad could he possibly-

“Earth to Trashmouth, are you listening to me?”

Fuck. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. What’s on your mind?” Richie asks, clearing his throat and trying to do the same to his mind as he focuses back on Eddie, who takes a deep breath and begins speaking.

“Richie… back there, in the sewers, when… when the fucking clown had you in those Deadlights, I knew I had to do something to save you, cause no shit, right, you’re one of my best friends, so of course I did, but… but for some reason I also kind of felt like… like you being attacked by Pennywise was a personal attack on me? Sort of? Like… fuck… all I could think of was how I froze up when that spider fuck was attacking you, and how I had to make up for that, but also how… Ugh… I don’t know how to phrase this,” Eddie whines, rubbing a hand over his face as he focuses his eyes back on the wall, avoiding eye contact with Richie.

“It’s like… if it was any of the others up there, of course I would also try to help them if I could, but it wouldn’t…. it wouldn’t feel like so much of a personal thing, if that makes sense? The clown getting you, specifically, just really pissed me off. And when you dropped down I was so worried about you, like, were you ok? Were you hurt? I thought back to when we were kids, you know, when Bev was in the lights and Ben had to kiss her, and I thought… is that what you needed, too? Was I going to have to do that? But then you woke up and I was relieved, Rich, I was so relieved, but I was also… I don’t know… disappointed. I was actually disappointed that you didn’t need a kiss to wake up, and god, Richie, ever since we got out of that fucking house that’s all I’ve been able to think about. Why it is that I was so, so disappointed.”

Richie’s heart is pounding now, the steady thump of its beat echoing in his ears as all of his blood rushes to his head and makes him feel dizzy. Is Eddie saying what he thinks he’s saying? He can’t be, this isn’t real, it’s a dream, he’s still in the Deadlights and he’s going to wake up any second and they’re still going to be in that godforsaken sewer.

“Richie.”

“What?” Richie barely manages to choke out as Eddie finally makes eye contact with him. Every part of him is bursting to come out and say what he’s been holding back for days, for years, but he’s terrified.

“I don’t know how else to say this, but I… I think…”

“Eddie, I love you.” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, and the minute they do his stomach flips, waves of nausea threatening to make him let loose right there on the bedroom floor, but somehow, using unimaginable strength he doesn’t even know he has in him, he manages to keep himself just barely under control enough to not completely ruin this moment.

Eddie blinks, his cheeks turning a brilliant shade of crimson. “Say that again?” He says it in a shocked whisper, his eyes wide as saucers as he looks at Richie in disbelief.

“I said I love you,” Richie repeats, finding it easier to say the second time now that the worst is over. He might as well let it all out, there’s no going back now. “I do, I love you so fucking much. I’ve been in love with you my entire life. Ever since the day I first met you. And that’s all that’s been on my mind since I got that fucking phone call from Mike. That’s what went through my head as soon as I saw the number pop up on my phone. You.” He feels his cheeks growing hot from the adrenaline and pure relief of that crushing weight coming off of his chest.

Eddie’s shoulders are heaving with the intensity of the breaths he’s taking as his dark eyes bore into Richie’s. The next thing Richie knows, he’s watching Eddie get up off the bed and cross over to him, stopping close to him but, agonizingly, not even remotely close enough.

“Say it again,” he demands, his eyes flashing.

“I love you.”

“Again.” Eddie is slowly closing the space between them.

“I. Love. You.”

“One more time.” He’s practically pressed up against him now, and Richie is about 80% sure he’s about to actually faint.

“I’m in love with you, you little shit-“

His words are cut off by the gentle press of soft lips against his, and his brain short-circuits and goes completely offline. It’s so much, it’s too much, it’s not enough, it’s Eddie, it’s literally everything Richie has ever dreamed of, it’s the moment he often stayed up for entire nights fantasizing about, it’s what he always assumed he would never experience, and here it was, as real as the press of Eddie’s warm, breathing, very much alive body pinning him against the wall.

Their lips part and they look at each other, breathing heavily. Eddie’s eyes are blown black, his lips are cherry red and his cheeks are scarlet. He’s so close that Richie can actually feel the thumping of the other man’s heart against his chest.

“I love you too, asshole,” says Eddie, smiling before crashing their lips back together.

[steven-universe-search-history]

small idea, meeting edition: when jasper first meets stevonnie, shes kind of awkward, since she doesnt understand them. but she tries to, she wants to understand, and stevonnie is more than happy to help by answering questions and stuff; this soon leads to them getting along really well and jasper teasing them (nicely, of course) once she finally understands

jasper’s still not used to seeing fusion.

not used to seeing it in general, the twirling dances and glittering gemstones and glowing lights.

not used to seeing it as anything worthwhile.

it’s just a way to have an advantage in a fight, to beat your opponent, to win at any cost.

it’s just a desperate last-ditch attempt to gain power.

it’s just flashes of things she doesn’t want to remember, of swirling blue skirts and screams in the darkness and chains wrapped tightly around her, holding her, trapping her, drowning her.

somehow though, this seems different.

she’s seen them before. fights and arguments and a confused mutter of i guess she lives in the ocean now. this shouldn’t be anything new.

and yet when they hold out their hand to her and smile, introducing themself as stevonnie, steven and connie, a friend, something shifts in her. something lights, something sparks, and they’re different, they’re just different.

the first thing they give her is ice-cream. confusing. she doesn’t quite understand. they stand next to her, a streak of chocolate already on their cheek, ice-cream cone already half gone. she licks hers once, carefully, ready for something bad, anything bad to happen.

it doesn’t.

it’s nice.

she eats the whole thing.

next is a rollercoaster. a little more exciting than ice-cream, she admits, but it’s still annoyingly human. maybe that’s the point. she isn’t sure. stevonnie is a weird little mystery, human and not, gem and not, and nothing quite makes sense around them.

jasper doesn’t scream when the rollercoaster moves, racing over the track so fast it makes her hair whip around her face. stevonnie does, though, a loud scream with a shriek of laughter that fills the air. jasper can’t help but smile at the sight.

the sunset is last. they race ahead, she hangs behind, and by the time jasper reaches the shore stevonnie is already sat cross-legged in the sand, a hand patting the space beside them. she sits, they smile, and silence fills the air.

the sun sets.

it’s bright, it’s pretty, it’s pink.

stevonnie shifts, and jasper glances across at them, at their smile, at their jacket.

pink doesn’t seem to have such bad connotations anymore.

she comes and finds steven in little homeworld after a while.

it’s taken her hours, days, weeks to work up the courage. she hates it. she knows him. she shouldn’t be afraid. she’s not afraid.

she taps his shoulder and her breath shakes.

something like hope passes through her when he turns. he looks up at her, meets her eye, smiles, and connie peeks out from behind his shoulder, grinning up at her too. they both speak, a greeting in perfect unison, before bursting into laughter, their hands clasped tightly in between them.

jasper smiles. breathes. frowns. she folds her arms over her chest, stares at the ground, bites her lip. she doesn’t say anything.

maybe she shouldn’t.

maybe she won’t.

maybe she can’t.

she speaks.

“i want to fuse. with you,” she mutters, and it’s more of a statement than a question. she winces a little at the bluntness of it, at the pauses in-between her words, her voice racing to catch up to her mind. “uh— if you want to.”

maybe she shouldn’t have asked.

steven isn’t speaking.

maybe definitely she shouldn’t have asked.

she starts to turn away, an explanation or apology on the tip of her tongue already, but two little hands are clutching her wrist, pulling her back, and four eyes are staring up at her in shock. not horror. not anger. just shock, plain and simple surprise, and she stands and stares back with a strange feeling of anxiety in her throat.

“that would be nice,” steven says, and connie’s face breaks into a smile beside him. she’s saying something about fusion, steven echoing it with comments about love, but jasper can’t hear her, can’t hear him.

that would be nice.

he didn’t refuse, didn’t pull away, didn’t stare at her like she’s the worst thing in the world, like she’s messed everything up, ruined everything, destroyed everything.

steven’s hand leaves connie’s, and jasper watches in mild amazement as he holds it out to her.

he’s ready.

she freezes.

steven smiles softly, connie takes a step forwards, and they’re both there to comfort her, gentle words of you don’t have to, it’s okay, you have time.

“i want to,” she says, and she takes steven’s hand. she steps, he slides, and he crashes into her chest with a muffled burst of laughter. jasper’s other hand comes up to pat his head, ruffling his hair as her mouth twists into a smile that she can’t control. she hears connie laugh too, a shout of encouragement from the sidelines, and suddenly everything seems a little bit okay.

she’s never felt like this before.

she likes it.

steven’s hold on her tightens, and she realises with a start that his hand has left hers, his arms are around her waist, he’s hugging her, and she can feel his smile against her as he laughs.

she laughs too, real and genuine, and it’s a strange feeling that she doesn’t really have time to understand before a flash of light bursts from her face. she can hear the conversation of other gems, the birdsong in the distance, connie’s gasp of amazement from somewhere behind her, but everything feels a million miles away.

her body isn’t hers.

she moves, a hand lifting up, but it isn’t hers. it’s a different colour, a strange orange-peach with specks of green still littering the fingers, and her eyes — their eyes — widen as she takes it in.

things flash in their mind.

ice-cream.

rollercoaster.

sand.

sunset.

hands.

hug.

fusion.

they burst apart. short, sweet, and steven smiles over at her from where he sits on the ground, hands resting gently in the grass. she stares back. connie races to their side, eyes full of excitement, and steven pulls her into a tight hug.

jasper watches, a hand — her hand, this time — rising to her face. the corner of her lips. she’s still smiling.

she still isn’t used to fusion.

she isn’t used to seeing it.

she isn’t used to feeling it.

she isn’t used to feeling love.

steven hugs her.

connie hugs her.

and suddenly, she understands.

[abeltownshipslittlebitch]

The Eye of the Hurricane

I got this idea after listening to Hamilton and thinking a lot about how Venus Rising ended. Because of how it ended, it was heavily implied that both Five and Captain Myers were infected with the red fungus from Venus stuff, so I decided that would be a perfect angst story.

Five’s POV, 1st person because that’s the only way I can write plus it helps keep Five gender neutral. Present tense. About 2.8K Words.

Since I already said that Five and Peter totally were dating in the Venus Rising shorts in a sperate post and I’m not a bitch who backs down, that will be the stated relationship. Also, the song is Hurricane Workshop, and I took the liberty of changing some of the lyrics so please don’t be mad when you see the lyrics aren’t the exact same. This is like half-assed edited. It’s 3:20 AM where I’m at, so please be kind if you spot any errors! Thank you! Also please for the love of all things good, read the trigger warnings. This is angst for a reason!

Also I suggest reading this on a computer instead of mobile device because things are looking kind of wanky from my viewpoint on my phone, even though it was fine on my computer. So just thought I’d let you know.

Trigger warning: Character death, suicide, murder, self-hatred, guilt, guilt complex, mentions of blood, angst not with a happy ending, one use of the word “fucks”

In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet for just a moment A yellow sky.

Space is not forgiving. It’s endless and dark and cold. Its beauty is deceitful. Its emptiness is ever consuming.

It takes everything in me to tear my eyes away from the endless expanse of burning stars and stifling darkness. I breathe, grounding myself. I look down at the blaster in my hand. It’s so hard to think already, my mind reeling. Bits of bliss flitter through my thoughts, reminders of home, reminders of loved ones. With each inhale come the scents of places millions of miles away. I taste honey on my tongue, hear the laughter of friends that have long since gone.

When I was seventeen a hurricane destroyed my town. I didn’t drown… I couldn’t seem to die.

They’re dead. They’re all dead.

Peter’s dead. Ellie’s dead. Steve’s dead. Amelia’s dead.

And now Captain Myers.

I didn’t want to. Really, I didn’t. But things weren’t adding up. Her speech patterns, her words, dripping with honey and faux hope. It wasn’t her. I tried to chalk it up to paranoia, to trauma-not even from the death. I’ve seen more than enough of that on earth to become numb to it, but I thought maybe I was traumatized from the horror of those creatures in the mountain. I’d never seen anything like them before. I tried to tell myself I was just overthinking, but I knew. It wasn’t her.

Neither was the red that was growing under her fingernails, the red she tried to hide from me.

But she couldn’t hide the bliss that covered her face, and I couldn’t ignore the ringing of voices that echoed in my mind. I remember home far too vividly. I remember happiness more intensely than I have in years, with colors too bright and sounds too perfect and air too clean to be real. It’s a fantasy that tries to disguise itself as something I once knew. That’s what tipped me off. It felt too good to remember.

I knew if I was infected, then so was the Captain.

That’s why I shot her. That’s why her body lays in the floor of the next cabin, covered in red fungus that engulfs her like a blackhole that engulfs that which gets too close.

My breathing is shallow. I had to.

I. Had. To.

I fought my way out. Took everything down far as I could see.

I’ve always been good at this, doing what needs to be done. Some things you just have to do in order to survive and that’s what I did. People needed me on earth to be strong, to bear the burden and carry the weighted guilt so they wouldn’t have to.

So I did.

I learned to move on quickly. I don’t feel guilty about Captain Myers. I had to do it. I don’t feel guilty.

I don’t.

I don’t.

I don’t!

My nails dig into my skin. I can barely understand the words that spill from my tongue. They feel foreign, inhuman.

I’m not guilty. I don’t feel guilty! I’ve done this a hundred times. It’s done now and I have to move on!

Anyone I lost to sickness, to pollution or war between groups hellbent on gaining food and property in a world too far gone to save-I moved on. Even now that I have time to cry, I’m don’t. I can’t. I don’t even know if I remember how.

Still my chest tightens at the thought of all we’ve lost. It betrays the lies I tell myself. I smell honeysuckles and roses when I breathe in, but it hurts. Each rose-scented inhale is met with an exhale of thorns and tightening vines. Or maybe the fungus in filling up my lungs. I’m not sure.

I took this mission to help save my family back on earth. They aren’t my real family, not by blood, but they became family. And I won’t be coming back to them. I failed them.

I already failed my family before I became aware that I was infected. Peter was my family. Peter was my everything, despite the snide remarks and eyerolls and teasing that bordered on cruelty. It was our way of acting out while remaining somewhat professional, since this job does-did-mean a lot to him.

I respected that. I respected him. And then I just stood there and watched as Steve went feral and attacked him, killed him.

My throat burns, and I almost feel relieved when I taste bile on my tongue instead of peaches and strawberries. Something akin to a cry rips from my lips. It’s ragged and raw and why am I still unable to cry, damn it?! 

I should have been faster! I should have been better!

I fought my way out. I looked up and the town had its eyes on me.

I was gifted with creativity as well as ambition. Knowing the ins and outs of basic survival saved my life and others’ lives more than once. Hydroponics, water filters, hunting, farming. My knowledge is what helped me gain friends, despite my violent tendencies and willfulness to kill to survive. Those who allied with me on earth before I joined up with Pandora Haze seemed to think my pros outweighed my cons.

They were right, especially when they found out I’m incredibly loyal to the people I call friends.

Not loyal enough, though. I let the one person I truly, deeply cared about on this mission die.  

They passed their tools around. Total strangers moved to kindness by my ideas. Took enough for me to book passage on a ship at was England bound.

The help of those around me is what gave me the resources to build different hydroponics and gardens for smaller communities. It’s what got someone at Pandora Haze’s attention too. My skills got me noticed, and when they saw how good I was at the obstacle courses and at problem solving, as well as with combat, they asked me to join with the space department because I “showed promise and seemed more than capable to help in saving the human race.”

I never saw myself as a savior of any kind. I still don’t, but they offered payment-food, medicine, tools and tech. Joining is how I met everyone on this mission, and even if fate hadn’t had led me to meeting them, I couldn’t pass this job up, not even the world is literally burning from the inside out and wars are being started over clean water and warm clothes.

One of my friends, Sam, seemed suspicious. He was afraid, mostly because we’d been together for years. He didn’t agree with some of my methods of getting supplies, but he trusted me, and I trusted him. He and I formed our alliance first and the group grew from there. For a long time we were all the other had, so of course he was concerned.

But he became less worried when I kept coming back like I promised I would.

He didn’t want me going on this mission. He said it felt wrong, that he just knew something bad would end up happening to me. I didn’t listen. I had too many reasons to go and not enough to not go.

First reason for me to go was that Peter was going. He is-was-one of the people I enjoy being around in Pandora Haze’s space program. I don’t get to see him much outside of work because it would raise suspicion, and there’s a strict “no dating between coworkers” rule that would cause us both to lose our jobs if anyone found out. This was the one way I could be around him, even if we couldn’t act like we really cared for each other.

The other reason I decided to come was because the pay for this mission was incredible. I’d have food and medicine for not only myself, but for the people in my family. Sam, Archie, Jody, Lem, Ed and his daughter-all of them. We’d be set for at least a few months. That’s more than a lot of people can ask for in the wreckage that we called home.

I fought my way out of hell. I fought my way to revolution. I was louder than our flag when it fell.

So I came here, did this mission which was supposed to be simple, supposed to be easy, supposed to be safe. I feel safe. I feel warm. It’s a deep sense of calmness that threatens to pull me under like the blackness outside would do if I were to open the airlock. I can hear the whispers even louder now, and the taste of sweet fruits on my tongue is ever stronger, mixing with the occasional chocolate I would half with Sam when we were allowed such luxuries.

I can see it in front of me-home, happiness. I still see the pain and destruction and fire, but it seems so much tamer now. There’s less chaos, less bloodshed. I look down and don’t see the stains of the lives I’ve taken in order to stay alive.

It feels good to see this, good to feel this.

That’s why I bite down on my tongue, hard enough to make it bleed, nearly hard to enough to bite it clean off. But my brain stops me, basic survival instincts stopping me from doing too much damage. I don’t have the energy to fight it, and thankfully it’s enough to bring me back down, push the voices of those I love to the back of my mind until they’re nothing but a dull buzz that resonates in my ears.

They’ll be back. This isn’t the worst of it.

It makes me sick to think that, because the voices are not of just of the people I left on earth, but the people I’ve lost.

We wrote in secret. Love letters we hid well. I fought for the people I love and defended them well. And in the face of ignorance and resistance, I fought for new systems to be put in existence.

On earth things are still terrible, people dying, people fighting over resources that will grow more scarce day by day. We won’t be able to stop what is to come. Humanity will fall. After joining up with Pandora Haze, I met many people who tried to come up with ideas to save the world, save humanity.

A smart woman named Janine always had a solution, a plan that was perfect to even the smallest detail. I never talked to her much, but I believed in what she said. She gave people hope, but not through sweet words or circling stories or empty promises. She spoke the truth, told us the work that would need to be done in order to fix things. I think she could have fixed things, had she come up with these ideas quicker. They were perfect, after all. I did whatever I could to get her plans into motion…

But even perfect plans can fail. People are too unpredictable now, all morals thrown out the window. There’s no sense of loyalty, no sympathy or humanity or humility. Venus Colony was supposed to be our big breakthrough.

And when my prayers to God were met with indifference I picked up a gun. I wrote my own deliverance!

I suppose I’m a part of the problem. I was willing to kill and destroy to protect the people I love. Many of the people back on earth have already lost the ones they cared about, so now all they can worry about is themselves. I’m sure I would have ended up the same way if I didn’t know of certain ways to survive in small communities or groups. I survived because I fought, I killed and destroyed and stole and did everything possible to stay alive.

And even that wasn’t worth it. I’m still dying, blood pooling in my mouth from biting my tongue and pain just barely overshadowing the sickly-sweet way everything feels. I can feel the red fungus growing under my fingers. I wish it hurt. I wish it didn’t feel like the not-quite soft sweater Jody knitted for me for my birthday. I wish it didn’t feel like the blanket Archie gave up to keep me warm when I had pneumonia. I wish it didn’t feel like safety and goodness and peace.

I wish it didn’t. I wish it hurt.

In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet for just a moment A yellow sky.

I look down. It’s almost time. I never thought of myself as a coward, but I don’t think I have it in me to use the blaster. I don’t know why. I’ve thought about dying more than once, and most of the scenarios were violent and painful. I mean, you have to think about it in this day and age. Death has always been inevitable, but now death is always on your heels, and it will catch you when you slow down.

I slowed down here. It’s almost caught me. It’s just waiting for me to decide how I’m going to go.

There’s another way I’ll do this, I think. I don’t know if I deserve it-a peaceful death. After all I’ve lived through, after surviving this long when everyone else on this mission has died in horrendous and agonizing ways, a part of me thinks I should die painfully, slowly. It’s only fair…

But I can’t.

I was twelve when my mother died. She was holding me. We were sick and she was holding me. I couldn’t seem to die.

There are bracelets in a compartment in the Captain’s deck. I have one of them on. I don’t remember why they were created, what specific reason. I don’t remember who created them either. Amelia’s got some sick fucks working for her, which is probably why she didn’t think my body count was as bad as I believed it to be when I was hired. But whatever the case, I’m glad they’re here.

The bracelets are mechanical, and with the push of a button, needles will poke out, dig into my skin and administer a lethal drug. It’ll be quick. It’ll be painless.

It’ll be a death I don’t deserve.

It’ll be a death that was much more merciful than the deaths I’ve witnessed today.

The friend who would tell me not to do it is in the ground.

At least I’ll get to see them again. I hope I’ll see them again.

I hope I’ll see Peter again.

I wonder if I should leave a message for those back on earth. Will they even see it? Will they even hear it? Can I even trust myself to speak?

I shake my head, closing my eyes for a tad second before opening them again. No. It’s best they just get the message that Captain Myers made. It was safe. It was clean.

Besides, I don’t even know what I’d say. What can you say in a time like this?

The enemies I’ve made won’t have anything on me now.

I swallow down a mouthful of coppery blood, but even it isn’t strong enough to silence the raging voices, begging me to just give in. The fungus is becoming thicker under my fingernails. Red is clouding my vision.

It feels so good, so peaceful. All pain fades away like a distant memory.

I wish I could cry. I wish I knew what to say. I wish I wasn’t alone.

I wish this didn’t all feel so good. I feel euphoric, almost to the point that I don’t want to leave. I can see them all, feel it. It’s so beautiful, so overwhelming and crushing and amazing and I wish it wasn’t.

My breathing is shaky, but the one coherent thought I have it simple…

This ends here.

I can hear what the voices are saying in response.

“Wait for it. Wait for it. Wait for it.”

I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory.

My finger hovers over the button. I’m shaking.

I’m smiling.

I look back out at the glass window, at the stars that burn for me, someone who will never get to write of their beauty, who won’t even have the pleasure of remembering it to tell to my friends when I get back home.

I’m going home. That’s what I tell myself. I’m going home.

Space is not forgiving. It’s endless and dark and cold. Its beauty is deceitful. Its emptiness is ever consuming.

But its there, a sight to behold, too beautiful and chaotic and breathtakingly terrifying for any human’s mind to understand.

This is the eye of the hurricane. This is the only way I can protect my family.

I feel a tear slide down my cheek, and while I don’t mean to, I laugh.

“Wait for it! Wait for it! Wait for it! Wait!”

I press the button.

@dorkylittleweirdo​ @midwestern-runner-five​ @runnerfiveready​ @running4chaos​ @poeticllamasofdestruction @pocketsizerudy

[mcrflashfic]

Side Effects

Living in the Zones will change you. Literally.

Author: @justlookatthewheat

Content Warnings: Body Horror

Word Count: 2,999

Party Poison wasn't about to claim any kind of expertise on radiation poisoning, but he was at a loss for any other explanation as to why he woke up looking like a fucking Maraschino cherry.

His first thought was - well, his first thought was what the fuck is on my head as he walked past the diner windows on his way to take a piss. His second thought, then, was where the fuck did Ghoul get hair dye? Because this was for sure a Ghoul prank. But then that didn't make sense either, really. Party's hair had been black. He would have definitely noticed someone bleaching his entire head and slapping dye over top, unless he'd been, like, gonna-meet-the-Phoenix-Witch frying, which he knew he hadn't. (Even if he had, his hair would still smell like peroxide. Also, he'd be face first heaving into a bush right now, probably.) It took several minutes of staring at his reflection and pulling strands of his own hair out to inspect them up close before he started entertaining the possibility that he'd mutated overnight, though. And he didn't believe it until he wasted a whole bottle of water and some of the soap they'd salvaged from the diner’s dishwasher on trying to wash it out.

The sand wasn't even pink when he finished rinsing. Neither were his hands. He bent to peer into one of the side mirrors on the Trans Am - to his alarm, his eyebrows, lashes, and three-day stubble were all the same Pantone 485 C color as the hair on his scalp.

"How do you even remember the Pantone color names?" Kobra asked him, exasperated, like Party had fabricated this situation specifically to piss him off, at the exact same moment a totally fascinated Ghoul said "Does the carpet match the drapes?"

Kobra glared at Ghoul so hard Party thought he would sprain something. "Stop talking, or I'm filling your boots with dead spiders while you sleep."

Party'd gone to show the other three as soon as he realized how much the whole thing was pegging the weird meter. So far, they were handling it about as well as he'd expected, which was not at all. He sat on a chair in the middle of the diner floor while they crowded him and talked over each other asking questions.

"It's scientifically relevant. Like, is it all of his hair, or just the hair on his head?" Ghoul grabbed Party's arm and yanked it close, squinting at his peach fuzz; annoyed, Party ripped it back again and folded both arms tight over his chest.

"Yes, it's everywhere. Stop manhandling me, fucker."

Jet had been inspecting his hair with the back of a polished saucepan throughout the debate - probably checking to make sure whatever it was wasn't happening to him - and he finally put it down to join the discussion again. "It's weird that it's just you who's affected. I mean, we're all getting exposed to radiation, right? So why's Poison the only one in Technicolor?"

"And all at once," Kobra added, frowning. He leaned in closer to peer at the top of Party's head. "It'd make more sense as a mutation if it was just the roots."

Ghoul snickered. "Too bad you didn't snag 'Cherry Bomb' for your Killjoy name, Poison. Think of the thematic relevance it'd have now."

"Hilarious." Party rolled his eyes and dragged both hands through his new, inexplicably red locks. "Seriously, you guys. If it's radiation, where do the mutations end? Like, am I gonna get psionic fire powers next?"

The effect was not what Party was going for. All three of them instantly lit up with excitement - even Kobra broke his signature scowl to gasp out a "Holy shit, what if you did, though?"

Party dropped his head into his palms with a groan.

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

Ghoul was next. Party was actually the one to discover it, while the two were picking their way through a dusty warehouse on the far edge of Zone 5 a couple weeks after the Hair Incident. It was oppressively hot inside despite the dim and the amount of space. They both had been stripping off layers as they sweated through them; finally, Ghoul tore off his t-shirt in a fit of heat-induced pique, chucking it in a heap on the cluttered floor, and Party gasped.

"Oh my God, Ghoul, your tattoos," he said, too loud in the empty warehouse - his voice echoed, and Ghoul nearly dropped his gun in alarm.

"What? What's wrong with them?" he asked, tinged with panic, and looked down wide-eyed at his torso. "Oh, Jesus fuck."

It was like something out of Harry Potter. Party gaped at Ghoul's skin in wonder - his tattoos were moving. Some flashed like neon; some, like the swallows across his hips, moved like their living counterparts. The grenade on his chest exploded and reconstituted on a loop. All the stars glittered; pieces in script flowed as though being traced in real time by an invisible calligrapher. Party couldn't help himself but reach out and touch one of them. It rippled gently beneath his fingertips.

"That is so fucking creepy," he said, hushed with awe, and watched the letters vanish before wisping, smoke-like, back into place. "Can you feel them?"

Ghoul shook his head fiercely, face pale. His eyes were so big Party could see white all the way around his irises. "No, I - I didn't even - oh shit, oh dude, look at my fucking hands," and he held them up so Party could see them, and he watched with a sort of horrified fascination as the letters swirled around Ghoul's fingers like stripes around a barbershop pole. "Is this fucking permanent? Party, what if it's permanent? They're all - it's all of them, oh my God," he babbled, high and strained, and clutched at Party's shoulders in distress. Party gave him a hug because he couldn't think of anything else to do, and Ghoul shuddered, and clung back.

Jet took it almost as poorly, once they'd gathered what they needed out of the warehouse and returned to base. He clamped both hands over his mouth the instant Ghoul rolled up his sleeves and reeled backward. "Abso-fucking-lutely not. Ghoul, what the fuck?"

"Dude, if I knew, it wouldn't be happening," Ghoul snapped. Kobra came closer, studying Ghoul's ink with his brows drawn together. He dragged his fingertip over the Our Lady tattoo on Ghoul's forearm.

"Party's radiation theory is looking plausible here," he said, sounding thoughtful, and glanced up to meet Party's eye. "I mean, I can't think of anything else that would cause this."

"Are we all gonna end up with freaky shit, then? Is it gonna get worse? Cause there is a big fuckin' difference between sprouting unnatural hair and living tattoos," Jet said, looking pointedly away from Ghoul. "Oh god, what if my hair turns into snakes or something?"

Kobra snorted, straightening up. "If anyone's getting a snake-themed mutation, it'll be me. Maybe I'll get fangs."

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

He was almost right. It was significantly more disturbing than simple fangs, but it was definitely snake-themed. They were mid-clap when it happened and shit was already chaotic; Party was struggling to clear dust from his eyes with his shoulder when he heard a sickening crunch and then Jet shrieking Kobra's name. Heart in his mouth, Party whirled around with his gun raised, fearing the worst - but all he saw was Kobra, helmet on, going after a Drac down a wash. He glanced at Jet in confusion, and fired a slug at a Drac over his shoulder.

"What the hell was that sound?" he shouted.

Jet, looking like he'd seen a literal ghost, didn't answer him, just stared after Kobra in stock-still terror until Party ran over and yanked him down behind a rock embankment for cover.

"Fuck, Jet, get it together or you're gonna get dusted," Party huffed out, and shot back to his feet to fire off a couple rounds before ducking back down. "What happened?"

"That - he's not - Party, Kobra didn't bring his helmet on this raid," said Jet, and dug his fingers into Party's bicep. They locked eyes, Jet's wide and scared. "That's not his helmet. That's his fucking head."

Party blinked back at him, lost. "What? That doesn't - "

"CAN I GET SOME FUCKING HELP HERE, GUYS?" Ghoul's voice yelled then, and Party cursed before scrambling up behind the embankment, Jet on his heels. They helped Ghoul shake the couple Dracs that had ganged up on him, and then Kobra came running back up the dry creek, splattered with Drac blood. Back to back to back to back, they assumed their usual end-of-firefight position, Party and Ghoul checking north and south with Kobra and Jet looking east and west, guns drawn. Once everyone gave an all clear, they re-holstered and took a second to decompress. Ghoul wiped his face with the bandana tied around his neck, his tattoos whirling dizzily across his skin.

"Okay, so, what the fuck happened back there? I looked up and everyone was gone," he complained to the group, glaring at each of them in turn. "Didn't we talk about keeping eyes on each other the whole time during these things?"

"Sorry, Ghoul, there was sort of a - " Party started to say, looking up from adjusting his gloves, but he stopped short when he laid eyes on Kobra and Kobra's helmet suddenly deflated and disappeared into his collar with that same crunching noise he'd heard before.

"...What?" said Kobra, glancing between the three of them, puzzled. Party could feel the frozen shock on his face, but couldn't articulate any words; Ghoul heaved a dry retch and pressed his hands over his mouth, while Jet gestured frantically at Kobra while looking to Party.

"That! That's what fucking happened, except the other way! I told you it wasn't his helmet!"

Kobra touched his hand to his face, still looking confused. "Yeah, I didn't bring it cause we were in the Trans Am. Why are you guys freaking out?"

Party, acting on a hunch, quick drew his gun on Kobra and lunged, but didn't fire - Kobra leapt backward with a yelp, and sure enough, his helmet formed over his head with that same awful sound. Party shoved his gun back into the holster and grabbed Kobra by the wrist, dragging him toward the Trans Am. He pushed him in front of the side mirror. "Kobra, look."

He did. "What the fuck," he said, muffled.

Party laid a hand on his shoulder. "Dude. It's a cobra hood. The radiation made you grow a fucking cobra hood."

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

By the time it was Jet's turn, the Fab Four were in full-on Buffy research mode to figure out what the hell was going on, and more importantly, if there was anything they could do to stop it. Dr. D didn't know anything but promised to put out feelers for them; they talked to other Killjoys at raves and underground gigs; they stripped tech off Drac bodies and raided Better Living outposts and scoured the airwaves for any stray bits of information. Meanwhile, their individual mutations got weirder. Party's hair color changed, first from day to day, then hour to hour, until it seemed like it varied with each breath. Ghoul's tattoos started multiplying of their own accord. The older ones resharpened, ink drawing up through the layers of skin - their motion, they learned by way of careful note taking, was dependent on his body temperature, faster when he was warm and slower when he was cold. Kobra didn't grow fangs or start sibilating, but he did figure out how to pop out the cobra-hood-helmet thing on command instead of just whenever he felt threatened.

"You know how with the summer monsoons, you can watch the rain sweep over the desert in a sheet until it finally gets to you?" Jet said to Party one day when it was just the two of them on watch. They were parked on top of the Vista de Nada Plano outcrop in Zone Six, waiting to intercept a Drac patrol coming from the east. "That's how I feel about this fucking mutation thing. I just wanna get it over with."

Party glanced over at Jet from the landscape sketch he'd been doing out of sheer boredom. Jet's jaw was clenched, gun in his lap, and he kept trailing his thumb up and down the barrel as he stared out over the scrub wastes. "It's not so bad being a mutant," he said, opting for levity. It only kind of worked; Jet snorted, but didn't smile.

"Easy for you to say. You got the Rainbow-Brite mutation. Kobra sprouted snake anatomy. That's like Storm telling Rogue to cheer up and embrace her power."

Hard to argue with that. Party shrugged, and tapped the end of his pencil against his sketchpad. "Maybe you'll get a softball one, too."

Jet ran his tongue over his teeth. "Yeah, maybe." He knocked his aviators up the bridge of his nose with his knuckle, and then suddenly sat up stock straight, clutching his gun with both hands. "Start the car."

"Huh? Why?" Party looked around, twisting in his seat to check behind them, too - no sign of danger, no dust from vehicles, just the rocks and larrea bushes.

"There's an Exterminator coming up the back side. They've got Dracs with them," said Jet, already shifting into shooting position in the passenger seat; Party cursed, and fumbled to get the keys back in the ignition.

"Fuck, I can't see anything - how do you know that? Where'd you spot them?" The Trans Am roared to life, and Party gunned it down the front side of the outcrop, keeping an eye on the rearview while he dug his gun out of its holster and passed it to Jet.

"I...didn't," said Jet, sounding surprised, and Party cut a glance at him; Jet was staring straight out the windshield, guns in both hands, aimed at the roof. "I just got a feeling."

A ray gun blast whizzed past the driver's side window and glanced off the side mirror. Party jumped, and looked back to the rearview; sure enough, an Exterminator car rose up over the hill behind them, with a Drac hanging out the back window. "Hell of a feeling," he said, and barked out a laugh. "Holy shit, are you psychic now?"

Jet, cranking the passenger window down, shot him a grin before he turned around in the seat. "I guess I'll let you know!"

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

It was another couple months before other Killjoy cliques and Zone dwellers started complaining of their own mutations. They ranged from the superficial and mundane Party-esque changes all the way to the X-men level shit Jet and Kobra got. Only two factors were consistent across the board - everyone who got them had been living out in the Zones for at least three months, and they’d all had some kind of clap with Dracs. The major breakthrough came from Kobra, who’d appointed himself lead researcher, when he figured out there was a positive correlation between the severity of the mutation and how many Dracs you’d killed - i.e., the higher your body count, the crazier your mutation.

“I don’t know exactly what it is about killing them that’s causing this, though,” he admitted, after coming to the rest of them with the data.

“I bet it’s the masks,” said Ghoul. “Who knows what kinda freaky shit powers those things? They wipe your fuckin’ soul!”

“Yeah, but you don’t always destroy their masks when you kill them,” Jet pointed out, rubbing his exposed eye. The psychic thing only worked, they’d learned, when Jet’s regular vision was dimmed - he thought it was super annoying to wear sunglasses all the time, so he’d taken to wearing an eyepatch. It worked, and it was totally awesome. Party had sewed him a little star pattern for it. “It’s gotta be something you’re exposed to every time.”

Party frowned, thinking back to all the claps they’d been in since they got out to the Zones. Was there anything that happened every single time? Did he get near one of them every time? Definitely not. The closest he got to actually touching Dracs was standing too close when they got hit by slugs and bled on him.

Wait. Was that -

“Holy shit,” he said out loud, and the other three all looked at him. “Is it - is it their blood? Like, touching it?”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Ghoul moaned instantly, covering his face with both hands. “Ugh, Party, that’s fucking disgusting, and the awful thing is I think you’re fucking right.”

Better Living themselves spared them the world’s most vile follow-up experiment by confirming their suspicions in a radio broadcast Dr. D picked up and recorded. Not in as many words - as usual, there was some jargon they didn’t know how to parse, and it was all in Japanese - but definitely something about how exposure to Drac blood could poison you. Of course, that concept set the collective Zone-dwelling imagination on fire; a nuclear answer to the age old question of what drinking vampire blood will do to a mortal, which apparently was superpowers. News hit the zine syndicate, and before the Fab Four could warn anyone that the mutations would absolutely get weirder the more you exposed yourself, the latest Killjoy craze was chugging Drac blood to see what kind of crazy shit would happen to you.

Which turned out to be: a painful physical ordeal in the vein of ayahuasca consumption, first of all. Once you got past the delirium tremors and projectile vomiting, though, it wasn’t all bad. And sometimes, if you were really lucky, at the end of it you sprouted wings or could blow shit up with your mind or talk to dead people.

Party never did have normal hair again.

[artisticestheticreads]

SWEET TOOTH

A/N: So I saw a post from @wakandascrystal that said “hear me out,  (Y/N) got 4 older brothers who won’t hesitate to end a nigga life if they try anything with their baby sister..but The short yellow off the shoulder dress (Y/N) got on at the neighborhood cookout got Erik ready to risk it all.” LIGHT BULB. Don't worry. I got her permission and she wanted to be tagged so here it is. There are also links in this piece so watch for bold and italicized font. 

A/A/N: So, this is still a reader and Erik one shot but you will go by the nickname “Sweets” and “Baby Girl”...oh and your last name is Moore.

WARNING: Contains drug use, swearing, sexual puns, angst, and fluff

SONG RECOMMENDATION: Nite and Day by Al B. Sure!

  It was a hot July day where the neighbor was holding its 50th Annual Block Party. There was old school music playing loudly, children in swimwear running around with water toys, mothers bringing tons a food down to the eating area and men playing games like dominos, spades, and poker. The smoke of the grills filling the air making people even more hungry. At one home, a young man stood on the porch in a crisp white tee, tan cargos and white running shoes with a chain with a ring, another with a gold ankh and a matching watch on his wrist. He dreads were tossed to the left and he had a Budweiser in his right hand. He was with his long term friend Ron who looked like Odell Beckham with no tattoos and short hair. 

    “It’s good to have you back, E. Real talk. You been gone for too long” Ron said as he rolled a blunt and began to smoke. Erik sipped his beer and said “yeah, decided to visit my real family. My Aunt is like my moms now, T is like that annoying ass big brother that think he know everything and princess was showing me some sneakers she making for me. They coo.” What he didn’t mention was the scars he had for ever kill were removed and how he was dead for like a week and brought back to life by his genius cousin and also that he had royal blood in his veins.

 Erik saw a group of four men walking to a house across the way; the Moore Brothers. From left to right, there was Darnell, Andre, Mitchell, and Junior. “Welp, there goes the Nigga Turtles”, Erik said before Ron laughed. “Yeah, they keep getting bigger to keep niggas away from Baby Girl.” Speaking of, a white Nissan Altima pulled up passed the orange sign that cut off the street and parked; that’s when Erik saw her as if they were in slow motion. Her skin was a bronze glow that glittered in the sun. Her 4c curls resembled a cloud that framed her round, babyface with big roasted chestnut eyes that can hold heat in them. She finally walked from the driver side to show her figure. Her off the shoulder yellow dress hugged her thick body oh so well. Her curves screamed ‘look at me’. Her breasts were sitting at attention and her behind was like a chocolate peach. She showed off her legs in a pair of wedges and her golden chain read ‘Sweets’. The back of her right shoulder was home to an adorable baby jaguar tattoo. 

   “There’s our Baby Girl”, Darnell said getting her families attention. She opened up her arms to her mother and father with a smile receiving hugs then her brothers waited for their turn. Erik watched as he placed his hands in his pockets and when he saw them walking in their home, Baby Girl, walking behind, he whistled. She looked around and finally saw Erik. He nodded at her with a smirk and she waved small with a wink before walking in. “Cuh, you must got a death wish or somethin’. You know damn well them negroes do not play ‘bout their sister.” Erik turned to his friend with a chuckle. “Ron, aint no one scared of them muthafuckas, dawg. You talking to a man who has killed at least 2,351 people around the world. I’m a Navy Vet, they should be scared of me.”

   “E, they don’t care about that shit. To them, you still Lean Bean to them,” Ron said as he smoked. Erik cringed at how he used to look and said: “Why you gotta bring up old shit for, huh?” He turned back to the street to see Nat and Baby Girl walking down the street with trays of food. Erik smiled and walked down catching up to him as Ron followed. “How y’all ladies doing”, E asked making her smile. “We good. How about you? Long-time, no see, E”, she said with her brow raised. “Eh, I’ve been good but who told you to get thick on me, looking a cute fine apple”, he said with a smirk. “Good one, E. But I can say the same about you”; they smiled at each other.

   He looked behind to see that the brothers were nowhere in sight. Erik got closer and she said “getting a little close there. You don’t wanna get in trouble by my brothers, do you?” He chuckled and said, “I ain’t worried about them.” When he was about to wrap his arm around her neck, he felt a palm on his chest and they looked to see it was the Moore Brothers and Sweets rolled her eyes. “Well, well, well. If it ain’t Lean Bean all grown up. What you tryna do”, Darnell asked as he signaled Mitchell to remove his hand. “Guys, we were just talking and besides, I’m not a baby anymore. I can handle myself”, Y/N said making everyone look at her. Erik held her hands up with a chuckle and said “y’all heard her. She can handle herself.” Darnell’s eyes cut to him then he said to Andre “get the food” and signaled Junior to flung her over his shoulder. Darnell said “that was strike two. First was whistling at her. We watching you, Lean. Bean”. They walked into the crowd but Sweets and Erik’s eyes were still on each other. Ron looked to Erik who stood with a look in his eyes like he wasn’t about to give up. Erik started walking and said  “that gives me one more strike. I love a good ol’ challenge.”

“Fuck. This is like high school all over again”, Ron said following him. Erik saw Baby Girl being put down, fixing her dress, poking each brother in her chest and taking the food from them walking away; the brothers walked the other way. “I need you to cover me. I’m going in”, Erik said to Ron. He saw her in the food area, dropping off the food and stood by her. “You okay, Sweets”, he asked and she looked up to him. “My bad. I’m good. I just wished they would stop babying me. I’m gonna be thirty soon for God sake.” Erik nodded, started to caress her arm and said “I get it. You the only the girl and you the baby. You gotta put yo foot down, Baby Girl, if you want them to respect you. I mean you are a grown-ass woman after all.” 

   She looked up at his face and grinned as he did the same. They noticed how the music was turned down so she took his hand into hers and made their way onto the curb with everyone else. The neighborhood got into a huge oval and the leader of the block with her family stood in the middle; she had a headset microphone. “Good afternoon, neighborhood. I just wanted to thank everyone who has come out and brought out many dishes to this affair. I have a few announcements to make beforehand though. I would like to congratulate the new addition to the Smith Family. Jeremiah Richard Smith was born at seven pounds and 8 ounces.” Everyone cheered and Erik leaned into Y/N’s ear and said “that’ll be ours one day”; she grinned. The leader continued with “and also congratulations to the neighborhood’s favorite baby girl, Y/N “Sweets” Moore for her grand opening last week of her own bakery called ‘Baby Girl’s Sweets’ located in the Crenshaw Mall. We are very proud of you”. Everyone applauds and the smile on her face lit Erik’s whole world. 

  “And finally, we would like to welcome back Mr. Erik Stevens for his safe trip back home from being in the Navy and from his home country of Wakanda.” Everyone cheered and laughed as he took a cheesy bow. “Now, everyone please bow your heads and join hands as we go into prayer.” Everyone did so but before Erik did, he looked across the way to see the Moore Brothers with joined hands and death stared across the way. It reminded him of the US Movie and he could have sworn he heard the horror version of ‘I Got Five on It’ somewhere. Y/N looked up to him and caressed his beard, saying “E, it’s ok. Look down”; he did what he was told after she kissed his cheek.

“Lord Jesus, our brother, be with us today. Bless our happy gathering, and bless this meal that we share. Protect us all, and help us to grow in your love. Lord Jesus, we praise your holy name forever. In Jesus Name, Amen.” Everyone started to make their plates and Y/N with Erik made theirs the same; grilled chicken, mac n cheese, greens, potato salad, and cornbread with cups of her Koolaid. Erik asked, “so, how the bakery doing?” She sipped her drink after she ate a chunk of mac n cheese. “It’s actually really good. My folks have been spreading the word getting me noticed. Even ABC 7 came down. You should come and try some of my cake.” Erik looked at her as she ate again and said “why try some? I want the whole thing.” She looked at him and scooted closer to him. “Be careful. You may get a sweet tooth.” He took her soft hand and kissed it. “Girl, I’ve had a sweet tooth for years now”, he said smoothly and she blushed with her cute nose wrinkled. Nat and Ron came to the table with plates and drinks were dead silent.

  “How the food, y’all”, Darnel asked with a smile and cup in his hand, sipping. “Good”, Nat and Ron said but Baby Girl and Erik only looked at one another until Junior and Andre pulled her seat far away and place their seats between them. “Yeah, Ms. Richards did the damn thing with the mac and cheese,” said Mitchell as he pulled up a seat next to their sister and began eating his plate. “Boy, if you don’t stop smacking in my ear, Ima hurt you”, she said ith her brow raised that made E smile. As the group ate, Erik and she would steal looks at one another. As Junior and she talked, Erik sipped from his cup, noticing Darnell looking at him. Nigga staring too damn hard but I got something for all of them, he thought to himself, leaning back into his chair with a smirk.

  “So, Baby Girl, when can I try that cake of yours?” Everyone at the table looked at him and she answered “anytime you would like. But, I should warn you. It will be the best cake you have ever had and ever will”, she said. “I would love to have some right now if you don’t mind”, he said and with that, she stood, looking at him with a grin of her own. “Coming. Right. Up.” She looked at Nat and they made their way to the dessert table. Erik watched her with a grin and his head slightly tilted. “Strike Three”, Andre said and Darnell added, “you think you slick, huh nigga? Tryna fuck with our baby girl like we ain’t here. That's aight. Let’s go.” The brothers stood and Ron looked at E. “Cuh, you a dead man. Real talk.” 

  “Man, shut yo ass up,” E said looking into his friend’s soul. After dessert, the group sat and talked for a little but there was no sign of the brothers anywhere. Erik and Sweets talked and laughed until the announcer said “aight, calling all men. It is time for the basketball game and Andre & Darnell volunteered to be captains. They will call their other four members one by one. Winners get a $50 Visa gift card.” They all applaud and Andre started to read off names. “Aight, so I choose Junior Moore, Toni M. Montell, Chad Jordan, and Ronald D. Duke.” Erik, Y/N, and Nat looked at Ron who stood slowly walking towards his team confused. Darnell said “on my team. I chose Mitchell Moore, Wolf Thomas, Erik ‘Lean Bean’ Stevens and Daniel Bryant.” Baby Girl looked at Erik and shrugged as he stood making his way. 

  Two hoops were across from one another a couple yards away and the guys were preparing themselves. Y/N stood in front since she was tad short and Erik slid his shirt off, making her lips part. He looked at her and walked over to her with shirt in hand. “Hold this for me, yeah”, he winked and kissed her head. The game was going and it was tied 20 - 20. Darnell’s team actually got along, like if they were family. They cracked jokes and played fought on the sidelines like nothing happened...or was it? There were two minutes left in the game and the opposite team missed the shot but Erik took the rebound. He ran down court being guarded by Mitchell. He looked over at Baby Girl with a smirk and right when he was about to shoot it, Mitchell hit him with a hard elbow to the nose resulting him to fall hard to the ground: he still made the shot. 

  Mitchell, Junior, Darnell and Andre ran to Erik as the others watched and aimed to attack him. Darnell hit him with a left hook, Erik did the same and Baby Girl screamed “stop it! Leave him alone.” She slipped out her mother’s hands and stood in front of the flying hands which stopped. “Y/N ‘SWEETS’ MOORE, GETCHO LIL ASS OUT THE WAY, NOW. HE AIN’T NO GOOD. WE PROTECTING YOU”, said Darnell but she said “NO! I CARE ABOUT HIM TOO MUCH AND HERE Y’ALL ARE! THE FUCK Y’ALL JUMPING HIM FOR! Y’ALL ACTING LIKE A GROUP OF PUSSY ASS NIGGAS! What y’all couldn’t do one on one or something? He did nothing to y’all but y’all being such fucking idiots that you think you’re protecting me but you’re actually hurting me!” The brothers looked at her and as Darnell reached his hand out, she pushed aside and smacked him with the black side of her right hand. He covered his jaw as his mother pulled them out the street. “Team Andre is disqualified. Team Darnel is the winners.” The crowd went away from the drama and back to the party. 

   Y/N stood in front of him with nose dripping blood and his head held up. “E, I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what to do to make this better.” He snatched his shirt out of her hand and held it to his nose. “Don’t bother. Ima just catch you later”, he walked off and heard muffled crying behind. He wanted to stop and hold her but his feet wouldn’t let him. He was in Ron’s house, lying on the couch with an ice pack to his face and eyes closed. “She tried to help, E”, Ron said and Erik said “I know, Ron. But the Moores are right. I ain’t good for her. I wasn’t back then and I’m damn sure not now.” 

“E, she don’t give a fuck so why should you? I mean Sweets smacked the dog shit outta her brother and told them off. She didn’t deserve what you did,” Ron said and Erik sat up looking at Ron as he sat in his armchair. “You right. I guess I’ll go apologize since my nose stopped bleeding.” Erik went into the bathroom to see his nose slightly swollen and had a scar on it. He grabbed a band-aid to place on top and took a few aspirins, he put on a black shirt and walked out the door to the dance floor. The sky had gotten dark and the street lights were on. “Hey, Stevens. Wait up”, Darnell said but Erik kept walking. The Moores rand and stood in front of him making him stop. “What the fuck y’all want? Y’all tryna try and jump me again,” he asked and Darnel sighed. 

   “We sorry, man. I mean, we can be a bit protective but what you expect? We got a baby sister and this shit hard. She ain’t little anymore and we just don’t want her to get hurt”, Mitchell said. “Yeah, we just tryna make sure she good but I guess she can make her own decisions”, added Junior. Andre had his arms folded and said: “Y/N is literally our world and we just don’t want to see her cry.”

“But we made her cry because we tried to kick ya ass. We hate seeing her cry and all. We apologize and if it means anything, we think you cool. The laughing we did earlier was real. You a cool ass nigga, Lean Bean. No hard feelings”, Darnel said and reached his hand out. Erik looked at them all and took his hand into his shaking it. “If y’all don’t mind, Ima go to apologize to my girl”, he said walking to Y/N who back was turned. He tapped her shoulder and she looked up to him. “E, I’m really, really sorry. I didn-”, she said before his thumb grazed her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I mean. I shouldn’t have been mad at you. Sweets, I love you a lot. I’ve always had.” His lips touched hers in a peck then eventually, as “Nite and Day” by Al B. Sure played through the air, the kiss got needy and intimate with fireworks popping in the background.

𝕊𝕀𝕏 𝕐𝔼𝔸ℝ𝕊 𝕃𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ

   It was late July when Erik walked into a huge bakery in jeans, a black tee and matching sneakers Shuri gifted him. He went to the counter to the cashier who had a big smile. “Hi, sir. How can I help you today?” Erik nodded and said, “yeah, lemme get a slice of the famous Sweetie double chocolate cake, a whole Lean Bean pie and lemme get a cute four-year-old Hershey Kiss.” With that, he heard a pair of little feet running to him. He felt a pull at his jeans and a cute little girl with her curly hair pulled into a pineapple style. She wore a pair of jeans with a cute chef jacket and a mini pink apron. “Hi, daddy”, she said smiling up at him. He picked her up and said “hey, baby girl. Where my kisses”, he asked and she kissed all over his face. “That’s more like it. Now, who told you that you can look cute pineapple today?”

  “Her mommy did”, a voice from behind the counter said. It was Y/N in a similar outfit and hair as their daughter, Mariah. He leaned down and kissed her lips softly making Mariah giggle. “Are y’all on break now,” he asked Mariah and she nodded hard and fast making them laugh. He sat her down in his lap as Y/N stood at the counter with her cashier. Mariah pulled down his bottom lip and he said “uh, baby girl. What you doing?”

“Momma told me about the stowy of when y’all fell in love and I’m making suwe youw teeth awe okay.” He looked at his daughter confused until she asked “daddy, do you still have a sweet tooth?” He chuckled and looked at his wife. “I will always have a sweet tooth, baby girl.” Sweets looked at them as he looked up at her and they winked at each other with a smile.

𝒯𝒜𝒢𝒢𝐸𝒟 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸𝒮

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[shymeg]

This was no ordinary Saturday

80. "I just found out my best friend and love of my life isn't human and, you're criticizing me for being shocked?! for Anonymous 

synopsis: It started out at Pop's. I was just walking home when the person I secretly loved turned into something supernatural.  Was I dreaming? Was I going to make this out alive?  This was no ordinary Saturday.

                         This was no Ordinary Saturday

I was writing my manuscript having my black coffee at Pop's like any typical Friday evening or early Saturday morning and forgetting that it was a full moon. I never really paid attention before. Why Betty and Archie never wanted to hang out with me. I mean, all I  did was type away at my story. I wanted it to be as realistic as possible. I mean, after all, I was a lurker in the shadows- a lone wolf, Yet now that I think back on it, a lone wolf might die. I mean most wolves run in pacts. They aren't meant to be alone.

So, if it's alone, it was probably abandoned, so that fits me mentally. It more likely was injured in some way a defect I guess that fits me too. Wolves had a pretty coat at first, but after all the fights they get into, they tend not to maintain that beautiful coat of theirs.

So,  minding my business well people, watching as I typically do. I mean, I want the best story, and after, Jason Blossom’s murder. He was shot, which is better than him drowning to death since he was supposed to be this grade A swimmer, so he should have known how to swim. That or do the dead man's float even I am capable of that one. Yet, why was he shot, and for what reason? I was pondering this exact thought when Pop Tate himself came over to me, "Hey Jug, it's 3 A.M. I need you to go home at least for a little while. So, I can pretend I'm not running a hotel."

I blushed from embarrassment. I was going to have to go to my little hole in the wall. Closet now that the drive-in was no longer. I couldn't go home. My dad was violent when he drank. It was a given he'd be drinking today probably all day it being Saturday early morning. I was not going to let my dad beat me because he was drunk or asked where I have been? Where was his food if I was at Pop's. When he knew my job was at the drive-inn and now that was gone taken from me. I still held the picture in my backpack of JellyBean and me. It made my heart hurt. Knowing her and mom just up and left me with that monster. Yet, I think I reminded mom by looks alone too much of him, and she couldn't see my face. I had resentment sure which 15-year-old kid wouldn't?

Yet looking at Pop Tate, I understood his predicament. I stayed for hours here, unless Archie invited me to his place, which was less these days because he was so into football. Pop fed me like I was his foster son. He never asked for payment, and every once in a while, I'd do odd and end jobs, and he'd smile, and I would feel like I repaid some of my debt. Knowing it could never truly be repaid. Pop Tate was a saint for putting up with me, feeding me and keeping me warm this long without asking any questions.

I nodded and said, "Thanks, Pop." He put out his hand, and a paper bag was in it, "For the road until I see you again for breakfast," he had a genuine grin on his face. Like he truly wanted me back. I took the bag, and I hugged him. He embraced my hug.

I was heading for the school and to my secret window when I heard a noise in the bushes. I figured it was just a rabbit. Yeah, a rabbit. Yet, it was howling like a wolf. I wanted to creep closer. Was it hurt? Why would a wolf be in Riverdale? Maybe, just maybe it was an injured dog. I thought back to Archie's dog, and I wouldn't want it lying there alone, crying.

So, I took out my pocket knife encase. I went closer to the bushes, and that's when I saw it. The most vivid white wolf I have ever seen with these emerald eyes pleading for me to stay away. Yet, I couldn't. I looked at the wolf, and I saw that its paw was bleeding badly. The wolf was also limping, and I wondered, was the leg broken?  Was it merely limping do to the paw alone? I wasn't sure, and I was about to call the DNR when the wolf smacked my phone away from my hand.

I was fuming. That phone and my computer may be old, but that's all I had. It wasn't a smartphone like my friends had, but it was a phone, and it was mine. If that stupid wolf broke it, I was going to be livid. Yet, I looked again, it's emerald eyes and saw the pain. Like I could feel it, but how?

I went to try to get my phone when the stupid wolves paw landed on it, "Hey," I shouted. Great, I'm talking to a wolf. When suddenly, the wolf let out a yelp. I saw it. I thought I was dreaming at first, but no, I was still here before Riverdale High and my hole in the wall. The wolf was transforming before my very eyes.

Her vivid white fur becomes peach-colored skin. She had on pink polka undies that made me blush and a pink bra again, making me blush for looking. I turned around embarrassed for her and myself. I would never want to get caught like this. Yet, I wasn't a werewolf. Wait, those are real? I turned to see a shimmer of blonde, yet instead of that iconic ponytail, her hair was wavy and down. It couldn't be, could it? No, way Betty Cooper was a werewolf? Yes, I must be dreaming. I pinched myself. Nope, still here. I heard her whimper behind me. I knew she was injured. Yet, she was practically naked.

I realized I still had my flannel shirt around my waist, so I threw it to her. Hoping that would help. I decided to walk fast away from her towards the direction of the school. I was livid. Why didn't Betty tell me? I thought I was her horror movie, buddy? Her go-to number 2 guy? Only because she wanted Archie. I could never be Archie. I was the cynic, the half-empty guy, the loner that nobody wanted to say out loud they were my friend. I was the social pariah, the outcast, the person from the wrong side of town, the one that shouldn't even be going to Riverdale High. Yet, I was told by my social worker that I'd be going because they didn't want to fail me. I had potential. Blah. I was so mad at Betty. It's not even sunrise yet, so why was she changing? Was it because she was hurt? I didn't care; I muttered to myself. I had no real clue how the Supernatural worked. I never truly believed in it. Now, I saw what she was a werewolf, and I was truly alone.

Next thing I knew, I  spun around so fast and was thrown to the ground held down. "What did you see?" "Get off of me" I tried to fight her off, but she was too strong.

"I'll let you go when you tell me what you saw," Betty gripped harder.

I yelped in pain. I just wanted her to let go. Her eyes looked sharp, jagged even. Did her eyes glow? Did I imagine that? I have no idea anymore about anything.

I closed my eyes and hoped this was all a bad fucked up nightmare. I just wanted to go to my bed in the hole in the wall. I just wanted my friend Betty the one I thought was like me, well human, anyway.

I felt a tear pierce my skin. Of course, I'd cry. "I'm not going away" her voice was angry and husky I looked up I swear my eyes were pleading with hers, "I didn't see anything, I just want to go home." she shook me hit my head against the ground, "You lie!" Sure we all lie, but in this case, not really. I turned around when Betty changed. I didn't see her get hurt. I heard the cry and was hoping it was an injured dog. "i... I  di...did  didn't sssseee  any  anything." Great, now I'm stuttering! she scratched me, "Lie again, and it will be your eye!" I thought she was my friend. I thought wrong. I Gulped down as more tears began to fall. "What do you want me to say? I'll say it," I began to plead. I feel defeated, feeling humiliated. My heart rejected by a friend I knew since Childhood.

Her green eyes looked straight into me. Like she could see my soul. She shivered. She howled. I thought she changed from her wolf form? Why was she still howling? Is it a process? Does she not realize she's not a wolf anymore? My mind was thinking and analyzing every little thing when she hit me. "Get up!" Yeah, that would be so easy. That's what I was doing when you rudely laid me flat. Wouldn't let me get up, but now you will after threatening my eye? I wanted to scream. Yet I got up on wobbly legs. She put my hands behind my back, and she looked like she was going to kill me. "What did you see?" "Nothing, I turned my back." "What did you see before that?" "a wolf that was injured. I was going to call the DNR, but the wolf rudely took my phone." She had the nerve to look at me sheepishly." This phone?" As she picked it up off the ground? Slipping the phone into my back pocket so I couldn't get it.   Betty's green eyes stared  straight into my blue eyes and stated, "you aren't lying." I wanted to scream, no shit. Instead, I said, "Can I go now?" She looked sad, "Unfortunately, No." "WHAT" "You can't because you saw  me." "I did not" I stomped my foot I was throwing a tantrum. "Jughead, you did. You handed me this." I finally looked at her. She was wearing my flannel. It made my heart sing. Yet, something else filled it with dread. She was using that against me. Cause I gave her my clothes? "Hand it back. We can pretend I never saw you with basically nothing on. My apologies you wanted to walk around with your bra and panties." Betty looked pissed at me now, and I didn't care, "I CAN'T have your smell on me, Jughead. If I go back and we don't explain what happened, you might have a hit out on you from one of them thinking you can't be trusted." I glared at her, "Really, they'd kill me because I know? Well, why don't you kill me?  I have no protection, anyway!" She laughed and smiled, "Oh Jug, you are so dramatic." she shrugged, "Plus, why are you overreacting about this?"

Had I  entered the twilight zone? It was the full moon, after all. But somehow I went off, "Really, Betty, you hid this from me, I was supposed to be your friend. Why would you expect me to be okay with this? You threaten me. You hurt me, and you don't care. You act like this is a normal thing. I want to go home and go to sleep."

Betty's wickedness was back, "Oh Jug, but your house is in the opposite direction. The way you were walking was to the High School. So, I'm not the only one holding secrets. Plus, I couldn't kill you, but I might use you as my pet. If you continue with this little game of yours, so stop being upset and march. I wouldn't want to have to force you."

I gulped. I felt Betty's hand on my neck. She kissed my cheek. she whispered in my ear, "If you are a good boy, I might let you sleep in my bed later." She smiled that wicked smile, "I always liked you, Jug, and after tonight, don't worry, I won't turn you, but I might just make you mine."

I thought this would be a typical night to walk home.  I was deadly wrong. I'd be happy if I made it out of this still alive along with being human as I marched to the unknown with my hands behind my back with a robust supernatural being that I love.