#fic: hot box

[lightyaoigami]

hot box • not rated

read here or on ao3 • part of down bad

International students gather for a slapdash Thanksgiving in the US. Two special boys spend most of it in the bathroom.

“Welcome to the International Student Union annual Thanksgiving dinner,” said a chipper American student. She wore a burnt orange intarsia sweater with an ear of rainbow corn stitched into the chest; it seemed like something you would put on a doll, not a living adult woman. Light couldn’t remember her name, but he’d met her before – he knew she was named after an item, but he couldn’t remember which one. He decided, internally, to name her Corn.

“Every year, we welcome international students to Chatham Hall to observe the Thanksgiving holiday,” Corn continued. “It's an American tradition, and it is my honor to host you all for this year's theme: togetherness.” She gestured to a folding table with a jigsaw-puzzle arrangement of foil trays and enough Sternos to burn down the entire building.

“Togetherness,” L scoffed quietly, “nobody's ever done that before.” He was halfway through folding his leaf-printed paper napkin into a boat.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” Light said quietly, the volume of his voice inversely proportional to his horror.

“Roger that, my liege,” L replied, dropping the boat onto Light’s plate. Corn was halfway through directing traffic to the serving table when L pushed his chair back and stood up abruptly. Light scowled. There was absolutely no reason for L to be so disruptive, but being contrarian for the sake thereof seemed to be one of his most cherished pastimes.

“Excuse me,” L half-shouted. “May I be excused?”

“Oh – of course. Sure.” Corn’s eyebrows knitted together as if someone wanting to leave her Costco-catered holiday might actually bring her to tears. “Please, take the time you need.” She waved her hand vaguely towards a long hallway, at the end of which lay a real, private bathroom – not the communal kind, covered in pink slime mold and errant pieces of floss.

L scurried down the hall. His gait was reminiscent of some kind of large rodent; a pine marten, perhaps, or a capybara. He seemed to skitter rather than walk.

L was absent from the communal table for ten minutes. Nobody expressed any material concern about him, but something niggled at Light that he could not name. What if L was crying, or making himself sick, or trying to climb out the window? Anything was possible, even something dreadful, and that made his hands itch.

He looked around to ensure the others were in conversation; they were supposed to attend the event to practice English, but it was abundantly clear that everyone had arrived with the sole intention of eating a mountain of free food and gulping down as much screw top wine as humanly possible. It was a bit insulting, really, seeing as they were sitting through full lectures in English. Light pushed his chair back gently, looked at Corn with an apologetic frown, and walked briskly down the hall to find a beam of light shining from under the bathroom door.

Light knocked gently with one finger. There was an odd smell in the air; not pungent enough to be a cigarette, but strong enough to rule out a plug-in air freshener, too.

L cracked the door open a centimeter. He was holding a skinny metal vape to his lips; Light didn’t want to stare, but it appeared to say something ridiculous like Sticky Icky Oozeberry across the top.

“Are you kidding?” Light hissed. “This is a university building. You're going to be expelled.”

“Fuck off, Yagami,” L said, his lazy voice seeping under the crack in the door. “I pay to attend this school, don't I? Fifty-four grand per year, to be exact. And that's before room and board! The least they could do is let me get a little high during these stupid rah-rah community events.” He opened the door and waved Light inside. His tarsier eyes were mildly bloodshot; he reached into his pocket for a bottle of Rohto Cooling Ice drops, which he squirted in and around his eyeballs with reckless abandon.

“Do I look alright?” He continued. Light stared at him. His face was so wet that it looked like he'd splashed it in the sink.

“No,” Light replied, bewildered. “You look insane. Like you've been crying in here.”

“Fine by me. I'll tell them I'm homesick.”

“Right.” Light rolled his eyes. “I'm sure everyone will buy that.”

***

Back at the table, L served himself three – or possibly four – glasses of cabernet sauvignon from a screw-top bottle.

“It's – it's free, right?” Light asked Corn.

“Of course,” she replied with a placid smile. “Nothing but the best for our guests from overseas.”

She gestured to his empty glass with the butt of a Moscato bottle. “May I?”

“If you insist,” Light replied weakly.

“He doesn't want that one,” L said as he shot his hand out to cover Light's glass. His voice was disproportionately authoritative, and his fingers were pressing down hard enough on Light's cup that it looked like the plastic stem might give way. Under the table, Light knocked his knee into L’s, but it didn't seem to register.

“It's fine,” Light mumbled, though the damage was surely done.

“It's not,” L said blithely. “Please do not serve my esteemed classmate dessert wine with his dinner course. Besides, he doesn't like sweet things.”

He turned to Light and leaned into his ear. “You're welcome,” he whispered.

Corn turned on the heel of her running shoes and slinked, defeated, to the buffet table to oblige L’s demand.

“What is wrong with you?” Light dropped his head into his hands. “You don't even know what I like. I don't even know what I like! You are my classmate, not my husband. Jesus.” He ran a hand through his hair and began to pick at his green beans.

L’s expression was inscrutable. “I just – well, you never eat sweets in class. So. I extrapolated,” he said, rhythmically ripping the edge of a napkin.

He wasn't wrong; Light never ate sweets, in class or anywhere else. He tried to refrain from eating in class at all; when he did, it was usually a Ziploc bag full of blueberries or baby carrots.

Light pinched the bridge of his nose; Corn had returned and was serving him a massive pour of pinot grigio.

“Thank you!” L called after her as she walked away, defeated. “Cheers,” he said, turning to Light and gently touching the rims of their plastic cups together, careful not to slosh anything on the cornucopia-printed tablecloth.

***

45 minutes later, he leaned over the bathroom counter, splashing cold water onto his cheeks. The meal, it turned out, was the same as what they served in Chatham Hall; the free, flowing alcohol was the only thing that differentiated this dinner from an ordinary Thursday night on campus.

L stood next to him, having barged his way into the same bathroom to re-up his Rohto Ice Drops, and was now putting him awkwardly on the shoulder as he pressed his fingers onto his eyelids.

“L,” Light said gravely. “I’m going to die.”

“No you aren’t,” L sighed. “You’re just trapped in this tiny bathroom with me, your favorite classmate – no, favorite person at this school.” He slapped Light on the back.

“Spare me,” Light said. “I'm not doing this with you.” He dried his hands. “I miss home, I guess.”

“Oh,” L said and wrung his hands. Light looked up at him. He hadn't intended on turning a quick absconsion into a meditation on moving across the globe, but it appeared that free alcohol had other plans for him.

“I want to ride the train,” Light continued, pulling his eyelids down to inspect the puffiness. “Why are there only two train lines?”

“I mean, the auto industry lobby,” L said, rubbing his hands over his forearms. “Come on, you’re better than this. Free alcohol is not a license to liquidate your brain. Get it together.”

Light rested his forehead on his arms. “I can’t,” he said quietly.

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“You remind me of back there,” Light said, feeling incomprehensible. “Don't you miss it?”

L laced and unlaced his fingers. “Not really,’ he said, sheepish. “You can't go home again, and all that.”

“I can't go home? What?”

“It's an expression. Never mind.” L ran his fingers through his hair and sucked gently on his pen, blowing a cloud into the vent in the wall. “Let's go back out.”

“No,” Light said miserably. “I can't.”

“Yes, you can. You have to.”

Light made a frustrated noise; he felt himself move as if to stomp his foot, but caught himself at the last minute. In spite of a near-tantrum, he felt somewhat obligated to maintain a shred of dignity.

“Well,” L sighed, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. “Would you like…I don’t know. A hug?”

“No.” Light wrinkled his nose. “Not from you.”

“Mm. Figured I’d ask.”

Light stared at the grout connecting the sink to the vanity. It was, miraculously, devoid of pink mold. “I,” he said stupidly.

“What?”

“Don’t – don’t,” he faltered. A part of him did want this, but the prospect of asking was so humiliating that it might have killed him. He picked up one hand, slowly, as if he were dragging it through molasses, and held it out. L stared at it and stuck his bottom lip out. After a minute, he reached out and squeezed it.

“Ew,” Light said, unmoving.

L nodded. “Ew.”

[gods-perfect-idiots]

something something blood-soaked hands cradling your face something something

anyway here's the post btw

[valcaine]

Can we see art/sketches of philza lowkey being terrifying?

woe, a sorta old crow man doodle upon ye,

Haven’t really had the energy to draw things recently as my ass ended up in the hospital and it just. Killed Everything I had left in me so apologies for any absence, I hope to get in the drive of making emduo art again. I have Things™️ planned, it is mostly a matter of me gaining the motivation again to finish them lmao

if anyone is interested. please do commission me!

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[moonshynecybin]

have we talked about what valentine’s day looks like for rosquez. post-reconciliation imo it’s vale going overboard sending marc 500 roses it’s an instagram photo dump showing him off with a borderline-obscene caption (imagine they’ve gone public. perhaps in the aftermath of the coming out au?) it’s custom la perla and solid gold nipple clamps. marc secretly glowing abt being showered in affection it’s proof vale loves him and isn’t going to leave him

also im just putting this together but isn’t valentine’s day like. the day of vale’s name? something like that? EVEN MORE reason for him to be super into it.

let’s not talk abt 2013-2015 valentine’s day…

you are a genius who has predicted something i was literally already writing!!!!! he absolutely gets him hot girl sex gifts for their valentine's day slash joint birthday week which is the hot girl sex gift SUPERBOWL for them. personally i was thinking lingerie and i wrote a tiny fic (~500 words) about it thats under the cut! get outta my brain !

There’s package sitting inside Marc’s motorhome, after testing.

That's not unusual in itself. It’s his birthday tomorrow, and he’s been fielding various gifts from his sponsors for the last few days, all brightly colored hats and huge sunglasses— messages from whatever company, carefully typed on impersonal letterhead. But this one feels different. It’s unmarked, the box a smooth white cream— not very tall, but wide. Marc crosses to the table the box is resting on and lifts off the lid, testing the weight. It’s heavier than it looks, well made.

It’s clearly expensive.

Once he sets the lid to the side,the first thing his eyes catch on is tissue paper, delicate and silvery, folded neatly. A small card made of thick paper is nestled on top, just over where the carefully arranged wrapping conjoins. He picks it up.

Marc, familiar handwriting spells, and Marc smiles. He knows who sent this. It's not one of his sponsors. Thought this would suit you, I hope you like it. -Vale. There’s a small heart scribbled after the message, followed by a cartoon turtle, unhurried and messy. Beloved.

But it’s still not Valentino’s usual style, and Marc raises an eyebrow, curious. It's actually not technically his birthday, its the day before— it’s Vale’s birthday, and there’s not a lot he wouldn’t give Marc in person, especially when they've been floating around the same paddock. Typically, if Vale is going to give him something, he likes to be there. Likes to lay back and watch Marc’s face as he opens whatever elegantly wrapped treasure he’s picked out for him, eyes greedy on Marc’s expression.

He likes to know that Marc enjoys the things he gives him.

So it’s notable, that he isn’t here. That he left this in Marc's motorhome while he was testing on track, just before Vale was scheduled to spend a little bit of time running things through with his academy riders. He had wanted Marc to find this alone. To turn over what to do with it. Contemplate any possibilities.

Marc's skin feels too warm, too sensitive, the cool air of the motorhome giving him goosebumps. His thumb lingers in the edge of the tissue paper, feeling its thin edges, reveling in the sensation. In the way the anticipation fills him up, a pleasant buzz that thrums under his skin.

It's not dissimilar from the moment before a race, that knifes edge of expectation.

He bites his lip and opens the present, carefully moving the paper away to reveal what’s inside. Something silky catches against his knuckles. He stops.

It’s Vale’s birthday, he remembers.

This isn’t a gift for him, exactly. Pale yellow silk and lace greets him, delicate. Carefully constructed. Marc doesn’t have to check to know they’re in his size.

He grins.

[james-sunshine-potter]

i really want to write an unnecessarily long fic where james and regulus finally buy a house together, and james has been tasked with all the outdoor labour. which regulus thought was a good idea cause james is really handy and good at labour based tasks. (plus regulus is no good with that).

but it back fires, as james keeps drawing eyes to himself cause he's basically doing it half naked, as it's middle of summer, mid heatwave and too hot for james to wear tops and do manual labour. so people on the street keep flirting with james, cause he's tanned, toned and sweaty, and it's driving regulus insane with jealousy.

this would quite literally just be for me. it would be a funny fic.

[bananaman-mp3]

hello women

[sinfulsunni]

👀💖 (pairing is up to u 🙌❤️)

send me an emoji combo and I’ll write you a little nsfw ficlet!

hehe okie this one is public sex 👀 + praise kink 💖 featuring some Sprizzy and a side of Izzy/Crew! :)

this one uh. this got away from me a little bit.

- ♥️ -

“Are you sure about this? You can still call it off at any time.”

Spriggs - no, Lucius - whispers close to Izzy’s neck, a question meant only for him. Izzy suppresses a shiver at the feeling of warm breath against his skin, and shakes his head.

“I’m sure. Fuckin’ wet already, check if you don’t believe me,” Izzy grumbles, face flushing. Lucius chuckles and Izzy blushes harder.

“Don’t worry, I’m getting there. Just promise me you’ll tell me if anything feels wrong.”

“I promise,” Izzy affirms.

“Good boy,” Lucius smiles, and presses a peck to Izzy’s cheek, right over his tattoo.

Izzy shudders at the praise, his chest heaving as his heart starts to race in anticipation of what’s about to happen.

When he finally manages to bring himself to look up from his kneeling position, a dozen pairs of eyes are looking at him. More specifically, the crew of the Revenge, minus the captains. They’re arranged in a crescent moon shape in front of him, most of them sitting or kneeling on the deck, and all staring at him intently. Izzy feels his pulse skip at the sight of them.

His audience.

Having all those eyes on him, as Lucius slowly starts to unbutton his vest from behind, should feel wrong. It should be humiliating, perverse, like he’s just a cheap whore putting on a show. But it isn’t. Somehow, the only thing he can feel is… safe.

And horny, his dick reminds him as Lucius’s hands slip underneath his shirt. That too. Safe and horny. It’s an electrifying combination. His cunt throbs in his leathers.

His heartbeat seems to echo through his entire body as Lucius pulls off more and more layers until Izzy is completely exposed. The cool air hits his hot, aching cunt, and a shudder runs through him.

“Gosh, aren’t you gorgeous,” Lucius murmurs fondly. He runs his hands over Izzy’s scarred back, gently massaging his shoulders, and Izzy’s already melting like butter in his hands. He spreads his knees involuntarily, earning a few intakes of breath from his audience. A spark of strange pride and excitement flutters in his chest.

“Isn’t he so pretty, everyone?”, Lucius says louder, addressing the crew this time. He strokes a single wooden finger down the side of Izzy’s face, smooth carved wood grazing over rough stubble.

The crew doesn’t make him wait for praise. Immediately, Izzy hears several small sounds of agreement, and sees a few of them smile in a way that can only be described as adoring. Who would have thought anyone could look at Izzy Hands with adoration?

“Qué hermosa…”, Jim breathes, staring at Izzy in a way that makes him tremble. “Un muy buen chico.”

Izzy doesn’t know Spanish, but he understands enough to flush at the words. That low, warm rasp of their voice… their dark eyes trailing down his naked body…..

“Yes, he is very good isn’t he,” Lucius agrees. “Are you ready to show them how very good you are, darling?”, Lucius asks, hands trailing slowly down Izzy’s chest.

Izzy barely manages to breathe out his consent before he’s desperately stretching up to meet Lucius’s lips in a hungry kiss, eagerly opening his mouth to grant him entrance. The heat goes straight to his core, pounding through his body in tidal waves of arousal, making him shake.

All at once he feels like he’s loose in a storm, tossed about by the sea, completely at the mercy of this man and his honeyed words. Lucius pulls himself around to face Izzy properly, bringing both hands up to cup his face as he kisses Izzy deeper, hotter, unraveling him.

Izzy feels splayed open, pinned like a butterfly for display, more naked than he’s ever been and more alive than he’s ever felt.

“God you’re so good, you’re so fucking good, you’re just made for this aren’t you,” Lucius gasps into his mouth in between kisses, suddenly sounding almost as desperate as Izzy.

His touch turns almost frantic as he pulls Izzy into his lap, exploring every inch of skin with his hands, raking his nails through silvered chest hair. He tweaks a nipple and Izzy gasps.

He loses himself in Lucius’s touch, almost forgetting about his audience until they break apart for breath and Izzy finds himself shaken by what he sees.

The crew. His crew. They’re all just… looking at him. Looking at him like - like he’s -

“You’re beautiful.”

Lucius whispers the words into his skin with a kiss, soft as sea foam. His hands are trailing lower, lower, chasing the heat between Izzy’s legs.

Beautiful. Beautiful. The words echo in Izzy’s head like a chime, like a song that’s lifting him up, making him gasp and roll into Lucius’s touch. The crazy thing is, he believes it. It makes him feel mad, but right now, he fucking believes it.

He chances another glance at the crew, and his heart soars in his chest as he looks at them. They’re beautiful too, he realizes. They’re all so fucking beautiful. He wants them, he wants them so fucking much. All of them, anything they have to offer him. He wants to be held, and kissed, and touched, and praised, he wants them to whisper a dozen sugar-sweet promises to him and he wants to believe it, he wants them to bring him to his peak again and again and again and he wants to make all of them feel good too.

Lucius’s fingers tease over his cock, sliding down to collect the wetness between Izzy’s legs, just how he promised to before.

“Tell us what you want, Izzy. We’re gonna take care of you.”

Lucius’s beard scratches against Izzy’s collarbone. The sun is warm on the back of his neck. The hushed sound of the ocean is a soothing lullaby in the background.

“Everything,” Izzy says. “Give me everything.”

- ♥️ -

thank you for reading! this will be posted to my ao3 as well <3

[arviyya]

Fic Masterlist:

hi i'm murph! welcome! ✴ links below for fics & ao3

In a Jegulus and Rosekiller sandwhich.

Finished:

✦ Microfics on my other account @viyyasvividry

multiship, silly, and smutty

☼ Venom Dripping In Your Mouth: 1/1 -strutting slut fest

Jegulus/rosekiller — Regulus is a bio-chem undergrad fulfilling a humanities credit when he realizes there may be something strange about his professors, James and Evan. He finds more than he bargains for when he decides to test his theory with his best friend Barty in tow, leading to Regulus and Barty becoming human sippy cups.

⚘ Meet Me In The Woods: 1/1 -Black Star Productions

Rosekiller — Barty and Evan have been on the run for months, leaving their disapproving fathers in their wake. Traveling the countryside, they wither and fade into the landscape as points A, B and Z blur into each other and any sense of direction seems lost to time. Sometimes, adventures help us grow, sometimes we lose ourselves along the way.

⚘ On Those Peanut Butter Vibes: 1/1 -the marauders creature fic fest

Rosekiller — Barty is a shapeshifter, Evan is his boyfriend, and they go to the fair.

WIPs In Progress:

✴ A Song of Serpents: 19/36 for volume 1

Jegulus, Rosekiller, Dorlene - background Wolfstar; Canon Divergent Hogwarts/post Hogwarts au; Regulus, James, Evan, Barty, Dorcas POVs — Love is in the air, but so is war. War is violent, but so is love; and grief is the stain left behind when love bleeds.

ⵜ A Taste of Sin: 7/16 -Siriuslyhozierfest

Rosekiller - background Jegulus, Dorlene; Muggle fame au; Evan & Barty POVs — Every story has an ending. Barty knows that his own is no different. One day he will slip into nothingness, and there’s comfort in that certainty. But until the hounds of hell drag him away with their teeth, Barty wants whatever version of life is raw, and uncut. | Everything changes for Evan the night that Regulus brings Barty home with him. He meets those green eyes and knows that he will never be the same. Never.

✴ Into the Abyss: 7/?

Jegulus & Rosekiller & Wolfstar - and various combinations of those. Mainly Jegulus/Rosekiller; Wizarding AU - very Canon divergent — It's on a fateful evening that everything changes for Regulus, James, Barty, and Evan, when Evan and Regulus decide to take a glimpse into their future, only to find horrors beyond anything they can imagine. Desperately, the four of them do whatever they can to try and change it, even if they have to change themselves along the way.

arviyya & thejessalope

My tags:

Murphsmicrofics — microfics by me

left field brainrot

why am i like this

a little bad day blues

well fuck

Also fuck jkr.

[star4daisy]

every time i say im gonna focus on one fic i write one chapter and another fic that I haven't thought about in a year demands my attention lmao

[trigunwritings]

Me whenever Studio Orange gives us more Stampede!Knives content:

[jamiesfootball]

Any updates to your 5+1 Jamie falling asleep fic you want to share? 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Or any other work?

Thank youuuuuuuuu. I am deep into the post-season fic right now, so here's an update from that:

If that meant Roy had to listen to Moe's weird little poem likening professional football to the continued patronage of the Medici, then so be it. "—Even one who criticizes is allowed to do so only by the whim of its owner—" Jan Maas whooped along encouragingly. Richard, using the taller man as a crutch, toasted his wine glass and murmured his agreement in French. Isaac nodded along encouragingly with his arms folded and a thoughtful frown painted on his face, looking every bit a Renaissance statue. Next to Isaac, Colin's boyfriend leaned over the table to give Colin a kiss on the cheek. Next to him, O'Brien's eyes shone with tears. Given the way he'd been wincing all night, Roy was pretty sure his butt injury was acting up again. At the bar, Thierry flagrantly ignored Moe in favor of needling Dani to make him a Jager bomb. Dani cracked open a can of Red Bull. Roy looked away.

[stinalotte]

I posted this prompt on the discord, but I want to toss it to anyone who wants it here, too:

The soldiers love to complain about having to "babysit" the scientists on missions. The scientists hate the word babysitting and finally, after the 87th unfunny joke, they snap. Words are exchanged. There is yelling, and throwing of things. And shenanigans. And Parrish is telling Lorne to fix it. And Lorne is like, "Your guy threw a botany encyclopedia at my guy, YOU fix it!"

[goldeneyedgirl]

Oh boy, this is probably so irrelevant to you, but I've read the little piece you made for Babyverse about Jasper having to leave Alice and their son to go hunt and I swear I wept, thinking that's exactly how my baby brother gets everytime I leave. Literally the cutest AU ever made!!! Also, I have a weak spot for Damage Alice. May I ask for some of any of these two masterpieces?

This is absolutely not irrelevant - I'm not around small children, so I am relying entirely luck and vague memories to make any depiction of Ollie convincing, and I am SO glad that I am on the right track!

You caught me in a weak moment, so have a little of both <3

babyverse.

It’s been six fucking weeks since he’s seen them, and he’s trying to convince himself that this is another false lead, another dead-end, even as he presses his foot further on the accelerator. 

He knows the old motel he’s going to - it’s been abandoned for decades, with a cracked sign caked in filth declaring it the Rose Spring. It’s a thrice condemned shit-hole, untouched because of alleged chemical leaks or something that the government don’t want to have to clean up to sell the land off. It’s irrelevant though; the Rose Spring, like all the other falling-down, forgotten motels across the country, is a regular haunt for vampires looking to avoid the sun, to meet other travellers, to pass messages back and forth. 

He pulls into the motel, barely shutting off the ignition as he gets out. The back is laden with supplies, and he pauses only long enough to grab the bag that Esme has labelled with a big red cross. 

The stairs are flimsy and buckle under his step - no place for a human. Half the balcony has collapsed, and at least two of the rooms have crumbled in on themselves - probably in the last storm. 

Room 37 is tucked in the corner, and he doesn’t bother to knock as he throws open the door. 

Ollie is sitting on the first rancid, rotting bed and his face lights up as he sees Jasper, his arms stretching out towards him. He’s wearing filthy, mismatched clothing that aren’t his, and is sucking on a pacifier again, and for some reason that’s more upsetting than anything else to Jasper - he was just beginning to give it up before everything happened. And now it’s back. 

Maria is seated on the bed with Ollie, looking equally as filthy and surprisingly solemn. 

“You made it faster than I anticipated,” she says, standing up and motioning to Ollie as the bed tilts slightly without her weight. “He’ll be hungry, but he’s unharmed.”

Ollie makes a whining noise as soon as he’s in Jasper’s arms; a reassuring weight, but Ollie is about to start crying. 

“Where’s Alice?” He demands, rubbing his son’s back and hoping they can get out of here, and back north tonight; somewhere they can clean up and talk and he can make sure that they’re okay. 

Maria looks grimmer and motions for him to follow her out the door and into the next room. 

Ollie gets agitated, straining towards Alice the second they set foot in the second room. 

The scent of blood saturates the air.

Alice is lying on the bed, unconscious. There’s an angry wound on her head, and bother her arms. Some rough bandages have been wrapped around her leg, and it’s obvious that someone - perhaps Maria - tried to clean her up. 

“Alice?” His alarm is evident in his voice, and he almost hands Ollie off to Maria to go to her side before his brain clicks back into place. “Alice, can you hear me?”

Ollie’s reaching more and his whimpers are turning to wails as Alice doesn’t flinch.

“For god’s sake, give me the child, and deal with your mate,” Maria says, almost crossing. “I didn’t eat him before, I’m not going to eat him now.”

damaged alice.

The race to the ballet studio is the longest journey of his life.

Alice can’t defend herself. She’s never fought in her life. When Maria came to Calgary, Alice had been carefully protected by Esme and Emmett. 

He’s never run faster in his life. 

The scene that he finds in the ballet studio is one that fills him with anger and terror, and his first instinct is to get Alice out. 

Not Bella bleeding out on the floor and screaming (oh god, he knows that scream) with an extremely broken leg. 

Or to destroy James, with his joker-smile.

Alice is standing over Bella, blood on her face and dress and hands, and she’s getting upset about it, a thin cry coming out of her mouth as she stares down at her maybe-future-best-friend’s blood smelling so tempting…

But when James laughingly steps forward towards Bella, Alice growls protectively. 

He swoops in, barely pausing as he grabs Alice and gets her out of James’ reach, smoothing her hair as he tries to look her in the eyes; but Alice’s eyes dart, never meeting his. Not a surprise that today would become a bad one, that Alice can’t communicate right now. 

(James was alone with her for too long; he hates himself for that. He’s terrified she’s been hurt in some way, that the damage is worse than being slathered in her maybe-friend’s blood. )

“Are you okay?” 

As soon as the words are out, James slams into him from nowhere, and he can’t worry about Alice or Bella in that moment. 

But all he can hear are Alice’s soft cries from where she’s standing in the corner. 

[zozo-01]

i think its cool that over 600 people have clicked on my silly little fics <333

[chexie]

interdimensional gateway fic update for 3rd anniversary

haha kidding

it takes forever to write fics so I applaud you for still managing to keep up with it, especially multi-chapter fics. and especially especially ones that are over like 5 chapters.

I would've forgotten about it and then just hoped the readers weren't that into it so i could abandon the thing

(have done that in the past but then again they never got many likes 2 begin with haha)

anyways wish u luck on it, dont worry about meeting deadlines n shit

Oh honestly at some point this past spring I had this silly pipe dream that I’d have Gateway’s epilogue up in time for it’s third birthday lmao it’s even pipe-dreamier now, but hey, who knows (I knows, I absolutely probably won’t finish it by then but yknow it’d be nice)

But at the same time the fact that this ask is like. Even here at all is so so wild to me because this is the first time I’ve had people engage with my content so positively and consistently, and I feel like that’s been one of my reasons that work on it’s been so ‘consistent’

(That and the Darkside communities size. Back then we only had 7 fics to pick from so it was my civil service to the community, obvs)

At the end of the day, while the stunted progress in 2022 was just another cost of a mentally taxing year, 2023 has just been me wrangling my brain to focus on anything for more than two weeks and clinically failing, and the lack of engagement chapter 9 got around its release ended up burying DD in my head

I’m not,,, entirely certain what my point was in all of this? But. Thank you. Maybe chapter 10 will drop by year’s end. Wouldn’t that be rad?