#he's stinking up the whole plane but

[trashingfish]

[novemberheart]

{overview} Johnny and Kyle take care of you…..you make a new friend

{warnings} fem reader, cursing, a/b/o dynamics, PRICEGHOST, SOAPGAZ, poly141, MDNI, oral- female receiving

Chapter 19 <- Chapter 20 -> Chapter 21

None of you wanted to spend hours in a car, especially with the boys and their long legs. They opted for a plane, causing you more nerves than you knew what to do with.

“Get over here,” Simon commanded, all of you spread out at the airport. Your eyes widened and you trotted over to him, breathing a sigh of relief when he sprayed you down with scent blockers. “I'm not sitting next to lemonhead the whole flight,” he tsked. You rolled your eyes, but relieved you wouldn't be stinking up the plane.

“Bon-Bon, I've got something for you,” Johnny smiled, patting the seat next to him. “You don't have to take one, but I think it'll help,” he explained. He pulled an off-brand over-the-counter stress reliever pack.

“Did you take one?” you questioned softly. You've always been wary of drugs, even when you’re hurt you hold off taking aspirin as long as possible.

“Not today, flying doesn't bother me too much. I take them to help me sleep sometimes, or calm down when I get in my head a little too much,” he continued, causing you to frown.

“Does that happen a lot?” You questioned, the pounding in your heart giving you enough courage to hold your hand out. He popped a pill out placing it in your palm.

“It's meltaway,” he explained quickly. You popped it on your tongue and it melted instantly, even though your mouth was dry. “Happens here and there. Happens to all of us, yeah?” He smiled reassuringly.

“Guess that's true,” you sighed. “If you ever need to get your mind off of something, I can always help,” you whispered the last part in his ear and you giggled when you felt him smile against your cheek.

“I'll have to take you up on that,” he whispered back. You jumped when you felt his teeth graze your earlobe.

“Johnny,” you swatted.

“Alright, lovebirds. Not that you heard but it's time for us to board,” John chuckled, eyeing the both of you.

You were content in your middle seat. Johnny urged you to sit in the window seat, but you didn't want to be reminded you were soaring through the sky in a tube. Johnny sat in the window seat, you in the middle and Simon on the end seat so he could stretch his legs. John and Kyle were a few rows behind you, and you would periodically sit up in your seat to look back at them. The medicine seemed to help, although it could just be a placebo. Regardless, you felt safe between Johnny and Simon. You rested your head against Johnny’s shoulder, his hand finding it home on your knee, fiddling with the fabric of your tights. Simon had his arms crossed over his chest, looking imposing as always. He needed a chill pill.

You had been thinking a lot about what John had said to you last night.

“Your heats comin’ up in a few weeks.”

You couldn't deny that it had been looming over your head, especially with how excitable you had been lately. Your heats have always been irregular. They followed the basic timeline of every eight weeks, but sometimes they would skip over, or be a week late or early. You had multiple tests done and doctors concluded that it was just because your hormones were out of whack from not being in a pack for so long. You wondered if that was true. If it was, how long would it take for you to even out? Did you need to be marked? Or just bonded? You had definitely bonded with them. If the timeline was correct then you would have about one week left from your last heat.

That timeline was for more than just your heats, though. It also was a timeline for your relationships. You wanted John to help you with your heats, you felt more than comfortable enough with him and you were overwhelmingly attracted to him. You also wouldn't mind if Kyle or Johnny decided to step in either.

There was one person you weren't entirely sure about yet.

Simon.

It wasn't that you weren’t attracted to him. You just didn't feel entirely comfortable with him in that way yet. While you two had your own interactions and bonding times, there was just something missing. He treated you like a friend more than an omega. Actually, he treated you like you were an annoying child who he was stuck babysitting. The rest of them had courted you, complimented you, and made you feel like you were the most important thing in the world to them. Simon had hardly done any of that.

There was also all the fighting that had gone on between the two of you. And all those things he said about you that night when you overheard him talking to Johnny. You know you should get over it, you thought you had, but sometimes when your room was too quiet you could hear those words echo throughout it.

You could only imagine how upset he would be if you admitted any of that. How hurt he would be if you said you weren't comfortable enough with him yet. Maybe you should just wait till you feel comfortable enough with him before having any of them help with your heats.

Yet the thought of waiting any longer to be with them, especially John, felt nearly tortuous.

You didn't want to hurt Simon though.

Seems like the best choice was just to wait.

Who knows? Maybe you'll get lucky eough to have your heat skip again.

Kyle was able to talk Johnny into booking an Airbnb in Inverness. If it was up to the Scot you five would be fighting for your lives in the most rural area he could find. As long as it was in the Highlands, Johnny could be talked into it.

“I don't want to leave,” you sighed, already getting a sore neck with how often you were turning your head to look around.

“Good thing we just got here,” Kyle chuckled.

“Come on. Let's get settled inside then we could do some exploring,” John ushered you inside a beautiful stone house. Your stomach rumbled at the sound of exploring. “We’ll take care of that too,” he chuckled, your bag slung over his shoulder.

It had two bedrooms, both with a large bed and a bathroom. Simon and John took the bigger bedroom, with Kyle and Johnny taking the other one. You put all of your stuff with the alphas because it had the most room. Everyone knew you would be bouncing around, though.

It was already almost dinner time and you were starving, the only thing in your stomach was a blueberry muffin from the cafeteria before you had left. Simon pulled out a box of your favorite crackers from his duffle, tossing them to you. He must have swiped them from the kitchen before you left. You thanked him heavily, already digging in. It was just another example of how Simon worked.

He could be incredibly thoughtful when he wasn't frustrated with you.

At least that's how you saw it.

The truth was more complex than you knew.

It was one of those nights he couldn't fall asleep, no matter how hard he tried. His legs are restless and his heart beats a little too fast for a trained soldier like him. He pulled himself out of bed, heading through the bathroom, and slowly pushing John’s bedroom door open. He hoped you weren't in there tonight. The alpha grunted, the slightest creak in the door waking him up.

“You alright?” John croaked, his voice sending a shiver down Simon’s spine. He didn't say a word, pushing the alpha out from the middle of his own bed crawling under the sheets himself, groaning as the smell of you drifted off of them. “Somethin’ eatin’ you?” John yawned, rolling onto his stomach so he was draped over Simon’s back. It's what Simon needed. Grounding.

“It’s shite,” Simon brushed off.

“Course it is, it’s comin’ from you,” John chuckled. Simon grunted, bringing his elbow back to knock against the alpha. “Spit it out.”

“She”- he cut himself off with a sigh.

“It's me, Simon,” John reminded, his lips holding still against a scar on the other alpha's shoulder.

“She doesn't like me as much as she used to,” Simon grunted.

“She didn't know you then.”

“Thanks, John,” Simon huffed, making the captain chuckle.

“I didn't mean it like that,” John sighed. “I mean to say, she's getting to know you now. You two are navigating a whole new relationship, and to be fair it has had its turbulence. In the beginning, she was just trying to not step on any toes or cross any boundaries. Now she's trying to work her way into the pack. Growin’ pains, Simon,” John explained. “You are both doing fine considering you've never been around an omega and she’s never had an alpha-let alone two.”

“You’ve hardly ever had an omega. Other than ones to help you through a rut,” Simon added. “You know what to do.”

“I was worried about it before she came. Wonderin’ if I could be a good alpha to her like she deserves. Then once she got here it just felt natural. You have instincts too, just allow them,” John spoke.

“Not like there's any room too,” Simon huffed.

“What's that supposed to mean?” John hummed, leaning on his elbow.

“You dogs are all over her all the time. Not like I could get a moment with her if I wanted to. Every time I think about doing something- one of you has already done it,” Simon explained. John supposes he has a point. You weren't high-maintenance and you were almost always smothered with attention.

“So do it anyway. No such thing as a too-spoiled omega.”

All of you went to a pub down the street for dinner. It felt so free being away from the base. Your pack was all yours without worry of being ushered to the ends of the earth.

You were situated between Kyle and John, just like back home. You trusted Johnny to pick you out something from the menu, as long as it didn't have eyeballs still on it when it came out of the kitchen.

“Steak for me and cullen skink for the girl,” Johnny winked over at you. You were half tempted to google it before the waitress left just in case.

“And what can I get you?” A waitress hummed to Simon. You didn't like the way she eyed him.

“Scotch pie,” he answered, eyeing her back. Not in the same way, this was to deter her.

“Mmmh, that's my favorite,” She smiled, turning to the rest of the table. “And for you?”

“Fix your face, lovie,” Kyle teased after she left. It was then you realized you were scowling at Simon. Well not at him, but at what just occurred. You could tell Simon was trying to bite back a smirk.

The waitress came back numerous times before the food was ready just to ‘check in.’ You could tell it was starting to bother Johnny too. It wasn't that Simon was just letting it happen, he was ignoring her, his eyes bouncing between you and Johnny. Regardless, he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it in the slightest. The final straw was her hand resting on his shoulder, causing everyone's chest to rumble with a warning. She quickly retracted it with a stuttered apology. You had a different waitress for the rest of the night.

It started off teasing and gentle. His lips ghosting over yours until you made a move to connect the space, only for him to pull back.

It's his fault really. Teasing you like that and then expecting you to just let him go after.

You pulled away, trying to get as much air in your lungs as possible. Kyle was relentless, his lips still attached to the corner of your mouth, making a path all the way down to your collarbone. Making out and breathing at the same time was still a skill you hadn't learned yet.

“Ky,” you breathed. He quickly reattached your lips with his, your body sinking further into the mattress from the force of it.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Johnny grunted, coming out of the bathroom. Kyle pulled away, looking over his shoulder at the Scot, who had nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. You were still panting under him, your lips red, eyes foggy. Kyle was in no better condition. Kyle winked at Johnny before turning his attention back to you. Your hands wrapping around the back of his neck, your heels digging into his lower back, desperate for him to be as close as possible.

You heard shuffling in the corner but your mind flew out the window when Kyle gently rolled his hips against yours. You gasped, your half-lidded eyes gazing up at Kyle. You bucked your hips, hoping to get an ounce of the friction.

“I got you, lovie,” Kyle whispered along with another roll of his hips. You heard Johnny curse again, the bed sinking under his weight.

“How mad do you think the alphas would be if we had a little taste?” Johnny murmured, his teeth grazing your shoulder. Kyle groaned, resulting in a whine escaping your throat.

“That's a good question,” Kyle hummed, mirroring Johnnys' actions on your other shoulder. You felt faint. “What do you think, love?” Kyle asked, making you shudder.

“Please,” you gasped. It was the only thing you could manage, still not entirely sure where this was going to lead. The tightness in your stomach was becoming painful. Kyle’s hands ran soothingly up and down your sides before dipping under your tank top.

“Tell us if you want us to stop any time,” Kyle assured. You could feel Johnny nod his head in agreement.

“Want you to feel comfortable, Bon,” he added. You agreed softly, your hands digging themselves into each of their shirts. Your tank top had been pulled above your chest, your hands leaving their shirts so Kyle could pull it off. You had no time to even think about being shy, your newly exposed skin being attacked by mouths and hands.

“So fucking soft,” Johnny growled. You were a lamb spread out for these hungry wolves. A tongue ran across your nipple making you jolt.

“So sensitive,” Kyle purred. “Anyone ever touched you like this?” he questioned, his hips twitching at the thought. You quickly shook your head, your eyes glossed over. They both growled, their teeth nipping at your skin to mark you as theirs. Their eyes met each other and a mutual understanding going straight over your head. The position suddenly changed, your back resting against Kyle’s chest, Johnny kissing between the valley of your breasts before stopping just above the waistband of your shorts. Kyle's hands rested on your inner thighs, keeping you spread so Johnny could fit his broad body between your legs. Johnny's dark eyes stared up at you for approval, his teeth pulling at your shorts. Your body was on fire, the scent in the room overwhelming. You nodded your head, your fingers running through his mohawk. He grinned his fingers curling in your shorts tugging them down quickly.

“Gentle,” Kyle growled, his hands maneuvering under the sides of your underwear. His thumb rubbing smooth circles on your hips to make up for Johnny’s actions.

“Says the one chewin’ a hole in her shoulder,” Johnny huffed back. Kyle smirked against your skin, placing a kiss against the red mark forming against you. You couldn't make eye contact with Johnny as he lowered himself between your thighs, pressing a kiss against your covered core. Your thighs twitched, and Kyle gripped them to keep them from slamming shut.

Not that Johnny would mind that. Johnny repeated his actions a few times before his tongue darted out. The fabric of your panties left you with little friction to ease the ache.

“Johnny, please,” you urged, rotating your hips slightly. Johnny groaned against you, the vibration going straight to your core.

“She asks so nicely,” Kyle complimented, beginning to pull down your underwear for you. Johnny agreed, tugging your underwear down the rest of the way.

“John’s going to love that,” Johnny smirked. You whined at the thought, your thighs starting to jerk shut again. You missed the way Johnny shoved your underwear in his pocket. “Fucking beautiful,” Johnny whispered to himself, his eyes falling over your body. “Missin’ out up there,” Johnny commented, his scruff rubbing against the inside of your thigh. His mouth was watering at this point and he made very little effort to hide it. The desire to please you is the only thing keeping his mind from shutting down.

Kyle grabbed behind your knees, pulling them up closer to your chest. The cold air chilling your core was quickly being replaced by Johnny’s desperate tongue. You squealed, your hands slapping over your mouth. They both chuckled, Johnny’s hands reaching up to tug at your wrists. He intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Kyle lulled, his hands rubbing up and down the insides of your thighs. “Already shaking,” he chuckled.

“It's too much,” you whimpered, your hands trying to push away at his face. He tightened his grip. You were being devoured. The sensation was already new to you, not to mention the passion behind it.

“Just relax, pretty. Let him make you feel good,” Kyle talked you through it. “You really want it to stop, just say stop.”

You ignored the feeling of Johnny's smirk against you. You tried to relax your body, giving up the little control you had against the two betas. Johnny switched the pattern of his tongue, causing a breathy moan to escape you.

“Do that again,” Kyle urged. Johnny was already one step ahead, the sensation making your eyes roll to the back of your head. It wasn't as overwhelming as his previous actions. It was just enough pleasure to make your body feel like it was floating, but not enough to make you want to scream. Your soft moans were timed with his mouth, the sounds making it harder for them to have self-restraint.

“How she taste?” Kyle asked, his hand gripping onto Johnny’s mohawk. He knew the Scot wouldn't separate his tongue from you even if the world was ending. Johnny groaned at the hand yanking him away.

“Like peaches just out of the oven,” Johnny said quickly, his tongue already darting out to catch another taste of you. He nipped your thighs, waiting not so patiently for Kyle to release his hair. He pushed Johnny’s face back against you, Johnny’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. “See what you do to us, love?” Kyle hummed.

You were close. Your whole body beginning to twitch, your moans mixing with breathy pants.

“That's it, baby,” Kyle groaned, taking every ounce of you in. “Fuckin’ beautiful,” He snarled, the grip on your thighs tightening. Every second felt like it would be your last, the pressure in your stomach building and building until suddenly it burst. The warmth in your stomach exploded, causing bliss to spread over every inch of your body. You couldn't even moan, or move, instead, your body stilled, before melting against Kyles. All of you were limp, your euphoria spreading to them even though they had yet to find a release themselves. The stillness left your body, the shakiness returning.

Johnny pressed a kiss against you one last time, mumbling something about ‘seeing her again soon’ before crawling his way up the both of you. They moved your body around, so everyone was under the covers. Johnny pressed a kiss against your cheek making you swat him away, feeling slowly returning to your body.

“Your face is wet,” you whined, rolling over to bury your face in Kyle's chest. You felt movement above you, pulling your head away only to see the two betas locked together, their tongues intertwined. You were too tired to care. As long as you were being cuddled you didn't care what they did.

“Tastes as good as we imagined, yeah?” Johnny chuckled. You heard Kyle agree, before falling asleep.

You were woken up by Kyle. You groaned, stretching your limbs as much as you could. You were a bit sore from all the twitching you did last night and you could still feel some wetness between your thighs. Johnny was purring next to you, strong arms wrapped around your waist. Your sleepy eyes peered up, locking eyes with Kyle. His gaze was soft and they held nothing but adoration in them.

“Morning, princess,” he whispered, making a snicker. The two betas did treat you like a princess, so the nickname was fitting.

“Go back to sleep,” Johnny croaked his grip on you tightening.

“Wanna go on a walk?” Kyle whispered. “It rained all night.” A sleepy smile spread across your face and you quickly nodded your head. Kyle unraveled Johnny's arms from you.

“Wanna come, Mac?” you questioned, pressing a kiss against his temple. His lips quirked, but he buried himself deeper in the bed.

“I'll keep the bed warm,” he yawned, already falling back asleep. Kyle grabbed your tank top off the floor, putting it over your head for you.

“So beautiful,” he murmured again, making you flush. No one had ever spoken to you with such sincerity. You luckily had the instinct to put your toothbrush in their bathroom last night. You couldn't imagine creeping into the alpha room after all the ruckus you caused last night. You're actually not sure if you could ever look them in the eye again. Not that you had done anything wrong…it…just felt awkward. You grabbed your shorts off the floor tugging them on.

You couldn't find your panties.

When you came out of the bathroom Kyle was already dressed in joggers, a sweatshirt, and a vest.

All your clothes were in the alpha room. Fuck.

“What's with the face?” Kyle hummed, pulling you between his knees.

“I don't want to go in there,” you muttered. Kyle cinched his brows before the realization hit him.

“This have anything to do with the little show you put on last night?” he smirked, making you flush even brighter. “Relax, lovie. Nothin’ to be embarrassed about. I can go grab some clothes if you aren't ready, though.”

“Thanks, KyKy!” you cheered.

As soon as he opened the door pillows were thrown at him. He caught them with ease, tossing them back on the bed. He cleared his throat at the heavy scent of alpha musk. Your room wasn't the only one that was busy last night.

“She’s with the two of you for one bloody night,” John growled. Kyle chuckled, opening a window. It was a good thing you didn't come in. You probably would've passed out.

“Best night of our lives,” Kyle tsked, watching the way both the alphas' faces curled. They were jealous. Not because of what happened, but because they hadn't been able to watch. Instead, they were confined to their room, only being able to listen. Using their imagination to pretend the bulky body under them was smaller, softer and sweeter.

“Come here,” John commanded. Kyle plopped a pair of your leggings on the bed, only for John to grab his collar pressing his nose against his neck.

“Good right?” Kyle chuckled, squirming his way out of the alpha's grip.

“She taste that sweet?” John hummed, stretching out, his muscles cracking.

“Sweeter,” Kyle smirked, shutting the bedroom door behind him, getting too much enjoyment from the groans on the other side of it. “Here you are, lovie,” Kyle smiled, passing you your clothes. He was all too pleased with himself.

“There’s a farm that has a petting zoo,” Kyle hummed, swinging both your hands back and forth.

“Really?!”

“They sell baked goods too,” he winked.

“God, you know me so well,” you sighed, shuffling closer to him. The earth was wet and clean, the feeling sinking deep into your bones. The clear air made you think. Made you think about something you've wanted to say for a while, specifically to Kyle. “Kyle, there's something I have to tell you,” you said slowly. “You don't have to comment on it, but I need to get it off my chest.”

“Alright,” he agreed cautiously.

“I love you,” you said it all in one breath.

“Oh thank god,” he said, relieved. “Would be weird if it was just one-sided, yeah?” he smiled at you. “I love you too, sweetheart. Very much.” he whispered the last part, bringing your hand to his lips kissing your knuckles.

You and Kyle were acting like true tourists. Stopping to take pictures with anything you deemed to be ‘exotic.’ The petting zoo was the most fun. You got to feed the animals and you even took a selfie with a sheep that looked like Johnny. It was sent to the boys group chat and Johnny quickly made it his wallpaper.

“Look! Puppies!” you grinned pulling Kyle over to the large pen.

“Lookin’ to adopt?” An older woman in a rocking chair asked. She had overalls on, a few chickens pecking at the ground around her feet, knitting needles in hand. You made a mental note to be like her when you grew up.

“Sadly no,” you replied softly with a smile. The excited bunch ran around the pen, stumbling over each other. Except for one in the very corner, halfway under a blanket.

“That's Peaches,” the woman sighed following your gaze. “She’s free.”

“Peaches?” you questioned mostly to yourself. “Why is she free?” you chimed.

“She’s deaf, not entirely sure she can see either. She doesn't move too much,” the woman frowned.

You frowned too, walking to the other side of the cage where she was.

“Hi, pretty girl,” you whispered, crouching down. Kyle was wincing already having a feeling where this was going. The puppy looked at you with her big black eyes, before moving towards you, her body staying low to the ground.

“Well look at that,” the woman chuckled.

“Do you have a blanket or something we can buy to wrap her in?” Kyle questioned already knowing you weren't going to leave that farm without her. At least it wasn't a sheep or chicken. Mission accomplished in his eyes.

Sorry, I didn't post when I said I would! This series is going by so fast! See you in two days for chapter 21! 🧡

[willowser]

you're not expecting the bathroom door to swing open.

sitting in katsuki's overly-large bathtub, soaking into suds and fragrant oils and trying to enjoy what you believed would be another evening alone; one of kirishima's sidekicks is out with an injury and your great explosion murder god has been picking up the slack, pulling double shifts almost every night this week. not something to be upset about, as it's no one's fault, really—but you certainly didn't forsee your bath being interrupted.

this is what your i'm in here! call is met with: the creak of hinges and the smell of smoke, the deep scowl on katsuki's face as he shuffles across the tile, eyes rimmed with that greasy paint he wears under his mask.

very rarely does he intrude on your alone time—not that you're complaining. a faint shy streak travels through you, and you pull your knees closer to your chest as you smile at him. without a word, he stands across from the tub, leaning against the sink counter as he scratches at sweat dripping down his neck.

"hello," you tell him quietly, trying to tide back your excitement for the sake of his exhaustion. "didn't expect to see you here, stranger."

it's only a joke, but katsuki's frown deepens. for a while, his eyes dance anywhere other than you, long enough that you begin to wonder if a nerve has been struck, but you're surprised to find him a little pink as he straightens out his slouchy posture.

"scooch." is all he demands of you, gruffly. before you can manage a retort, his arms go over his head to grab a fist full of his shirt by the back, tugging it up and free from his dirty, worn body.

it's a nice sight, one that keeps you quiet and content: the soft curve of his shoulders and the rippling, bruised plane of his ribcage; the thick muscle of his thighs as he yanks down his pants; the spreading flush to his chest, as he strips himself bare.

you are more than happy to scooch, slipping to one side easily so that he can sit at your back. a rough groan escapes him when he sinks into the steaming water, as he stretches out and rubs at one of his knees, digging his fingers into his skin with a grimace before gently tugging you to lean back against him.

you turn your head just a bit, so that your forehead is against his cheek, nosing at his jaw. again, you give him a quiet, "hello," that elicits another long, deep groan from his chest.

"hi," katsuki murmurs, a little awkwardly into your hair. you tell him he stinks and he grunts out a single laugh, before pinching your sides under the water until you're squirming against him a little too intimately.

when you turn to face him now, the scowl has slipped away, replaced by a soft curve of his lips that looks almost like a smile. his head is leaned back against the edge of the tub, eyes lidded, and he infects you with a yawn that stretches out his whole face.

he's so cute when he's sleepy like this that you can't help it; you wrap an arm around his neck and run a hand through his hair, leaving water to drip free and down from his temples. you place a fat kiss on his cheek, no matter how dirty, and it earns you a pleased hum that makes you want to squeal.

it's been a long week, that's all, and you're just happy he's home.

"are you all mine tonight?" you ask, pulling your lip between your teeth when he raises his head to stare at you. something heavy weighs in his eyes, like his response will answer to more than just your question, this question, right here in the bath and in your arms.

katsuki blinks softly, and digs a hand into your hair, too. "yeah," he murmurs, serious. "all yours."

[donutwatches]

MHA 2.22 - Yaoyorozu: Rising - part 2

I want a Todoroki pinata for my birthday party.

She really has a high opinion of Todoroki, doesn't she? That's sweet and all, but Momo, you are one of the smartest kids in your class, you got this!

HE VOTED FOR HER! SHUT UP! THAT IS SO STINKING CUTE! It is like a literal 'vote' of confidence.

I have no reason for putting this screenshot up other than the fact that looking at it makes me tingle.

Speaking of tingles. Is Momo BLUSHING? Do I sense a crush in the air? If she doesn't think of a good plan quick, Todoroki is going to get strung up like a pinata again.

She missed the switch! Girl, you have GOT to work on your hand-eye coordination. Pulling a catapult and a whole pile of metal out of her booba is a unique talent. Paired with her brains (if not her spatial awareness) her potential sky high.

Look! Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it Superman? No. It's a hot burrito flying in the sky! I love this funky shape changing metal. It looks kinda snug, but being encased in hot metal is a nightmare actually.

Why does it look like Aizawa is taking a power nap? He would though. OR is he looking down so that Momo cannot see his face as he LIES like a lying liar.

"Do you feel sick?" - Hahahaha! Sometimes I think Todoroki is a low-key unintentional comedy king.

Momo can't handle any blows to her confidence right now. Aizawa knows that, so he is letting her small mistake slide. It isn't truthful, but it is what she needs to hear to support her growth right now.

Oh my god, Todoroki you absolute donut. Who sees someone cry and thinks, I know what will fix this, pressure points! So practical and yet so clueless.

Granny is onto you Aizawa. He looked so excited to beat up his students, but when it comes down to it he is a sweetie.

I have gotten a tag request, @jessiedead If anyone else wants to be tagged I can start a little taglist. Let me know!

Click here for episode 23

Click here for the masterlist

[pupyr0arz]

random Gaz flavored food

It’s not creepy if it’s an accident. It’s really just a coincidence, a happy little convenience of fate.

It’s after the dust up with Shadow Company that theyre strongly advised (read: ordered) to take a step back and allow the issue to be fought over at a higher level. Kyle knows, academically, that Laswell is absolutely going to tear someone a new asshole and that he can’t do much in this situation. Realistically, it sets his teeth on edge and he has to set his gun away before he nips at Price’s heels for a couple of hours in a useless argument they both know is pointless. He takes it better than Soap, at least, who needs to be dragged away by Ghost like a disobedient dog. If he gets his fair share of licks in when Soap sulks back into the barracks with a furious temper, well, it’s indistinguishable from Ghost’s discipline and really not his fault. He doesn’t instigate fights, he ends them.

Still, the whole thing ends up with plane tickets and another one of Cap’s lectures, which Ghost spends feeling contrite for all of eight seconds, Soap glaring at him because he wouldn’t dare at Ghost with his recent outburst, and Kyle tunes the majority of it out to focus on the printed destination. He’s been to the States a couple times, fleeting memories that crumple under a sudden surge of homesickness. All of a sudden he’s ten times more exhausted than he was a couple of minutes ago and the non-existent, everpresent stink of smoke makes Kyle want to retch all over the floor. He wants to be in his flat, in sandals and watching tv on his couch, letting the rain outside wipe away the etchings of violence on his psyche. Not being dragged to some nightclub to drink himself into liver poisoning or whatever his team counts as activities. He’s disgusted with himself and more disgusted with the people in the bar, with dark wild eyes and talking too loud to be heroes.

What can’t be helped can’t be helped, and unsurprisingly to everyone in the world besides Kyle, drinking more doesn’t make him feel any better. Soap had managed to drag him and Ghost here originally, the Lieutenant being surprisingly indulgent after their shared near death experience. Indulgent for him, which means he vanished a half hour in and Soap stumbled off to root him out, and Kyle doesn’t think he can get drunk enough to want to follow them without dying. It’s not the worst night out with them in the world, but the mood is too twisted to be enjoyable. It’s all so…too much. Johnny is too Soap and Ghost is too Lieutenant and Kyle isn’t sure where he’s straddling because he can’t keep his eyes from counting everyone in the room while he flirts with the bartender Soap called over on competitive reflex. The lights are too bright and the shadows are too dark and none of it is working to chase away the shadows and filmy taste of blood that lingers in his mouth. He’s disgusted with himself and more disgusted with the people in the bar, with dark wild eyes and talking too loud to be heard.

He’s standing before he realizes he got up, and Kyle isn’t sure if Ghost or Soap are nearby to cover the bill so he tosses a handful of bills on the table and pushes out. The night air is a painfully relieving shock to his senses, wiping away the cloying perfumed air in a burst, and he wants to lean into it and enjoy the cool relief but he adjusts too quickly to it, sobering too fast to make it worth it. He knows the path to the flat he’s been given, and he doesn’t want to do a thing for the rest of the night other than drink water and sleep for the next month.

Kyle’s walking down the street when it happens. He almost thinks he’s hallucinating because nothing like that ever actually happens in real life, it’s never that much like one of the romcoms he has stashed in his flat. It’s exaggerations from people too busy trying to get on their lovers good side and executives trying to sell candy and a story. Love, as he’s found it, has been a quiet understanding fostered gently between people. Held like small embers, close to his chest so they wouldn’t go out. His genuine flames that had been more than hookups were when he was younger, approached and then abandoned after a couple of months. It’s not compatible for him now, the anonymity more appealing than consistency. 

But he looks up, on a whim too fuck he could’ve missed you completely, and it’s a bright flat with the window cracked open enough that when he tries he can hear music, and you’re dancing. It’s nothing graceful, you’re spinning around to some tune he couldn’t name if he tried and you’re holding some ball of fur and singing along poorly and he just make out your smile and if it splits his chest in half, there’s no one to care. Its so domestic, so normal and yet, something in him sparks and roots his feet to the ground. He’s too drunk to try to comprehend it or deny himself the indulgence. If he stands there for an abnormal amount of time looking at you, well, worse things happen on the streets than a gentle appreciation of someone’s beauty. if he took a photo to remember it by, it’s no one’s problem, nothing worth any sort of alarm. His memory of doing so is hazy, and well, no one is very reasonable when they’re drunk, are they? It’s not a crime for him, in his inebriated state, to default to trying to preserve the moment.

Kyle gets back to the flat assigned to him, the air tastes like regret and he kicks his shoes off by the door and chugs tap water for thirty seconds. He doesn’t sleep in the bed, but lays facedown on the couch, shutting his eyes hard, dragging the golden glow of that window into heaven into his sluggish mind. He dreams of his own flat, warm and familiar, filled with a soft laughter that seems to emanate from the walls before his hand slips into another’s.

When he wakes up, it’s not weird of him to look into where he was. Maybe he really liked that bar, or just wanted to call and check in to see if Ghost wasn’t feeling vindictive enough to leave Soap laying around blacked out. If you were looking over his shoulder, you wouldn’t even be able to tell he was getting the address of that apartment building. He was just getting to know the layout of the city, and if that left room for a few logical leaps, it isn’t creepy to not look into something. It isn’t.

[fernandopiastri28]

quand c’est part 8?

I’m literally in love with it

quand c’est - part 9 ~ ln4 x op81

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

She places her hands on the table in between them, her fingers interlaced, “So, Lando, how are you feeling this morning?” 

Lando chews at his bottom lip, pursing his lips to the side to break the habit, “Uh, yeah- fine,” He nods the question away, wanting to move away from it. Her look at him tightens, untrusting. He knows he shouldn’t lie- there’s no use of trying to get help if he’s not willing to accept it. “I’m tired,” He looks away for a split second, then back at her, “All the time,”

Warnings: sickness, illness, cancer

Lando stands in the doorway of his Monaco apartment, blankly staring in at the surrounding space. It’s weird to be back, as so much of his time is spent bouncing between races and soulless hotel rooms- his own brightly decorated and very personalised place just feels so out of place.

Oscar walks in behind him, shuffling around him cautiously as Lando takes up most of the door’s entrance, just standing completely in the way. “How’re you feeling?” Lando’s pretty much fully over what happened on the plane- the feeling and discomfort practically gone. 

Lando takes a few steps forward, leaning into a wall so he can nudge his shoes off. “Uh, tired,” He hums mindlessly, his eyes bleary and his bones achy. “Kinda need to nap,” A smile stretches across his pink lips, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. 

Oscar nods, rubbing his hand over Lando’s shoulder. He squeezes it slightly, like he needs something to do with his hand. “You just rest up- I’ll unpack everything,” Oscar replies, kissing Lando’s cheek softly as he walks past him and into the living room properly, carrying about three bags on him.

The way he says it makes Lando feel bad- like he’s being rather mocking and snarky. ‘ I’ll unpack everything’, like he’s frustrated that Lando is a useless, lazy slob. No consideration of how sick Lando is right now, just judging him because he feels like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Like he’s the one with all the hardships weighing him down.

He doesn’t understand that Lando would kill to be in Oscar’s position right now.

“Lans?” Oscar’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, “What’s wrong? You’re looking.. very spacey,” He’s careful with the way he speaks to him, like one wrong word will send him teetering off the edge- even just his tone.

Which, technically, is true, because in reality- Oscar wasn’t being passive aggressive or sarcastic when he offered to clean up- he was being genuine in his attempt to help make Lando’s life just slightly easier. 

“I’m okay,” He furrows his eyebrows, pinching the skin between them. “I’m gonna go now, gotta be up early tomorrow,” He forces another smile onto his face. He’s got his first consultation with the doctor in Monaco at 9 tomorrow morning, so he’s gotta be positive and ready for a chat, or the whole ordeal is just going to be far more unpleasant.

Oscar doesn’t look convinced, but he’s a naturally wary looking person anyways. “Alright,” The word brushes past his lips like a forced out noise, used only as a way to not stay silent. “Love you, Lans.” Lando gives a curt smile and mumbles the phrase back in return before scuffling off into their room.

He looks at the bed, then at the ensuite bathroom where the door is slightly ajar. He should take a shower- he hasn’t had one all day and he probably stinks of hospital and airport. Yet, he can’t quite manage it, so he strips down to his boxers and crawls into bed- falling asleep to the noise of Oscar moving around outside.

The next morning is an unpleasant rush to try and get to the appointment. Lando feels like he can’t move, his joints unmoving and his body heavier than a literal F1 car. It’s agony trying to move around, tackling the mundane tasks of getting dressed and brushing his teeth.

Oscar tries to get him to eat something for breakfast, but he pushes away every option. Oscar finally convinces him to have a strawberry protein shake- just something with a solid amount of calories and protein to keep him going for the morning.

The clinic is pleasantly decorated, on the beige side of the colour spectrum, but definitely nice. Lando sits with his left leg crossed over his right, his hands clasped in his lap- Oscar’s right hand in the mix of his own two. They both remain silent, out of respect for other patients and lack of conversation topics.

“Mr Norris?” 

Oscar turns his head to look at Lando, “Do you want me to come in with you?” His voice is barely there, trying as hard as he can to stay practically silent. Lando shakes his head and stands up, wiping his sweaty palms down against his jeans before following the reception lady into a small room. 

The door clicks shut behind him as he takes a seat across from the doctor. She looks mid to late forties, thick rimmed glasses and salt and pepper hair pulled into a tight bun. She’s rather pretty- reminds him of his own mother, who he really wishes was here right now.

 It’s nice always having Oscar around- honestly. He’s the luckiest guy in the world to have him, despite being in the shittest situation. Yet, he misses being a kid, being carefree and cared for by his parents. Sometimes, when it’s really late at night, and he’s buried under masses of blankets with Oscar’s arms loosely wrapped around him- he feels like a kid again. 

It’s embarrassing, but it’s true. Even when he’s got to front up and be brave to the world, pretend he’s okay after a crash or another race incident, even when he’s choking back tears in front of a million cameras, Oscar makes him feel like a kid- in a good way.

“Good Morning, Mr Norris,” The doctor smiles warmly at him, her long nails clacking against her keyboard, “I’m Dr. Button, I’m the oncologist who will be discussing all of your treatment plans with you,” 

Lando leans forward, shifting around in his chair. God, he’s sweating all over, “Morning,” He smiles as warmly as he can muster up to. “You can just call me Lando,” He added. She extended her hand to him, which he shook- a strong and definite one. He wasn’t weak, he was a fucking F1 driver- he had mastered a good handshake that always impressed without fail.

She places her hands on the table in between them, her fingers interlaced, “So, Lando, how are you feeling this morning?” 

Lando chews at his bottom lip, pursing his lips to the side to break the habit, “Uh, yeah- fine,” He nods the question away, wanting to move away from it. Her look at him tightens, untrusting. He knows he shouldn’t lie- there’s no use of trying to get help if he’s not willing to accept it. “I’m tired,” He looks away for a split second, then back at her, “All the time,”

She opens a small spiral binded notebook and a pen, noting something down under where she’s already written his name and a brief summary of his situation. “I know a few of these questions may seem very straight forward and obvious, but I’d just like to ask that you answer all of them truthfully as it helps us to understand you better,” 

He nods, “Of course,” He slides his hands underneath his thighs, the rough material of his jeans rubbing awkwardly against his palms. “Yeah, all good,” He’s speaking for the sake of speaking, for the sake of not seeming incompetent or rude.

“So,” Her pen bleeds ink into the page as it lets it rest on the end of a cursive s. “Would you say the tiredness is physical, or mental?” Lando frowns, unsure of how to answer. She quickly notices his confusion and clarifies, “Is the exhaustion like you really need to sleep and lounge around, or is your mind just weak and over all of this?”

“Both,” He doesn’t give another moment of consideration to the question- it’s so easy. “I- I can’t pick which one I’d say it is more so,”

That statement is clearly worthy of a mention in her notebook. “Would you say you’ve noticed any other typical symptoms associated with brain tumours?” Lando’s embarrassed to say he really hasn’t done that much research into the usual symptoms that come along with his illness. He’s just been putting it off for a while, too scared to find out something that will throw him into a dark pit of depression. 

“Uh, headaches?” That seems like a safe bet and they definitely have been pretty bad ever since he got the diagnosis and the days leading up to it. “I-” He puffs his lips out, blowing a raspberry. Oh god, why is he so awkward all of a sudden. “I don’t really know a whole lot about all of this, admittedly,”

“That’s all alright, Lando. That’s what I’m here for,” She makes a note down in her book, probably about how Lando’s a disorganised wreck who can’t even manage a quick google search to find out about the disease that’s fucking killing him.

He wouldn’t blame her- he is a fucking wreck.

They discuss his medical history next, which is pretty lacklustre. They move on to talking about his actual diagnosis from there, which he makes sure to pay extra attention to. He’s been lacking on giving any attention to his own sickness, leaving that to Oscar. He needs to take things into his own hands now. 

His tumour is operable, but it's obviously cancerous- so it probably won’t just go away after the surgery. He’s probably going to have to go through a fair few rounds of chemotherapy before it’s gone, or atleast small enough. The type of surgery they’re going to be performing is a craniotomy.

The lists of surgery related risks seemed never ending; infection, bleeding, blood clots, seizures (at least more often then he already had), brain swelling, memory problems. 

Paralysis. He’d never be able to drive again.

He’d become a shell of the man he once was- not aspirations, no goals, no will to live.

All throughout the time Dr Button spent discussing recovery, Lando goes blank. He reminds himself to occasionally nod and hum out yes every once in a while, just to keep up the illusion that he’s paying attention. In reality, he can’t quiet wrap his head around fucking paralysis.

Never walking again, never being able to touch Oscar again- feeling Oscar’s touch either. He’d never win another race, and he sure as hell would never win a world championship.

He’d- he’d rather die than see a future like that.

“I- sorry, where’s the bathroom?” He stands up, his heart in his throat and his heart throbbing. She gives a sympathetic look before guiding him to a nearby stall. He has to walk through the waiting hall to get there- meaning he sees Oscar on the way.

He doesn’t have to say a single thing as he walks past, Oscar shoots up, acting off instinct, and follows Lando. They get to the bathroom and Oscar helps Lando onto the floor, ignoring how unhygienic that probably is, before locking the door behind them.

“Breathe, Lando, breathe,” 

Lando has to force it manually, guiding each inhale and exhale, the expanse of his chest with each breath. He has Oscar’s voice in his ear, asking him a million questions, Oscar’s hands on his trembling body, trying to find out what set off this reaction.

It’s a lot of things, it could've been anything- but he’s worse than usual this time.

“I’m gonna die,” Oscar’s features cloud over- dark and unreadable. 

“No you’re not,” He’s insistent, then his voice wavers, “Did she say you would?”

Lando shakes his head furiously, shifting to lean his head on his head, half covering his forehead. “No- she, she just told me about all the- the risks,” He spat out, his body shaking against the cold, marble floor. He wishes he could melt into it, feel nothing for a bit. “I could be fucking paralyzed .”

He meets Oscar’s eyes, who looks confused as if he’s missing something, “That doesn’t mean you’re going to die though,” His fingers brush over Lando’s cheek, his knees awkwardly all up in Lando’s face from how he’s squatting. 

“Paralysis is basically as bad as dying- I’ll never drive again, never walk, never have sex again,” His voice strains with the last one, like someone’s going to hear him say it. 

Oscar turns a bit red, but smiles at the same time. It pisses Lando off- why the fuck isn’t Oscar taking him seriously? “And did she tell you that you’re gonna be paralyzed? ‘Cause the chances are very low- it’s really unlikely, Lando,”

Lando looks away, just buries his face further into Oscar’s shirt. “I don’t wanna be sick anymore,”

Oscar swallows hard, sitting down properly. Fuck, he doesn’t want Lando to be sick anymore either. He lives each hour and each minute in constant fear and anxiety. Lando’s everything to him- he was the boy that Oscar made a constant effort to be the first like on his instagram posts almost a decade ago, he was the boy that Oscar wanted to be more than anything when he was announced as a McLaren driver. He was the boy that Logan would tease Oscar over for having such a fat ‘celebrity crush’ on the youngest 2019 rookie.

Oscar is new for Lando, beginning in 2023 at their first race together. For Oscar, Lando’s been a constant- all the way from 2016.

He doesn’t know what the right thing to say in this situation is, so he stays silent, and presses his lips to Lando’s head.

And for now, it’s enough, it’s enough that they both care enough to stay fighting for one another.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 24

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 873

Masterlist

The flight to The Netherlands is long and annoying.

There is a fat man next to me, taking up all my space, and a baby in the row behind me is crying the whole time. I can't sleep at any part during the eight hour flight even though I really should, and I can't focus on Sky full of elephants - a book which you recommended to me - either. Also, I feel dehydrated, so I drink a lot of water, but then I just have to pee every ten minutes.

I feel disgusting when I finally get off the plane, and Amsterdam airport sucks. It takes forever until I can get my suitcase and it takes even longer for the one line (one!) that is open at customs to let all the non-European Union travellers through.

But it's all worth it, (Y/n), because when I walk into the departures hall, you are waiting for me.

You don't care that I'm sweaty, or that my shirt stinks. You just about crash into me and hug me. Then you kiss my lips and then my nose and then my lips again. I kiss you back and I forget all about how uncomfortable I am.

“Hey, you,” I say.

“Hi,” you answer, smiling against my mouth.

You have lost weight, even in just the five days I haven't fed you. Don't people usually gain weight when they spend a lot of time with their grandparents?

You're wearing a red woollen hat with a puffball on top that I only know from Nadia's Instagram. It makes you look like a little elf.

“You look cute,” I tell you.

You make a face.

“It's 42 degrees, I'm dying in all this shit.” You gesture down at your attire: an unzipped, light blue puffer coat, a sweater that goes to your knees and skinny jeans. “Thank you, though.” You eye my suitcase. “Lemme take that.”

“Isn't the guy supposed to carry his girlfriend's stuff?”

“You were just on a plane for eight hours, and we're about to get on a train for two more. It's not fun. Let me carry your suitcase for you, mister macho man.”

I laugh, and I let you.

On the train, I should look out the window at all the new things I’ve never seen before. But all I wanna look at is you.

We're sitting in a spot for four people, even though enough spots for two are open. These trains are nothing like the ones in New York. I expected to have to stand uncomfortably for two hours, but this is alright. The seats are nice enough and there isn't too much litter. There are some teenagers loudly playing their music and talking, but when you're used to the New York transit line, that's nothing.

Your legs are stretched sideways. You are typing on your phone and I want to ask who you're texting, or to say anything to you at all, but you are frowning. You are not in the mood for idle questions, so I wait for you to talk to me, first.

Eventually, you put your phone away and smile at me.

“Sorry about that.”

“Is everything okay?”

“It's just my grandparents. They want us to come by their house right away and I thought I already made it clear that wasn't going to happen, but now my grandma's on it again and I'm having real trouble relaying through my uncle that you've just been on a long ass flight.”

“We can go by their house.”

“No.” You shake your head firmly. “I'm going to save you from yourself here. No.”

You know when I just want to please you, and I love that you know to stop me when it's too much.

“Okay then.”

“Trust me. You're going to take a shower and fall into bed and you are going to crash hard. I only just got over the jet lag, myself. It's much worse this way than back.”

Back. You consider New York going back because that's where I am.

“I believe you.”

I want you to bring up Mitch, but you don't.

I ask: “is your mom still not going to be there, by the way?”

A complicated emotion crosses your face. Then, you go carefully blank. You shake your head.

“That's too bad,” I say.

“Apparently she thinks I told her I don't want to talk to her,” you tell me. “I never said anything like that, but it's not the first time she's made stuff like that up.” You shrug. “Anyway, she's not coming if her boyfriend's not allowed to come, and apparently she's not taking the news that you are allowed to come very well, either.”

You cross your arms, and you cross your legs and your body is closed. You are hurting and I don't know what to say to you to make it better.

We are silent for a moment.

“Anyway,” you say, taking a deep breath. “When we get to the AirBnB, you should take a shower and I'll go out and get some food.”

“That sounds great.”

“What're you hungry for?”

“You grew up here. You probably know what's good better than I do.”

“I'll figure it out then.”

[jodithann827]

He Said What?!?

Rated: General / Posted on Ao3 / @today-in-fic

Summary: What would happen if he heard something he wasn’t supposed to?

Huntsville, Alabama

December 18th, 1998

Motel 6

The slow and steady hum of the radiator vibrates across the cramped confines of the not quite dingy, but not quite pristine motel room. The sun, having set hours before and taking what little warmth the day offered with it, left the room dark, save for the two beside lights and the standard desk lamp which emits a soft glow. The sound of water gargling flows through the closed bathroom door while Assistant Director Walter Skinner sits on one bed, waiting to wash the stink of the day off. Shaking his head slowly, he thinks back to the previous morning. His commute had been a breeze, his secretary was finally back after a detestable stomach flu had held her captive the week before, the Director of the Bureau was in a relatively good mood, and all of the agents under his watch were performing as needed. Yes, it had been the perfect start to the day. Perfect until Fox Mulder barreled into his office (he really needs to put a stop to that) spouting off about alien abductions and mysterious disappearances. The day went so well until 9:48. Why he entertained Mulder’s crazy ideas is beyond his comprehension. Well, that’s not entirely true. As strange as Muder is, Skinner genuinely likes him—not that he would ever divulge that tidbit of information—and, crazy or not, Mulder has proven himself to be an exceptional agent.

As Mulder spouted and Skinner listened, removing his glasses ever so slowly and rubbing his temples at the thought of the impending headache, he thought back to the previous weeks. Weeks in which Mulder killed a man and faked his death, only to reemerge and blow one giant metaphorical hole right in the center of a government conspiracy. That’s not to mention the almost-death and then amazing recovery of Agent Scully, which Skinner still isn’t sure he understands. He’s just thankful that Agent Scully is at home recovering, and will be ready to get back to work in a matter of weeks. Unfortunately, he knew he wouldn’t have the same luck taming the beast that is Fox Mulder as Scully would.

When Mulder finally got to the point and asked Skinner to sign off on the 302, Skinner could hear Scully in the back of his head. Don’t let him go, Sir. He shouldn’t go alone, Skinner. You know what’s going to happen if I’m not there. He found himself nodding at her words, though Mulder mistook his nodding as permission granted. He profusely thanked him and, with the look of a kid on Christmas morning, mentioned something about booking the first flight out and going home to pack before Skinner realized what had transpired. So, out of respect for Agent Scully and a concern for Agent Mulder, that’s what brought him to Huntsville; a crazy X-file with an even crazier agent. Of course, Mulder’d booked the trip so quickly that the only vacant motel in the area had one room, which is how Skinner finds himself with a roommate.

The bathroom door opens, tugging Skinner from his thoughts. Mulder walks out, thankfully dressed in plaid pajama pants and an old shirt, as puffs of steam follow him.

“Bathroom’s free,” he announces, striding over to the black duffle bag placed haphazardly on the side table chair. He rummages around for a minute, then steps back and falls onto his motel bed.

“You know I could have handled this one on my own, Sir,” Mulder insists, as he had the whole plane ride to Alabama, the car ride to the local station, and again on the way to the motel. Skinner glances in his direction and makes a weak attempt to raise his eyebrow like Scully does, which Mulder of course doesn’t notice..

“Two days, Mulder. I’ll give you two days,” Skinner responds, once again shaking his head, as he gets up and departs for the bathroom.

***

Later, as they lay in their beds, not quite ready for sleep, Skinner looks up at the pale white ceiling of the motel room and sighs. “I know you could have handled this on your own, Mulder,” he admits. Even though it’s dark and he isn’t looking in his direction, he knows Mulder is smiling.

“You promised Scully you’d go with me,” Mulder half asks, half states. Skinner chuckles, or at least as much of a chuckle as he’s willing to emit in front of an agent. “I understand, sir,” Mulder assures him. “I know she worries when she can’t be there to have my back. I know I sometimes make rash decisions…” he pauses when Skinner huffs. “Okay, maybe a lot of the time. Thank you, sir, for being willing to come with me instead of denying the case. I appreciate it, and I know Scully does as well.”

“How’s she doing?” Skinner asks, carefully, as he doesn’t like to speak of agents who aren’t present.

He’s been concerned about her since her remission. She called him a week and a half after her discharge, indicating she was fine and ready to be back at work. Skinner had to bite his tongue from saying something he would regret, like Have you completely lost your mind, and then told her in no uncertain terms that she is not to grace the doors of the Hoover building for at least another four weeks, and only then with a doctor's note. She’s still so weak, physically. Even when she returns, he knows she won’t be ready to be in the field right away. He makes a mental note to check for any upcoming conferences he can send them to upon her return, maybe ease her back into work.

“She’s getting stronger every day. I’m pretty sure she kicked her sweet and well-meaning mother out of her house by the second week of her recovery,” Mulder laughs.

Skinner is amazed and wonders how the agents accomplish anything, being two of the most stubborn individuals he has ever had the pleasure of meeting.

“That’s good,” he tells him, then adds, “It’ll be good to have her back. Well, goodnight, Agent Mulder.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

***

Hours later, Skinner awakens to a sound. Unable to identify it at first, he lies motionless, straining his ears. He hears it again. After a few moments, he realizes it’s Mulder, whimpering in his sleep. Recognizing the agent is dreaming and they aren’t in imminent danger, he rolls to his side and tries to go back to sleep. As he’s about to doze off, Mulder’s whimpers become more frenzied.

“Please, no,” Skinner hears from the next bed. He raises his head a bit, checking to see if Mulder has woken up, but the man’s closed eyes and pained expression assures Skinner that he is very much asleep. Unsure of how much longer Mulder’s dream will go on, Skinner attempts to sleep, but is incapable.

“No… can’t. Please… understand,” whines Mulder. Skinner wonders what is going on in that brain of his. He’s using a voice Skinner has never heard. He sounds scared, young, unsure.

“Mm lost,” Mulder continues, and Skinner hears a hitch in his voice. He wonders if Mulder will start crying in his sleep. Maybe he’s dreaming about his sister.

“Without you,” Mulder states.

Nope, Skinner immediately knows who Mulder is thinking about, and he longs for sleep. Of course, he’s suspected it for years. But without evidence, he never wanted to make a big deal out of it. He knows there are tons of wagers and bets floating around the bureau regarding the status of Mulder and Scully’s relationship, but he usually doesn’t pay too much attention to those things.

“Need you,” Mulder's voice pulls Skinner from his thoughts. “Best friend… No die. No happen”.

Skinner realizes Mulder is thinking back to the cancer. He wants to wake him, tell him it’s all okay; Scully is fine and she’s not going anywhere. But he also doesn’t want to startle him or cause him any embarrassment, though there isn’t anything to be embarrassed about, at least not yet.

“Promise me,” he mumbles, followed by a string of gibberish from Mulder’s dream-induced mouth. “Scully… please…love you… me.” Skinner prays sleep takes him that very instant. He knows more than he needs to, more than he should. Apparently, something in Mulder’s dream has calmed him, which Skinner doesn’t care to know, nor does he want to speculate. He realizes Mulder’s breathing has evened out and he is slumbering once more.

Unfortunately, Skinner is now wide awake and can’t get his agents out of his mind. Now that he knows, even though he tells himself there really isn’t anything to know, he quickly decides not to do anything about it. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, as much of a pain in the ass as they—well, he— can be, are his best agents and their dynamic is something not to be messed with. He rolls over again, imploring that he’ll forget every word by morning, but knowing the sounds are burned into his brain forever.

***

Skinner wakes the next morning, wishing and hoping it was a dream, but upon seeing Mulder exit the bathroom, dressed in his suit and ready for the day, he knows it was anything but.

“How did you sleep, sir?” asks Mulder, a look of complete innocence on his face.

“I never sleep as well on the road as I do at home,” Skinner replies, sitting up and stretching. The morning sun is attempting to peek through the drawn curtains. Well, now or never, Skinner thinks to himself. “Hey, Mulder,” he says, his voice strong, but slightly tentative, as if testing the waters. Mulder looks in his direction, eyebrows knit, waiting for him to speak. Oh to hell with it, he thinks. “Mulder, did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Mulder’s eyebrows reach so high they almost touch the top of his forehead as his eyes bulge from their sockets. I’ll take that as a no, Skinner muses. Mulder stares at his boss for a minute, and Skinner almost feels sorry for him seeing the terrified look of pure dread adorning his face.

“What did I, uh… did I say anything, uh…” he fumbles over his words, trying to find the right ones to ask.

Skinner smiles slightly and decides that as much fun as this could be, he’ll go easy on Mulder, just this once. “You said a few words and mumbled a bit. I’m surprised no one has mentioned it to you before. I just thought you should know.”

Lifting himself from the bed, he staggers toward the bathroom to get ready for whatever this ridiculous day has in store for him. He turns slightly to look at the younger man. They’re idiots, these agents of his, but they’re his idiots, and for now, Mulder's secret is safe with him. He’ll be ready whenever Mulder feels free enough to talk about it.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

lullaby for a rottweiler

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: G Word Count: 1116

Summary: There isn't exactly a Protector's Handbook with a chapter on what to do if you find yourself trapped in Cerberus's mouth, so Grover decides to tackle the problem the best way he knows how: by singing the consensus song.

What Grover never mentioned to the others—what he never felt he had to confess might be a better way to say it—is that there’s a reason he was glad they didn’t take a plane to California. Another reason. A reason that has nothing to do with the three of them spending the flight huddled anxiously in the bathroom until lightning bolts blast the wings off and Percy has to save them with airplane toilet water. Which Grover, who may have dreamed that exact scenario on the train to St. Louis, doesn’t doubt Percy could have done. For the record.

The other reason he was happy not to take a plane is turbulence. He’s super not into it. Rough travel can be fun when it’s his hooves over uneven ground. It’s not even the worst, in terms of messing with his inner ears, to be on a bus during a Fury attack. Or on a train with a rampaging Chimera. A car being rammed by a Minotaur! If Grover were to explain, if he had to tell Annabeth and Percy, he has quite the portfolio of turbulent travel situations to use as proof that he’s fine 99% of the time.

Boy, it really feels like the gods are laughing at him for managing to skip the plane only to end up bouncing along in one of Cerberus’s three mouths.

This is a heavy dog, and he takes big leaps. Grover is lofted up against the solid roof of the dog’s mouth, then dropped back down on its warm, rubbery tongue. And the whole place stinks. Hades can’t get in here with a toothbrush every once in a while? It smells like Cerberus has been using the Styx as his own personal water bowl. (The scent is misery with base notes of the abandonment of all hope.) Numbed by the stench, all Grover can do at first is subject himself to a mental montage of the greasy diner food and convenience store snacks he’s been living on. Not even the good stuff, like soda cans and tins of peanuts with the peanuts dumped out.

What breaks through his fixation on the contents of his churning stomach is one word: bumpy.

Because he’s not really big on self-pity, Grover scrambles to his knees between bounds and does his best to brace himself inside Cerberus’s mouth just enough to feel like he has a little bit of control. Hey, he feels less nauseous already!

“Oh golly!” he shout-sings, and immediately regrets it; Cerberus cocks his head at the noise and jerks to a stop. Grover cringes as he’s tossed against the dog’s teeth.

“Sorry,” he says, softer. “I guess six ears are more sensitive than two, huh?”

Cerberus’s answering whine vibrates Grover bone-deep before the dog starts moving again—a jaunty walking pace that’s ramping back up into a full-out run.

“Let’s try this again,” Grover says to himself, getting situated between tongue and palate.

He clears his throat.

“Oh, golly, the road’s gettin’ bumpy ’cause I got me…” He considers the dark, reeking cavern in which he crouches. “…a hound dog who just won’t slow down. Oh, dear. When the heads are gettin’ bouncy, the trick to settled tummies is…”

Is??? Grover thinks, because it’s a lot harder to come up with rhymes when you’re lurching down the bank of the River Styx in something’s mouth than it is when you’re packing a bag at camp based on what you think your co-questers are most likely to forget.

“…a trip to singin’ town,” he picks up.

Percy and Annabeth never let him get to verse two (where you say nice things about each other, building goodwill on the path to consensus). Cerberus hasn’t spat Grover out or tried to swallow him, so, honestly, after having his friends interrupt his debut performance, he’s taking it as encouragement to keep singing. He claps a hand against his opposite arm steadily until the words come to him. It’s weird but either he’s matched his claps to Cerberus’s footfalls or the dog’s running to his beat.

“Oh, Cerby, you’re good at bein’ grumpy, you make a great guard dog, your fur’s all black and brown.” The last one’s more of an observation than a compliment, and Grover winces, hoping Cerberus is more affected by his happy tone than the exact words.

“Good boy,” Grover sings, not meaning it. “You don’t need to run fast. (In fact, slower’s prob’ly better.) A trip to singin’ town.”

His eyes widen as, miraculously, Cerberus slows. Grover lets his clapping trail off. The dog stops, he sinks. Though it feels like this mouth-elevator has reached the ground floor, he’s not opening up to let Grover out. Suddenly, a snore rumbles through him. Seems like it’s probably now or never; Grover wriggles out between Cerberus’s huge teeth, getting a thorough slime bath as he pushes past the dog’s slobbery jowls.

He's relieved to see Percy, but he directs his first words at Cerberus: “You are a bad, bad dog!”

And he is a good, good singer, he thinks, even after he realizes Annabeth has literally scaled the side of Hades’ hound to give the dog neck scritchies. And maybe Percy helped too, fearlessly standing his ground in the path of the charging dog. Three heads are really better than one! Grover glances sideways at Cerberus. Three heads are better in some circumstances.

There’s not much time, so he listens to the others’ plan, using the shoes to lift Percy off the ground and fly him up the cliff. But the dog’s getting restless; Grover can hear growling noises that do not indicate peaceful slumber. After a harrowing minute of separation and a squeak of the red ball, Annabeth joins them at the top of the cliff. She launches the ball and Cerberus gives chase. The three of them stand there for a moment, breathing hard. But Grover just can’t keep it in.

“I GAVE YOU COMPLIMENTS!” he shouts after the dog. “YOU DON’T JUST ATTACK A GUY AND HIS FRIENDS RIGHT AFTER THE CONSENSUS SONG!”

Still outraged, he turns to his friends.

“What was that thing the Oracle said about betrayal again? Percy?”

But Percy isn’t listening, so Grover looks to Annabeth for support. The scrunch of her eyebrows and the slant of her mouth say she has no idea why he’s bringing up the consensus song right now (and why would she? Grover doesn’t mind that a ride in Cerberus’s mouth is one part of this quest he experienced alone). Regardless, Annabeth pats him on the shoulder.

“Yuck,” she says, withdrawing her hand and staring at her drool-slicked palm.

Grover sighs.

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

[spamtoon]

DCRC PKNA Week 11--Silicon Time!

thankfully our little book club break has meant i've had enough time to rest, get into what is potentially a new hyperfix, and feel motivated to read paperinik! ...and um ducks on the road. at some point that's not now.

you know what. im feeling ultra relaxation for this issue let's go to the cove. nevermind i got distracted and entered the pizza parlor

angus fangus cosplay

starting off and first of all i have to say dear lord. the airport experience is indeed horrendous as someone who has been on an airplane recently the sign "clogged toilets delay flights" baffled me. like i understand why but im also like okay. the toilet is clogged. there are two toilets per plane surely the line woudlnt get that long

im gonna be real i thought big nosed human guy was gonna be exclusive to silicon. like i didnt think he would just. also show up here

the idea that angus fangus hasn't had a day off makes me wonder like. was the new zealand thing last issue technically a work trip despite the fact he was there to save his tribe. because if so that rules

it's nice getting to see scrooge again despite the fact he's probably gonna be written out of the story. i missed him

thought he was wiping his sweat with his money for a second here i'm goign to be so honest. and in the second panel he's sillouetted for no reason it amuses me. i mean i know why hes threatening to ruin donald and uno's situationship but he doesn't know he's doing that

i love you chilling in purple shirt donald

i love their little dumb mirco-bickers. they're so domestic

rip to whatever italian pun was lost in translation here. unless there was no pun and donald is just like ughhhhhhhhhh because he does not care

hi little drink serving robot... these things did exist in the 90s but they were very very basic and mostly for flash. which is why it would absolutely get on the news when the only other news is its hot. donald's pose and uno's response is also so cute im. who would have expected comic silicon would have Uno Content

ohohohohoho... oh no, how tragic! how tragic it would be if a certain robot enjoyer skipped to the next town over for this specific day--nevermind he's on vacation too he's at the supervillain convention in florida (SORRY)

cog these car panels are cool... i am once again praising paperinik action moments

rest in peace all the computers at duckburg technofinancial im glad they at least got a viking funeral

it feels so werid to see angus fangus in a tank top and shorts. he belongs in a trenchcoat. and i just

the way he gazes into the distance makes this panel feel so much more contemplative than it actually is i love it

i love how the evronians have a whole division that's job is just. to deal with xadhoom. who is presumably killing evronians off camera all the time

i hope its a story where its the computer in the tower that did it like we saw in the start but he's just messing around. he's just like hi uno!!! :) remember when ducklair made you i was there when you were born uno and he's like oh BROTHER this guy STINKS !

:// i know the computer literally said the evronians might be useful but like i saw computer wanting to use the spore hatchlings and i was so dissappointed. especially disappointed that he wants to shut uno down. i think. at least i assume its a computer hence the name silicon if it was silicon and it wasnt even a computer there was a guy in front of it i would be SO dissappointed but im pretty sure its the first ducklair sentient technology at this point

i have absolutely zero thoughts about this robot rhyno thing its just an important enough detail i have to bring it up. actualy i do have a thought and its look at him. he's so fucking stupid looking. neutral connotation ITS FUCKING DUE AGAIN? FUCK OFF DUE. i gaslighted myself into thinking we were gonna get a different computer but no. okay. alright

of all the villains to figure out donald's secret identity im so. two. of course. not that he's going to get it i dont know if they'd go that route but

im gonna be so real after his introduction issue i fulyl expected them to never use due again

this panel si so dramtic (i LOVE the rainbow windows) but out of context its just like TWO !!!! im so mad

i know its the 90s but i like how it was confirmed later in ducktales 2017 if due did launch donald like that it wouldn't have done anything as long as he thought about the triplets (or maybe uno in this case) hard enough. our bravest man on two worlds... (yes i know they're different donalds)

IM SO MAD donald just kinda handwaving away the duck avenger's inveolvement. they hate each other so much

im so mad the way he's just. at channel 00 news now. due and the evronians deserve to be fighting each other for a while i think

and that was silicon!! i enjoyed seeing more of uno but i was disappointed the computer turned out to be. due again. but maybe im just a little loser who always wants a new robot OOPS i miss lyla lay hopefulyl we see her next issue considering we're going back to channel 00. hoepfully she had a really good vacation while this was all giong on

[toomuchracket]

i just typed out like 14 ross hcs/requests but i’m gonna take a deep breath and not annoy tf out of u so. here’s one

something a little angsty a little hurt/comfort he’s just having a rough time on tour like maybe he’s tired it’s catching up to him and he strikes me as the type of person who’s guilty that he’s sad (“i’m supposed to be the happy friend” type beat) and when he calls you hes just ugh i’m getting old it’s getting hard i just wanna come home to you point is he’s just so DOWN and you feel so bad you can’t do anything about it and then you and the guys plan a surprise visit for you to wherever in the world they currently are and you just. comfort him. maybe bring some home To him yanno

i answered quite a similar vibe here but i didn't quite go into detail on ross talking to you so i'll do that! so he's got your candle lit and he's waiting for you to finish work to call him - as soon as he picks up and says hi, you know something's up. and you're like "baby what is it?" and ross is like "... i'm just so drained, love. and not just from playing shows with not a lot of time off in between - i miss you so much. have half a mind to just get on a flight and come home tomorrow". and you're so sad for him and shocked - ross would never leave tour like that, he loves his job and he loves the boys, so you know something's definitely up. you're like "have you not told the boys how you're feeling? i'm sure they'd help you feel better" and ross says "nah, i haven't. s'usually me doing that to them, i think they'd probably freak out if i needed reassurance haha" (a mirthless laugh), and you're like "oh baby, i wish i could be there" and ross sighs like "i wish for that too, more than anything. but i'll be ok, my love - anyway, tell me about your day, distract me a bit". so you do, and ross genuinely does cheer up a bit, but after you hang up to go to sleep he just sits on his bed and cries a little when the boys find him. and they know something's up - when matty sends you the cute pic of the boys the next day he also says "hey, don't wanna upset you but ross is proper struggling with being away. had your candle burning the whole day yesterday" and you reply like "ah fuck he told me he was down but i didn't think it was this bad. i hate it", and matty's like "look i know you guys agreed it wouldn't make sense for you to come on tour, but i think it's the best thing for him. up for that?" and you agree. you fly out the next week and jamie meets you at the airport and drives you to the venue so you're there to surprise ross when he gets there; you sit in the green room with a coffee, grinning as you hear the boys' voices increase in volume as they near the door, and wave as they all enter like "surprise!". and ross genuinely tears up when he sees you and just runs to grab you and hug you tightly - you're like "sorry if i stink i literally just got off a plane" and ross laughs and he's like "i'm lowkey sick of your perfume anyway i've been burning it in candle form for weeks", and you're jokingly like "oi!" and ross giggles like "never gonna be sick of the taste of your lips though. may i?" and you nod and he just kisses you so deeply (george is in the back oohing like a 12 year old but everyone else is cheering). and you just kinda sit with ross as he preps for the show, and stand at his side of the stage as he performs - he's so much more relaxed and happier with you there cheering him on and blowing kisses, and i think he doesn't let go of you at all from the minute the show ends <3

[skaiawards]

TAZ Fanfic Idea: Jailbird Lup

During Crystal Kingdom, Kravitz notices the necromantic power in Taako's Umbra Staff (& uses that as evidence to attack THB).

After the Legion fight, he barters THB a stay of their bounties in exchange for the staff.

Back in the Astral Plane, Krav hands it to the one mortal on staff — a contractor, brought on pre-death due to their incredible achievements in Artificing.

(It's Leon.)

Leon & Kravitz have an interesting discussion about the staff, ending with Leon pointing to an inconspicuous component that he says is keeping it powered.

He cuts it, and out of nowhere (out of a fiery swirl) pops someone who looks VERY MUCH like Taako, y'know, from Leon's nightmares?

Leon screams bloody murder and quits in an epic huff.

Kravitz sees a lich, and in the plane of his goddess reaps the lich's soul before she can get so much as a word out. It's simple, from there, to put the lich in the Stockade — mystery solved.

Lup's POV: Lup is free, free from that goddamned umbrella for the first time in a decade. And then she's put back in a cage before she can get her head on straight.

At least she has company — but the company is, by and large, evil jackasses.

Lup makes a stink, complains to the guards, complains to the walls, starts talking to Big Bird Death from inside her cell.

Lup, in other words, Gets Attention As Part Of Her Plan.

She asks to be moved to solitary confinement so that she can consider the depths of her crimes away from the others and repent and yadda yadda etc etc.

She gets her wish. (Maybe via Kravitz interceding on her behalf, probably could use some relationship building scenes in here)

Because while her jailers think they've left her alone, Lup focuses all her magic — all her being — on her knowledge of bonds. And while many have faded with the Voidfish, there's one bond that's still glowing vibrant.

Lup figures out how to use that bond to talk to Barry from her cell.

(Heartwarming reunion, catching up, etc.)

Lup & Barry find a way to use the bond to swap-in-place, leading to very funny scenes where Kravitz walks in to talk to Lup, sees an identical red robed lich, and has conversations with PretendingToBeLup!Barry.

Maybe they switch back and have Lup's voice guide Flesh!Barry instead of the coin.

Big payoff is Kravitz walking in on a swap and Lup/Barry turn it into an impromptu bond-powered jailbreak — just in time to lead Kravitz to jointly save their family from Wonderland.

Story & song etc etc

Postcanon content where they take their vows as Reapers and give Kravitz the big reveal of how they'd been swapping under his nose the whole time.

[kuvvydraws]

Same anon who realized brain went to train instead of airport. So a follow up with that: how does Praetorius feel about airplanes?

He doesn't trust them. He's not against flying, and planes themselves feel safe and carefully engineered. It's a convenient transportation and all...

But they're not for him. They would be, if he could travel First Class in all the trips and away from everyone else - it's not about the whole "metal bird in the air thanks only to the laws of physics and magic" but because of his agoraphobia. He doesn't like being in crowds, and planes are crowded by definition — people coughing and sick, children, passengers asleep and snoring like a chainsaw... And those are just the normal ones. The typical public transport fauna. Then, you have to keep in mind the rude ones, the ones who stink to body odor, sweat, tobacco or coffee, the ones who take their shoes off, the open-mouth chewers, nail-pickers, farting passengers...

Just the idea of sharing a tight space with people, even worse, gross people, is good enough to make him nauseous.

If he absolutely must take a plane, then he's indeed either forcing the Crown to get him a First Class ticket or paying for it with his own money, he's not subjecting himself to The Horrors, fuck you.

He'll keep walking, shortcutting, driving or even trains, thank you.

[moo-blogging]

Late night thoughts #76.5:

Modern Au - CEO Levi (Short version)

You finally got accepted into your dream company in another city. You thought your dull life was finally getting better. However, your colleagues looked down on you being a small town girl. They made fun of you and gave you lots of work. Still, you sucked it up and bore with it, hoping to prove yourself one day.

Things got worst when your colleagues boycotted you during lunch time. They commented how your homecooked meals stink the pantry, pressuring you to eat your lunch cold or eat somewhere else. While looking for a quiet place to eat your cold lunch, you came across "heaven", the 47th floor.

The whole floor was a pantry with a single table and two chairs. There was a ceiling to ground window showcasing the sky and a whole wall of mirror reflecting the sky. After a week of inspection, it was safe to conclude that nobody used the pantry here, or you never met anyone while using it. You spent your lunch there everyday, enjoying a stolen moment of peace from your hectic department.

One day, when you were having lunch, the lift went ‘ding!’ and a man alighted from the lift. He was unbuttoning his grey suit with one hand, showing his black buttons up underneath while his other hand ran through his hair. Your eyes met and he stopped for a while. You held your breath. Your head went blank. But the man simply nodded and headed toward the counter. He filled up the electronic kettle. The sound of water replaced the awkward silence.

'Coffee? Or Tea?' a deep voice rang. You jumped at the sudden question and stammered 'tt-tea please.'

He clicked the kettle on in a swift motion and took 2 cups from the cupboard. You were mentally looking for alternative places to eat your lunch.

"You can eat here." The man said as if he read your mind. He was leaning against the counter, wiping the cups with a white towel. You looked at his face while he looked at yours. You nodded in gratitude.

After that, you started seeing him in the pantry. He never ate anything but plain tea. You felt awkward eating alone so you made extra for him. He always finished everything and helped you washed the food container before you left for your department. You asked for his name one day. He thought for a while, and said “I’ll tell you next time.” You told him you would tell him your name when he told you his. He smirked.

After 8 months of working in the company, you received an internal call for an interview at the 47th floor. When you reached there, you saw the man you had lunch with for the past 2 months. You asked if he was there for an interview too. He said yes. As you talked, one of the mirrors on the wall swinged opened, revealing a tall man. You watched in shock.

The tall man spoke “Mr Ackerman, the office is ready.”

The man next to you nodded and turned to you. “You have passed the interview. You will be my PA starting today.” And he held his hand out, “My name is Levi. May we work fine together, y/n.”

Levi’s eyes gleamed as he smirked.

Levi’s POV (does it count as POV?):

(Levi had been watching you having lunch in his personal pantry from his office for a couple of months. From the outside, his office windows were mirrors, but he could see the outside clearly from the inside. Initially it came as a shock, but soon your presence gave his cold, quiet office some warmth as you hummed while microvawing your food, or how you stretched your back or waved at planes in the sky. He forbade other people from visiting him at his office during your lunch time, just to have a quiet moment with you even though you never knew he was there. It was an accident he walked into you. He forgot about your lunch time and you both saw each other. He took this chance as a change, often waiting for you at the pantry just to sit next to you silently. He always wanted to say something, but he did not know what to say. He did not want to seem like a creepy stalker or do anything that would scare you away. He learnt your name when you started to show up in his pantry, but never had the guts to say it out loud. Unbeknownst to him, he would smile whenever he watched you from his office, you were his little daisy, bringing joy so small yet so impactful to his life. And he decided to keep his little daisy close to him.)

[theriseofleon]

Okay, to best understand the skip...please read this after page 45 and before what I'll just call page 46 so that people know the order...

During this time, I was losing motivation to continue the comic. I was struggling on how the story would progress forward exactly...

And the pages weren't getting as much feedback so, I just drew what I wanted. And I wanted to tell more of the story...the part of the story that takes place in Chima. (Also felt like that would be more interesting for Chima fans anyway.) So I just skipped to that part...

To sum up the plot I had in mind to get to that point. The Resistance Army is trying to get to Brisk Basin (what I call the land that surrounds Chima, the name is by no means cannon.) But anyway, they use the map at first...until Leona pulls a Laval and is tricked into dropping the map into some ditch, losing it forever. She was trying to keep the army's plans a secret so she couldn't let the Dogs get it. Hence drop the important item...

Luckily Dustin was able to remember the map enough the army was still able to find their way. Was also going to show Scarla having some self-esteem issues with her stink giving up the army's location at one point.

And also have Crazz explain from his point of view on how he met Leon. And why he wants Leon to stop calling him his "hero." Basically, Crazz is hard on himself and he feels like since he didn't see Leon at the time, thus didn't know that stopping the dog in their tracks would save him...he shouldn't be credited for doing so. Obviously Leon says something along the lines of "Intentional or not, you still saved me. But I'll stop bringing it up if you want."

And at least one of those dogs I had introduced were going to die before the Army made it the edge of Brisk Basin. But anyway, the pages will pick up with the Army breaking into the base where they thought there would be planes or rockets enough for the whole Army to go to Chima. However, there was just one...the Dogs found out the Army's knowledge of finding Chima and knew they were coming. Alarms sound off and the Army is surrounded with little time left. So Leon makes his choice...

[marypsue]

Hello friends, foes, and followers, time for another Sneak Peek Sunday! As usual, here's an out-of-context teaser from former heroes who quit too late:

...

The gate across the entrance to the pool is shut and locked. But the door into the little office at the entrance is standing wide open.

Dustin gulps audibly as they peer through it. The office is empty. There’s no sign of Heather or Sara or the strawberry blonde girl or any of the other lifeguards. The July issue of Seventeen is facedown on the counter, and there’s a white bottle of something with a wordy label covered in hazard symbols lying open on its side on the carpet. The chlorine stink is strong enough to make Max want to sneeze.

Nothing moves.

“I don’t feel good about this,” Dustin says, as Max ventures into the office a step. No new and astonishing information presents itself.  

“When do you ever feel good about anything?” Lucas shoots back. “And why did you have to drag my sister into this?”

Erica Sinclair sticks out her tongue at him even as Max, privately, agrees. “Worried I’m gonna make your superpowered ass look like a scared, little baby?”

“Will said it was urgent, when he radioed,” Dustin says. “And I wasn’t just going to leave her at my house. Alone. With Russian spies after her.”

Lucas groans, and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything else to argue.

“Coast looks clear in here,” Max says, before the boys can find something else to bicker about. “Any sign of Will and El, yet?”

“Here they come,” Mike says, and then starts waving his arms at the road, like he’s guiding a plane in to land instead of waving at two people who definitely know how to get to the pool and can see them all standing outside. It’s Max’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Great. It looks like we can get through here to the actual pool. Come on, they’ll catch up.”

The actual pool, it turns out, is just as dead as the office is. There’s something deeply eerie about being out here, in the middle of a hot summer day, in the baking sunshine, with no one else around. And no sound but the rustle of trees outside the fence, and birdsong, and the odd car passing by, and the quiet slap of the gently-rippling water against the pool’s tiled sides. It’s almost like the whole pool is holding its breath. Waiting for something.

“Anybody else kinda tempted to do a cannonball?” Erica asks. Mike shushes her.

Max isn’t sure what makes her hang back, as the others head inside to the changerooms and the exercise room, talking about how they’re going to trick Heather into the sauna, whether they’re going to bake the Mind Flayer out of her or just find out what it wants, or maybe just find out if it’s really her it’s using at all. At this point, Max is pretty sure it is her, but she doesn’t really need to argue the scientific method with Dustin about it.

She’s not sure why she’s hanging back, staying in the sunlight, in the open air, to be able to hear the sound from the storage shed. But she is. And she does.

“Guys?” Max says.

She doesn’t think any of the others hear her. Lucas and Dustin are busily bickering about how the temperature controls on a sauna work, both of them talking over each other. They’ll be outright yelling in a second, despite Will’s attempts to referee – or maybe just egg them on. Max is never entirely sure with Will. El’s already disappeared around the corner into the building, with Mike close behind her.

“Guys!” Max tries, one more time, a little louder, before heading for the shed.

The sun must have passed behind a cloud or something, because the brilliance of the light fades a little as Max approaches the shed. The sky doesn’t get any less blue and blinding overhead, but all the colours around Max darken, ever so faintly, the shadows getting softer and less sharp in contrast. A little of the heat seems to leak out of the sunlight beating down on her back, making her shiver in the barest breath of breeze. Somewhere in the woods around the pool, a single cricket or grasshopper chirps almost frantically, before suddenly falling silent.

As she gets closer, Max can see that the storage shed door is ever so slightly ajar. The stink of chlorine is burning the inside of her nostrils again.

The sound that had made Max come investigate comes again. A sort of wet, rattling gasp, half-choked. This time, Max is sure it’s coming from inside the shed. It’s awful to listen to.

It sounds like somebody’s dying in there.

Max’s feet drift to a stop, just before they would have carried her around the door to where she could see through the inch or so it’s cracked open. To where who or whatever’s in there could see her.

She considers calling out for the others again. And quickly decides against it. They might not hear her. But whatever’s in there definitely will.

Slowly, cautiously, tensed and ready to spring back at a moment’s notice, Max starts to lean around the storage shed door –

And nearly jumps out of her skin when a voice behind her says, “Max?”

“Jesus!” Max claps a hand over her pounding heart as she whirls to face Lucas. “Holy shit, stalker, way to give a girl a heart attack -”

And then the door swings abruptly back, a rough grip grabs her upper arm, and she’s yanked off her feet and sideways into the storage shed.