#cold steel 100

[nihilismbot]

Hi. My name is Juna Dark'ness Dementia Raven Crawford and I have long pink hair (that's not how I got my name) with fushia streaks and salmon tips that reaches my mid back and minty green eyes like sparkling emeralds and a lot of people tell me I look like Estelle Bright (a/n: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm a Crossbellian but I wasn't in Zero. I have pale white skin. I'm a cop, and I go to a military academy called Thors in Erebonia where I'm in Class VII (I'm seventeen). I'm a prep (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly my school uniform. I love the Times Department Store and I used to buy all my clothes from there. But today I was wearing a white mini skirt with blue stripes on the bottom, a blue jacket with white cuffs, a blue vest underneath, red socks, and black boots with gold trim. I was wearing pink lipstick, natural foundation, black eyeliner, and neutral eye shadow. I was walking outside Thors. It was raining and snowing so there was no sun, which I knew meant a dramatic scene was going to happen. A lot of students stared at me. I put up my hand in greeting at them.

"Hey Juna!" shouted a voice. I looked up. It was.... Kurt Vander!

"What's up Kurt?" I asked.

"Nothing." he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call to me and I had to go away.

[inkedmyths]

Losing it for a second bc I'm scrolling through my phone notes and came across my middle of the night screaming from when I was first going through Trails of Cold Steel 4 as I was turning into one of those conspiracy theorists with the corkboard in my mind

And then ended both of my rambles with I'M GOING TO CHEW GLASS lmaoooo

[memorydragon]

Yeah, I need to play a happier jrpg next...

[reaperkaneki]

ai no uta playing softly in the distance

my bf really enjoyed the ending to sen4 bc he loves the gay mech pilots, but also millium is there,

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey! I love your Cregan fics💕 is it okay if i ask for another fluff Cregan fic?👉👈 i just can't get enough of Cregan fluff

Poison Berries

Who would win? 100 tongues slandering the lady of Winterfell or 1 Cregan Stark?

Cregan Stark x Reader | 700< | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, insecurities, implied body shaming, protective!cregan, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: this is totally me projecting cos my sis and i got body shamed today. it be ur own family i swear

"Where is my wife?" is the first thing Lord Stark says when he returns from his errands. He grunts as he dismounts his horse, eyes fixed upon the stable boy who takes his horse by the reins.

He grunts again at the lack of response and explains, "she told me she would be here when I returned."

The boy shrugs, "I don't know, milord. 've not seen milady all day."

He huffs and nods. He decides to simply look for you in your shared chambers, thinking you would probably be there. Finding your quarters empty, he heads to the library, then the solar, the kitchen, and soon- "where is my wife?!" is heard and repeated all across Winterfell.

Someone tells him you went into the woods to forage, and so naturally, he asks who you left with. He receives no name, and quickly it dawns you had left the safety of stronghold alone. His heart races. How long have you been out? By the old gods, how long have you been out?

Cregan mounts his horse at once and patrols the land. He screams your name out so loudly it disrupts the surrounding wildlife.

He snaps when he hears a response. He is unmistaken; that was your voice calling out his name. Quickly, he answers your call and rides toward you. He nearly leaps from his horse when he spots you, face crestfallen, hair frosty.

He calls your name again, much softer now, voice laced in worry. He captures your cheeks in his hands, hissing when he feels it's unnatural coolness, "are you well?"

You hold a guilty expression as he moves to rub your shoulders.

"Why have you left unaccompanied?" Cregan huffs hotly, his breath condensing with the air, "has something happened?"

"Cregan-" you place your hands on his chest. He stops rubbing your arms.

He watches how you lower your gaze. His face hardens with concern, "my love, speak to me."

You look up at him, eyes now pinkish and teary.

His jaw clenches. He huffs through his nostrils.

"I overheard... ..."

Cregan's expression softens. He clutches your cheeks, "speak," he rubs your skin with his thumbs, "I implore you to speak."

Your sigh turns to fog. You shrug, "they do not think I... I am a true Northern bride."

"True?" he snaps, "you are a Northern bride," he brushes your hair back, "I am Northern and you are my bride."

Your tears become too heavy.

Cregan's stomach churns as he wipes your tears. He hushes you and mutters under his breath, "there can be no truer bride than that of the Lord of Winterfell's."

"I fare horribly in the cold."

"You will grow accustomed to it."

"I do not know how to start a fire."

"Then I shall teach you, if you must lear-"

"But I do not look the part!"

Cregan's face drops.

Your tears begin to turn to frost. Your voice is small, "I do not look like the other ladies. I do not wear the furs well, I do not look shapely... I feel beastly. I was not forged by steel as you are, husband."

He rubs your cheeks, determined to warm you, "and who would slander my wife? Force her to feast on lies?"

You scoff and lower your gaze

"Would that you need be forged by steel-"

You shake your head, "it does not matter."

"It matters greatly," he releases your cheeks, "I will have them answer to their accusations," he clenches his fists, "and we shall see how their furs suit them when they've wet them."

You look up at Cregan, brows furrowing at the sight of his increasing fury.

"I would have them grovel," he mutters, "and sentence them to the Wall if they do not-"

You lips part, "Cregan-"

"Do they believe I would not do that much for the lady of mine own house? My lady?"

"Cregan," you rub the collar of his cloak.

He examines you. A line forms between his brows as he reaches for your wrist.

You look at each other for a moment. His thumb rubs circles on your skin. You raise your brows, "I... I picked a few berries for you," you turn to the basket that laid forgotten on the ground.

His gaze shifts to it.

"Though, I must admit... I am uncertain if they are edible."

He chuckles and takes your hand in his. He kisses your knuckles.

You offer him a soft smile.

The man hums, "perhaps we shall see by feeding them to the slanderers."

You whip your head back, "Cregan."

"A jest... a jest, my lady."

[miirohs]

nightingale [m.v.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Max Verstappen x Nurse!Reader wc: 1.7k cw: indications of ppd (not explicit but you'd have to read the lines for it), max is not the most mentally stable, abuse mentioned (not in detail) an: elle is 100% made up and if yall want more family content hmu i can do it 😝 also, the nightingale oath isn’t universally used, but essentially it’s almost the same thing as the Hippocratic oath doctors take :)

“She won’t stop crying!” Max snapped, frustratedly clutching the rails of the crib as the baby in it cried relentlessly, giving you a crazed look from the corner of his eye as you got closer. It was like dealing with a wounded animal that refused your help.

“Breath Max. Breath.” From the moment you had arrived at the Verstappen home, it had been walking on eggshells, anger fueling his every waking move from as far as three weeks as he prowled around the house.

“Godverdomme (goddamnit) Y/n, I know that! Why is she crying though?!”

You reached out a hand, stroking his back gently. You ought to be as angry as him for having you snatched off the streets but you couldn’t, not with the reveal of his child. You had the barest idea of what he might have been going through.

“I don’t know, I'm not… yeah.” The look in his eyes turned sharp and you closed your mouth, staring down at your hands.

“I’m leaving, I can’t do this right now. Don’t come after me or else.” He threatened, the anger on his face fading into a stoic look as he turned away from the child, one look you feared more than his explosive anger.

It wasn’t until he left the room, gun drawn in hand, that you could breathe again, nearly collapsing to the floor.

You turned around, weakly holding the rails. You could hear him barking at the guards from inside the room, fading into the distance as your anticipation slowly died down. You thought that maybe today, you were good as dead.

The baby’s fussing had died down long before you had finally noticed. You hesitated when looking at her, reaching in to pick her up gently.

“Hi Elle.”

All the baby did was look at you blankly, eyes still wet from the countless tears that’d been shed before Max left. She had his gorgeous blue eyes, but most likely her mothers soft face.

You knew he was a dangerous man, and now you supposed the baby knew as well, seeing the way she’d been crying before Max had finally left the room. It wasn’t an isolated incident as well, building up across many miniature incidents.

The most shocking part, though, was the fact you’d been told the biggest kingpin in the Netherlands had a child. You would’ve laughed in the face of the person telling you before, but now it felt realer than it had been for the last couple weeks.

You gently cradled the baby in your arm, rocking her lightly as you looked out the door ajar to the hall. You could hear the guard grumbling in discontent as they went about their business, yet none of the commotion had bothered Elle. 

She had finally fallen asleep in your arms, gripping onto your finger as you put her down, a strong sense of familiarity washing over you. 

You spent a good part of your time caring for children, as this was no different to you.

Letting go of the crib, you steeled your nerves to walk out the room, arms crossed in front of your protectively as you eyed the men in the hall.

One of the guards, Daniel, held you back gently by the shoulder, looking at you with curious eyes. This was probably one of the more rare times seeing you, it was like you’d never left the nursery from the moment you got here.

“You can’t-”

“He kidnapped me from my own home Daniel. I don’t think he has a right to keep me from going wherever I want in his house.” You snapped, surprised at how hoarse your voice seemed.

He didn’t fight you, simply nodding and slinking back to his spot because there wasn’t much he could do to convince you to stay. 

You could easily recall your steps to the kitchen, the heat in your feet dispelled by the cold tiles as you entered.

You didn’t know how long you were there, standing blankly at the sink as the water continued to fill up in the glass.

The glass was overfilling and you watched it, hands clenched into fists before you released them entirely, weight rolling off your shoulders.

The sound of a door slamming snapped you out of your stupor, turning off the sink and staring into the dimly illuminated living room.

Max came through the door, blood staining his shirt and face, dirt smudge across his nose and cheeks. He noticed you, a look of disparagement in his eyes as he got closer. Looking into his eyes, it really reminded you of Elle.

He ignored you as he limped into the kitchen, opening a cabinet with more gentleness than you’d seen in days.

“I thought I told you not to leave her alone?” He said, voice scratchy and low as if he’d been screaming. 

“She’s finally asleep.”

You responded. He didn’t bother to critize you again, popping open the bottle of whisky and pouring it into a glass. 

He limped back to the living room, settling into an armchair with his back to the cityline. He looked almost formidable as the harsh shadows cast lines on his face.

“You sure have a way of showing you care, Max.”

“I know you aren’t criticizing me now, schat.” He laughed humorlessly, sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh yeah, because kidnapping someone to take care of your child really says you love them.” You snarked, eyes trailing to his sides. 

There were minor tears when you hadn’t seen his shirt before he left, heart beating loudly as you got a glimpse of his bloodied side as he pushed himself up.

“What happened to you?”

“What do you think happened?” He said, rolling his eyes as he lowered the glass from his lips.

“Well, this isn’t healthy. For you or Elle.” You said wearily, finger tracing the rim of the glass. “Have you ever considered therapy? It might-“

“No.” 

You blinked, surprised by his sudden refusal. “Why not?”

“I can’t. Do you know the kind of risk that poses?” He grumbled, clearly offended at you for suggesting so.

“Okay then, sure would’ve been better if you’d kidnapped a therapist rather than an underpaid nurse to do that job for you. Secrecy and all.” 

“That’s how you want to play then? I’ll give you the money, then leave this place and never come back, if you’re that desperate.” He gritted through clenched teeth, temper clearly being dialed up by the reminder.

“What? Absolutely not.” It was your turn to reject his offer, staring at him blankly. You didn’t know why that made you feel so upset.

“I’m offering you money and allowing you to leave, what more could you want, schat?” He scoffed, sharply putting down the whiskey glass as he held his head in the other hand.

“I can't just leave her like that, you know that as well as I do.” He remained silent, which you took as permission to get closer to him.

He didn’t protest as you leaned over, yet flinched slightly as you pulled his shirt up.

“Calm down, if I had any intention of hurting you, you’d know.” You rolled your eyes, turning up the light a little more so you could see the full extent of his wounds.

“I don’t think it’s necessary-“ 

You cut him off with a sharp inhale. The other miniature wounds stared back at you, barely cuts compared to the jagged scar that ran down his side. “When did this happen?” You whispered.

He slammed his glass down again and you flinched back, split seconds before you could look him in the eyes again. They were slightly sorrowful, but otherwise empty, where there had been every negative emotion a human could muster moments before.

“It was my dad.”

“Did he…” You didn’t finish the sentence, swallowing your doubts as you stared at it.

“Yes. It was in a fight. He won, obviously.” He answered, short and clipped as his posture dropped slightly. 

“Is this why you don’t want Elle? Because you don’t want her to go through-” You asked meekly, cut off almost instantly. “The old man is dead. I killed him myself, made sure he couldn’t lay a single hand on anyone else.” Max hissed, a few beats passing in between the both of you.

“Do you know anything about her mother maybe? I could probably pull together something if-”

“She’s dead.” 

You blinked, mouth gaping slightly.

“She was a prostitute. Most likely gone from all the drugs up her system by now. That’s why I needed you. Our old doctor… left his position early.” 

You watched him get up from his spot, clearly done with the conversation, but something about what he said seemed to strike a chord in you.

“So you brought me to make sure-“

“The baby wasn’t affected. You weren’t a doctor but you did just fine I suppose.” He finished, back to you and he poured himself another one.

“Max, do you know what a Nightingale oath is?”

“Een nacht wat (a night what)?” You continued on, though you had a feeling you knew what he said.

“It’s an oath some of us take. To protect and to serve.”

You got up, feet pattering against the ground as you got closer to him.

“I don’t think anyone really abides by it anymore-“ He let out a short laugh, clearly unbelieving of your words as you continued, “-but maybe, just maybe, that’s why I haven’t gone home just yet.”

“Are you sure you want this Y/n? When you could just as easily leave and go home now?” He muttered softly, hunched over the countertop as your hand met his back.

“I’m sure. You need the help Max. You can’t deny it.”

“Then so be it nachtegaal. I can’t stop you when you’ve made up your mind.” He murmured, steely blue eyes meeting your own as he held your gaze.

“Maybe, once you’re well enough, you can finally form some connection to the child.” You sighed, looking at him. “I promise it.”

“You’re very confident in this plan of yours.”

You smiled inwardly at his words. “Why else would I be here if I wasn’t?”

[muntitled]

𝙃𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚'𝙨 𝙇𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Summary: Pregnancy definitely sucks but you take your complaints too far, and soon, you're left with the laborious task of making it up to Satoru

Warnings: Domestic Fluff, Petty!Satoru, Tantrums, God Complex (It's Satoru), Humor, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, Praise Kink, Make up sex, Pregnant sex, Office Sex, Touch starved!reader, DDLG, Daddy Kink, Corruption Kink, Eye Contact, Dirty Talk, Cervix fucking, Lactation kink, Dom/Sub undertones, Subspace, Overstimulation

♡ please excuse me, I'm ovulating

"Is there any way I could park closer? So that your journey might be a quicker one?" Despite his voice dripping with nothing but kindness, you find your eyes narrowing at the taxi driver and his close cropped, black hair.

"I may look fat but my limbs are in perfect working conditions, Sir, I assure you," Admittedly, a low blow. The driver reels back, muttering his profuse apologies which immediately softens your resolve.

It is wholeheartedly unfair. The driver could not anticipate the way in which his words would grate at your wavering kindness. He is essentially blameless and perhaps even considerate in his line of questioning. He didn't have any intentions of insulting you.

After all, It was not his fault that you were currently sporting a nasty bump because Satoru decided to inject you with his release until finally he succeeded and you were burdened with the weight of his spawned and this baby, you feel, is a heavy one. One that has your steel emotions melting into guilt, like the deserted tar under the bright summer sun.

"Just here, should be fine," The taxi driver had gotten an impressive tip to make up for your rudeness and you scooted your way out. Soon, you were on the pavement that led into the forest framed by an impressively maintained torii. The driver eyed the gateway solemnly as you shrugged your backpack on, subconsciously grateful for the sundress combatting the summer heat.

"Have a nice day!" You attempt to soften your voice, as soft as you can make it given your current condition.

Condition.

The thought - that word- has you flinching as you make your way up the mountain. The very reason for this journey playing off in your mind's eye with a freshness.

'Condition?' Satoru, had said when you let the word slip the previous evening. The taxi driver had not been the only one affected by your foul mood but last night you were particularly nasty. Gojo's spawn was on a mission to drain you of all your energy, leeching off your nutrients but expecting you to eat at every hour. The Little Monster was testing your patience and it wasn't even born yet.

'You're having my baby,' Gojo had said, 'Not suffering from a disease.' As you both prepared for bed, Gojo, exchanging his black blindfold for the fluffy pink sleep mask which he had invariably stolen from you, while you wobbled your heaviness into bed.

"Trust me, Satoru, when I say that you honestly could have fooled me.' You scoffed, "This baby is making me sick." It had been more and more difficult to disguise the true nature of pregnancy, especially while everyone around lived their lives so carefree and un-pregnant- but you still should not have said what you said. And Satoru was 100% justified in assuming a tantrum.

You were forced to go to bed, with an ice cold, Satoru, refusing to curl up beside you like he usually did. Instead of brushing up behind you, ready to allay that constant state of need that you were haunted by, Gojo stole his warmth away from you. You went to bed without the sensation of his cock grinding into your ass and his long slender fingers seeking to touch anything and everything until he riled himself up enough to fuck you to sleep. When you thought it couldn't possibly get any worse, Satoru had already disappeared in the morning. He had already gone off to Jujutsu Tech, vehemently ignoring any text message you sent.

And here you were, lumbering your way through the thicket of evergreens that seemed to be growing on top of each other. You would not be surprised if these trees ended up being cursed as well. They invariably seemed to swallow the horizon, doing a stellar job at concealing the beauty of the institution inside.

"Your father hates me," The tiny human incubating inside of you is your only bit of company, and so, you decide to entertain the Little Monster, the closer you get to Jujutsu High. "You're a little demon, but he is too." Your heavy breathing fills the quiet air, "But I still love him and his demonic ways so that really means that I love you too," Unknowingly, your hand had begun to cup the underside of your swollen belly and staying there for the duration of the walk, until the very first towers began to peek from within the evergreens and the sound of jovial laughter reaches your ears.

"Woah-" Itadori is the first person you see once you emerge from the thicket, huffing and puffing with the Wright of your guilt carrying you forward. "Are you... supposed to be here?"

"I'm pregnant, Yuuji, not handicapped-" You began, steadily approaching the temple steps where he and a silent Megumi sat idly. "Gojo, where is he?"

"In his office by now." Replied Itadori, "Hey… did you seriously walk up the mountain just to get some from Gojo-" his crass statement is cut short by Megumi's elbow buried in Yuuji's side and you silently thank the dark haired boy as you drift into the temple.

Despite it all, Itadori's statement may have held a sliver of truth. The walk up the mountain had been a perilous one, admittedly one of your less than thorough ideas, but it also got you the opportunity to see Jujutsu High after 6 difficult months of house arrest. Your innate need to teach and help young sorcerers grow and develop their talents was being made dormant, yet somehow, just being in this place, breathing its air, was revitalising you. You could even swear the Little Monster made a happy little kick against your abdomen. You begin to wonder with shocking excitement what cursed technique this baby would be born with - it's a thought that occupies your mind as you maneuver the relaxing halls of the temple.

The positive energy coursing through your bloodstream only doubles once his door reveals itself at the end of the hall. Your nerves are immediately electrified with a violent current as you pull back the door, enough to slip inside. You could not go 24 hours without Satoru annoying you, and that was apparent. If that made you weak, then so be it.

"Satoru." Your voice comes out quieter than expected as you pull the door shut and turn to face the man seated behind his desk. His seat is reclined towards an open window casting an enchanting breeze, enough to lightly ruffle his pale, white locks. Arms support the back of his head, and his legs are perched on the desk. You can not see his eyes behind his rimless blue tinted shades. Your arrival announces rouses him, and immediately, you can tell you've disturbed him from a nap. Perhaps he did not get much sleep last night either…

"Hmm," Is the only sound he is able to make in the stretched silence, readjusting his position, striving to appear disinterested, "Didn't know they allowed murderers into Jujutsu Tech-"

"'Toru, you've probably killed more people than me,'' You say with a small smile as you venture to close the distance between you too. "And how am I a murderer?"

"You forcing yourself up this mountain makes me think you're trying to kill my baby." You can tell that he is still vehemently angry at you but his head ticks slightly to the side as you make your way behind his desk, pushing his feet off before easing onto it so you can sit opposite him.

"I brought salami sticks and a chicken sandwich," You ease the backpack off your shoulders, ignoring Satoru's head lazily draped on his hand. "You didn't eat breakfast this morning and I know your skinny ass is dying of hunger. You may not look like you eat alot but you and our baby are trying to kill me-"

To that, he had obviously chosen to respond with a crude and petty, 'That'd be my baby, you're referring to. Last I checked, to you, it's a cancer.'

"Satoru, I don't know what you want me to say-"

"I've got a pretty good idea of what I don't want you to say."

Your gaze lowers to your lap as your legs swing above the ground. It is always difficult seeing someone as jovial as Gojo, assume such a cold exterior, especially when it's not in his inherent nature.

"I really wish I can say I didn't mean it, 'Toru but I'm fucking drained," You laugh darkly, "I'm fat and ugly and I can't exercise because this baby hates when I move in a way it doesn't like - even getting up here fucking sucked, but the thought of seeing you kinda helped. Not to mention that fucking housewife next door and her perky tits and her tiny waist, and her non-fat ass-"

"Hey," Throughout the course of your hormonal rant, Satoru has felt himself slide his chair closer to you, until your mnees were directly in front of him. His arms fence you in, while he sat on the edge of his seat, "I love your fat ass, please don't ever diss her again."

His words have you laughing despite the thunderous emotions that had overtaken you just a moment ago. That may have been one of Satoru's many superpowers- allaying the darkened clouds with unexpected sunshine.

"Not to mention my feet hurt constantly, I'm horny all the time and I just wanna feel normal in my own skin. But I neglected your happiness in my own self pity and that's wrong and I'm sorry."

'Please fuck me and never, ever be mad at me again,' is what you would have liked to tack on at the end of that apology but you already felt as if you got enough words out. Truthfully, you really were sitting with a well of need between your legs- the warmth between your stomach only compounding given Gojo's proximity, which only becomes worse as he rises from his seat and slots himself between your legs. You shiver at the feeling of just having him near you.

"Does 'horny all the time' include' right now?" Another violent shiver wracked through your spine as Satoru eases a finger underneath your chin, raising your hooded eyes to his concealed ones. All you can do is nod as your fingers curl around the edge of the desk while your breathing picks up its pace.

"And you're never going to be a mean brat ever again," you're utterly mesmerised by Satoru's pillowy, pink lips crafting every word, so much so that you're unaware of his other hand rubbing along your exposed thigh.

"I'm going to have to hear words, baby." He teases lightly,"I'm going to have to hear that you were wrong," You're not sure what it is about the sing-song voice that has you slipping deep into subspace- perhaps it's the slight condescension sprinkled in with the tone one would use to scold a child. It completely breaks you every time.

Your lips curl downward into an involuntary pout as you say "I'll never be a mean brat to you ever again, Satoru-" a gasp races through your throat as his fingers brush against the damp fabric of your clothed, needy cunt. He is rubbing lightly, almost diabolically slow. Your eyebrows curve into needy crescents as you strive to open your legs wider, hoping his fingers might venture deeper.

"I might forgive you," his broad shoulders are hunched so his lips can reach your ears, "If you stop calling me Satoru and say what you really wanna say,"

He was baiting you for his own rush of pleasure shooting all his blood straight to his hardened cock. Satoru's pants were straining as you realised he needed you to slip into subspace as much as you did. His hand was brushing lightly at the fabric against your clit, but that is as far as he was willing to go. Your breathing is erratic as you attempt to thrust your hips into his hand but your stomach stops you from achieving a lot.

"I need you to fuck me, Daddy," The words drenched with the neediness in your voice is borderline pornopgraphic and it rips a wavering groan from within Gojo's chest.

"You're such a needy little slut, aren't you?" Satoru says now swimming in domspace, while he removes his hand from between your legs to quickly rid you of your sweat-drenched sundress.

"I need you so bad," you admit with an aching whimper as the soft wind rushes over your sensitive nipples. The second he sees them, Gojo's hands are clamped around your pillowy; swollen breasts, squeezing and prodding like a virgin who's never seen tits before.

"Fuck, baby, look at what you do to me," He releases a hoarse laugh as he clamps his other hand around your wrist, forcing your palm around his hard cock straining his pants. "Look at what the fuck you do to me," The both of you release a chorus of moans into the air- you, because his fingers were playing a dangerous game with your leaking nipples and Satoru, because he cannot refrain from grinding into your hand.

His glasses fog as he bends his head to watch beads of milk grow on the tips of your nipple before sliding down your torso with every squeeze.

"When did this start happening?" he asks through clenched teeth before rushing to exclaim, "You're so fucking hot- Fuck!"

"Last night- I wanted to tell you but-" You're immediately silenced by Satoru's lips crashing onto yours while he crowds you, pushing you down onto your back while the sound of his belt buckle echoes in the room. His mouth is absolutely restless as his tongue forces its way inside; eager to push itself against your tongue until you both are kissing each other with a tangle of spit. Your hands immediately find his hair and you pull at the strands as Satoru pulls you to the edge of his desk, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance.

"You're such a soaked little girl, baby," his voice still condescending and airy, but it riles you up further until you push your hips towards him. "Does Daddy get you this worked up?"

"Yes! Only Daddy can make me feel this way-Just- Please!" Your cries are slotted in the base of your throat as the head of his cock begins to stretch your tense and tight walls. Without thinking, Satoru eases himself deeper, his hips unable to move at a steady pace now that he feels how wet and ready you are for him.

"You're taking your Daddy's cock like a good little girl, baby," his words have you arching off his desk while your eyes fight to stay open. You don't close them because Satoru likes to look at you when he fucks you and so, you fight your way back, until your eyes are pouring into his behind those dazzling shades. It takes everything in him not to cum on the spot, and his cock twitches inside you as he begins to set the pace.

"Oh fuck- Just look at you, Princess." You were fucking magnificent - skin glistening with sweat with a belly swollen with his seed. The image alone affects him more than he initially thought it would. Satoru had strived to get you pregnant because he knew he wanted you to birth his legacy, but the sight of your body naturally shifting to incubate his seed scarmbles the very workings of his brain If you weren't careful, you were going to stay pregnant, every other term.

"You're doing such a good job, Princess. Do you know how fucking beautiful you look?" you are utterly deranged with need, feeling all your sensibilities slip out of you as you're fighting to take even more of him impossibly deeper. His shades hide the true nature of his hooded, fucked out eyes. He's not sure what it is about it, but your eyes on him, watching him pound his cock into your slippery, tight pussy, has him rutting into you with desperation. He loves holding your attention in your most depraved moments - watching you stare up at him like he's a God while he's corrupting every sliver of your cute disposition.

He's pounding against your cervix now and it has your moans bleeding into whorish screams. All the while, Satoru does not silence you. He does not clamp his hand around your mouth, instead he affirms quite the opposite. "If you keep squeezing my cock like that I'm going to make you take my cum." That sentence alone has you slipping into your orgasm. Your back arches off the table and Satoru leans over and latches his lips onto your breasts. He moans around your nipple, as his hand rubs your clit with immense rapidity, in tandem with his stuttering hips.

"I'm gonna fucking cum inside you, baby, Tell me you want me to cum inside you," his voice cracks into a desperate whimper, "P-please," Your limbs are shivering as Satoru fucks you quicker, the sensation bleeding into overstimulation as you watch him fall apart over you. He looks utterly gorgeous. The shades may hide his eyes, but his slacked jaw reveals how utterly destroyed he is, with a trail of spit and milk running down his chin. "Fucking tell me!"

"Please cum inside me, Daddy." You pant, looking at him dead in the eyes, "I need your cum inside me," his grip on the desk fumbles and his movements immediately melt into sloppy thrusts and heavy pants.

"Oh fuck- I'm cumming, baby. Fuck, M'gonna fucking breed you-" just as you're forced to endure another orgasm, Satoru's cum explodes inside of you, ripping groan from your hoarse throat.

Gojo is absolutely spent as he eases his cock out of you, rubbing light circles on your thighs, utterly transfixed with the sight of his milky cum slipping out of your cunt.

"I hope I get you pregnant with twins, next time,"

"Get the fuck off of me Satoru." You say feigning anger, which is attested by the smile threatening to blossom over your face. Despite your lightened mood, you still feel monumentally terrible for making him feel bad about your impending parenthood.

"I'm sorry I've been complaining about my house arrest."

"Maternity leave," He corrects with a sigh.

"Same difference," you roll your eyes before noticing his unimpressed and stoic visage. "Only kidding, only kidding."

Thx for reading ♡

[vestaignis]

PAN TREETOP CABINS - АРХИТЕКТУРА ДЛЯ СОЗЕРЦАНИЯ ПРИРОДЫ.

Отель PAN Treetop Cabins, созданный архитектором Эспеном Сурневиком, находится в норвежском лесу и идеально подходит для сказочного отдыха.

Дома-Шалаши, принадлежащие Кристиану Ростаду и Кристине Мовинкель, расположены на высоте 8 метров над землей на стальных опорах, погруженных на 6 метров в скальную породу, что обеспечивает устойчивость при сильном ветре. Сурневик, который также является профессором Школы архитектуры Осло, черпал вдохновение в этом регионе, в частности, в комиксе финской художницы Туве Янссон с изображением сказочных персонажей по имени Муми-тролли. «Для меня это подлинное ощущение того, как нордический человек относится к большим расстояниям между поселениями в сельской Скандинавии, одиночеству, темным зимам и холодному климату».

Второй источник его вдохновения, очевидный в дизайне винтовой лестницы, ведущей в хижину, - это пожарная смотровая башня, которая, по словам Сурневика, является частью ландшафта в лесной полосе, окружающей северное полушарие. «Эти пожарные вышки построены так, чтобы в засушливые сезоны смотреть на огромные леса в поисках дыма и огня», - говорит он.

Архитектор Эспен Сурневик выбрал американскую типологию лоджа с А-образной рамой, потому что он «одновре��енно интимный по ширине и монументальный по высоте, и представляет собой нечто базовое в своей треугольной форме».

Наружная облицовка зданий из черного оксидированного цинка и стали помогает им сливаться с окружающим лесом. Каждый дом шалаш имеет внутреннее пространство длиной 9,5 м, высотой 5,5 футов и шириной 3,6 и может с комфортом разместить до шести человек. Уютная гостиная, мягкое настенное освещение и светлый пол из твердых пород дерева Энергоэффективные А-образные дома-шалаши обращены к солнцу и имеют большие застекленные фасады, пропускающие свет и тепло.

Для отдыха в домике есть антресоль с двуспальной кроватью, дополнительные спальные зоны, скрытые во внутренних стенах, небольшую кухоньку и камин, а также ванную комнату с туалетом и душем.Интерьеры облицованы сосновой доской, а текстиль в домах сделан из 100% местной шерсти. В качестве отопления есть дровяной камин и деревянные полы со встроенным электрическим отоплением. Из окон спального лофта открывается вид на верхушки деревьев.

«Мое видение состояло в том, чтобы создать что-то, что легко вписалось бы в ландшафт, не внося больших изменений в окружающую природу...» - говорит Сурневик.

PAN TREETOP CABINS - ARCHITECTURE FOR CONTEMPLATION OF NATURE.

The PAN Treetop Cabins by architect Espen Surnevik are located in a Norwegian forest and are ideal for a fairytale getaway.

The Treetop Cabins by Christian Rostad and Christina Mowinckel are located 8 metres above the ground on steel supports sunk 6 metres into the rock, ensuring stability in strong winds. Surnevik, who is also a professor at the Oslo School of Architecture, drew inspiration from the region, in particular from Finnish artist Tove Jansson's comic strip featuring the Moomins. "For me, it's an authentic feeling of how Nordic people deal with the long distances between settlements in rural Scandinavia, the loneliness, the dark winters and the cold climate."

His second source of inspiration, evident in the design of the spiral staircase leading up to the cabin, is a fire lookout tower, which Surnevik says is part of the landscape in the forest belt that surrounds the northern hemisphere. “These fire lookout towers are built to look out over the vast forests in dry seasons for smoke and fire,” he says.

Architect Espen Surnevik chose the American A-frame lodge typology because it is “both intimate in width and monumental in height, and represents something basic in its triangular form.”

The buildings’ exterior cladding of black oxidized zinc and steel helps them blend into the surrounding forest. Each cabin has an interior space measuring 32 feet long, 18 feet high and 12 feet wide, and can comfortably accommodate up to six people. Cozy living room, soft wall lighting and light hardwood floors The energy-efficient A-frame houses face the sun and have large glazed facades that let in light and warmth.

For relaxation, the house has a loft with a double bed, additional sleeping areas hidden in the internal walls, a small kitchenette and a fireplace, as well as a bathroom with a toilet and shower. The interiors are lined with pine boards, and the textiles in the houses are made from 100% local wool. For heating, there is a wood-burning fireplace and wooden floors with built-in electric heating. The sleeping loft has a view of the treetops.

“My vision was to create something that would easily fit into the landscape without making big changes to the surrounding nature…” says Surnevik.

Источник://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Hotel_Review-g3592302-d15293006-Reviews-PAN_Treetop_Cabins-Flisa_Asnes_ Municipality_Hedmark_Eastern_Norway.html/truestory.no/norges-20-fineste-tretopphytter/, //www.architime.ru/news /espen_ surnevik / pan_treetop_cabins.htm#13.jpg, //udom-spb.ru/articles/treugolnyy-dom-shalash-a-frame-kupit.

[snaileer]

The Messenger is Already Dead - 4

Part 1 &2 Part 3

“Talia fell in love with Bruce Wayne!?” Danny says, whipping around to the man in question.

Everything starts piecing together like the worst Fruitloop themed puzzle ever. Danny had seen his face when Batman had removed his cowl of course, and it’d looked familiar, but that could have been anything, he never thought- Bruce Wayne!? His biological father, a man who hadn’t even known he existed, who Danny had never known, was Bruce Wayne? The richest man in America?

“You didn’t know?” Tim asks and Danny wants to scream.

He doesn’t, because that would be unassassiny-like and he’s not 100% sure it wouldn’t come out as a wail- but the desire is very much there. It feels like half of his life-view is crumbling before him.

“No, I didn’t know,” Danny starts tersely, “Talia never told us who Batman- who our father was, not until we could beat her in a fight. I… never got the chance.” He winces at the last statement, feeling the way the room goes colder at the reminder.

“Tt, clearly you would not have been able to anyways.”

Danny feels his eyes flare in frustration as he looks back to Damian, “I was a better fighter than you were, it’s not like you were finishing her challenge any earlier than I was, Damian.”

“The tutors may have favored you but it was not the tutors who bested you was it?” Damian snarled back.

“Whoa Damian-“

Memories flickered through Danny’s mind.

A fight. A snowy cliff. Red. Pain. Cold. Darkness. Green-

“Danny, you good there?”

Danny jerked his head up, not realizing he’d curled in on himself, “I’m .. fine.”

“You sure? You kind of… flickered,” Nightwing said, motioning vaguely with his hands, “Like a lightbulb.”

Danny cringed, “It’s one of the side effects of being like, this,” he motioned to himself, “I’m not exactly meant to exist on this plane of existence so sometimes I.. don’t? I guess? I don’t know, ghostly stuff is always pretty hard to explain.”

A “Hn.” Is all that comes from Bruce.

Danny practically feels their stares close in on him like walls.

“Whatever! The ghost stuff doesn’t matter!” He says, throwing his hands up and rising slightly off the ground, “What matters is that Talia is after me and is probably coming after Damian, so you need to figure out how to stop her. I didn’t come to talk, I came for protection.”

Danny takes a second, mimicking a breath and collecting himself. He couldn’t blow up like Danny, not when he had to make them see him as Danyal.

An Al-Ghul shows no weakness. An Al-Ghul shows no weakness.

“Tt. There is no reason to continue to refuse to call her Mother.”

Danny feels his eyes flare as turns back to where Damian stands, still scowling. Just like he always was.

“I’ve already told you, Damian,” He says, restraining the urge to yell that Maddie was his mom not Talia, “She was not a mother to me and I will not pretend she was when she is the reason I am being hunted.”

“She raised us,” Damian says with a scowl.

Danny feels old anger spark in him, “She trained us.”

He remembers cold nights and hard floors, cruel orders and harsher whips.

“She made us stronger,” Damian says with stone in his voice. Danny hates it, hates it because it’s exactly what they were always told. ‘It made them stronger’ but that didn’t save him so what did it matter? Damian and him never did anything but fight, they never saw each other except to fight, so much so that the first time Jazz invited him to dinner he’d thought she’d poisoned it and tried to burn down the kitchen.

Danny hates it. He hates it. He hates it. He hates it.

He forces himself to let it go. This isn’t him. Not anymore.

Danny turns away from Damian completely, fists still tightly clenched as he looks Bruce- not his father, never his father- in the eye, “Now that you have proof I am who I say, how do we stop Talia?”

Back to business. Just finish this and you can go home.

Bruce turns back to the console, “First, we need to figure out her goals, and where….”

Danny steels himself as Bruce- as Batman-continues. He could do this.

He could pretend to be a ghost of himself for however long it took.

Pretend that he really had died -stayed dead- that day with Damian.

Pretend that he remembered more about his life in the league than he did.

Pretend he wasn’t an entirely different person now.

Pretend like he still knew who he was.

Pretend like every word from Damian’s mouth didn’t pull him back to a time when he was small, too small, but never weak, and-

Yeah, he could totally absolutely do this.

Definitely.

Danny cringes as the butler tells them all that a meal is ready and everyone starts to move away from the darkness of the cave. With every step into the warmly lit lights of the manor above the cave, Danny feels his hackles rise more.

It feels exposed, making him feel like his lies are muddying just by being there, the warmth of the atmosphere, tones of family, grief, growth, loss, suffocating him as he goes deeper. Knowing that he’s part of that, he’s not going to stay, he’s lying to Damian, he’s hurting him, he’s-

Danny gets one step in the dining room before he sees the family dining table sitting there, an ornate chandelier illuminating the plates laid out at each spot, favorite foods in the middle… and two slightly elder ghosts at the head of the table with love in their eyes as they watch the family sit.

He doesn’t belong here.

Danny takes a staggering step back.

He doesn’t belong here.

Damian notices his retreat, mouth opening to speak-

He doesn’t belong here.

Danny turns tail and vanishes, throwing himself back through the ground with intangibility until he reaches the cave. From there he pauses at the entrance they’d come through, turning back instead of running.

The seconds pause is enough time for someone else to notice him.

“Running already?”

Danny lurches, nearly squeaking as he startles and his visibility flickers. He follows the voice to a figure leaning against a slightly dim doorway on the side. An illuminated locker room sits behind him.

“You’re… Jay, right? The Red Hood?”

The man hums and walks closer, “It’s Jason. You’re the new kid. Talia’s huh?”

Danny wants to shrink in on himself, his muscles tightening as he gets closer, “I’m- yeah.”

Jason scoffs, looking up the stairs like he can see straight to the dining room, “God, B and this fucking family…” He turns a critical eye to Danny without moving his head, “What’s got you fleeing so soon? It didn’t look like you were causing any sort of trouble-“

“I just-“ Danny sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t belong here okay? As far as you all know, I’m not even supposed to exist anymore. I doubt you want a dead kid messing up your family, right?”

Something in Jason’s face twitches, his shoulders shifting, “Take it from me, kid… they haven’t even considered that.”

Danny tilts his head, really looking at Jason for the first time, something tickling at the back of his senses.

Jason doesn’t hesitate to meet his eyes.

He looks back through the exit tunnel, turning back a second time, “Tell ‘em I’ll be back okay? Just… not now, alright? But I’ll be back.”

And Jason nods, a silent guarantee.

Danny returns it, finally turning and flying full speed through the tunnels until he meets open air.

It feels slightly sticky compared to the coolness of the cave, but Danny simply looks around to get his bearings before turning into the distance with determination.

He doesn’t stop until he sees the shine of a golden globe pass under him. He enters the hotel straight through the walls of the elevator shaft, dropping his ghost from the second he hits carpeted halls.

And then he pauses…

Which room were they in again?

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long, as one of the doors gets thrown open moments later by the lumbering figure which can only be his dad.

“Ghost!” Dad says as he bends through the doorway, ghost-finder in his hands as he looks around until finally spotting Danny, “Danno! You’re back!”

The incessant droning of the ghost-finder is overshadowed as Danny struggles to breath around his Dad’s hug, “He..y.., Da..d” He wheezes.

He sees Jazz come bursting out of the hotel room next. She gives him a hard look before they’re both swept into Dad’s arms and practically carried back into the room.

His mom is there, tinkering on a tool Danny himself had helped design a few weeks ago.

His dad, of course, goes straight for the fudge in the mini fridge. Danny steals the remote from Jazz and plops himself down on the bed free of machine scraps.

Even as he has to keep Jazz from smothering him with a hotel pillow, Danny smiles. He feels his shoulders loosen for the first time all night.

This. This is where he belongs.

—

The demon brat’s twin was… something. They hadn’t really had the time to start forming real expectations, but most of them didn’t expect.. a ghost.

Tim can see the way Bruce’s eyes linger on the wafts of snowy hair, aching guilt lining his body whenever Danny’s back is turned even just slightly.

It doesn’t go away as they all file up to a late dinner. By Alfred’s order, they all go, pair by pair trickling up to the dining room like the most awkward yellow brick road ever.

Somewhere in the stilted chaos, Jason manages to slip out from the group, probably the first time he’s left the manor without fighting with Bruce in months.

Of course that hardly matters when the moment they step into the dining room, Danny freezes by the door, flickering again.

Tim watches as his eyes jump across them all, the table, the room, the chairs- Danny steps back and-

Vanishes.

Damian is lurching towards the door, “Danyal!”

But it’s empty. All of them had felt his presence leave, even if they hadn’t realized that’s what it was, suddenly the room is a few degrees warmer and just a bit emptier than before.

Tim looks to Bruce.

They don’t know what that was, why Danny left. Was he just scared? Or could something have happened to him? They didn’t know enough about ghosts, and what they did know said they weren’t very strong. Boston Brand couldn’t interact with the physical world without possessing someone- Danny had already said he wasn’t meant to exist on this plane, had he run out of strength?

Dick approaches Damian still brooding in the doorway, setting a hand on his shoulder- Damian throws it off immediately.

“I am fine,” he snaps, “Danyal is a coward.”

Bruce stands, “Damian, don’t say that-“

“Why shouldn’t I!? What does he have to fear!? He ran away like a coward and left me behind!”

Silence settles in the room.

Tim decides to break it, “Any chance you’re not just talking about him not staying for dinner?”

A knife pierces the wall behind him.

“I will end you, Drake.”

“Master Damian! I do not have enough portraits to continue covering holes in the paneling!” Alfred scolds, standing at the doorway.

Damian stops, glaring at them all before turning to Alfred, “I’ll take my dinner in my room please, Pennyworth.” Then he turns on his heel and strides from the room. It is too fast to be anything but fleeing.

Steph slumps into the chair beside Tim, “Boys are weird.”

Tim scowls, “Oi.”

“I stand by my statement.”

Tags:

@craftgremlin @karlyanalora @theeclecticenquirer @undead-essence @mattybook1987-blog @emergentpanda-blog @nedwec @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @serasvictoria02 @itsloveleo @yjfk @mygood-bitch99 @wolfjackle @xysidhequeen @seraphinedemort @catnek-writing-things @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @tinybrie @raginblastocyst @cyber-geist @icedbluesoul @rosesandsailboats @craftybookworms @dragonimpal67 @capricedshusara @ghostreblogging @treepainting @valiantsuitcaseskellington

Also btw, I’ve added this to my Drabble/oneshot collection on Ao3. It’s under my same Username(snaileer) with work name ‘Things That Could Exist’

Hope you enjoyed!

[skzstannie]

"Let the memory-making commence"

SKZ -> ot8 x 9th member! reader

genre: fluff wc: ~2100 cw: none :) summary: After an emotional night, the boys cheer you up and try to give you something to look forward to surrounding the holidays again.

Here's Part 2 to "We'd never want you to struggle alone" Alsooo, I hit 100 followers a couple days ago, so THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Reblogs are more than appreciated!

Happy Scrolling! || Masterlist

Previously:

You all lay in each other's arms, and you feel incredibly comfortable and safe. Chan's the first to break the silence, "We have five days left until Christmas. What do you say we make some new Christmas traditions? We don't want to replace what you used to have, and you’re entitled to spend your Christmas season as you'd like. But, if you'll let us, we’ll give you something to look forward to about the holidays again. Please?" The guys are all looking at you now, each of them displaying a face that could rival a sad puppy.

You realize now that there's nothing to be scared of. These are your best friends you're talking about, who want nothing but to shower you in love and happiness.

"I'd love that."

So, the guys set out on their mission early the next morning, figuring they better start as soon as possible. After all, they had so many fun things they wanted to do with you before Christmas Day.

You were abruptly brought out of your peaceful slumber from an added weight landing atop your stomach. You startle, opening your eyes to be met with Hyunjin’s hair brushing up against your cheeks. You try to push him off you, holding up your title of being a grumpy morning person, but he won’t budge.

“Get up!” he whines, shaking your shoulders. “It’s already 8:30, and we can’t just let you sleep all day!”

“I’m not asking to sleep all day. I’m asking to sleep until 10, now please get off,” you struggle some more, pushing with all your might. You quickly give up though, finding your attempts futile against Hyunjin’s size and stubbornness.

“No can do, up and at ‘em sunshine!” he grips your blankets and whips them off you in a flash, leaving you shivering from the cold temperature of your room. He’s quick to throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and he begins to make his way out of your room.

Your fists pound on his back, your only desire to go lay back down in your warm bed. This doesn’t deter him however, so you give him a nice firm smack to his butt, making him yelp. You swiftly wrap your arms around his waist as he lets you slip a little off his shoulder.

“Hwang Hyunjin don’t you drop me!” you yell, holding onto him for dear life.

“I won’t, I won’t. That just hurt really bad, you little menace!” He puts you down once you’ve arrived in the kitchen, and his hands immediately reach back to massage his poor bum.

“Well, that wouldn’t have been necessary if you’d have let me sleep another hour,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Ok, no more Ms. Grumpy Pants, I only wanna make cookies with Ms. Sunshine, so if you could please find out where she is, that'd be great,” he retorts, a sarcastic smile taking over his features.

You roll your eyes but give in, allowing your lips to curve up into a genuine smile.

Hyunjin starts to gather the ingredients for making cookies, slamming cupboards left and right. As you busy yourself doing the same, you look up towards the kitchen entryway upon hearing some ruckus from the hallway. Seungmin and Felix practically bounce into the kitchen, looking way too excited for 8:30 in the morning.

Seungmin makes his way over to you, holding an extra apron that he plops over your head, tying it loosely around your waist. “Thanks Minnie,” you tell him, turning around to give his arm a gentle pat.

“Alright, let the memory-making commence,” Felix claps his hands and giving them a quick wash in the sink, reaching for a stainless steel bowl Hyunjin had set on the counter. “If we wait too much longer, everybody else will get up and crash our cookie making party.”

All was going smoothly, the four of you working together and following a recipe Felix had printed out, until Seungmin got a little antsy and decided to flick Hyunjin in the forehead with a flour-covered finger.

Seungmin laughs at seeing Hyunjin’s expression. “Flour boy,” he calls Hyunjin, breaking out in even more giggles.

In retaliation, Hyunjin grabs a fistful of flour and launches it at Seungmin’s face, leaving the poor boy coughing.

Of course, all hell breaks loose after that, and by the end of your food fight, all four of you end up absolutely covered in flour with a single egg plastered against the fridge door.

You guys managed to finish the cookies, having barely enough flour to make the batches. Once they’ve gone in the oven, the four of you decide to go shower and get cleaned up while they bake.

All the other guys have woken up by the time you’re finished with your shower. They’re all sat around the kitchen, the aroma from the cookies no doubt drawing them in. Chan goes over the plans for today, and you smile at his thoughtfulness. After breakfast- a.k.a Christmas cookies- you’re all going to go sledding, then come back to the dorms for dinner and a Christmas movie marathon.

After you’ve all eaten one too many cookies, everyone goes to get dressed for your first group activity of the day: sledding.

You realize you don’t have any appropriate clothing for sledding, the snow sure to seep through the nice coat you have, so you ask Seungmin if he has any extra garments that'll keep you warmer.

"Yea, let me find some really quick," he responds, diving deep into his well-organized closet. He comes up with two pairs of gloves, one slimmer and one thicker, a thermal, long sleeved turtle neck, a hoodie, and a huge winter coat.

"All of this will not fit on my body at once, Seungmin," you comment exasperatedly, overwhelmed by the weight of the clothes he just threw in your arms.

"Yes they will, and you will be warm. Go get dressed, we're leaving in a few minutes," he dismisses your concerns, leaving no room for discussion. He gives you a light push out of his room so he could get himself dressed and shuts the door in your face.

"Thanks!" you shout through the door, heading back to your room to layer up.

After putting on all the clothes Seungmin gave you, you feel like a marshmallow. A big puff ball, if you will.

You walk to the living room where everyone is waiting for you, ready to complain about how you are not going out in public like this.

They are quick to rebut, telling you how adorable you look while pulling you out the front door towards the readied van in the parking lot.

The drive is uncomfortable, all your winter gear making you all hot, everyone fitting a little tighter in their seats than normal. The ride is short, though, only about 10 minutes before you're all allowed freedom of the outside once again.

You let out a small chuckle upon seeing the hill you'll be sledding down. It's small, no taller than 20 feet, but the guys assure you it'll still be fun. Upon some further digging, you find out you're manager requested you partake in absolutely zero dangerous activities during your day off, and this is all the guys could convince him of.

You guys make your way up the hill, Jeongin and Felix dragging the sleds up. To make things more interesting, everyone decides two people will race down the hill at the same time, and the winner will be decided tournament-style.

Chan and Hyunjin go first, and Hyunjin wins by just a few feet. Next is Felix and Minho, and Minho pulls out ahead. Seungmin and Changbin go next, and Changbin wins by default because Seungmin wiped out about half way down the hill. You and Jeongin, being the maknaes, decide to team up against everyone else and ride together. Of course, this doesn't go without complaints from the rest of the members, Hyunjin giving you guys the nastiest side eye he could muster. The maknaes come out on top, beating Jisung by a landslide. Maybe it's because your sled had twice as much weight on it, or maybe it's because you guys are just better; it's up for debate.

By the end of the day, you and Jeongin reign champions. You all continue to sled for a while longer, and eventually your peaceful sledding session turned into a brutal snowball fight.

The culprit of the snowball fight was Minho, deciding it'd be fun to shove a handful of snow down Jisung's jacket. This of course lead to the development of two teams, Maknae line versus Hyung line.

You guys pelt the oldies for a few minutes, obviously gaining the upper-hand once your makeshift snow fort was built, courtesy of Felix and Jisung. However, you guys surrender once Jeongin is captured and threatened with handfuls of snow down his pants.

Once arriving at home, hot showers are in need, all your fingers and toes frozen to the bone. You get dressed in your coziest pyjamas, accompanied by a big hoodie and fluffy socks.

Chan takes it upon himself to order food in for everyone, and you all thank him before deciding on which Christmas movie to watch.

You reveal that one of your favorites used to be How the Grinch Stole Christmas, the Jim Carrey version, and everyone agrees to start with that one.

Your food arrives about a third of the way into the movie, and you all indulge on the much needed meal. You have some more Christmas cookies for dessert, and by the time you're finished with the food, the movie is over.

You all make light fun of Hyunjin for crying over the ending, but allow him to choose the next movie to try and put a stop to his dramatics. He chooses National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, and you're thankful for another comedy.

While the day has been quite fun, watching movies isn't as thought-provoking as a snowball fight, allowing some of your anxieties and negative thoughts to creep into the back of your mind.

You miss your family. You miss the way your grandma used to sit and listen to all your school drama and the way she'd gasp when you'd tell her what your best friend had done for a boy. You miss the way your father used to buy you a pair of earrings every year for Christmas. You still had every pair, your first being cute little bunny studs, and your last being a beautiful pair of Sterling Silver hoops. You miss your grandfather's sarcastic remarks; your mom found them insulting but you always thought they were funny. You miss your mom. Everything about her- her home cooking, her hugs, the way she'd always know what to put in your stocking.

You know now, after today, that it's okay to miss those things. You're supposed to miss your loved ones. However, it is not okay to live in the past and despise change. Your mom would've wanted you to celebrate Christmas with a family as loving as the one you have here surrounding you. You know she would've loved your members, every single one of them.

She would've loved the way I.N was your partner in crime in life, never backing down when you ask him if he wants to prank Chan with you. She would've loved the way Seungmin acted like your older brother, teasing you every chance he gets. She would've loved how happy Felix is, always acting as your light in the darkness. She would've been proud of Han for fighting through his anxiety and how he helped you with yours, never letting you feel alone. Your mom would've loved Hyunjin's art, the way he paints his soul on paper with a singular brush. Your mom would've been impressed by Changbin's health journey and motivation, and she probably would've secretly convinced him to drag you to the gym with him. Your mom would've admired Minho's gentleness towards animals and his love for his cats. Lastly, your mom would've loved the way Chan takes care of you, always making sure you're happy and well.

Thinking back to yesterday and how thoughtful and caring everyone had been, you decide to tell them your creeping thoughts. They, of course, comfort you, Changbin pulling you closer from your spot between him and Minho on the couch. They ask if you want to elaborate on your feelings, but you tell them no. It had been such a fun day, and for the sake of your mental health, you choose to try and busy your mind with the plot of the movie.

This works in your favor, and you’re able to replace your thoughts with laughter. Towards the end of the film, Changbin's comforting hold has begun to lull you to sleep, too comfortable and warm to keep your eyes open any longer.

"Thank you guys for such an amazing day. I had a lot of fun," you mumble into Changbin's shoulder, pulling everyone away from the movie for a second.

You hear a chorus of coos and whispered affirmations before you officially let sleep takeover your restless mind and body.

[homosexualisopod]

You people forgot Kung Pow Penis. You have abandoned the old ways, trading in the cold steel of Kung Pow Penis for a ham-fisted argument that that person 100% isn't going to read. Start fucking Kung Pow Penising bad takes again, stop engaging in stupid shit.

[inkedmyths]

Hey Ink! Thanks for the long reply & putting up w my ask tsunami! I didn't have much time to play today but went a bit ahead w small stuff (like catching a golden salmon. I'm doing important work. 😩) Husband also said that if i like bracers i should go back to Trails in the Sky (and play the games in the actual _proper_ order, as he tactfully put it), says I'll love the guy main character but hate that the game's even heavier on the adopted sibling romance than this one, but he also says it's not at all as bad as the Elise thing. i asked what does that even mean, to which he says I'd see for myself, IF i actually played the games in the prope..... and so on and so on🥲 I'm starting to accept I'll have to play all of them at some point. (I wonder if I'll be done with that before you reach season 3 👀😇) Love, TA

Hey fishing is a very important activity

Yeah no the Sky games are 100% bracercentric. I should go back and play those... I know what happens but I need to like. Actually play. And yeah. Yeah the adopted sibling nonsense. I mean, it's. It's complicated? Bc it's like. It is not quite as bad in this case yeah. Idk how to express it bc it makes more sense in context? I think the major part for me is that the Adopted one was adopted older than Rean was so they weren't like. Raised completely together. So it's Weird but more believable and less offputting. They're also written better whshdgdg sorry Elise but it's true

WHSHSG I SWEAR I'LL WATCH MORE I PROMISE

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part I)

Summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 1,536.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Notes: As soon as I saw him my feminism left my body immediately and my inner voice agreed that I'd let him take away my human rights with no question. He's an absolute idiot, would sleep with him 100%.

Heads up as English is not my native language sooo, yeah you know what follows. Lord pls give me inspo to finish this fic, amen.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part I: For The Common Good

Two months.

Two months ago Grace Mallory decided to put the former greatest supe into sleep. Somehow, you managed to get in her head, explaining your new project to her and finding a new use for Soldier Boy, who had enough rest for 40 years.

You knew what happened at the Seven Tower, how Soldier Boy and Butcher's team ended up there to finally kill Homelander. Grace tried doing some shit against Vought before, but she never managed to win. It wasn't different this time. What was better then, that to develop a cure for supes like you, who didn't ask for it? People who never used their powers in public, nor seeked fame and money.

As a doctor in Chemistry, you were developing a cure for Compound V with a secret team. Suitable for you, you were in the same CIA tower Colonel Mallory decided to encapsulate Soldier Boy to, initially, spend the rest of his days in. You had luck Grace gave green light to the project, even though your team was already working on it without her approval anyway. But it was so much better if she found out properly.

Making your way to the super secured wing where Soldier Boy was held out of his sleep, you gripped the folder in your hands. You were scanned thoroughly before going inside a cold space, where two different crystal windows and metal doors separated the place. The armed guard guided you to the first room to check first through the window. You sighed, seeing a man sitting down, hands cuffed to a harsh steel table, gaze lost. It was him.

"The keys," you requested the guard by your side.

"Doctor-"

"I said, keys. He doesn't need to be cuffed."

He complied to your order, clearly annoyed but with a straight face and you walked to the closed door.

"If something happens, I can take care of myself. Don't let anyone inside understand?" you said.

He gave a nod. With that, he let you inside the room, the doors closing behind your back.

The prisoner observed you carefully as soon as you entered. His gaze was tired, but he seemed ready to attack, and it was completely hard to ignore his rough stare on you as you made your way to your seat in front of him. Soldier Boy observed you, placing the folder on the surface, and you held his gaze, not flinching for a second. Until you decided to talk first.

"I am glad you're awake. My name is Y/N, I am a doctor at the facility. Just wanna know how you're doing today," you spoke in a calm and soft way, so he could see you were not a threat.

He saw you roaming through the pages of the file, which he recognized as a copy of his file, and you took a pen from your lab coat to make some anotations.

"Not a smart move to let a fucking doctor here," he said with a deep voice, lips forming a straight line. "What do you want?"

"I want to help you."

"Cut the bullshit."

"I want to talk. If you let me, I will uncuff you so we can have a chat, like civilized people. Just don't try to escape, you won't go too far."

He raised an eyebrow as you reached his wrists and carefully, you set him free from the metal grip.

"I know what happened with Butcher and his boys," you said, confident that he would not try anything else. "About Homelander and your relationship with him."

"What the fuck do you know?" Soldier Boy tensed visibly hearing the name of the bastard. Still, he remained on his seat. "Want some info? You can lick Grace's pussy for that."

"She is, actually, the one who approved me to be here right now," you answered, brushing off his vocabulary. You used to deal with assholes like him all the time.

He scoffed. "Why?"

"Ben," you called his real name softly. "You've been sleeping for four decades. You deserve a second chance, I am offering you that. In some sort of way."

"I'm not going to be part of that freakshow-"

"This has nothing to do with Vought," you cut his words, his tone rising and you knew perfectly why. "You just need to be here in the facility, awake, in a dignified place we will give you so you can learn everything you missed. We can give you therapy, a comfy room, anything you want that's legal, of course..."

His jaw clenched, feeling you would ask for something more. "In exchange of what?"

"I know it's hard, unfortunately you won't be able to get out, but you don't deserve to sleep forever again," you sighed. "I will pay you visits and follow your improvements because you're human, after all. That's all I ask from you," you gave him a smile for the first time.

For a few moments, he said nothing, as if making up his mind about it. "Alright, anything but coming back to that shit hole. I need reefer though."

"Lucky you, that's legal now. We can certainly make it happen."

He looked around the room as you let him go inside first. Not the fanciest, not the shittiest. It had the basics: a bed, a sofa, a TV, a closet, a bookshelf with different books, magazines and newspapers he wasn't sure would read any time, a separate door for a bathroom, enough privacy, and no windows though. It wasn't really a cell, but he did look and felt somehow like a hostage. Just a little less if he could say.

"This is what we have for now, I am all ears if you request something else to have in here," you began as he paced around and tested the bed, sitting down on the mattress.

Ben still wasn't convinced on why you offered this to him. Sceptic, he gave a good look at you, roaming his eyes at your standing figure in a fucking lab coat. Christ, he hated those. Too pretty for a doctor, but too dumb to be locked with a supe like him. He was so tired that he didn't try and hit on you like he normally would with any walking pussy that appeared in plain sight. He was too exhausted to even give a shit.

"Lemme think about it, doctor."

"Of course, take your time," you replied as he walked toward the bookshelf, scanning through the titles there were. He recognized only half of them.

"So, I will be imprisoned here instead of a fucking eggshell," Ben said, turning around to meet you. "Charming," he smirked, dragging the words out of his mouth. "Doing charity."

He watched your face drop as you shook your head. "It's not like that-"

"Then why keep me awake?" Ben insisted as he gave steps to get close to you. "I can't die, it's much easier to force my sleep in a capsule your boss made specially for me."

He stopped mere inches in front of you, your eyes never turned away from him. He thought you were fucking brave just by keeping his dark gaze.

"Ben, I told you I will be watching your progress. You can grow from all of this with our help-"

"What kind of doctor are you?"

"A psychiatrist. That's why I'm here."

Ben scoffed with a grin showing on his lips. He didn't believe in that kind of shit, but oh, well. What was he gonna do about it? He was tired of sleeping, Mallory captured him, and you were here, giving him a shelter for no cost, but his freedom. In his mind, that was temporary of course. With time, a plan would come. Right now, he just needed to keep up with the fucked up things of the modern world.

"I guess you would come and babysit me then," he said, going back to take a sit on the bed.

"Wouldn't use 'babysit you' but I will come to see you, that's for sure."

He nodded. Silence was his answer, so you continued.

"Just general rules. Our people will bring you three meals a day, if you're missing something that you need then just push the button by the door, there will be guards outside to assist you on that. Also, there are clothes your size on the closet and personal products so you can change and take a shower," he stayed silent again, just taking in your words. "If you don't need anything then I leave you to get comfortable," you said, about to leave.

"Wait. I do need something," he hesitated for a moment, but he continued anyway. "Don't use those lab coats when you come in."

Your eyes widened, he quickly realised you already knew why he was requesting that when you started to take off the coat, revealing your formal attire. You wrapped the coat on your arm and cleaned your throat.

"I totally understand, I will keep that in mind when I come tomorrow. And I will ask for your reefer too."

You flashed a final polite smile and left him to get settled. Ben breathed out. Fuck, he really needed a shower.

[poopersdoopers]

Apple Pie

Summary: Sanji x Fem! Reader Angst and fluff. TW: jealousy, reader gets literally sick of all the flirting. 100% safe for work.

Im not editing this, good luck y'all. Love you tho!

Sanji had betrayed you for the last time.

You usually weren’t a possessive lover. You trusted the cook to remain loyal to you, but you couldn’t stand those fleeting eyes. 

Every day he would profess his undying love for you.

But every day he would lean into the curve of another woman’s neck to breathe in the scent.

And here you were, eyes fixed on a man who would leap into another’s embrace if given the okay by you.

Perhaps it was Nami or maybe Zoro’s knowing stares at you, that set you over the edge. The way the orange-hair woman shrugged off the cook’s advances, knowing your steeled eyes were always watching. Her eyes darting between the two of you.

Or the way, Zoro would sneer at Sanji’s flirtatious behavior every time the pervert sing-song praises at a woman a third of your size. Even their daily bickering becoming a bit too much for you.

Your Captain had been invited to dinner by a shop-keeper as a thank you for defeating a local gang. Free food was always a deal Luffy could not deny, just as much as Sanji could not deny the company of a beautiful woman or her 8 lovely, unmarried sisters. Great.

The black legged man served out a 6-course meal in the span of an hour and a half. Each sister sang praises, in return were given a sip from the finest flirt of the seas. They blushed at your boyfriend’s praise. Touching.

You could feel Nami and Zoro’s concern loom over the heat of your face. The navigator literally placed her hand atop your thigh and remarked, “I’m sorry, y/n.”

But who were you to deny your flouncy boyfriend’s nature?Whose eyes literally turned into hearts when he looked at you. Whose passion could be felt in each firefly step he took.

That’s when he sets your favorite dessert at the table with a kiss atop of your forehead.

 “For my favorite lady, a tiramisu”. 

One of the 8 beauties gasped in shock.You could hear someone mumble, “I never pictured you with someone like that.” Another sister giggled. You could feel the whole table staring, besides your Captain burying his whole face into a pile of meat. Whispers circulating across the room. Your heart beat increased. Seething anger and anxiety took over. 

Maybe you should stay quiet, let the bad feelings eat away at your soul, and let the blonde have his way with you, before settling into the form of another lover. Maybe then you would learn to let go and move on.

To your surprise, your boyfriend still hovered over you. His eyes burned two holes into your face. The dining room, once filled with laughter and warmth, was stifled with your darkness. 

Great, you always had to ruin things with your stormy moods.

Sanji grasped your shoulder tightly.

“What’s wrong my love -”, you stood up. Now your Captain was alert to your craziness.

“Stop. It’s nothing, go back to your girlfriends. Don’t follow me”, you rushed in search of the bathroom, still feeling the burn of eyes on your back.

In auto-pilot, your hands searched for a light-switch. You stumbled along to the sink, seeing your haggard reflection in the mirror –you had been crying without knowing it. Around your eyes were angry and red. Another embarrassment to yourself and others. 

Sanji had successfully gotten under your skin. I guess that’s what love is, no? 

You felt sick at the fucked up realization and rushed towards the toilet. Gagging up all the bullshit excuses you fed yourself throughout the night and the food you’d barely touched.

The sound of blood rushed through your ears, your body floating outside your body. 

You couldn’t keep doing this anymore. More lecherous women wanting a man who belonged to the world, not you.

The cold of the floor soothed your heated body, as you curled up into yourself. A knock at the door alerted you, that someone heard -they had heard your private sobs and misery. You couldn’t afford to unravel even more in front of someone, not when you had displayed a less than stellar performance as a lover, crewmate, and friend all night. 

Another knock,“Baby, let me in.”

You couldn’t. You couldn’t do more to destroy the first relationship you barely had. Your mind raced, your body heaved.

“I’m coming in”, you braced yourself for impact. They would have to repair the door later, nothing would stop your boyfriend’s fiery kicks when it came to his crew.

You heard his footsteps, saw the shine of his black loafers, and still denied his presence. 

His hands rubbed circles on your back. 

“Oh, Angel, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have forced that dessert on you if I knew you were feeling sick”, you gagged again.

The blonde helped prop you over the toilet. You shed embarrassed tears. 

“I’m so sorry, Sanji”, you tried to muster out between gags. He kissed behind your neck to the juncture of your back, “It’s nothing to be sorry for, we’ve already seen each other at our best and worst. Besides I cannot deny a lady in need”.

You wanted to punch him, “There’s a difference between helping a lady in need and flirting with every woman you see!”

The cook looked at you incredulously, through his bangs. “Is this what this is all about? Are you jealous?”

You gagged at his smug tone, quite sick of him already. -_- Nothing came up, it looked like you were done.

“I’m going to go grab you some water and then we can talk”. You wanted to run from this whole conversation, but your legs were too wobbly. Fuck. Instead you’d stay and wallow in your thoughts, the scent of bile clogging up your senses.

A few seconds later, your annoying boyfriend showed up, with a cup of water. 

“Looks like the whole house has moved to someplace else.”

Oh. Did you cause that as well? “I’m sorry,” your eyes shifted to inspect the number of tiles between you and the bath.

“What are you apologizing for?”, your eyes refused to meet your lover’s blue eyes in fear you’d give yourself away again.

 “Can you stand up?”, you shook your head and heard him sigh in response. Before crouching down beside your shorter frame. His hand wrapped around one of your ankle’s soothing your nerves. The two of you sat there in silence for a while.

Sanji was the first to speak, “Look at me”.  You refused still transfixed on the titles.

You felt him remove his hand from your ankle to grab at your chin. Now you got a better look at the prince in front of you. Dressed in his typical black suit, wrapped around his thin yet muscular body like a glove. His eyes shone with adoration. How could this man hurt you so much?

You wanted to look away but instead you fell into the light of his blue eyes, cast between the shadow of his bangs. 

“That’s my girl”, his lips curled into a smile. You were fucked.

“One of your girls,” you remarked bitterly. “I see the way you look at other women, how you treat them to your kindness for free, and in return they follow you like predators waiting to bite. I’m supposed to sit here and watch?” Your voice broke. 

“What am I supposed to do when the whole world wants you? What am I supposed to do when you invite others into your light? I know it’s selfish but I want you for me and me only.”

“Oh, y/n, you know you’re the only girl for me’, you smacked his hand away. Sanji’s eyes went back to burning circles into your skin. His hand twitched in mid air.  

You began again, angrier this time,“That’s simply not true! I see the way you look at other women’s bodies, the way you whisper secrets into their ears. There’s flirting to flirt — then there’s something else entirely.”

You curled your limp legs up into yourself, feeling the cold of the bathroom tile against your bottom.You were very afraid of the next words to come out of your mouth. But it had to be done, you needed to feel free of this weight again.

“If you want to be set free to be with the beautiful women of this world, I can do it easily. Don’t hold yourself back for me.”

“Easily?”, he murmured.

“You know exactly what I mean, Sanji”, you glared back at him. 

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

You sighed, “I don’t want to tie you down, just so I can be happy.”

 A silence filled the air of the bathroom. Your legs tingle, slowly coming back to life, under the gaze you knew all too well. 

Worrying your lip against your teeth, you thought of a future without the man you love. Watching him fall in and out of bars, wrapping his arms around prettier women. Sanji would keep strange girls close to his side, standing close to the street to shield them from the nightlife and traffic. You would watch him curl into and out of hands softer and more secure than your own. And wound yourself each time until all that remained was a fraction of the people the two of you used to be. 

Then finally, he would find the true love of his life. Whom he would kiss across the all blue and never have his eyes linger onto another pair of thighs, slimmer than your own. Or a pair of eyes brighter than your own, ones that have never known hardship or seen the darkest depths of this world.

You were shaking, crying again. You’d yell if you could but your tongue felt too big for your mouth. And there was Sanji, eyes hiding behind the curtain of his bangs.

You felt an arm circle around your shoulders, and pull you into the expanse of the cook’s chest.

“I’m never letting you go”, his other arm wrapped against you, thumb smoothing circles into your shoulder. “I-”, you began.

“I’m never letting you go”, he repeated firmly. He began to pull you into his lap. Now you were even more fucked, you couldn’t escape his embrace easily nor look away from the handsome man. You tried to muster up some wits about you, to win against the warmth that exploded in your chest, but the man was too powerful.

“I’m never letting you go. You are the only one for me”, his lips left kisses across your forehead, unfurrowing your tightly knit brow.

The blonde, cupped your face into his hands. He fervently kissed your closed eyes, before drawing back. 

“I’m sorry for behaving like an idiot. Let me make it up to you for the rest of your life, as long as you will let me?”

You nodded, crying harder now. 

“I hope those are happy tears, my love.” He lifted you up and before you could protest about being too heavy, the man carried you bridal style out of the bathroom and back to the ship. You could feel the reassurance of his heartbeat humming in your ears. And you knew it. You were loved.

When you returned to the ship, luckily enough, everyone was asleep –aside from Robin no doubt reading anthologies about ancient texts again.

The two of you got ready for bed, like you did every night. A quick shower, brushing of teeth, pajamas and a big sleep shirt thrown on, but this time Sanji couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You felt like the prey locked in the sight of a panther, but instead of running away you stayed gladly trapped in the haze of fate. 

He took your hand in his and led you back down towards the kitchen. You sat down and waited for him to make some tea.

To your surprise it was another one of your favorite desserts, apple pie paired with soothing green tea for your stomach.

Your lips tugged into a smile, as soon as the first bite hit your mouth. Brown sugar, soft tart apples, and lots of cinnamon to sweeten up your soul. You went in for the second spoonful, but Sanji had other plans, placing you back into his lap. You blushed. 

“Pervert”, you muttered. He took the spoon out of your hands.

“So are you”, he remarked. You pouted.

“Just because you’re right…doesn’t mean you have to say it.”

He laughed hartley. You laughed with him, snuggling into his chest.

You sat there and let the blonde man feed you small pieces of pie, between small kisses and intimate jokes. Finally finished, you wrapped his hands around his slim chest and looked up at the cook cheekily. His thighs steeled, you could feel his muscles underneath the thin pajama bottoms. 

His legs were strong and capable just like the man you’d come to love after all these years. 

You kissed him on his nose, then his cheeks, before finally kissing him on his mouth. He licked his lips, “Now I want a slice of that damn pie.”

ps Idk if I wanna be that damn mouse or that girl or AAAAAAA

[kettlefire]

Kid Flash & the Prison.

Wally West doesn't believe in the supernatural.

Aliens? Sure. Atlanteans? Understandable. Clones? Yes, makes perfect sense.

Magic and ghosts? Party tricks.

It's not real, and it never will be.

That's the only reason he accepted the stupid bet. He knows Robin was just trying to rile him up, but he couldn't help it.

M'gann was so sure it was haunted. Swore up and down that it just didn't feel right, and tried to talk Wally out of it.

He wasn't going to wuss out in front of her. So he went in. He took up the bet and went inside the haunted old prison.

An hour. He just had to survive an hour in the creaky, dark, damp building.

That can't be so hard, right?

He steeled himself, laughed of the concerned looks, and went straight in. Ignoring the looming voice in the back of his head telling him to turn away.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind him, a cold chill filled the air, and...

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Wally could hear the slight dripping of an old pipe somewhere, but that was all.

The prison was just that. An old abandoned prison, falling apart on it's edges. That was it. Nothing more nothing less, and Wally laughed at himself for his stupid fear.

He zoomed through the building, going into every room. Looking at every nook and cranny. Taking pictures so make sure no one could say he stayed huddle at the door.

It wasn't until he reached the Warden's office that something happened.

It wasn't a big deal, Wally was just certain a draft knocked over one of those rotten wooden shelves. That's what the crash was, no need to fret. Wally absolutely didn't jump at the sound.

He wrapped his hand around the doorknob, and pulled...

Nothing happened. The door refused to open. The knob turned, it wasn't locked. Yet it felt like door might be barricaded, so tightly that Wally couldn't even shove it an inch.

It only made Wally want to get in even more. He's been to every other inch of this prison, he wasn't going to let a rotten door stop him.

But then it happened. Translucent glowing green arms shot out of the wooden door, gripping at Wally's skin in an ice cold and bruising grasp.

He didn't scream. No, Wally shouted. That's all he did. It was manly, 100%, he just got a little jump scared that's it.

His comm crackled to life, and Wally could hear the voices of his team through thick static. He could barely make it out, what with trying not to get pulled into the door.

The old rotten door wasn't a door anymore. It swirled a glowing green and purple color, and the presence of it sent a chill down Wally's spine.

This time, as Wally felt the floor slipping from under him, Wally screamed. A blood curdling sound because this wasn't supposed to happen.

The speedster wasn't sure if he had just closed his eyes, or if he passed out. Yet, when he opened his eyes again he was in a prison.

A prison. Not The Prison.

The walls were a sickly purple grey, the sky above him was inky black with the occasional streak of green. And Wally realized very quickly, he wasn't on Earth anymore.

Maybe he should have been more concerned by the green beings dressed in riot gear circling around him. Or the fact that he was now wearing a grey and black jumpsuit, his super suit and mask completely missing.

But no. No the thing that sent a numbing wave of dread through was the man.

The man, who could barely be called a man, that loomed over him. Dressed in white and black suit. Whose skin was a deathly white.

An almost skeletal look to his face, yet Wally didn't doubt he strength and power in that man.

The man who called himself Warden Walker.

Walker wasted no time in listening a startling list of rules Wally had broken. Rules that would lead him to spend much too long trapped in this ghostly prison.

As much as Wally hated to admit it, that's what it was. Ghosts.

And he had no clue how to get free. Even as he was changed, and lead around the prison. To the mess hall. Even as Wally started down at the food that looked absolutely radioactive.

In this moment, Wally realized how screwed he truly was. Terrified of what would happen next. Would his friends try going into the prison after him?

How much time has even passed? Would his friends end up trapped here with him? Would they get worse treatment? How could a human be in a ghost prison?!

His spiraling panic and stressed came to a complete halt when she sat down. Grey skin and firey blue hair, Wally couldn't help but find her beauty enticing.

Her boyfriend, however, looked as if he could snap Wally in two. Looming forming, looking to be a metallic suit and firey green mohawk.

Wally really thought he was going to get the weirdest beat down of his life.

Except the conversation quickly shifter a plan for a riot. Talk of how to get Wally out of there. Leaving the speedster absolutely flabbergasted. Why would they help?

Every time Wally tried to ask the ghosts why, they kept brushing him off. Until finally he got an answer from Ember. Which only left him with more questions.

"Because the dipstick would be a bigger pain if we let a human stay here."

[elitesheepi]

Every once in awhile, I think about Zuko joining the gaang in the Crystal Caves.

Katara's gesture to heal his scar, the first gentle touch he's felt in such a long time to such a trauma-poisoned place, it makes something inside of him flicker. A cool caress he didn't know was capable. Zuko holding her wrist, and turns down her offer--she'll need it for someone more important than him--but he doesn't let go, and she doesn't move. She should have hit, she should be hating him. He could handle hate, but not this foreign kindness especially from the avatar's friend.

He stole her necklace, he chased her and the avatar all around the world, and yet. She still offered to heal him with spirit water.

It's a whirlwind of emotions hitting him at once. Guilt, shame, the urge to apologize. It's only the cracking of the rock wall and the appearance of his uncle and the avatar to stop him from saying something stupid and ruining the moment.

Azula is the definition of making a bad situation worse. They're trapped in the caves, enemies on all sides of them, and now Iroh has been captured. Zuko's already steeled himself for a fight, he's not going down easy. But instead, she raises an offer to him. Come back, join her, take out the avatar with her and take his rightful place as the Prince of the Fire Nation. Earn back his honor.

Make their father proud.

It's tempting. He'd be a liar if he said he wasn't tempted. It's what he wants right? To be recognized--to be loved--by the very man who rejects him the most. But--the pain in his eyes starting to get to him again. The skin too tight, his vision still nowhere near 100%, 50% on a good day. And more importantly--it burns.

His fingers touch the same spot where blazing hot fingers pressed into him skin, and moves to where fingers, cold as ice and as calming as a turtle duck pond moved along the wrinkles of his skin.

Zuko's made his decision. He sends a fireball aimed straight at his sister.