#glowy eyes under the waves

[zxomon]

Cthulhu has a new hairstyle!

[1800titz]

The vacay piece I teased ages ago. One night stand :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: p-in-v, oral, brief size kink (if you squint), praise kink, this one’s p vanilla.

WC: 2.5K

It starts like this:

A bohemian beach with a high riding tide, where ripples surge and flood the shore. Sand tears from its home, coasting the verge in the breeze like a fog under the overcast, and when the clouds split open, the rays hug her skin. 

She’s sprawled over a chaise lounge in a little red thing that’s all skimp and no cover besides the intimates. When she rolls onto her side and tips to her tummy, he eyes the flash of skin behind dark tint. His arms brace over the porcelain border of the pool that overlooks the beach up ahead — he’s watchful from a distance. Someone swims up to the bar behind him. Chlorine laps at his back, teeming over the grout between the tiles as he wraps his lips over a straw and nurses something cobalt and strong.

By the time he culls a second one, she’s up, all glistening skin in the sunshine, hips swaying as her toes make doughy prints in the sand. She trails to the sea, and the ocean eats her until she’s just a little silhouette in front of his sunglasses with water-slicked hair and lines that cinch and swell in all the right places. 

He sees her like that, outlying his bubble, in brief pieces like the flashes of skin. Fragments in the horizon, like the border of a stranger’s leg in the background of a photograph. He sees her in slivers where eyes interlock from across the room and linger. This bohemian summer is painted in teal, and it’s waves swathing the coast, warm skin coated in cocoa butter. 

It ends on a night where the teal metamorphose indigo, and then nearly denim, with orange on cords, glinting like miniaturized, splintered orbs of the sun have been caught to glare forever on strings in the night. Harry sees her through that indigo, this stranger’s bare leg waltzing in the depths of his touristy snapshot, mingling in the dancing horde. He trails closer, shouldering through the throng and squeezing through in polite gaps, and she twists like it’s fate — just enough to smuggle a glimpse in her peripherals. 

Eventually, Harry leans in to murmur, “What are you drinking?”

The plush of his mouth ghosts over the cartilage there, and his cadence smooths over like honey, low and deep over the pounding bass of the music. Waned tobacco and spice; a warm, pleasant musk in the flurry of scents. 

She doesn’t immediately respond, observant like she’s weighing whether the invitation is worth entertaining. It only takes a second. Then, there’s a hand over his pec, like she’s already made friends with the filth of his intentions. His red-lycra-skimp mystique rolls up on her toes. 

Harry twists his head just enough for her to respond, “It’s a Blue Lagoon.” 

Saccharine — rich and lux and smooth, something that has her skin glowy and sweeps up her throat, tucks behind her ear, enough so that the scent billows off with the motion of her hair as she flips it over her shoulder. 

Harry casts his gaze to the drink. A red straw is tucked into the ice, and the only remnants of the beverage mingle at the bottom. The ice shimmers in faded teal, much like water sloshing over the flat tides. Her fingers cradle over the cup, and that’s where soft, thin lines of gold coil. Despite the broad array, there’s no wedding band. 

“Can I grab you another?” 

That’s when she does the thing; this patently flirtatious, brazenly get-under-my-crocheted-midi-skirt sort of thing, lashes coy in their sweep and eyes innocuous as the tips of her manicured fingers pinch at the straw and siphon it to her mouth. There’s an elegant presentation to the polish — neat, short lines with a nude base and a white tip. 

The remnants of the beverage vanish until all that’s left is crushed ice painted with blue curaçao. Harry watches the straw. He watches her lips, the way they unlatch and the way the pink tip of her tongue offers a glimpse before it hides away behind her front teeth. 

When she pulls the drink away, she tips her head — an inclination for his ear again — and when he ducks his chin for her answer, she tells him, “Can you make it worth my time?” 

A tongue swipes — his — like it’s already hungry and yearning. Dimples form beside the curling edges of a mouth after the pink muscle retreats. Home in its hungry cavern; limitlessly craving. He doesn’t bother going for her ear again, instead opting to fix eyes that have wandered, all week, onto her face. Definitive, close. Mesh of saccharine and spice. 

“I’ll make it worth your time,” Harry assures. 

His eyes are virid, even in the indigo, under all the miniature suns as the lanterns throw them back into a roll of blue — it climbs over the crowd and seeps with the music. They’re virid and intent. They’re virid, and there’s something lewd that dances in the mottled talc. 

She watches him. A set of eyes flits to his mouth and stays, brief like a fragment. She nudges the cup — the fragment splinters and fades — extending it against his chest until he raises his hand and his ring clad digits curl over it slowly, wet with condensation. 

“Blue Lagoon,” sweet mystique reminds him, a little curl to her mouth. 

Harry heads to the bar. He orders a Blue Lagoon and refreshes his tequila. Double. He winds through the half-clad crowd, prodding and slipping through sweat-slicked bodies until he finds her again. 

He makes it worth her while when they’re dancing, when her arms are slung over his shoulders and the tips of her fingers graze at the little curls at his nape, like an intimacy beyond a summer fling, or maybe like a restless hunger — its touches only test the waters with dips of toes under lapping ripples. He makes it worth her while when his hand cups the meat of her hip, and she tips her head up for their mouths to meet, when their dancing slows and the kiss turns feverish, cushiony mouths teasing at the seams until they split. 

He makes it worth her time when they make the stroll back to his room, heels clicking over tile and bouncing off from lofty wall to lofty wall, a good bit of distance between them strictly for the sake of avoiding shagging in the middle of a hallway. He makes it worth her while when he braces his wrist band to the lock over the door, when she’s leant against the wall with her irises lingering on him and her lashes batting coyly. She’s well-behaved, hands tucked behind her back like a combat to handsy temptation. 

It’s a different story behind the door. 

He makes it worth her while when her fingers toy at her crocheted halter, index perusing at the fabric below cleavage and brushing over chalky yarn. He makes it worth her time when he steps into her space all slow-like, face tipped down and the pink below his cupid’s bow worked into a soft curve, lengthy, deft digits working over the buttons of his shirt. An untamed tendril teases over one of his brows. Her hands meander from fondling at her own tits, at rogue pieces of yarn in the stitches, to straying up his ink-etched forearms. That’s when he lets her take over the work, when his arms snake over the vale of her waist. When his colossal hands cup lower, when he nudges forward and their mouths brush again. He licks into her mouth and rolls into the gap between her teeth.

Filthy kisses are shrouded behind closed doors, even in the easy ambience of a resort. Furlough on the greedy pursuit of pleasure, on some secluded island with crystalline waters, plus tequila — that’s practically a petri dish for hook up culture. But filthy kisses are saved for the bedroom, and there it’s taste buds doused in citrus limon and gray goose, a tip of a tongue swiping along a row of teeth, basking in the ridges. 

“What do you like, little minx?” Harry murmurs. He climbs the column of her throat with the ruddy border of a hungry cavern, and her pulse murmurs back under his mouth. “Hm?” 

The blunt tip of his forefinger traces her collarbone, follows a line of cleavage, toys at the cinch in her top; unravels her. It splits down the center, and the straps follow limply down her shoulders. Harry pinches a nipple and scrapes his teeth over her neck, humming again. 

Behind closed doors, his red-lycra-mystique (bare, her tits are bare now, in the backdrop of his picture) gets denuded to flesh when she shimmies the dress down her hips. He helps her and then tears his own shirt over his head. It’s hasty, like disrobing takes too much time from a place where time moves slower, riding the water in leisure. Harry still doesn’t know her name, and she slips to her knees, batting her lashes, and takes his buckle apart like unslotting puts the last of the puzzle pieces together. 

When her tongue rides under the ridge of his tip, delving and dragging over the prominent vein jutting on the underside of his shaft, he cranes his neck back and makes a sound like she’s torn into his chest with the tips of her french-polished manicure. He punctuates every pornographic, wet sound with dialogue.

“Christ, you’re a dream.” 

“Fuck, you’re pretty with cock in your mouth.” 

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that, sweetheart.” 

“—Y/N,” red-lycra-mystique supplies, gaze bouncing from the twist of her wrists at his base to his face, and then sweeps his bubbling head over her bottom lip and swallows him down halfway. 

“Y/N,” Harry mirrors, tone bathed in the same sweetness she radiates at his feet. 

And then she trails the very tips of her blunt nails up his sac, and the shiver that rolls up his spine short-circuits every feasible attempt of formulating something in english. Just… gone. Something splinters. 

Harry doesn’t cum all over her tongue, despite the pretty mental image he’d cherish of Y/N on her knees with ribbons of silky white coating the insides of her mouth. He thinks about the way he’d dip the pad of his thumb against her tongue, the way he’d stir and scrub it in. He thinks about her lips latching and her cheeks hollowing. 

He’s got immense willpower, particularly when she takes him all the way down until her nose nearly brushes the neatly-trimmed tuft of hair the tributary of his happy trail pools into. Because then, she pulls off, chin sloppy with saliva, mouth wide, and stares up at him with this wickedly indelicate curl to the corners of her mouth as she gasps in breaths. Like she wants him to. 

Instead, they make it to the bed. He splits her thighs with his palms and spits where she’s puffy and warm, leaky with longing, toying at the seam of her hole with his digits. Smooths the wetness with his thumb when he tucks two fingers in and laves his tongue at the crease between her inner thigh and her cunt. He bumps her clit with the tip and rolls, and her spine arches like the highest point of her torso peaks at the clouds of nirvana. 

“You’re a good girl,” Harry tells her, and his voice is so soft, like he’s reassuring an animal that’s backed itself into a corner, “Want you to drench my face.” 

And she does, because when he holds a placid, unwavering hand out and talks her so sweetly, lips suckling in a vacuumed ‘o’ between her thighs, what can she do besides roll her hips against his mouth in little, desperate juts, face creased before bliss spumes through every major artery.

When Harry sits back, his chin is sticky, glinting in the buttery cast of the lanterns drilled into the ceiling. He kisses her again until her jaw is stained with her own slick, and despite the entire basis of a one night stand, his tongue meddles into her mouth with the same passion of a man carving a piece of her open. A cozy lacuna just for him in the depths of her chest, something that’ll linger and yearn. A hungry chasm that’ll grumble when her cunt pulses — when he’s not there to fill it. She’ll think of him; a stranger’s leg flitting like a passing speck in the background of her photograph. 

Y/N’s cunt hugs him like it can’t get enough. 

Eventually. 

Because at first, it’s: too big, won’t fit, pleated brows when he’d split her spongy walls apart on the latex-coated tip, stretching to tuck in and hovering to imbibe in miniature ticks of her expression. A twitch in her lashes, a shift in the line of her mouth, a little swallow bobbing down the column of her throat. 

“You’re a good girl,” he’d crooned, smoothing a thumb over a rib and then her clit, just to see her squirm more over his cock. 

Eventually, she clambers over his lap, planting her palms back over inky, firm muscle. It’s leverage as she bounces to fill that starving cavity — the one he’d drilled with his tongue, like the shape of him can fill every square inch of space before they never see each other again. Hungry, hungry, hungry. 

“Come on, baby, come on,” Harry coaxes, a low groan mottled with breathy pants, “—Shit.” 

Momentarily, he pauses the guiding grasp he’s got over her hips to drag the pad of his thumb over his tongue lewdly, smearing spit over the digit and swiping circles over her clit, instead. In response, the rolling pace Y/N has set stutters, knees jolting, and her mussed hair spills off her shoulder as she cranes her neck back. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, yes, yes—“

His eyes flit from her cunt to the ethereal line of her neck, the borders of her shoulders, the shape of her tits bouncing. 

Ultimately, of course, his gaze winds back down to ogle where they connect, because that’s the view — that’s where she swallows his cock, thighs splayed and trembling, gliding from the tip until about midway before rising and repeating the cycle. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. He draws his thumb lower, lets it meddle where they merge, where her hole flutters and rolls over him, gleaning the sticky arousal that coats his shaft and bringing the pad of it back to her clit. His eyes linger. Flicker up. Return to watch her ride and nearly roll back into his head. 

He’s carved the void, and later, when she tips forward and her nails scrape over his pecs, feral, she whittles her own. Later, the space between his thighs aches and heats. Something pulses on the underside of his balls. It yearns for blue curaçao, pellucid, crashing waters, and a skimpy red bikini. 

[infictionalwonderland]

Hiii, not sure if your requests are open so feel free to ignore this, but could you do Eloise Bridgerton with a fem! royal! reader who is completely smitten with Eloise and is very open about being a lesbian? And her family supports her (shes Queen Charlottes favorite niece)

(they are open! and absolutely i can do this for you babe x)

“She’s here!”

The Queen, your aunt, rolled her eyes fondly at you as you scuttled away hastily—a secret smile pulling at her lips at the sheer happiness on your face.

You waded through the mass of people in the ballroom, a smile practically stretching from ear to ear. Some turned to look and curled their lips in disgust at you, knowing very well who you were walking to. Others looked at the raw joy on your face and smiled with you.

You stopped a bit away from your girl and her family, taking the time to admire her. Her hair was in a ponytail of curls with two pulled out the side and her fringe framing her face—lips a soft ruby and skin sparkling under the light. She was dressed in a soft mint green dress, a delicate necklace adorning her neck and resting on her chest, her arms covered with long gloves.

(You were in love)

“Ah.” Daphne spoke first, as she saw you. Her lips curled into a secret smirk, clasping onto her husbands arm and hiding her face half behind his bicep to conceal herself.

Simon looked down at her fondly, eyes practically glimmering.

“Hello Bridgertons.” You beamed genuinely, all the family returning your expression with equal truth.

As you had done her, Eloise could not help but stare at you in awe. Your skin looked glowy and wonderfully soft under the lightening, your smile the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen—eyes squinted with the force of it. Your dress was otherworldly, although to her, anything you wore would be and she just wanted to run her fingers through your hair.

“How do you all find yourself fairing tonight?”

“Yes, yes, very good. Blah—blah.” Benedict immediately waved the question away with an easygoing smile, gently taking his sisters arm and pushing her towards you. “We know which Bridgerton you are truly here fo.” He rolled his eyes playfully.

Eloise flustered, unused to such attention but you smirked back at Benedict. The whole family watched with smiles on their faces as their stone cold Eloise who detested marriage and had no true belief in love, melted against you as you took her hand, staring at you with wonder in her eyes.

“I’m beginning to realise it was never love she loathed—“ Anthony mumbled to Kate at his side, “just men.”

“Yes, and who can fault her that?” Kate questioned, head tilted.

All smiles, you looped your arm through Eloise’s and the both of you gracefully walked off—well, you glided effortlessly, from years of training and Eloise’s steps were harsh and careless against the floor, an endearing sense of her own unique grace about her.

“How are you today, Miss Bridgerton?” You smiled at her cheekily, eyes twinkling in a way that immediately disarmed her.

“I—yes, I am quite well, thank you.” Eloise stumbled, a fluttering feeling settling deep within her stomach, heart spiking as she was unable to look away from your eyes. “And yourself, your—your grace?”

“I could be your grace if you would like.” You emphasised pointedly, a mischievously sweetened smile curving at lips. You snatched a flute of alcohol from a passing servers platter, daintily looking into the eyes of the woman you admired.

She gulped slightly, a charmed blush warming her skin.

“I’ve had a genial day so far, my lady.” You giggled softly. “Although it has become all the more enjoyable when graced with your wondrous presence.”

“I can say much the same for myself.” Eloise rushed out genuinely, a smile at her lips as your eyes sparkled in response. “I find being in your proximity a most precious experience.”

“Perhaps you should venture in closer,” you offered almost offhandedly, taking another sip from your flute as you observed her, “you discover that to be an even more precious time.”

Eloise laughed a tad too loudly, nerves escaping her, but—with a timid smirk curving into her plush mouth, she edged closer towards you.

“And?” You encouraged amusedly, smiling.

“I—Your presence is even more powerful from here.” She grinned crookedly, “perhaps a tad too powerful—“ she joked, moving to take a teasing few paces away.

Your gloved hand caught her own and you both breathed in sharper at the contact. Without taking your eyes from hers, you traced almost absently on the silk material and she shallowly breathed in, feeling the sensations of your touch as though they were against her bare skin.

“Stay close, please.” You simply stated, tugging her back towards you gently. “If you would like.”

“I would like very much.”

You raised an amused eyebrow at her immediate reply and she battled back embarrassment as she made direct eye contact you, unabashed in the truth of her words.

“Your Grace, you look enchanting tonight.” Eloise complimented truthfully, admiring you. “I am only disheartened I have to share this awe-inspiring view with others.”

“You could admire me further in private, if you simply ask to do so.” You shrugged, a smirk on your lips.

Eloise blinked innocently, narrowing her eyes (cutely) as she attempted to recognise the hidden meaning—your words and tone making her feel warm all over.

She was about to open her mouth to adhere to your request when another approached.

“Your Grace,” a well dressed man you did not know walked to you both, bowing to you deeply while staring. “Lady Bridgerton.” He shortly acknowledged.

“It is indeed a pleasure.” Eloise muttered with a tight, bitter smile as she stepped closer to you—feeling dismay at how this man was staring at you.

“Quite.” He agreed, still gazing at you. “It has come to my attentions that your dance card is still empty, Your Grace—“

“Is it?” You interrupted, tilting your head innocently. “Allow me.” You implored to him, holding you hand out for his quill that a man was required to bring, to scribe on a lady’s dance card.

He blinked, a smirk crawling to rest on his mouth as he wielded to you his quill. You took it and immediately turned to Eloise, who grinned crookedly at you when you extended your wrist to her with the man’s quill.

The gent sputtered and flailed usefully in your peripherals but you could frankly give less of a shirt—staring at Eloise as she gently clasped your wrist in her hand, writing hurriedly onto your dance card with a triumphant grin upon her lips.

Fuck. You wanted to kiss her.

“This—this is hardly—“

“Enough? I do quite agree.” You aunt announced as she made her rare appearance on the ballroom floor, glowering superiorly at this unknown man. “I will organise more dances for you and your beloved. Now, shoo, shoo.” She turned to you, ushering you to the floor as a new dance began, a secret wink shot at you.

You and Eloise clasped hands, running away and towards the rest of the couples, giggling like children as you left the treacherous man with your darling aunt.

“You are a marvel.” Eloise laughed out softly, cheeks burning with joy, eyes crinkled as you stood across from one another—curtsying to each other. “I could not have asked for a better partner—in well, everything.”

“Oh, El.” You beamed, an enamoured giggle leaving your throat. “Believe me, it is I who is the lucky one.”

“Rubbish.” She rolled her eyes playfully, “never had I envisioned, even in my wildest fantasies, that—that I could. . would feel this way for another. But, you have invoked such—such emotion in me, it is almost a miracle.” Eloise laughed sheepishly. “You are not only angel in beauty and mind alike, you are also a miracle worker. . Are you not simply all a woman could ever want?”

“If you insist, Lady Bridgerton—“ You grinned widely, shrugging playfully at her.

You both laughed together, garnering sneers and smiles alike, although none of it was noticed. Lost in your own little bubble, hearts and butterflies practically fluttering around the pair of you.

In a spur of the moment, you decided to break from the traditional dance, pulling Eloise impossibly close to you before twirling her out—her dress billowing: she yelped in shock before you were both laughing giddily, others on the dance floor stumbling in bewilderment.

All eyes were on you both but you could not care, did not notice. You spun Eloise around before twirling her back to your front, swinging her playfully as she laughed loudly and you grinned uncontrollably down at her.

The sudden lack of chatter caused your shared laughter to slowly die out, looking about only to realise all eyes were on you both.

People blinked owlishly at the pair of you and you could feel Eloise begin to tense defensively before a sharp whistling erupted—followed by whoops and claps.

Everyone turned to see Benedict, fingers to his lips as he whistled uproariously. Kate was whooping and cheering happily, smiling ear to ear and Anthony, arm around her waist, was following her lead. Violet was politely clapping, a barely noticeable sheen of happy tears at her eyes at seeing her daughter to happy—Lady Danbury at her side, was applauding wholeheartedly as well. Colin was grinning, cheering—Penelope at his side was similarly expressing. Daphne and Simon were clapping loudly: The Queen, back on her platform, was engaging in a secret applause of her own, concealing her smile with Brimsley at her back doing the same.

Eloise and You blinked.

“Yes, yes!” Eloise snapped over the cheering, concealing her own smile and touched emotions. “We are quite besotted, thank you all for noticing, if you could return to your prior engagements that would sincerely appreciated.” She shouted, glaring at everyone.

The people of the ton twitched and blinked and fumbled in fear of the Bridgerton girl, returning to what they were doing—some sneaking looks back at you both.

When Eloise turned back to you in a pouty huff, you were beaming at her, mischief in your eyes.

“Besotted—?”

“Shut up!”

As your combined laughs echoed beautifully once again, all the Bridgertons and their extended family traded genuine smiles.

Their Eloise was incredibly happy, so it seemed: as were you.

[oneforthemunny]

i'm not entirely sure what prompted this. to be utterly honest, the holidays are rough sometimes, and i've been kind of struggling so here's this bc this is how i cope now :)

tw: mentions of loss, grief, depression.

“...at the tone, please record your message.” 

Beep.

“Uh, hey. It’s-It’s Eddie. I, uh, I was just calling to, uh- I was just wanting to check on ya. I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days, sweetheart, and I know you’ve been busy. I just… Yeah, gimme a call back when you can, alright? I still got those VHS’s. Rentals not due for a couple of days. I’d-I’d really like to see you. Just… call me back when you get this. Even if it’s late. Love you.” 

The lights on your tree started to blur, water-stained with blinding, swirling tears of guilt. Settled on your couch, in the same crumpled position that you fell into as soon as you got off work, waves of exhaustion consuming you, but sleep never came easily. 

The most wonderful time of the year was a stretch, a mockery of a term that felt poisoned and back handed. With every happy, glowy commercial, all smiling families and sing-songy laugh; it made you feel sick at the falseness of it all. 

It had been four days since you last spoke to Eddie, nearing two weeks since you saw him in person. Not out of spite, or a fight like it had been in the past. This time, it was you- all you. 

The message on the receiver played on a loop, you jammed your finger on the button, letting it sound off its automated message before his voice filled the silent space in the room. You missed the sound of his voice, the warmth behind it so comforting in this frigid winter. It might be better to call him, actually hear him and talk to him, but every time you reached for the phone, you couldn’t dial his number. That would mean you’d have to talk, have to say something, tell him why you’d been so MIA, and that required a strength you didn’t have yet. 

Somewhere between the late night talk show coming on, but not before your neighbor’s lights turned off, there was a knock at your door. You figured it was your neighbor across from you, Mrs. Jennings, always bringing you baked treats in festive sweaters, leaving with a hearty “Merry Christmas!” that always had you crumbling inside. 

“Baby?” Your body stilled, breath caught in your lungs at the sound, like he might be able to see you through the door. 

“Hey, I-I know you’re in there.” Eddie’s voice was soft, muffled by the heavy wood of your door. “Not to sound like a total fuckin’ stalker or anything. I just… I wanna make sure you’re ok?” 

Your mind screamed at you to move, to go answer the door, to reply, to do anything. 

The lock jiggled, a squeak and a creak before the door was opening softly- hesitantly, like he was scared of what he might find on the other side. “Babe?” Eddie’s eyes scanned the small kitchen area, your purse slung on the table, shoes kicked off by the door into a pile. 

“You alright? I-I called you a coupla times, actually, and I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” His voice was tight, heavy soled steps on the carpet. 

You knew he saw you by the way he stopped. Halted behind the couch, hovering over a collapsed you on the couch. Tear stained sweatshirt sleeves under your head, an array of photo albums you always kept tucked in the top of the storage closet down the hall, memories sprawled out on the coffee table, creased on the edges from your shaky grasp. 

The one closest to you had his stomach dropping. He’d seen her before, the solemn looks and shaky breaths that you and your family gave when you’d pass the outdated family portrait in your home. Plastered on the wall with matching bright smiles, but looming with a haunting, sickening feeling. Eddie knew the feeling, a little too well. 

“Oh.” Eddie breathed before he could help himself. 

You wanted to sob, felt the burn of it in your throat, curling into yourself. 

“No, no, no, I-I didn’t-” Eddie’s eyes darted frantically, reaching out towards you, but never touching you. He knew what this felt like, knew the embarrassment and vulnerability, the shame and dread. 

He knew what it felt like. 

Silently, he sank next to you on the couch, careful of the delicate photos, placing them out of the way with a gentleness that had you sniffling, swallowing down a whimpering cry. A hand on your back, pulling your body into his, letting the weight of you settle onto his chest. 

Your face moved into the soft cotton of his tee. He’d smoked on the way over here, though it was comforting. Nose rubbing against his chest, clinging to the fabric next to you in a fisted clutch. Eddie’s arms around your frame, holding you firmly yet so softly at the same time. 

Your neighbor’s lights were off by the time you finally spoke. 

“I was in line at Melvald’s getting wrapping paper,” You croaked, voice raspy with emotions, cheek still pressed to Eddie’s chest. You could hear his heartbeat. “And they started playing this song. The Christmas one by The Partridge Family?” 

Eddie nodded slowly, hand still gliding soothingly up and down your spine. He could feel your shaky breath through his fingertips. “She, uh,” You swallowed around the words. “She used to love that song. Would always sing it when we’d put the trimmings on the tree. My mom would have that hanging tinsel you know?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And,” Your tone fell at the thought, at the mention of her again. “She’d always play this song on a loop. Would throw it around, all over the branches just to piss my mom off.” Your lips curled at the memory. You always laughed when she did that. Now you couldn’t because you knew she’d never do it again. 

There was a moment, a beat of silence in the still room. “Anyways, I…I was going to get wrapping paper because I’m so fucking behind on wrapping and-and buying, because I’ve been working-” 

“-You’ve been working a lot.” Eddie’s eyes cut down to you, carefully. 

You sighed, a shudder of a breath in. “Yeah. I know.” It was soft, an apology. You didn’t need to, but Eddie was glad to hear it. Selfishly, he was relieved that his fears that this was somehow his fault, that he’d done something to upset you, weren’t true. 

“I just… I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to be busy? I felt like if I stayed busy, I wouldn’t really get to think about it. Get this holiday over with and then I wouldn’t feel so…” You didn’t really know what to say, how to describe the feeling. 

“No, I… I get it.” Eddie nodded slowly, staring off in the colorful strands of lights glimmering from the tree in the far corner of the room. “My mom used to wear that, uh, that Pond's stuff to bed. The face stuff with the green lid?” You nodded slowly, cheek still smushed against his chest. 

“And right after she passed, I-I was in middle school, right? Seventh grade. And we had a sub and… fuck, she smelled just like that cream.” Eddie shook his head softly at the memory. “She just walked past me to make sure we were reading, and I smelled it and… I just ran out of the classroom because I didn’t want to cry in front of everyone. But, like, running out wasn’t much better.” 

You snorted softly, light enough to have Eddie’s gaze peering back down to you, heart skipping in his chest. “Yeah, I would say that might make it worse.” 

“Wasn’t very smooth.” Eddie nodded. “Just running out of the classroom seemed better than crying.” 

You paused for a moment, lips puckered in a pout. “It’s weird.” You muttered, still looking ahead. “How you’re just out and the smallest things just… send you over the edge.” 

“Yeah.” Eddie sighed. “Grief’s a weird thing.” 

“Really weird.” You mumbled. 

Eddie ducked his chin down, let his nose press into your scalp, breathing in your scent, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m here for you, you know?” He muttered, the vibrations from his words tickling your scalp. “For when it gets weird. You don’t… this sounds really fuckin’ cheesy and I’m sorry, but you don’t have to do it by yourself. Don’t have to be alone.” 

You weren’t sure what to say. Not sure you could even speak if you did know what to say, the growing lump in your throat strangling you. Instead, you clung tighter to his shirt, pressed yourself further into the warm, inviting hold that felt familiar and calming. 

Eddie would go and get the wrapping paper for you tomorrow, even help you wrap a few gifts. He’d help you carefully put up the photos with a gentleness that would have your heart fluttering. But for now, he held you, fingers moving down your spine, chin pressed to the top of your head, pulling you closer to him on the tiny couch.

[moonstruckme]

Face Masks

summary: you discover that if there's one thing your friend Steve is a giant nerd about, it's skincare

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 973 words

You knock on Steve’s door for the second time, peering into the closest window tentatively. You’d been supposed to go see him at work to drop off the cassette you’d borrowed, but you could’ve sworn his shift ended at eight tonight, not five. When you’d gotten there, Robin had told you with a shrug that you should be able to find him at home, but he wasn’t answering the door. 

You glanced behind you, just to make sure you hadn’t hallucinated his car in the driveway. He wouldn’t ignore you on purpose, would he? You haven’t known Steve long, but you consider him a good friend, and he always seems to treat you with a tenderness he doesn’t quite show to his other friends, even Robin. He finds excuses to hold your hand and calls you “honey�� and smiles at you in this soft way that makes your insides turn to mush. You don’t think Steve’s the sort of guy who does all that for show, being sweet and flirty in front of his friends and then ignoring you when it’s just the two of you. That’d be…you can’t believe that about him. 

You decide to give it one more try before going home, but your knuckles barely make contact with the door before it’s swinging open. “What?” Steve snaps, then blinks, his eyebrows shooting high as he spots you. “Shit, sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I thought you were the postal service or something.” 

“I…it’s okay.” You’re staring at him, you know, but you can’t make yourself stop. You could probably blame it on the shock of having him spook you like he’s just done, but it may also be due to another surprise. “You’re wearing a headband.” 

He looks skyward as if he’ll be able to see it, then back to you with a half-defensive expression. “I, um…yeah.” He shrugs. “I am.” 

“I brought your cassette,” you explain yourself dumbly, still somewhat mystified. “Also, you have…dirt on your face?” You reach out to brush some of the brown clots off his cheek, but he bats your hand away. 

“It’s exfoliant,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I was rinsing it off when you knocked.” He turns from you and goes back inside, but leaves the door open for you to follow. You do, curious, and trail him all the way to his bathroom sink, where Steve bends at the waist, splashing water on his face. 

“Stevie,” you guffaw, staring in astonishment at the products lined up on his counter. “Is all of this yours?”

“Yep,” he says, patting his face dry with a towel. “Laugh all you want, but all this?” He gestures with a circular motion to his face. “It doesn’t just happen. It takes work. A process.” 

You hold your hands up innocently, but a smile plays at your lips. “Hey, I respect it. Whatever makes you look like this is good with me.” 

Steve quirks an eyebrow at your abnormally explicit flirtation. “Yeah? Good, because it’s all for you, honey.” 

Your face warms, and you’re quick to change the subject. “So, what does it do? The exfoliate?”

“Exfoliant,” he corrects you. “It gets rid of any dead skin and leaves your face smooth.” 

You nod pensively. You have always thought Steve had unnaturally soft, glowy skin. 

“And this,” he says, picking up another bottle from the counter and squirting a small amount onto his finger tip. “Is moisturizer. It’s supposed to be anti-aging, so I’ll stay looking like this forever.” 

You laugh as he rubs it into his skin. “Great, so the rest of us are just supposed to get old and ugly and you’ll still look like you’re in your twenties?”

“Pfft, as if you could ever be ugly.” Steve waves you off. “If you wanna try some for fun, though, you’re welcome to.” 

You roll your eyes at him, holding out your palm, but he pumps the product into his own hand again, using his fingertips to smooth it onto your face. You stretch your neck for him as he works it under your jaw, and you’re sure he sees your nervous swallow. 

“It feels nice,” you say once he’s done, touching your fingers to your cheek. Your eye catches on another bottle. “What’s that one do?”

Soon you’ve been exfoliated, toned, and are laying on Steve’s bed with a goopy mask covering everything but your eyes. 

“Smells pretty,” you murmur, careful not to move your mouth too much as Steve comes to lie beside you, his own mask in place. 

“It’s watermelon-scented,” he replies. “Supposed to brighten.” 

You don’t really understand how your skin can brighten (is that the glowy thing?), but you’re enjoying this time with Steve, and the pleasant scents are an added bonus. 

“Could I maybe do this with you again?”

Steve grins at you, not seeming to care as his face mask globs a bit around his mouth. “Totally! I do this once a week, but I have dry skin. We could make you your own skincare routine and everything. It’ll be fun!” 

You smile back at him, endeared and a bit surprised by how into this he seems. “Okay, what would I need to do?”

“Well, first we have to figure out what kind of skin you have. Have you noticed if you get oily?” You shake your head cluelessly. “That’s okay. We’ll figure that out, and then plan out your regimen from there. I’m thinking a clay mask, exfoliant of course, maybe an overnight serum…”You listen to him ramble on, not really following and beginning to get the sense that a lot of your paycheck is about to go towards this new routine. Anything that means you’ll get to see Steve this excited, though—anything that means you’ll get to see Steve, period—is definitely worth it.

[amymbona]

oh my goshhhh patrick with mer!reader YES YES YES. he’s so entranced, curious, and terrified all in one — by you. you’re a complete enigma to him, yet somehow you just won’t leave his mind.

a little while later when the fascination began to wear off out of fear that you were just in his imagination, he sees a beautiful tail flick out of the water, presumably diving down and his attention is immediately caught once again. neeeeeddd him to just be completely bewitched by everything about you. the fins replacing where your ears should be, long lustrous hair that’s cascades down your back, your gills — but most of all, he’s set on your tails.

runs his fingers up and down the slimy scales, watching hiw the shimmer under the sun GODDD

🩰

He's sitting on the pier like a fisherman would, waiting for literal HOURS to spot you, evej the tiniest hint of yourself! And he's not left to be disappointed when the water begins splashing and he sees the flicker or pink and purple and turqoise under the surface, catching the light from the stars above. Long waves follow, getting mixed with the soft pastel of your own hair, completely different to the blesk brown and gray that he's been seeing his whole life.

And there you are - finally! - coming closer and closer, presumably unaware of his lurking presence. Only when Patrick calls out, this time attempting to sound a bit softer, so as not to scare you off, you finally whip your pretty head in his direction, the similar bewildered expression on your face. There he is again, that human, that same pale, scruffy guy. What is he doing here?

"Wait, don't to!" Patrick exclaims when you dive underwater once again. Fingers gripping the wood, he leans over to catch a glimpse of you. C'mon, come back. He gasps in surprise when you finally pop up from between the waves, your face close to his.

You don't speak, simply swim there, staring up at Patrick with your big blue eyes. You've never seen a human up close, not one that's alive at least, and from what you know, you should be pulling him under the water's surface and attempting to drown him. And yet you never do.

Patrick is staring at you like he has never seen a mermaid before, even though there's basically a whole kingdom deep down at the very bottom, probably more mermaids than there are people in this city. He asks who you are but you never respond, as if you couldn't understand his language.

So he points to himself, a shaky hand on his own chest, "Patrick," and then tries again, "I'm Patrick. And you are?"

When he extends a hand in your direction, you reluctantly grasp it, your own hand so pale and shiny, almost slimy in comparison to his own dry and calloused skin. That's all you do, still looking up with your big glowy eyes, studying the human's face. Can you even understand what he's saying?

As if being cast a spell onto, Patrick is completely frozen, the light touch of your palm against his seeming almost ethereal, out of this world, so so so different to every lady whose hands he had the pleasure to touch. He's tempted to squeeze you but doesn't know if he's allowed to. What if you'll get scared and pull him down and then drown him? Or - worse - what if you'll get scared and swim away? No, no, no. Patrick can't let you leave.

"Can you speak?" he asks you once again but is met with silence. Again. So you don't talk, or you're pretending not to. Either way, his impatient self can't stand it.

And so as he keeps holding you, Patrick uses that opportunity of short lived calmness to examine your face up close. The most prominent features of yours strike him right away - your pointy, flappy ears and multiple sets of gills running down the sides of your neck - so that's how you breathe underwater, like a fish. Your hair cascades in silky waves of multiple colours; this is the first time he's seeing a woman with different hair than black, brunette or blonde. Are you even a woman?

He's tempted to reach out and caress your cheek, to feel if it's as soft as your hand, whether your whole body is this cold (How the hell are you not shivering?). He's tempted to lean in and kiss you, just to feel it, just to feel you. And in his senseless moment of stupidity, he actually tries to, leaning in just a bit closer which soon proves to be a bad decision, as you shy away almost immediately.

"No no no, wait!" Patrick yells into the waves, recklessly diving straight after you. He's not letting you disappear, not this time.

Surrounded by the salty water, Patrick is suddenly unable to hear, unable to see, the water pressure providing a continuius humming sound which contrasts with the beat of his own hard. His eyes burn once he opens them and it leaves him no other choice than to swim back up, damp curls sticking to his forehead.

"C'mon - little mermaid! -" he calls out, feet threading the water. Where are you, where are you? "Come back. Come back to me!"

Another splash, and then another one, something slimy slips between his own legs and an unexpected wave covers his whole head. With a gasp, Patrick spins around, seeing you right in front of him. An airy giggle escapes your pink painted lips and Patrick thinks he might have fallen in love right here and there. You are simply gorgeous.

But Patrick cracks a smile, he's unable to really hold it back. Can you blame him? "So that's how you are? You want me to chase you, huh?"

And apparently, you understand him. In some weird way - through all the barriers - you definitely get a hint of what he's saying because you nod. In all honestly, the man in front of you looks utterly harmless, like a mouse drowned in the lake, a single drop of water sliding down his nose. He looks a bit silly, like all humans do.

This time it's you who reaches out, a cold gentle hand to his cheek, as if you have no issues staying afloat - which you obviously don't, considering you're literally a mermaid - and Patrick focuses so hard that he almost forgets about swimming. With a shaky shudder, he leans into your touch, finding comforting warmth in the sticky coldness. How are so you warm and cold at the same time?

You're smiling, you're actually smiling, the most softer, tender expression he has ever seen on somebody's face. Patrick really thinks he might be in love.

But just as quickly as you came, that quickly you disappear, and all he gets is the blown out yell of your eyes, as if you've suddenly realised something. So there you leave him, swimming in the frozen water like an idiot, all for a simple glimpse of yourself. And the last contact he gets from you is the forceful brush or your scally tail against his legs.

[compressedrage]

I now present: Chapter 2 of Day One!

I think that might be the fastest I've ever finished a thing? Idk, but I'm pretty proud of myself

They flew for hours. And it was awesome. 

They raced each other in straight lines for miles, before circling back to play-fight in the sky over the bay. They plunged into the water dozens of times, and each time Chosen had to remind himself that he still had to breathe– he could have stayed under there, in the peaceful darkness, forever. 

They flew until their fire sputtered, and then they crashed on a cliff overlooking the water right as the sun went down. 

Chosen could only stare. Or, stare as well as he could considering how bright the sun was. How unfair. 

The sky was painted pink and orange and purple, streaks of clouds overhead casting strange shadows. It was beautiful. 

Chosen looked at his companion. Dark had also been in awe at the sunset, but after a little while had started to absently pull up grass from the ground– flowers too– and burn them in his hands. 

Chosen whacked him lightly on the arm. “Hey.”

Dark startled. The ash blew away in the wind, and he winced. “Whoops. Sorry.” 

It was… quiet. But not silent. The wind rustled the grass and the leaves on the trees, the waves below them crashed against the rocks. 

Quiet, but not silent. Peaceful. 

On the PC it had been so quiet. The virus chest was a void; nothing to see, hear, or touch. Only him. Even when he was allowed out on the desktop there wasn’t much sound. Only the clicks and scrolls of the cursor, the occasional pop-up that he’d have to burn away. 

This was nice. 

The sky had turned blue-black. Up against it was a grid layer of what must have been IP addresses, glowing softly. But among them, glowing just a bit brighter, was a blanket of stars. 

Chosen felt himself smile, and when he looked at Dark he saw that Dark’s eyes had widened, drinking it all in.

When he spoke it was quiet. “What are they?” 

“The glowy dots?” 

“…yeah.” 

Chosen grinned. “Stars.”

“Stars,” Dark repeated. “They’re beautiful.” 

Chosen laid down on his back. The grass had cooled. “Do you know what constellations are?” 

Dark laid down beside him. “No?”

Chosen held up his hands, trying to outline his explanation in the air. “It’s like if you took a group of stars, and used them as points to draw a picture.” He waved a hand over their heads. “I don’t know any of the ones here…”

Dark hummed. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. Even quieter. 

“Thanks.” 

Chosen turned his head. Dark was decidedly not looking at him, instead fixing his gaze on the stars overhead. “For…?”

Dark sighed softly. “For getting me out. Of there.” He gestured up to the IP grid. 

A million responses ran through Chosen’s head. 

You’re welcome.

Of course. 

Thank you for coming with me. 

But none of them felt right. So he simply reached over and gently took Dark’s hand in his. The same hand Dark had reached back to him with. They were both free. 

Dark startled, before relaxing. He squeezed Chosen’s hand. Thank you.

Chosen decided right then and there that Noogai was never going to touch either them ever again. He’d make sure. 

They laid there together, under the blanket of stars, until they both fell asleep. 

[femmefatalevibe]

Tips to look old hollywood glamorous?

Establish a wardrobe curated with timeless, figure-flattering styles in luxurious fabrics like silk, satin, lace, (faux) fur, (vegan) leather, velvet, jacquard, sequins, fringe, etc.

Accessorize with glitzy, eye-catching accessories, including pearls, crystal, diamonds, and gold button accents on your jewelry, handbags, shoes, and sunglasses, or as details on your outerwear, dress, or other garments.

Incorporate embellished pieces & elements into your ensembles – elevated buttons (pearls, crystals, gold, engravements, etc.), opulent trims on the cuffs, hems, lapels, collars, and cold-weather accessories (faux fur, pearl, sequined, lamé, etc.)

Show some skin while leaving something to the imagination. Finding a balance between covering up and sex appeal is at the crux of the Old Hollywood glamour aesthetic. Try a backless halter dress with a longer hemline or a similar style top with wide-leg trousers or a silk maxi skirt. Select a bodycon mini dress with sleeves and a high neck. The options are endless when it comes to silhouette pairings and proportions.

Refine your hairstyle and nails. Opt for sleek, detail-orient haircuts with a blunt-cut, layered lob, elegant chest-length waves, or a similar haircut that offers either a sleek or well-kept tousled aesthetic. Opt for a classic nail shape (square, round, almond, squoval [square/round hybrid], or ballerina) with a timeless solid nail color (light pink, nude, beige, bright red, dark red, French tips, burgundy, dark purple, etc.).

Keep your makeup simple, shimmery, and vampy. Focus on achieving healthy, supple, and naturally glowy skin with some highlighter on the tops of your cheekbones, the inner corners of your eyes, under the arch of your brows, the tip of your nose, and Cupid's bow. Maintain well-groomed, defined, and filled-in brows. Embrace a natural or light brown eye with winged black eyeliner, definition on the waterline/tight line (inner eyeliner), and long, voluminous black lashes. Complete the look with a rosy blush, soft contour, and a satin finish or matte lipstick in a bold red, wine, plum, or dark neutral (pink beige, deep rose, etc.) shade.

[starsstuddedsky]

Lingering

reader x seokmin

summary: sunrise at the beach with a crush

genre: fluff this is just self-indulgent fluff

warnings: none!

wc: 1k

a/n: while looking up references of his smile i nearly died

The sun hides just under the horizon, the world holding its breath while waiting for the warmth to return. You study the sky, the twinkling stars that are too far away to survive the sun, going into hiding until the next night. But for now, you can still pick them out, see the ghost of constellations you knew when you were still a child. 

The sand digs between your toes, cold and grainy without the sun to warm them. You like watching the waves roll and crash in the half-light of dawn, the thundering crashes of water breaking on the beach mesmerizing. No matter how many times you sit here, it’s magical. Something about the calming power of extreme violence. 

A voice calls to you, inaudible over the waves, though it still makes you jump. When you turn around, Seokmin is crossing the beach toward you. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” He repeats, close enough this time to be heard over the crashing waves. He stands over you, hands on his hips. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” You counter. 

He shrugs. “I heard someone wandering around at five in the morning, so I was making sure we weren’t being robbed. Then I figured I should make sure no one was sleep-walking into the ocean.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t go getting an inflated ego; I’d do this for anyone.” 

“Really? You’d sneak out at dawn for Seungkwan?” 

Seokmin pauses. “Fine, it is special treatment. You only.” 

It’s silly to get this happy over an answer you forced out of him, but it’s fun to pretend you’re special to him. That’s the worst part about having a crush on your friend. It’s not hunting for feelings when none exist, but knowing exactly how desperate you are. Like how your heart races when he sits next to you, kicking his sandals off and burying his feet in the sand to match you. 

“Oh my god, it’s so cold,” he says, shaking his shoulders to emphasize his point. You shake your head, and pretend like you aren’t hyper-aware of his sweatshirt brushing against yours. He’s quiet with you, a rare quality for Seokmin. You’re used to hearing him joke around with Seungkwan and Mingyu, or do everything he can to annoy Minghao. He’s a friend of a friend that’s turned you into a cliché. God, you can’t even think straight around him. 

“You never answered my question,” he says, staring out across the water. The tiny line where the water ends and the sky begins is starting to grow more definite, the sky above just a shade lighter. “You don’t have to,” he quickly adds, “I know we’re not really that close, well, not yet. I’m not saying that we have to be either, I just mean that—” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “I’m saying I’m here. If you want.” And he smiles. 

A thousand metaphors run through your head, each more cliché than the last, but his smile really is brighter than the sun, warming you from the inside out. You want to tell him… you don’t know what, anything that keeps him smiling at you like that. 

“I like your smile.” You cover your mouth as soon as you say it but Seokmin laughs, smile widening even more. With every heartbeat, his face becomes more clear, the rising sun growing more courageous with each inch. 

“Thank you,” Seokmin says, though he can’t quite look you in the eye. Great, you’ve made it awkward. What can you say to fix this? Taking it back feels even more awkward, and even though it was painful, at least it was true. 

You bury your head in your arms. Maybe he’ll just leave and eventually the tide will rise and wash you away. You could turn into a mermaid, or maybe a jellyfish. You try to remember what you know about jellyfish. They have no brains and no muscles so they just float around the ocean; they have one hole for food to go in and out of; they have tentacles that sting. That could be cool, to be a sting-y jellyfish. Or maybe one of the glowy ones in the deep sea, bioluminescent. 

“You know, I like your smile too,” Seokmin says. You don’t dare lift your head. 

“It’s really cute,” he continues, “like, you always at least smile at my jokes, even when they’re really bad. You never make fun of me with the rest of the guys, and you made a cake for my birthday even though we barely knew each other.” He pauses again, taking a deep breath. All you hear is the crashing of waves on the shore. “What I’m trying to say is I like you. More than a friend.” 

He likes you.

You try to find your brain but you’ve already started to become a jellyfish. There’s nothing in your head except he likes you. 

“Hey,” he taps your shoulder gently. “Can you lift your head?” 

“Nope.” You shake your head, just in case he can’t hear you. 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s five in the morning and my hair is a mess and I think it’s been way too long since I brushed my teeth and I’m covered in sand, and I like you so much I’m a jellyfish.” You pull your knees in even tighter, determined to remain in this ball of safety. 

“You’re missing the sunrise,” Seokmin says. 

You peek out, blinking at the horizon. Everything is pink and blue, from the sky to the water. The water farther out is as bright as the sky itself but the waves that crash against the shore are white. It’s the beautiful scene that you snuck out for. 

“Beautiful,” you whisper. 

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Seokmin says but when you turn to face him, he isn’t looking at the sunrise. He’s looking at you. 

He’s still smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “That was cheesy, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “It was terrible.” You press your shoulder against his, and you don’t think you’re imagining the warmth seeping from him. “I still like you.” 

“I like you, too,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Even as… a jellyfish?” 

You groan. “I panicked! I’m still panicking, I wasn’t expecting you to just blurt out that you like me!” 

Seokmin just laughs, throwing an arm over your shoulders and pulling you closer to him. You bury your face again, but this time against his chest, and it’s infinitely better than before. You listen to his heartbeat and you understand the stars in the sky, lingering in a moment that won’t last forever. 

Just one more heartbeat. You watch the sunrise and smile. 

[deedah]

Protocol

⚠️!WARNING!⚠️— This Fanfic is very lengthy and lazy at times! Do not read if you dislike lengthy Fanfics! (Also a lot of fluff so BE WARNED!) 

VERY CRINGE!!

Have a great ride!

Chapter 1

[N]= True]       <— (This means who’s POV it is btw)

    N tried to comprehend what he just witnessed after he touched that “ZOMBIE DRONES!!!” tape. He began to become lost in his thoughts as he speculated what he saw.

    Those had to have been memories, right? That girl that was smiling.. She looked familiar. And what in Copper-9 is a ‘[n u l l]’? N thought as he tried to grasp what the tape held inside of it. He grabbed the old tape and put it in his bag to keep for later. N swung around and started to walk out the door. He had gone out looking for Uzi when V was being dumb and scared her off. N almost got lost again in his thoughts when he heard a clattering noise above him. 

    N looked all around him, but saw nothing in the dark of the cabin. Probably just the wind, right..? N tried to convince himself. He turned back around to walk to the door when he felt a sharp pain in his side. He looked where something had stuck him. He looked at the hole in his body, a glowy red ooze was in it as it absorbed into the metal of his body. N scooped up some goo onto his finger and looked at it as it absorbed into his finger. N, then, felt extremely tired for some reason. He tried to stay balanced but failed from not being able to hold up his weight.

    Moments later, N passed out from something forcing him into his sleep mode. The last thing that N saw before he blacked out was a pair of green, red, and teal eyes looking down on him.

    “You sure he’s alive?” A voice called out, “I stuck him for a while” they finished talking as another voice rose from another part of the room. 

    “Ah! you barely gave him anything!” The voice protested, “And would you stop poking his ribs! That won’t wake him up any faster!” 

    “Ugh, C, sometimes you worry a bit too much.” A third voice said as they walked around the room.

    N was in darkness as his software was booting up from the shock before. Once his software was fully booted, his eyes slowly opened as he became fully aware of his surroundings. He was still in the cabin, just layed down on the floor and three different drones were looking down on him. 

    “Ello?” The red one said, “Are you alive??” They poked N in his ribs. The touch made N curl up on himself and made him giggle a little.

    “Yehes, I am.” N said as he sat up. Someone behind him put his camping hat on his head. N turned around to see a pale green worker drone standing right behind him, waving at him. 

    “Hey buddy” the Worker Drone said as she smiled mindlessly like V and J. A symbol flashed on her screen that looked like Uzi’s Solver symbol. Except that this drone's symbol was a circle with another thin circle surrounding it. It had three smooth teardrops coming out of the middle circle. And the teardrops ended with circles at the tips of them.

    “Wanna die?” They asked N as they stuck their tongue out.

    N and the drone stared at each other for a good while until..

    …

    …

    …

    …

    …

    “AAAAAÆÆÆÆUUHH” N screamed as he jumped back, pulled out a gun, and started to open fire at the drone. The drone lifted their hand and activated their knock-off Solver to put up a shield to prevent the bullets from hitting them while the red drone scooted back, then ran and hid behind the teal one. N felt his arm get cut off from a blade as he fell backwards onto his butt whilst holding his severed arm. He turned his head to see a teal Disassembly Drone cut his arm off and grab it off the ground with swift movements. 

    “Ok dude! That’s enough from you!” The teal drone yelled at him. She had almost the same hairstyle as him, but her hair was more curly and their bangs swooped to the right and she had.. antenna.. with teal glowy balls on the end of them. She wore a beige shirt under a brown vest. She wore no pants like V but her metal was painted black like a swimsuit. Her legs and feet were like N’s but she had her painted black stockings like V as well (up her thighs). She wore beige leg warmers on her legs that went up below her knee. N saw that she had painted gloves on after she switched her sword for her hand. Her tail was around the same as N’s, except her compartment where her nanite acid was held was in a spherical container with what looked to be a beautiful curled gold claw blade (like heart nori’s claw/hands but metal) coming out of the top of it. 

    “Why don’t we get the introductions out of the way? We have a job and we don’t have all day.. night..? Or.. whatever.” The worker drone said as she sat on the ground in a criss-cross. The Worker wore a beige crop top like the teal disassembly with a darker brown vest on top of it. Her sleeves were folded up but went to her elbows and she had a pale green armband on her left arm that had a skull with a halo over it and the words ‘ANGELICPROTOCOL HOST’. She wore a black dress under her vest as well. She had black shoes, kinda like what N used to wear when he was with the humans in the mansion.. wait.. where did that come from..? He pushed the thought aside as he studied the worker again. She had beige socks that came up to her knees. She had dark brown hair that was pulled into a low messy bun but her two bangs were pulled out of it, one bigger than the other. Her bangs were swooped halfway over her left eye (Deedah here- like Nori cause she my fav) and curled back at the end. Her bun was wrapped with a white tilted bow in the back. “L, give the boy his arm back.” She told the teal drone.

    “Here.” She handed N his arm back but quickly pulled away once N got it back, “Don’t expect me to be nicer though, I’m watching you.” ‘L’ said as she leaned against a wall of the cabin. 

    “Yes, thank you L for the comment. Sit boy” The Worker Drone told N. When he didn’t sit in the first ten seconds, the drone forced him to sit using her knock-off Solver. But she was gentle.

    The worker turned around to the shadows where the red drone stood crossing her arms. Their red lights glowing in the dark. “Come on C, he won't bite.” The Worker said as she patted the ground. The red drone came out of the shadows and sat right beside the Worker. She had silver curtain bangs on both sides of her face and the same antenna like L, but the glowy balls were red. She had her hair pulled into a low ponytail with a green band and a black flower wrapping round her hair. She wore a brown tight dress like J, but it was lined with a lighter beige, like L’s leg warmers, at the end of her dress and at the collar. She had knee length painted stockings and her legs were stick legs. Her stinger was the spherical container like L’s and she had the workers knock-off Solver on her chest but red, it just wasn’t as visible. N also noticed they didn’t have the armbands like him and V, but they had cards on a necklace with their name and a picture of them on it, kinda like Uzi’s mom in pictures.

    C grabbed onto the workers shoulders and pulled them closer towards herself as she wrapped her tail around the two then pointed to N. “Keep your hands off her..” C quietly said to N.

    “D-don’t worry! I have no intent of hurting you” N said as he fixed his arm back on.

    “Then what was that little stunt you tried to do to Wren there?” L asked him as they leaned against the control panel where N found the Zombie Drones tape. 

    “Wren?” N asked L as he looked in a chair, he saw that the stranger drones had put his bag in the chair, and must have gone through it because it was open. He silently prayed that they didn't take out the tape. 

    “That’s me buddy” the worker raised her hand before she paused and started to giggle a little. N was confused for a second before he looked up and saw what made her laugh. C had laid their chin onto the top of Wren’s head and started to make purring noises while her antennas dropped onto Wren’s head. Wren patted C’s hair. “Yeah we get it ya’ big baby. You love attention” Wren said as she rubbed C. She looked at N in a funny way with her piercing green eyes. “So fellow Cyn follower, what’cha name?” Wren asked N. 

    “U-u-uh..” N tried to start. He was very confused by who this ‘Cyn’ was. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I know who this ‘Cyn’ is, but my name's N! Nice to meet you!” He said as he smiled and did his signature salute. Wren, C, and L all looked at eachother like now they were confused. 

    “How do you not know who Cyn is?” C asked N. “You're definitely one of her murder pets, sooo, how?” C tried to comprehend.

    “It doesn't matter that he doesn't know Cyn,” Wren said as she took her hand off of C’s hair and waved it around, “it’s actually better that he doesn’t know her.” Wren told C as she turned back to N. “Listen, I know you're most likely confused about my ‘Solver’” Wren used air quotations on the word ‘Solver’, “Because it looks so different from your girlfriends.” (Btw N blushed a LOT after Wren said that) “its cause, I don’t have the AbsoluteSolver, I am actually one the first hosts of the AngelicProtocol.” Wren finished as she grabbed something random with her Protocol and floated it in between the four drones. She had grabbed a mug. N looked at it as it glitched out with green text boxes full of code surrounding it that he couldn’t understand.

    “And..?” N started as he was a bit confused. “What’s the difference?” He asked Wren.

    Wren rolled her eyes and went on. “It means I’m a portable Patch really. Ah bup bup” Wren silenced N as he tried to ask another question, “I will explain it. I can pretty much fix your girlfriend so she’s free from the Solver’s control and CYN. I know you don’t know who that is, but she will kill you the first shot she gets if she’s in control. Speaking of that.. I’m sensing that she’s out of control already. We better go and see if she’s alright.” 

    Wren stood up and so did C, still holding on by her tail on Wren’s arm, and all three of the strangers walked outside. N scrambled to get up and follow them.

    He quickly snatched his bag, threw it over his shoulder, and went outside. When he got outside, all three of the drones had their wings out. N pulled his wings out as well, even though he didn’t know what they were doing.

    L turned around and pointed to N as her and N’s feet slowly went through the cold, wet snow. “He should lead the way, he knows where the Solver host is.”

    N was about to object until he thought about a question that was continuing to knock around his head for a while.

    “How..” he started until he thought maybe not to ask it. The more he thought, the more he wanted to know. “How did you guys knock me out, anyway..?” He finally asked.

    When no one answered and just looked at each other awkwardly after a minute, L stepped up and told what had happened. “Me and C have a certain type of acid, even if it ain’t acid, that will force a drone into sleep mode for a while so they're easier to be.. taken care of, k?”

    Wren shrugged with an awkward smile. N also noticed that she had wings and a tail as well. She had some type of moth wings, most likely a Luna Moth (the moth wings bend like a SilkWings from WoF). He looked down to see she had a tail as well, it was like a dragon head that it had multiple green eyes and its ‘lips’ were very sharp as they pointed into teeth. (The tail acts like a Venus fly trap btw with sticky substance inside it) He looked at C’s wings to compare them and he saw that her wings were gold, and so were L’s. He didn’t even question it anymore.

     N desperately wanted to get back to Uzi and V. He felt a little scared and lonely without them. Ok he was very lonely, and scared, and his fight with V did not help at all. Though he didn’t take back what he said if V really wanted to hurt Uzi.

    “Ok so I’m confused about you and L” N said to C as he pointed to her and L. “You guys definitely aren't Disassembly Drones but your design is kinda close to ours.. So, what are you?”

    C looked at L who nodded then she looked back at N with her red eyes, “We are Teardown Drones. We were made by the humans at JcJenson with the inspiration of you guys, but different in.. ways..” C told him. 

    N looked atop her head to notice the antenna’s once more. He pointed to them, “and those?” He asked.

    C looked up and nodded a little. “Well, us Teardown drones aren’t given the AngelicPrototcol or the AbsoluteSolver. And these are for us to help find oil, but their mostly for the AngelicProtocol hosts. We aren’t allowed to kill workers like you, so we have to either find bins of oil, or natural oil.” C smiled as Wren walked up to the, and looked at C and smiled. “And since we don’t have a heart like any host, we have what we call a MTC, a Memory Transfer Chip. So if we were to damaged we could take the chip out and someone else could rebuild our body.. but once the chip is out, unless it’s plugged into another device, you will never remember the moments after that..” C looked at L with a desperate look.

    “Ready to find this other host?” L asked as they all crouched like they were about to take off.

    “Yeah..” N said. “Follow me, I’ll take you back to the camp..” He took off into the night sky as snow plastered against his cold body.

    N landed on the soft, cold snow as he heard cackling in the distance. He kinda hoped that was V laughing at something, even if it sounded like Uzi.

    “Girlfriends going berserk” Wren said as she walked up beside N. She patted his shoulder and gave him a soft smile, “I promise, I’ll try to fix her” Wren looked as if she was going to say more but then C grabbed her under her arms and lifted her off the ground and away from N. 

    C stuck her tongue out at N and said one, clear word, “Mine.”

    “C!” Wren said she kicked her legs like she was trying to run mid-air before she curled on herself, “I am not a cat! Put me down!” N laughed to himself as he saw C put Wren down. The two drones reminded N of him and Uzi when they goofed off in the past. He saw L walk up beside N, with her hands on her hips, on the other side of him and he immediately straightened out. 

    “How are we gonna calm her down so Wren can use her Patch?” L asked the others, mostly N.

    “Uhh, I can try and get close to her and talk to her, she’ll most likely listen to me” N stated as he felt hands start to push him.

    “Then let’s get a move on” Wren said as she pushed N more. Her hands were on his lower back until she stopped and walked beside N. C and L joined beside N and Wren as they started to run towards the cackling when they heard it once more. They had run a few feet before they heard a boom. They all jumped back from the explosion. N saw some drone went shooting in the sky as a bomb shot them up. They were waving their arms as their pink hollow eyes looked around for help, and they kinda looked like.. Lizzy..? 

    Oh noo.. N thought as he blurted, “You 3 stay behind, don’t let Uzi see you. I’m going to talk to her now.” N spread his wings, not waiting for an answer as he shot himself forward.

    He got to the spot where Uzi was fighting with another drone, N looked closer and he saw that the other drone was V.

    V!! OH ROBO-JESUS, N thought as he slung himself at Uzi. He collided with her right before she was about to stab V with her own tail stinger. N and Uzi rolled and landed on the soft snow. Uzi quickly recovered herself and pounced on N. She held his arms down as she growled in his face. Her visor had the AbsoluteSolver all over it. She even had a tail and wings..? And they looked organic, Yuck..

    “H-hey buddy!” N started, trying to give Wren time for the right moment. He glanced at V to make sure she was ok. V was getting up off the ground and getting ready to take a blow at Uzi.

    “V!” N yelled as he craned his neck to look at tall disassembly who just pulled a stick out her palm with her teeth. Uzi looked at V as well. “Don’t hurt Uzi! Let me handle this!”

    “You look like you're not handling it very well N!!” V said crossly to N, but she didn’t pounce on Uzi, thankfully.

    While Uzi was not paying attention to N, he swung his hands so Uzi’s hands would slip and let go of him. Uzi gave a small yelp as N grabbed Uzi’s arms, spun her around, and set her upright on his lap. He held both her arms with one hand and held both of her hands with his other hand so she couldn’t activate her Solver. 

    Uzi hissed at N and she threw her (very creepy) tail right into N’s face. It’s mouth wide open to hurt N in a second.

    N closed his eyes but held onto Uzi tightly. N heard a grunt from both Uzi and another drone. He opened his eyes to see V pinning Uzi’s flesh tail down onto the snow.

    “Hurry up and do what you need to do to snap her out of it, N!” V screamed at N as the mouth tail tried to throw V off it.

    N almost forgot about the three he left behind. “Wren! It’s time!!” N yelled as loud as he could. Uzi kept thrashing in his arms which made her harder to hold. 

    N looked ahead of Uzi to see a small figure walking, then running up, it was Wren! And she was holding some type of digital cross with with an open hand. 

    Wren jumped onto Uzi’s shoulders, lifted her wings and tail, raised her hand and digital cross in the sky, and dug her four fingers into Uzi’s visor. Uzi immediately stopped thrashing and went limp. Her wings and her tail went back inside her body and she looked like her normal self again, she just had a loading wheel and four deep holes in her visor. 

    Wren got off of Uzi and helped N put her on the soft snow below them. N held Uzi’s head and slowly started to cradle her like a baby (and he hoped no one would comment about him holding her). 

    N saw C and L come behind Wren and stood behind Wren to make sure everything was ok.     V stared at N and the other three drones with hollow eyes until she finally spoke, “wh- You have a lot of explaining to do, N..”

[Next Chapter Comes Out When It’s Ready] = True]

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

[guppygiggles]

I wrote this in pieces, in bed, at a particularly long stoplight, in a parking lot.

Contains: ~700 words. Discussion of nightmares that might be disquieting for some. Hurt + comfort. No tickling. S&S AU.

I awoke to sweltering blackness, heart trembling feverishly as the animal of panic perched on my chest, claws gripping my throat. Lurching forward as if halting a sprint, my own hands scrambled for purchase on Avery's quilt, desperate for anything to anchor me to reality. My skin still prickled with painful shock as I sat in a clammy pool of my own sweat, fists clutching the fabric as if releasing it would plummet me right back into the nightmare. 

Save for the enduring sound of waves breaking against the rocks below, it was quiet. Frustration balled in my throat, mingling with the remnants of adrenaline as I tried to calm my ragged breath. It was the third time that week. “Exhausted” didn't begin to cover how I felt as the blinding screen of my phone dispassionately informed me that it was two-thirty a.m. 

I turned my head toward Avery, whose pale body was barely illuminated by moonlight. He was turned away from me, his cloud head smooshed into his pillow as he laid on his side, the rhythm of his ribcage conveying he was still asleep. I was relieved. It sucked to be alone after a nightmare, but I always felt guilty when I woke him. A slight smile turned the corner of my lips; I could almost hear him gently scolding me for not waking him to comfort me. Too bad, cloudman. 

A stirring just below the bed nearly made me jump out of my skin, immediately sending my heart back into fight-or-flight. The terrifying creatures from my nightmare gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, before I saw the tips of two finned ears, joined by a mess of blue hair. I sighed out a mixture of annoyance and relief as Finn slowly lifted his head, staring at me with the kind of puppydog eyes that could only mean one thing. 

“Jesus, Finn,” I whispered harshly, “it's two in the morning, you almost gave me a heart attack. Why were you creeping around down there?” 

“I'm lonely,” he whimpered. 

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You're not supposed to be lonely, you're supposed to be asleep.” 

“I couldn't sleep! I was gonna get in your bed, but then you woke up all scared, so I got scared too, and I hid under the bed… I'm sorry. Are you mad at me?” 

I sighed. It wasn't his fault. 

“Ugh, dude… No, of course not. I just had a nightmare, and I was trying to calm down when you scared the piss out of me. You can get up here if you want, just don't wake Avery up.” 

Finn's pout immediately turned to an excited grin as he climbed up – a little too eagerly – and I had a sneaking suspicion I'd been played… But as he cuddled into my chest, I was too tired to care. 

“Why’s the bed all wet?” He asked, breathing bubblegum-toothpaste breath into my face. 

“I just told you, I had a nightmare.” 

“What's a nightmare?” 

A pang of envy rolled through me, followed by a tender benevolence. I never knew that tritons didn't have nightmares, but now that I did, the thought of sweet Finn having one nearly moved me to tears. 

“It’s when you're sleeping, and something really scary happens in your dream. Sometimes you get all hot and sweaty, and sometimes it makes you wake up.”

“Do all humans have nightmares?”

God, I hoped not.

“Well… I think everyone has them from time to time, but maybe some people don't. I don't know.” 

“What happened in your nightmare?”

I winced. “Don't worry about it, okay? It's over, and it's not real, anyway.” 

“It looked real…” He mumbled with uncharacteristic solemnity, his eyes avoiding mine. 

I raised a hand to his head, ruffling his shock of puffy hair. His eyes immediately drooped, a big yawn showing off sharp, crooked teeth. I rolled into my back and he rolled with me, lying his head on my chest as his scaly arm looped over my stomach. I listened to his breath as it grew deeper, falling in time with Avery's. 

I counted his exhales. 

I counted the glowing plastic stars.

I counted the crashing waves. 

I closed my eyes.

One.

I thought of a word that started with A.

Annihilation.

Two. 

I thought of a word that started with N. 

Niceties.

Three. 

I thought of a word that started with C. 

Concatenate.

I thought...

of a… 

word… 

[missamyrisa2]

your glowy selfie made me realize . tickle heaven would be delightfully torturous , with how angels have an endless supply of the softest and most teasing feathers ever

Ooooh my yessss yesss mmhmm~~ the divine glow bathing your body as your layers of clothing are whisked away and carefully hung nearby to taunt you as lost protection ~ and the angels quickly claim you as the latest arrival to tickle heaven, another ticklish human to bring the earthly delights they so desperately crave and so rarely receive~ their impressive wingspans flutter out and cover you from a rush of oncoming ticklers~ adoring faces look down, their beauty bringing a tear to your eye, their shiny outfits glimmering impressively as they exchange knowing smirks at having caught the catch of the day~~

The gilded frame holds your body steady, allows you to wiggle in the vaguely sweet scented air~ their wiggly thoughtful hands reach back to pluck the first feathers of the session. Your struggle and squeak in anticipation ~ their eyes spark with excitement, they know you are so ripe with ticklishness and can barely contain themselves. The first feather strokes test your feet as they kneel and coo in a soft language you can't understand. Each touch ignites a wave of sensation as if the feathers were growing and radiating with every touch. One tip grazes your sole and the tickles spread out with fuzzy touch under each toe, ringing round them before trailing back to your heel~ Another touch is circling your ankle to your achilles tendon~ spots that shouldn't be so massively ticklish but their magic activates a tickly pleasure unknown~ those soothing tones of voice asking you questions you can't understand, coaxing out more of your giggles~

Each hand retrieves another feather~ their armspans seem impossibly long as they continue to chase your wiggly toes and feet while caressing feather tips in your underarms. Every stroke blooms invisible webs of soft sensation outward from your armpits, filling each pit with tickles until they are filled, and more tickles seep down to circle each royal chest button before coating your upper ribs. The feathers wave and wiggle, their tips following your movements. The angels click their tongues excitedly, conversing with you, with each other, and to the bystanders behind their protective wings. Loving eyes follow every gasp and giggly ticklish sound.

Impossibly, they retrieve third feathers with hands connected to nothing but following their will. They intend to tickle every part of you, to extract the giggles they so desperately crave, and they will bend reality to do it. Feathers encircle your bouncy bellybutton. Each divine tool chases your quivers and twists. A field of soft fluff carpets your midsection, elegantly painted on and vibrated by each touch of the feathers.

By now your arousal has become painfully obvious ~ you know they are aware, and yet they tickle and build the fluffy sensations about your feet and upper body and midsection, drawing out your giggle hottness without a touch ~ at least, until your gasps reach a particular timbre and their eyes sparkle like fireworks. More feathers are retrieved and waved teasingly tauntingly towards your throbbing royal area. These feathers are thinner and finer pointed ~ they are the most royal of angelic tickle tools~

Each royal feather twirls and waves as you struggle and fight through the overload. Your body is given no respite under their divine treatment. The other tickles never yield as your most regal spots are incessantly teased with the gentle touches, little pokes and strokes and caresses. The royal feathers bear no enchantment, each touch is simply the softest kiss of touch so expertly flawlessly applied to your most sensitive tiny hot spots. Their wings tremble excitedly. Your giggles and moans and struggles are bringing what they crave.

The human gigglegasm is a treat beyond any of the divine pleasures readily available to the angels. To witness it, to hear it, to ~consume~ it, is unbearably intoxicating. They excitement beyond the wingspans is deafening, for even those angels outside the ring will become drunk from your release. But those who have snared you, the ones working their feathers along your regal area and your writhing body, they will be overtaken as they trigger your tickled climax. They draw it out as long as possible for the honey is ever sweeter the slower it is tapped.

Triggering your gigglecum, the angels cry out in their tongue ~ a gorgeous sound that only furthers your climax and makes you snickercum harder. The loop of tickled feathered pleasure builds in as they draw close creating a feathered cocoon. Feathers fly wildly from their wings and stroke your body as their hands work to overload your spots and push your body far into the sparkly ether~

How long did you lay giggling, spread, gasping and moaning? Who knows~ maybe it was a dream, maybe you had a divine intervention~ the only one who knows is the white feather resting on your bellyyy~ as your royal area starts to tingle all over~

[another-heroine]

Swimming Lessons

A/N: A long time ago, I saw @hauntedolly talking about how nice it would be a story where Woljif teaches Lariel how to swim. And I took it to heart, after all I love Lariel, and back at that time, Dolly was dealing with some health issues.

Unfortunately my ADHD brain only allowed me to sit down and write it now. I have had to stay at home in the last three days due a labyrinthitis, and it was a bless under guise in the end lol

May our health be better, Dolly. And thank you for trusting your Ophelia-coded daughter to me.

Finding that place was a great sight for sore eyes. Even without dipping a foot yet, Lariel could feel the warmth coming from the secret thermal fountain. The cave where the lake was located was small, and there were glistening points above them, like amethyst and obsidian starlets, shining just for curious eyes only.

The first of the group to try the water was Ekaterina. The druid took off her coat and weapons, letting them on a dry rock, and pulled the hems of her tunic over her knees. The farther she went into the water, the shorter she looked.

“Be careful, there are some sinkholes around here,” she warned.

“How’s the water, chief?” Woljif asked.

The aasimar chuckled. “Warm enough for you to stop shaking.”

“Excellent!” The tiefling rubbed his hands mischievously.

Lariel hid a giggle behind her hand; since they had arrived, Woljif didn’t stop complaining about the weather. The locals tried to wrap him in dozens of winter clothes and let him next to the heartfire in the longhouse, but that wasn’t enough. Then somebody told the outsiders about that secret spot, and there they were.

One by one, the companions went to the water, some more bold than others: Seelah risked a dive, and Woljif mocked, “Is that what you call a dive? Let me show you how a professional does!”

“Less chit chat, come for once!” the paladin laughed.

Lariel gathered herself to join them, but suddenly she felt a chill down her spine. Though the water looked great, and her cold muscles were begging for relief, there was an ashamed detail that insisted on holding her back.

Maybe it’s better I just sit here…

Woljif hit the water and made waves splash both sides. Sosiel and Ekaterina preached for him to be more careful, coughing and rubbing their eyes.

“Lariel?” the druid called. “Aren’t you coming?”

“No,” the girl stuttered involuntarily. “I’m… I’m fine here. I swear.”

Ekaterina didn’t look convinced, but she wouldn’t insist. Maybe they would talk later about it, if Lariel was willing to.

But on the other hand, it didn’t take long for a talkative purple lad to swim to the rock banks and ask her quietly, “Are you ok?”

Lariel turned her gaze, playing with her hair. “Yes, I… I just think it’s enough to let my legs in the water, see?” She moved them back and forth. “I’m fine.”

Woljif frowned. “C’mon, it’s not that deep. I hold you.”

She felt her cheeks getting hot. “No, I mean… I…”

He waited with attention.

Lariel sighed and confessed, “I can’t swim”.

“What?”

“I can’t swim,” she stated. “I never learned it.”

The half-elf cringed, clasping her hands over her lap. She was too embarrassed to say it beforehand, and right at the time to enjoy the stroll, she felt worse. A dead weight.

Woljif got out of the pond and sat by her side, resting his tail farther from where Lariel was. “Well, guess today is your lucky day. Because I can swim and teach you.”

If that was supposed to make her feel better, unfortunately made Lariel get stiffed.

“You… don’t need to…”

Woljif shook his head. “C’mon, I know you want it, I can see in your pretty eyes. I won’t give up until you say yes!”

The others were looking at them with curiosity. Lariel swallowed hard; if she was about to get herself embarrassed, so be it. She stared at the glowy yellow eyes and nodded. “Ok, I go.”

“Yes!” he cheered up. “I’m on my way back to the water for you to… uh, gather yourself. Take your time, but don’t go away, huh. We will notice it, right, chief?”

Ekaterina was smiling coyly at them. Her eyes met the girl’s, and Lariel felt a reassurance wave over her.

There was no turning back. But also she didn’t need to feel that scared.

Lariel took off her tunic and kept with the undergarments on, secretly glad for them being made of dark fabric — violet, but not white at least.

She dipped in the warm pond, walking slowly and seeking for safe spots underwater. As he had promised, Woljif came to her, his tail above the ripples like a lazy wyrmling.

“There you are. Ok, ok, first of all; don’t go too deep when you are still learning, after all, if you fail to keep your head above, at least you will not gulp much water. Maybe a little bit. But not much.”

“Right.” She nodded.

He took her hand. “When you feel confident enough, you can release my hand, get it?”

What if I don’t want to? She asked in her heart.

Meanwhile, Ekaterina floated around them silently. Lariel was listening to Woljif’s advices, but couldn’t help observing the druid going back and forth with confidence, taking little dives and crossing the pond. Sosiel and Seelah were resting against the opposite rock bank, talking among them. They all made it look so easy.

“Ok, here we go,” Woljif announced. “Now if you excuse me, I’ll stand right behind you and I’m supporting your arms, see? You can let your weight go. Don’t hold yourself. That’s how you float.”

Lariel did as he said and felt her torso and legs leaving the vertical. At first it was an odd sensation, but with Woljif right there, it wasn’t very scary. Laid on the pond, she felt the pressure against her ears, turning the outside world’s sounds muffled.

“Keep doing it…”

She closed her eyes, trusting her life to him. But as Lariel noticed that Woljif loosened his grip, she jumped and her body dragged her down.

“Opsie!”

Lariel fought to regain balance, the water entering through her nose wasn’t funny at all. It burned.

She held Woljif’s waist and got stiff once more when noticed they were too close.

“Are you ok? Sorry, guess I had to warn you first that I was loosening…” He was ashamed.

“May I help?”

Both of them looked at Ekaterina. “You still need someone to hold your hand. How about two hands?”

Lariel agreed and reached the druid.

“We will do this; one will release you first, and the other only when you ask for it, ok?”

“Deal.” Lariel frowned. It was turning personal. She had to nail that.

Again, Woljif supported her back, while Ekaterina held her hand. Lariel felt the pressure again, but also a bit more serenity. She let the water cradle her, feeling the warmth caress her being from head to toe.

“I… I’m ready, Katya,” she whispered.

The druid grinned, but instead of letting her go, she took the shape of an otter and kept her hand — paw, in that case — on the girl’s. Lariel giggled with that wet fluffy creature holding on to her, while both of them were floating like leaves on the pond.

They arrived at the other side. Seelah clapped. “Well done, girls!”

Woljif came right behind. “We started well! Now you just have to learn to swim, otherwise the river will take you with it.”

Lariel leaned against the rock wall, feeling her hair sticking on the back of her head. It must have been a mess, but she didn’t mind at all.

“Of course, I… just need to catch my breath.”

Woljif thought to say something, but Seelah’s water attack was quicker, and they stormed splashes everywhere.

“Hey! Not me!” Sosiel complained, but he also gave in to the mayhem.

Lariel watched they giggling and playing like children, while she and Ekaterina were taking a break on the rocks.

And the otter druid looked adorable dropped on the bank like a pancake.

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

warnings: shitty job

AN: yes this happened to me and yes this is how I’m dealing with it

I slammed the door as I walked into the apartment. Dropping my bag at my feet and peeling off the jacket, I locked the door and tossed my stuff somewhere in the room. Heading straight for my bedroom, I grabbed a pillow off the bed and screamed into it as loud as I could. My scream broke into a sob and I fell onto the bed. I kicked my feet slightly, letting out my frustration any way that I could. I laid there and cried for what felt like hours. The soft click made me prop my chin on the pillow and the gentle hand on my back made me sigh.

“that bad of a day huh?” Jake asked as he sat down next to me.

“Bad wouldn’t begin to cover it.” I sighed as I rolled over to look at him. He winced at my red, puffy eyes and reached up to wipe away some stray tears. “That full time job I put in for? Where I work?” Jake nodded.

“what about it?” He asked. I laughed humorlessly.

“I had to find out from a coworker that someone had interviewed for it and was being offered it.” Jakes eyebrows scrunched together. “I got nothing from my boss about it. Either way a response would have been nice. Email or in person I don’t care. Nothing from HR except thanks for applying and how happy they were to see my name in the list of applicants.” I rolled my eyes and threw up my hands. “Zip. Zero. Nada.”

“and you found all this out from a coworker?” Jake asked. I nodded. “Did this coworker know you applied?” I shook my head.

“no he didn’t. So guess who had to act like they weren’t disappointed and upset and just wanting to go home after being there an hour.” Jake leaned down and kissed me softly.

“why didn’t you text me?” He asked, voice low and full of disbelief. “We could have made up some excuse to get you out of there. Flynn would have loved to have you come in to consult on this one.” Jake laid down next to me.

“really?” I asked, turning into him. “What’d you guys go after today?”

“A glowy cube thing. I don’t know what it was.” I gasped slightly.

“a tesseract?!” I exclaimed. Jake shrugged. “Oh my goodness jake! Did you guys find it at least?”

“yeah. Thanks to Cassie.” Jake said. “It would have gone a lot smoother if you were there. Jenkins was nearly ripping his hair out.” I laughed.

“you’re telling me Jenkins had to go out with you guys? How did he survive that?” Jake chuckled as he smiled at me.

“I don’t know. Must be something to do with his immortality.” Jake joked. I laughed harder.

“poor Jenkins. Remind me next time I have to consult to take him some more tea and baked goods.” Jake nodded, filing away the information for later. There was a soft gold glow around my closet door and we both looked over at it. There was the sound of something being slipped under and jake got up, a strange sort of smile on his face.

“I think your day is going to start looking up.” He said as I sat up to see him holding a white envelope between his fingers.

“Is that…?” I asked, trailing off as I didn’t quite believe I had gotten one.

“Yep.” He held out the envelope to me and I ripped it open. Pulling out the card inside, I watched as the words appeared in a shimmer of gold light.

“The library wants me!” I cried out, a new wave of tears starting. “The library wants me permanently.” I looked up at jake in disbelief. “I get to work with you at the library.” I breathed out. Jake nodded as he knelt on the bed.

“the library wants you.” He whispered back before he kissed me. “Welcome to the team.” I hugged him tightly, holding the paper up behind his back so I could read the words on it again.

“I have to quit.” I said as I pulled away quickly to make the call to my boss as jake watched on, a proud look on his face.

[shak3speara-shak3speara]

Error Sans! Reader X Transformers: Animated AU Part 3:

You wake up a few days later in a darkened room on a neat and comfortable bed. Your cranium aches severely, as do your ribs and abdominal region. Deciding to play it calm, you check your stats.

Semi-low HP and a few broken ribs, but more importantly, you're starving. No wonder you passed out.

You display a grumpy frown in irritation, before selecting a chocolate bar from your inventory and devouring it with your two ecto-tongues.

"Woah...!"

You snap your skull to the doorway of the room, allowing light to seep into the area. You are also now capable of seeing a window with dark turquoise curtains. The curtains shutter aside as the light burgundy haired child from your extraterrestrial encounter flicks a switch near the door. The room now overflows with light and you hiss, disgruntled by the severe tonation change.

The little girl bounces over to you excitedly with eyes of intrigue and animosity. "Was that your tongue? You looked like you had two! Why were they blue and glowy? Are you a skeleton? Why are you black-"

"K1d," you manage to spit out as you finish dissolving the melty bitter treat. "SHU-u-ut uP."

You're about to stand up from the bed when the girl waves her hands in front of you with protest, much closer then to your liking.

Your glitches flare up in a second of panic. You use your strings to push her at least six feet away to disregard her warnings. Getting back onto your feet, you stumble disoriented. Your nasal cavity heaves in a heavy gust of air, and you release the child. You reassign your strings to under your hoodie, making sure they wrap around the ribs that need straightening to be realigned and extensively healed.

You exhale with a few shaky wavers, skull tilting towards the ground as you digest the most recent events.

"Whe-E-3re aM 1?" You flatly ask the child as they slowly rise up from their unflattering fall onto their butt on the metal-coated floor.

"Um. You're in Sumdac Tower. In Detroit, Michigan." The girl replies, rubbing her butt with a slightly pained yet wary look. She plays with her own fingers as she says, "I'm Sari Sumdac. I wanted to thank you for saving my friend..." She looks away with pitiful guilty eyes and a sheepish frown.

You stare at her blanly before you sigh, retracting your strings with depleted energy. You walk over to the girl, twirling part of your scarf between your phalanges. You crouch down to be on eye level with her. "So-0-()-rry, SaRi." You say with a half genuine apologetic tone. "I ge-3-Et a b-1-it raTTled wh3n 1 w5ke \/p in plA-5-aces I don't kn)-()-ow well."

Sari perks up in small phases. She tells you she understands with a cheerful smile and optimistic attitude. She pauses, letting awkward silence flow around the room. A few more seconds later she nervously invites you to have breakfast with her and her dad.

You accept, although with some hesitance wondering if they wanted to try something on you. You're not going to be a lab rat to anyone. ...You also can't handle many foods without some other catalyst to help dissolve it, so you contemplate telling the thin child about it while she leads you throughout the halls of an enormous establishment.

You enter the kitchen and Sari tells you to stay put as she steals a cup of coffee being handled by a culinary-programmed robot. You shuffle on your seat, all while eyeing the robot with an unfriendly glare. You decide it wouldn't hurt to check it's code, and you restrain the thing after it sets down a plate of maple syrup-doused pancakes in front of you.

It has relatively simple coding, nothing you wouldn't be able to find in the original Underground. You huff with annoyance as you bite into the sugary morning food placed before you, wanting to choke at the sweetness, but having enough will to swallow it so you recover your energy.

Once you put release the robot from its binds, it offers to turn on the TV attached to a surface a few feet above its height. You nod, giving it an unimpressed stare as it stiffly walks over to a mini console and presses a button, rendering the TV online.

The robot goes back to preparing more breakfast. You watch the TV with steady sockets and a blank face as it displays a news channel. The red and blue robot... What was his name...? Optimus? You scoff at the replay of his proud heroics, rolling your eyes at him finally detaining the weird robin hood rip-off.

Suddenly, your glitches act up in a shivering intensity. What was that...? You open a screen to hack into the place's network. You note there has just been a spike in energy flowing into a certain secluded section of the tower.

You alter some of the internal system's protocols and erase your appearances on its security cameras before checking the cameras placed in what appears to be a personal labratory.

You interest has been piqued as you keep a solid gaze on the image of a robot head and a single unattached hand prodding up from its place stuck in the ground. The head is partly taken apart with one 'eye' seeming to be a monacle, but mimics the structure of the other robot, Optimus. Both eyes glow red.

Wow, so creepy. You internally sass as his eyes focus on a computer screen positioned in front of his view. You are delightfully surprised to see he has the ability to hack the piece of equipment.

It may serve as a good puppet~

The gun metal grey head turns the computer on to show a video of the several robots you've seen prior, and another one.

The other robot appears to have aerial capabilities, and one ginormous ego as well. He even boasts about killing someone named Megatron. You don't need to take a hint to figure out that the robot hauled up inside the restricted area is the one the magenta flier was so giddy about exterminating. Especially after the robot emits an electrical charge that raises to the ceiling and disrupts the connection of several cameras, including yours.

You flinch with a twitching socket. Nonetheless, you don a toothy intrigued grin with your yellow teeth exposed. You finish your meal and boredly wait for Sari and her dad to eat theirs after they arrive.

You refuse to answer most questions Sari's dad, 'Professor Isaac Sumdac' asks you, instead either deflecting the entire conversation or switching it to be a discussion about his accomplishments and robotic empire.

Despite your want to ditch the place entirely, you know Sari has a connection with the giant robots. You know you can exploit that connection to get yourself home. You just need to exhibit... Patience.

You put on a sickeningly sad expression and do your best to pretend to be a nice person. You act as if you were recently involved in some science experiment. Unfortunately, you ended up being stripped into a skeleton through some unforeseen circumstance. You also ended up being kicked out of your apartment once your landlord saw a glimpse of you, meaning you don't have anywhere to stay.

Just like you suspected, Isaac and Sari take disgusting pity on you and offer to accommodate you as long as you need. Of course, you accept. It's not like you'll be staying around for very long anyways. You just need to have a chat with Sari's alien robot friends, steal some Sumdac technology, and rebuild the machine that got you here from scrap.

Some times passes and you find yourself laying in a blanket you crocheted, playing solo cat's cradle as Sari receives schooling from a tutorbot. The robot is talking about a quadratic formula when Sari interrupts it, seemingly conversing with someone on her phone. You note with squinting eyes the tutorbot tries to confiscate the key hung around her neck. It ultimately fails, resulting in Sari thrusting the key into the tutorbot and making it fizzle out of programmed control.

You use your strings to tie up the robot, sending Sari a questioning look as your sockets flicker to her key. You felt the same energy as the past three incidents exude from the key. It has this... Ethereal aura to it as well. You figure this isn't some normal key... Maybe it brought the robot in the secret lab to life?

Isaac makes a video call to check on Sari, asking whether she's tinkered with his stuff. She denies this, with tutorbot comedically stating a few greeting and dismissing class lines. She tries to hide her mischievous doings by giving her dad the excuse she's been helping her friends, 'The Autobots' settle into their secret base. You grip above your nasal cavity with your knuckles, shaking your skull at the pinging thought of how Alphys and Undyne would have a smooch session to see these giant anime-esque robots.

Sari soon shuts off the FaceTime and grabs her backpack in the corner of the room, bringing it to near the table. You open a processing screen and hack the tutorbot's internal functions and revert it back to its proper programming, then switch it off and set it down haphazardly on a swivel chair.

Sari shows you an amazed expression and resumes asking rapid fire questions about what you can do from earlier. You sarcastically remark that she has a sleepover to get to and she brushes it off, asking you to attend too. She tells you the bots would love to meet you. You dryly laugh at her enthusiastic proposition, though consider it and accept it. You know you're not the most pleasant skeleton, nor the kindest person in your multiverse. It would be simply stupid to see you as such. But you want answers about the strange energy that all but surrounds the group of robots and the little girl, so you barely have a genuine choice.

You wait for Sari to pack one last thing into her bag and then leave the tower, walking towards a... Rundown warehouse? This is seriously their base of operations?

Isaac Sumdac is letting his child stay in this crumbling structure of shady businessman filth?

You suck in a sharp breath of air and let it flow through the spaces between your clenched teeth. Sari rushes inside the building while you stroll inside at a leisurely pace, once again tugging your scarf over your skull as far as it can go.

You follow Sari as she skips forward confidently, in contrast, you moderately creep forward with your skull lowered downwards.

Your glitches glare around your body as you listen to a nature documentary click into obnoxiously loud rock music.

The metallic vibrating high-pitched voice of the yellow car robot mockingly rings out,

"Why don't we watch something that won't bore us into stasis lock?"

Part 4 coming soon!

Error Sans was created by loverofpiggies

Transformers: Animated is owned by Hasbro

[phantom-rambling]

(Read part one first.)

Tim sits on the couch with his legs folded under him. He bounces a knee to try to keep himself calm as he stares at the body strewn on the brown chaise cushion opposite him.

Unconscious body. Not dead body. They are pretty cold, though. No matter what Tim does to warm them up or wake them. But they’re breathing. A little. Should he get them to a hospital? Is there even a hospital to go to? Maybe if he went back--just for a second. He could dump them there and run. Of course, they’ll talk when they wake up. “It’s simple, nurse. Me, a superhero person, almost died in this crazy magic nowhere house I found. The guy there fed me crappy eggs, erased the stairs, morphed into a smurf, and then told me his legal name.” Smooth move, Turner. That won’t raise any alarms.

He could make them not tell. But. No. He really shouldn’t. It’d probably just get him in more trouble in the long run, anyway.

He’s been dancing around the point with this argument for an hour.

It’s too late. He’s already toast.

Tim looks at the body. They’re wearing some school gym shirt. Some jeans. Sneakers. Black hair. Patchy stubble. Zit marks.

They were never here to hurt him. They’re just… some dude. Who got lost. Weird powers or not.

Tim’s guts wind up with guilt. He rubs his face.

The body’s foot twitches. It hasn’t done that so far.

Tim leans forward and raises a pointer finger, then hesitates.

He pokes the foot.

The guest’s head jerks up, along with the rest of them. About a foot off the couch, with hangtime. They pull themself back down when they see Tim.

Tim breathes a huge sigh of relief.

His guest’s eyes dart around the room before noticing that he’s lost his weird glowy clothes.

“Yeah you fainted,” Tim throws out. “You didn’t look hurt but–I mean you’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, I think I’m okay,” the guest replies slowly.

“Good. Things got kind of scary for a second there. Hey, how did you do the whole quick change trick?”

The guest glances away with their mouth pressed in frustration.

“It’s a secret. Nobody’s supposed to see it happen.” They take a phone out of their pocket and start trying to get it to work.

“Oh. Then, don’t worry. Never happened.” Tim waves a hand dismissively.

The guest looks up.

“Really?”

Tim nods.

“Dude, I tried to shoot you.”

Tim shrugs.

“That phone’s probably dead, by the way,” he remarks, not skipping a beat. “And you might need another nap. I went out there once, and I wound up eating half the food in the house and sleeping all day. I think it uses cool shiny stuff to lure people into it, but it doesn’t work if you just use a lasso.” Tim swallows his nerves. “You probably came here from somewhere else, and you were really confused and sick, and I just made that worse by being a cagey jerk. And I’m really sorry.”

His guest puts the phone away and sits up.

“It’s fine. I’ve had much worse, trust me. Where are we, though--really?”

“This is my house. I made it.”

“Yeah, but where is it?”

“Well, it’s hard to explain, but–it’s a pocket in space. Temporarily. I’m the one who’s just passing through. I really wasn’t trying to scare you. I’m just not that good at using… this stuff I have. I can’t even get food to taste right. Or get this to stop.” He points at his hair, which has slowed to a lazy gradient of yellow, blue, and green.

“Why’d you make your house into a labyrinth?”

“I dunno. I was just copying stuff out of a magazine, and I kept needing more room. But seriously. If I don’t tell anybody about you, you can’t tell anybody about me or my house.” He gets up on his knees and puts his hands together in plea. “I would be so, so screwed.”

The guest smirks sympathetically.

“Deal. Uh, what was your name again?”

“It’s Tim. He/him.”

They extend a hand to shake.

“Same here. I’m Danny. Danny Phantom, professionally.”

Tim takes it firmly.

“That’s a rad name! I guess you see weird stuff like this all the time, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. Especially out here. I ran into a crab monster that almost took my head off.”

“There are monsters in the black void thing?”

“No, no. In the Ghost Zone.”

“The...”

"The big green place attached to the real world. I can’t imagine how anything could survive in the trench I fell into.”

Tim goes numb.

“...You okay?”

“I’VE BEEN SITTING HERE FISHING FOR MONTHS, AND THERE WAS A WHOLE WORLD JUST OUTSIDE THE BLACK PART?! ALSO–GHOSTS? YOU’RE A GHOST?!” Tim claps a hand over his mouth. “Ohh. That was the secret, wasn’t it?”

Danny chuckles.

“Well, I kinda gave it away,” he admits. “I’m half ghost. Er, a cross-dimensional mutant, depending on how you look at it.”

“That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“But you must be, too. How else could you do stuff like this?” Danny gestures at the pitcher still on the table.

Tim sits back and folds his arms defensively. His hair darkens to magenta.

“I–I’m not. I mean, I’m not super sure I know much of anything about this, anymore. But I can’t tell you any of what I do know. If I say too much, it’ll raise a red flag, and some guys will find me who are trying to take me away and wipe my memory. Or throw me in jail. Prob’ly both.” He rubs his elbows nervously. “Pretty sure I’m not dead, though.”

Danny’s eyebrows knit.

“Are these guys government agents in suits?”

Tim shakes his head.

“Uh. Well. Sometimes. They could technically look like anything, but the ones at the top usually just wear robes.”

“Are they ancient judgemental blobs of goop with a big eye in the middle?”

“Uh, the first and second things, yes. Third and fourth things, no.”

“Huh.”

Tim looks down and catches himself picking at his fingernails. There are little chips of lime green paint on the sofa cushion. He opens a hand, and a thick rubber band appears out of thin air in a tiny puff of dust.

Danny winces, fighting a sneeze.

“That’s it. That’s what’s been bugging me,” he exclaims, rubbing his nose with a wrist. “It definitely doesn’t feel like ectoplasm.”

Tim winds the rubber band around his fingers, looking nervous.

“Are they wormholes?” Danny asks.

“No.”

“But it’s memetic, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Is it a photon thing?”

“Stop guessing!”

“Okay, okay. Sorry. Can you at least tell me where you’re from?”

“Somewhere else,” Tim answers quickly.

Danny takes a second to process the meaning.

“And there’s more than one somewhere else?”

“Uh-huh. Lots more.”

Danny rubs his forehead.

“Okay. Sure, I can deal with that,” he mutters with discomfort.

“Honest, it’s nothing to worry about. I’m not planning on being here long. I can drop you off wherever you want, and you can go back to doing your thing.”

Danny considers. He doesn’t get far. His head has gone back to swimming.

“Who am I kidding? I’m not going anywhere like this. I probably couldn’t even fly straight if I tried.”

“That’s fine. You can stay if you want.” Tim pulls the rubber band down to his wrist and musters a question. “In… in that case, you think you could tell me more about the ghost stuff?”

“Uh, sure.”

~

It turns out that there’s quite a lot to tell. Danny goes on nostalgically about the days when he, Sam, and Tucker were stumbling their way through their first year or two of ghost encounters.

The whole era is a little cringeworthy for Danny to look back on, with all the close calls and petty mistakes. At the same time, he can’t help but feel the sweeping moments of triumph at the size they were when he was so small and outmatched. Listing off all the enemies they faced is staggering even to him. He even remembers a few of his best one-liners in combat. He keeps waiting for Tim to lose interest, but his host only gets more enraptured as the tale goes on. Danny’s already feeling better, too. Lucky, since he has to stand up in order to fully animate the time a legion of bayonet-wielding undead soldiers swept through Amity Park with a headless chain of commanders at their heels. Tim holds his knees close to his chest with eyes fixed forward. He only flinches at the moment where an ear splitting cannon shot ripped through the sky–and nearly Danny.

The later years were different. Danny and his friends weren’t just beating back monsters and dead guys anymore. As they grew closer with ghosts, enemies became allies and allies became friends. There was still no shortage of rowdy ghosts to wrangle, but it more often came down to unraveling the circumstances that put them there, leading to bizarre new discoveries about the Ghost Zone’s lore and inhabitants. The really tough cases usually took the form of corrupt officials, paranoid vigilantes, and the ever-growing presence of the Guys In White. Danny spends so many days and nights on patrol now that the Ghost Zone feels like the only place he can relax.

“Geez. How do you find time to sleep?” Tim asks.

“I don’t need to anymore. I think this is the first nap I’ve had in a couple months.”

“Is that a normal ghost thing?”

“Yes,” Danny replies, visibly unsure if that’s true.

“Aren’t your friends around to help you?”

“They were, up until last year.” There’s something sorrowful in his delivery.

Tim’s brows knit with disbelief.

“They didn’t just up and quit, did they?”

“No! They only agreed to let it go because I had it handled. The stakes got bigger so I got tougher, and they’re… still just human, y’know? I can’t blame them for wanting to move on.” Again, Danny looks a little less than sure of his words. “The truth is, I’m trying to find a way to hang it up, too.”

Tim sits bolt upright.

“Why?!” His hair turns orange.

“Because I’m not a kid anymore. Sam and Tucker are already at college, and I’m stuck here trying to make sure the whole town doesn’t get overrun.”

“Can’t you just go to a college nearby?” Tim asks blankly.

“That’s not the point,” Danny insists. “I told Tucker I’d catch up with him next semester in California, and I have zero time to do the long-distance thing with Sam, and–I dunno, maybe the three of us could pick back up where we left off after we graduate. But I can’t just let myself get left behind playing superhero.”

“Bullshit!” Tim exclaims, leaping to his feet on the cushions and pointing accusatorily. He retracts his energy a little at Danny’s stung face. “Sorry. It’s just–You’re not ‘playing’ anything! You went through so much to get good at your powers. You don’t have to follow anybody’s stupid rules, and you’re not a huge jerk about it. Er, anymore, I guess.”

Danny glances away as Tim struggles to get his point together.

“And... god, there is so much stuff in life that’s boring and unfair. You’ve already got something that’s yours, and you can actually do something with it. That’s huge! You can’t just let it go. Who knows how long you’ll have it?”

Danny stares pensively at the floor.

Tim sits on the back of the couch with his mouth shut. His hair rapidly changes from shade to shade.

Danny has a seat too, suddenly feeling tired again. “It’s funny. Sam and Tucker were the ones who were into the whole ghost powers thing from the start. I thought it was a curse. I kept looking for ways to get rid of it so my life could go back to normal and I could grow up and go away to be an astronaut. But they kept saying how unique it made me and how I could use it to rise to the occasion. Even the score. Help people. And it turns out they were right. It’s a part of me, now. I can’t picture my life without it. Flying around the city at night’s only a chore when I keep getting shot at. Also, it turns out that the Ghost Zone actually has a lot in common with the celestial body formations and electromagnetic radiation patterns in deep space. Who knew?”

Tim’s eyes finally glaze over just a little.

“And that would be great and everything. It just means that the part where I got to do it with my best friends is over. And I feel like I wasted the last of the time I had chasing…”

“Ghosts.” Tim tries not to grin.

“Well, Guys in White, mostly.”

“Then why’d you say you had it handled?”

Danny sighs.

“I did,” he explains. “I spent the whole winter kicking the Guys out of town. But they came right back the next summer. They’re like vermin.”

“So? Kick ‘em out harder!”

“It’s not that easy.”

Danny goes on to describe how the government vans had rolled back into city limits with an arsenal of new technology and jurisdiction–signed off by some lackey of the Secretary of Defense with the aim of “containing and studying” the ghost presence in Amity Park and all surrounding areas. They immediately started setting up surveillance and restrictive measures on the townspeople. And Vlad, forever-mayor of the century, has been funding them and letting them do whatever they want as long as they stay out of his obviously evil, illegal, and ghost-related agenda. Anything to grant himself as much control over the city as possible. The Guys’ actual ghost-hunting exercises do little more than break down shaky truces and city blocks–all blamed on Danny, of course. The spirits they do catch wind up as creepy bioweapon experiments or unwilling informants. There are actually more ghost incidents than ever, as the animosity between the living and dead continues to climb. The ghosts are getting crafty–forming plans and alliances Danny can only ever catch the tail of. These days, it feels like he can never quite be sure if he’s being watched or who to trust, no matter where he is.

Tim continues to be blown away and takes a second to form a response.

“That’s crazy. What about that Red Huntress lady? And your sister?”

“Which one?”

“The clone one. Adopted one.”

“Dani.”

“Yeah. Are they gone too?”

“No, they’re still there. They were actually gonna take over for me after I left. But I can’t just leave them with the whole Guys mess.”

“Why not? There’s two of them and one of you.”

“Because,” Danny reluctantly answers.

Tim opens his hands expectantly.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” Danny explains. “Dani is a kid.”

“So were you.”

“Yeah, and I almost died. A lot. What the Guys are doing is worse than anything I faced when I was her age. Also, she’s not coming at this from where I did. She doesn’t go out to fight ghosts and train every night. She just wants to have a home and a family and show up to school about 80% of the time. Handling the Guys is my job. She shouldn’t have to deal with any of this.”

“But she does anyway cause she’s scared.”

“Exactly. And Va–Huntress has always been on the fence about what side she’s on. We started settling our differences a couple years ago, but she mostly did her own thing. She was more willing to team up after the Guys came back, which I thought was great. But then, I caught her letting out a bunch of random ghosts to go after a heavily guarded surveillance outpost.”

“I thought she didn’t like ghosts,” Tim interjects.

“She doesn’t. She can barely stand me. It was clearly an act of desperation.”

“So, they were also scared.”

“And so was I. Especially when I found out she was roping Dani into it. I tried to talk them out of it, but they wouldn’t listen. So I had to go in and–y’know–control the situation. But it turns out I couldn’t handle it either, and I screwed up and wound up kicking the Guys up to defcon-two. And now everything’s worse and neither of them are talking to me and all the ghosts and the people in town think I’m not on their side anymore.”

Danny doesn’t realize how fast he’s been talking until he’s out of words and breathless.

Tim stares, his chin in his hands.

Danny takes a long breath and continues steadily.

“The only way I can think to fix it is to do something really stupid like getting my hands on a cursed object or a ghost weapon with enough power to throw the whole operation out for good. Which would probably do something terrible to me or someone else. But I can’t risk letting the others get hurt because of me. And if I don’t do something soon, it’s just gonna keep getting worse.” He looks at Tim. “And now, I’m sure you’re deeply disappointed to find out what I really am–the world’s biggest screw-up. You probably are better off just getting out of here.”

Tim immediately cracks up laughing. He keeps laughing as Danny sinks into the couch. He sinks and sinks further, his back flat on the seat. Having surrendered himself to the cushions, Danny stares at the ceiling in placid humiliation as he waits for Tim’s wheezing to bring itself to a slow hitching halt.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just. Man, you have no idea.” Tim sucks air sharply to catch his breath. He sweeps the hair out of his eyes, now a garish mix of cyan and red. “Alright, if you’re the world’s biggest screw-up, then I am the screw-up center of the universe. My screw-up-itude transcends time and space. Cause I did exactly what you did, only worse.”

Danny doesn’t move more than an eyebrow, skeptical.

Tim clears his throat and continues.

“So, back home I had…” he stops to choose his words carefully. “Some friends. And some power. But it wasn’t mine. I was borrowing it. And they made all the bad stuff in my life a lot better.” He pauses again and glances around, waiting to be interrupted. He isn’t. “Honestly, I coulda made a lot of other people’s stuff better too, but I wasn’t thinking about it. Anyway. I got a little older, and it was all going to have to go away. Which felt like the end of the world to me. I mean, I was twelve. In fact, I got so upset that I wanted to make sure nobody would ever be able to take them away from me. So, I went somewhere I wasn’t supposed to go and stole something that would let me use some of the power for myself. It went really, really bad. I got in huge trouble. I couldn’t give the thing back. It just was me, now. I ran away, and I just keep running and screwing things up wherever I go. And… I spend all my time thinking about the stuff I wish I’d done differently. But I can’t just make it better because I barely know how to use any of this.” Tim flicks his hand. Danny winces and wrinkles his nose. Tim folds his hand back into his lap and plucks at the rubber band. “The worst part is that I was so sure it was the right thing to do. I was gonna prove that I could fix everything. But I think I was just telling myself that because it meant I wouldn’t have to give anything up. I lost my friends, but they lost me too. They didn’t do anything wrong. But because of me, they didn’t even get to say goodbye. That’s not fair.”

“How old are you?” Danny cuts in.

“Sixteen. You don’t mind taking advice from a sixteen-year-old, do you?”

“No, it’s just weird that it’s making sense.”

Tim snorts and keeps twanging at the rubber band.

“So what would you do if you could go back?” Danny asks.

Tim looks up at the ceiling. The twanging slows to a contemplative beat.

“Things were gonna change no matter what. If I’d leaned into it, I could’ve at least seen where it was gonna go and–tried to steer it, I guess? Cause now, I’ll never know. And all this?” He makes a sweeping gesture at the disembodied house around them. “Sucks. And I’m bad at this ‘growing up’ thing, obviously. But I think if I had the chance to apologize, I’d take it. I’ve made it through a lot of wild stuff I never thought I would, but I definitely coulda used more people on my side. Or, they coulda used me on their side.”

The corner of Danny’s mouth pulls.

“What do you do about missing the days that didn’t suck?”

“I still got ‘em as long as I remember them,” Tim says simply.

Danny concedes, nodding.

“Besides, I might be nuts, but the Huntress’ plan doesn’t sound half bad,” Tim  keeps on. “Can you imagine an army of ragtag supernatural rebels and monsters going up against an evil government agency and some rich bootlicking mayor who also has superpowers, oh my god! Everybody’s gotta watch each other’s backs and fight to set the record straight on who the real bad guys are. That’d be amazing!” Tim has gotten up on his feet again, pacing on the cushions and making dynamic poses and sound effects.

It doesn’t sound so bad to Danny, either, when he puts it like that.

“Aa! You’re smiling,” Tim points.

“Alright, alright. It might not be impossible–if we had the right help.”

“Really?? Uh, I would. Agree,” Tim stammers, clutching his fingers modestly. “I bet you have lots of friends you could call.” His hair is bright pink.

“Do… you wanna help?” Danny offers gingerly.

“For real? Even though I’m a kid?” He laces the last word with a little contempt.

“As long as you’re not my sister. Also, you managed to trap me. I’m not sure I could stop you.”

Tim brightens.

“Oh, man. I’m not sure what I could do, but I’ll try and think of something. Like, uh–”

“Having a secret safehouse off the grid?”

“Sure! I’ll work on some other stuff, too. Anything’s better than sitting here alone being a coward.”

Danny’s about to comment when Tim interrupts.

“Can I see your phone?”

His guest uncertainly hands it over. Tim leaps down the stairs and opens a closet in the hall. A drift of anachronous junk spills out. Danny follows. After some digging, Tim produces a plastic pill-shaped brick with buttons on it. He shakes the two phones until they both light up. Danny sneezes. Tim punches in numbers with his thumbs until each has the other’s contact saved. Then, he hands Danny’s back to him.

“Here. Call me if you need anything. Also, since you’ll probably have to tell them about me… Just don’t tell them more than you have to, okay?  And no guessing!”

Danny makes a zipping motion across his mouth.

~

The purple door takes itself to the part of the Ghost Zone where Danny came in. It swings open, and the ghost boy floats out. Tim peeks his head past the frame to have a look at the wavering ethereal depths of green.

“Whoa.”

Danny turns and gives Tim a short salute with two fingers.

“Well, seeya. Thanks for everything.”

“Hey, wait!”

Danny stops.

“Do you have 7/11 here?” Tim asks, his hair trying hard to match the space around it.

“Yeah.”

“Awesome. I’m gettin’ a slurpee, then practice. And shower.”

The door shuts and disappears.

Danny smiles.

He summons the portal home and passes through its membrane, back to his parents’ lab. The steel hazmat doors shut behind him with a pneumatic whir and a clang.

He’s still a little fatigued, but not enough to beat out his urge to check for trouble. His intangible form heads through the wall and up to the street. To his surprise, it doesn’t seem that late. There are several people casually walking around in the dim moonlight. Yellow windows shine into the autumn dark from nearby apartments. His parents must still be up, since the ghost shield’s not even on. Despite all his fretting, he hadn’t thought to check the time yet. He takes out his phone. It’s not even midnight.

He hesitates, then finds a secluded spot and calls Valerie.

It rings.

He’s already composing a voicemail in his head when it picks up at the last second.

“What do you want, Fenton?”

“Hey. Are you busy?”

“Nnno.”

There’s clatter in the speaker, followed by a hushed voice.

“Is that Dani?” Danny asks sharply.

“Hi,” his sister calls sheepishly from the background. “Don’t be mad. We can handle this.”

“Where are you? Are you okay?” he demands.

“We’re fine,” she insists with a whine.

There’s a sudden wail from a rusty hinge and a single sharp cry from an alarm, followed by the swift destruction of electrical components. A low husky voice mutters in a garbled romance language.

“Is that Wulf?”

“Hellooo…” the giant voice rumbles.

“Relax, okay?” Dani assures him. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”

There’s a huge crash.

“What was that?!”

“I’m hanging up now,” Valerie states.

“Wait, wait, wait! I’m sorry. That’s not why I called. Please, I just need you all to listen for a sec.”

Valerie sighs and moves the phone.

“You’ve got three minutes.”

He feels like this might not be the best time for this, but he forces himself not to chicken out.

“I really screwed up the other night.”

“No duh,” the girls say in unison.

“Not just that. I’ve been a control freak through this whole fiasco. The Guys in White are your problem, too. And I don’t get to tell you how to handle it. Because I don’t know. I have no idea how to fix this.” His apology trails into a laugh that quickly burns out. “It was stupid of me to try to fight everybody just so that I could pretend to be in charge. I’m really, really sorry.”

Wulf grunts, but there’s nothing else.

Danny waits in the silence.

“Well,” Valerie says a bit more softly, “you’ve still got some time on the clock. Is there anything else?

Danny rubs his neck, thinking.

“I understand if you don’t want to, but–maybe I could take the back seat for a while and help you guys out instead?”

“I dunno. Are you gonna behave?”

“I’ll do my best. You could always put me in the thermos if I don’t.”

“We’ve already got someone in the thermos,” Dani tells him. “One of Walker’s guys.”

Danny’s tone drops.

“What are the Guys in White doing with Walker?”

“Get over here and find out!”

Danny’s phone buzzes. She just sent him an address.

“On my way.”

He hangs up and flies off into the night.

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

PART 1

The au continues in: An Act of Misdirection

INDEX

(Pardon my insanity. I’ve had a version of Danny and a version of Timmy growing simultaneously in my head, and now they get to hang out.

I also really like the idea of Danny having to deal with new challenges alongside a rotating B-team of people he’s less developed with. Could be interesting.)